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forwhomthewordsflow · 4 days

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Stars In My Eyes

(a part two to this fic!)

modern music teacher!eddie munson x art teacher fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

warnings: fluff, so fluffy, first dates, first kisses, some anxiety/stress, a little dash of coach!steve harrington, suggestiveness

author's note: i feel like this took me ages to write! so sorry for the wait...i do sort of love how this turned out :) writing a first kiss scene is hard!!!

please let me know what your thoughts are on this series!

word count: 7.7k

Eddie Munson couldn’t believe his luck.

Like, sure he’s gotten lucky a few times before. There was that one time an officer let him off with a warning after he rolled through a stop sign, he’d played the “I’m a teacher during finals week” card and it had seemed to work out pretty well for him. There were also a few times when a stranger in front of him at the Starbucks drive thru had paid for his morning coffee, only for him to turn around and see there was no one behind him to pay it forward to.

And then, there was that time back during his final senior year where Stacy Cowell was going through a “rebel phase” and decided to give Eddie a string of random blowjobs over the course of a week and a half to make herself feel like she was living on “the wild side.” She quickly transitioned out of that phase when Eddie had asked her out on a date, he figured they should probably make an effort to learn a little about each other if she was going to be deepthroating him in the back of his van every other day after school. She turned him down with a disgusted sneer, leaving Eddie a little heartbroken by the fact that a girl could be so offended at the idea of a date with him.

But none of that even mattered to Eddie anymore. All of those situations touched by a bit of luck have been reduced down to mere coincidences now that he has you in his life. Even though it was only one IKEA date trip that the two of you went on last weekend, Eddie couldn’t stop himself from imagining a long, happy future with you because of how fucking perfect it all went.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervously giddy over anything in your entire life. There had never really been any boys that you were crazy for when you were younger. Sure, you’d been in love a couple times before, but nothing was ever…”wow.”

You’d never felt any real sparks, never met anyone truly special enough to change your life like all of the women you’d seen in movies or read about in books.

But Eddie…he was very much wow.

After you’d worked out the details for your IKEA trip that afternoon in your classroom, you found it hard to stop blushing for the remainder of the week. The both of you decided that you’d go on Saturday morning, and Eddie had insisted on picking you up and driving there together. He bowed his head and lightly pressed his lips to your hand in a dramatic and silly fashion before leaving your classroom. Your knees felt weak and a bright red blush bloomed on your face as Eddie stood back up to his full height to face you.

“You know,” he started, still holding your hand, "you're really cute when you blush like that.”

A tiny squeak is all that comes out of your mouth when you open it to respond.

You struggle to put together a coherent sentence and settle for the smile and girlish giggle that bubbled its way out of your chest.

“I’ll see you later.”

Eddie started to walk backwards, keeping your hand in his grasp until he was too far away and then turning around to exit your classroom. There wasn’t much else you could do except stare at the hand that had just been held by him, while holding your other over your mouth in shock.

Eddie waited the appropriate five seconds after being out of your line of sight before erupting into a silent “fist-punching-head-banging-fuck yeah!” celebration in the hallway. He couldn’t believe he kissed your hand. The thought to kiss your hand had barely graced his mind before his body had made the decision to go through with it. Eddie was terrified that his nerdy qualities would cause you to run for the hills, or that you’d think he was weird or stupid.

But instead, you’d blushed bright red and blessed his ears with a giggle, and all of Eddie’s worries and fears were banished from his mind at the sound of it.

Eddie decided he was going to really enjoy taking every opportunity to make you blush.

There were only two days until your IKEA trip with Eddie, and somehow you kept missing each other in the hallways at school. On the rare occasion that Eddie had a spare moment, you were at some kind of art teacher workshop. Whenever you could pull yourself away from decorating your classroom and lesson-planning, Eddie was leaving early for the day to go look at different types of Tubano drums for his classroom.

There were a couple of staff meetings that everyone had to attend, but the two of you never ended up sitting next to each other. Instead, you would indulge in a game of eye tag, making yourself feel like you were in high school all over again with a big fat crush.

While you were really looking forward to your day out with Eddie, a tiny part of you was glad that you weren’t running into him constantly. You found yourself overpouring your coffee in the morning because of the way the deep brown shade of the coffee matched the color of Eddie’s eyes. You accidentally took a sip out of your paint water cup instead of your drinking cup because you were staring off at the lamps in your room, wondering which one had been Eddie’s favorite. Two days was just what you needed to collect yourself enough to act like a normal human being before you saw Eddie again. You weren’t even allowing yourself the time to think about being in a car with him for the hour that it took to get to IKEA. All of the workshops, lesson plans and other preparation for the start of school kept you calm and collected.

Eddie, on the other hand, was reduced to a pile of chunky silver rings and nerves. He couldn’t stop thinking about everything he had to get done before your trip…date? Was it a date? Did you say the word date when you asked him? Is it even a date when the girl asks the guy-

Eddie’s frantic pacing is interrupted by a shark knock on his propped open classroom door.

“Yo, Munson. How’s the…” Steve trailed off as he took in Eddie’s disheveled state. “Dude.”

“I know, I know, man.” Eddie responds, plopping down in a chair that was meant for one of his students. He puts his head in his hands, tugging on the roots to try and get a grip.

“What’s goin’ on, Ed? I haven’t seen you this distraught since One Direction broke up.” Steve sits on top of a desk next to Eddie, jabbing him softly in the shoulder after his lame attempt at getting a smile out of Eddie.

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head at the stupid joke. He looks up at Steve with a deep sigh, then stands up and grabs him by the shoulders.

“If I tell you, it stays between us.” Eddie fixes Steve with a hard look and raised eyebrows, not any different from the look he gives his students when they’re getting up to no good. “I’m so dead serious.”

Steve’s eyes widen at the sudden seriousness, making a cross over his chest with his finger. “Yeah man, cross my heart and all that.”

Eddie lets go of Steve, slumping back into the chair with a huff.

“How do you know that a date is a date, and not just a friend thing?”

Steve smiles cockily and leans forward, always interested in Eddie’s love life…or lack thereof.

“Well, I don’t know…I think I might have to hear a little more about this special lady in order for me to provide some of my good ol’ Harrington Love Advice.” Steve wiggles his eyebrows at Eddie, throwing in a wink for the sake of being annoying.

Eddie rolls his eyes, he knew it was a mistake to bring up girls around this guy. Steve was always giving Eddie pointers on how to get chicks the way he did, but Eddie was in no way similar to Steve when it came to relationships. Steve never had nothing to do on the weekends, always with a new girl, sometimes even the single moms at school. He’d meet them out at a bar, woo them, take them to dinner and then even sometimes back to his place. Despite his fuck-boy tendencies, Eddie knows it’s never that meaningful for either party. Steve’s been pining after one of the English teachers for years, and these flings are only serving as a way to satiate his intensely flirtatious side.

As annoying as he may be, it would be nice to rant about all of his pent up loverboy feelings for you to Steve. Eddie knows he’s just giving him a hard time, it’s one of the many love languages they share as best friends.

“I-it’s just…she’s so beautiful man, like…holy fuck.” Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, looking off into the distance as he rambles on about you. “I mean just…she looks like some kind of Elven princess-angel-goddess-fairy–”

“Dude, Ed. None of that nerd shit please, say it to me in English.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head with a sigh.

“Okay. I really like her. I haven’t felt this way in years, maybe ever. We met officially yesterday and just…clicked.”

Steve smiles at Eddie as he talks about you, happy to see his friend so excited about someone.

“We made plans to go to IKEA this weekend, but I don’t know what to make of it? Is it a date? Should I bring her flowers? What if I do bring her flowers and she gets weirded out because it was actually never a date at all?”

Steve holds his hands up like he’s trying to calm down an animal.

“Woah there, buddy. No need to get all freaked out about it.” Steve can’t help but to laugh a little at the helpless look on his friend’s face. “Let’s just start with the details, okay? Who asked who?”

“She asked me. I said I liked her lamps and then she said she got them at IKEA and then I said that I needed some for my room and then she said that we should go to IKEAandshopforsometogether-”

“Okay, okay man. Take a deep breath.” Steve motions for Eddie to inhale for a couple seconds.

“Then let it all out.” Eddie expels the breath from his lips in a hard huff, looking a little calmer. “Alright. So, she asked you?”

Eddie nods.

“That’s good, it means she’s interested! Not a lot of women are making the first move these days, it means that she definitely wants a slice of Munson.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at Steve, but still waits for him to go on.

“Are you picking her up for the trip to IKEA?”

“Yeah, I offered to pick her up and drive us both there since it’s about an hour away.”

Steve scratches his five o’clock stubble.

“Hmm…okay. Did she like…jump at the chance for you to drive her or was there some hesitation before she agreed?”

Eddie thinks back to that moment. How the two of you were standing slightly too close for new friends, the way your eyes seemed to sparkle as you looked up at him, how he was surprised you couldn’t hear his heart beating out of his chest.

He remembers offering to drive the both of you to the store, surprising himself by saying it way calmer than he was feeling. Your face lit up a little, like you were shocked that he’d even offer to pick you up and drive you there. You smiled and nodded your head sweetly before agreeing out loud.

Eddie feels himself smiling at the tiny memory.

“It wasn’t like she immediately answered…but she definitely was smiling when she agreed. She didn’t seem nervous about it or anything, it was more like she was excited or something.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up as a smirk emerges on his face.

“So let me see if I’m getting this straight. She asked you to go to IKEA, probably knowing it was a long drive, and then she happily agreed to let you pick her up and drive the two of you there? For a whole two hours there and back?”

Eddie nods, anxiously awaiting Steve’s opinion on all of this.

“I mean, it’ll probably be a good four or five hours that you spend together driving and shopping.”

Steve fixes Eddie with a look that says ‘c’mon man, it’s obvious.’

Eddie’s had enough of his edging. “Will you just get to the fucking point please for the love of god?”

Steve sighs and claps a hand on Eddie's shoulder.

“Ed, it’s a date.”

Eddie barks out a triumphant laugh and Steve does the same. The two men high five and Steve wraps a beefy arm around Eddie’s shoulder to pat him on the chest. Eddie can’t help but to let out a big sigh of relief now that he can stop worrying about how to act on this trip date.

On Friday, you could’ve sworn you went slightly neurotic.

Since Tuesday you’d been considering your day with Eddie as a date, but it suddenly hit you that maybe he didn’t feel the same way. What if you’d been doing all this worrying and freaking out for no reason? What if he ends up calling you ‘dude’ the entire day? What if he has a girlfriend already, and he just agreed to take you to IKEA so that you wouldn’t get your feelings hurt?

You’d been running circles in your head trying to prepare yourself for any and all possible outcomes that Saturday could hold for you, but none of it seemed to be doing you any good.

So, you did what you always did whenever you found yourself flipping out over something new.

You made a to-do list.

Pick out an outfit. Dress! too fancy…jeans? Dress, definitely dress. not too fancy though…

Drink wine

Watch movie

Clean house…again

Drink more wine

Possibly reconsider outfit…

After all was said and done, you plopped down on your worn-in couch, sufficiently drunk with a clean house and an outfit neatly hung up outside of your closet. You decide to pour your third and final glass of wine for the evening, and to surrender your anxiety to the gods of love. You hope and pray that they like you enough to let you have this one.

It was finally Saturday. Eddie stands in front of his closet furiously, wondering why in the fuck he can’t find a single thing to wear for his date with you today. He’s got enough clothes to fill his entire closet, dresser, and a $20 clothing rack he picked up at Target years ago. Steve said to just go with what felt the most like ‘Eddie’, but he’s suddenly unable to remember what his style even looks like.

He wants to punch himself in the nuts for not taking the time last night to plan this all out like a normal person.

He ends up settling for a fitted white tee, a pair of trusty black jeans, and black boots. On a FaceTime call with Steve (so he could approve Eddie’s choice), Steve mentioned that the outfit was casual, but still fairly nice, and that the white shirt showed off his tattoos and muscles.

“Chicks dig the muscles and white tee combo, man. Trust.”

Eddie chuckles at his friend’s ‘frat boy’ lingo, but the comment makes him feel better about his appearance anyways. Last year, Steve had managed to convince Eddie to start going to the gym with him after school during the week, and it pains him to admit that he sort of really likes it now. He likes how much stronger he feels, he likes sweating out all of his frustrations, and most of all he likes the way he fills out his t-shirts now.

After hanging up the call with Steve, Eddie flexes a little in his mirror before leaving to go pick you up. He decides to do a few last minute push ups and to moisturize the tattoos on his arms so that he looks extra good for you.

Perhaps being slightly neurotic about this date was a good idea.

Thanks to all of your meticulous planning, you managed to get completely ready with a half hour to spare. You decided against sitting on your couch until Eddie arrived since the nervous butterflies in your stomach made you want to throw up, so you opted to wander around your house for the remainder of the time.

You pass by your mirror, doing a final check and making sure your outfit and makeup are up to par. You’d decided on a simple white dress, with a denim button up thrown over it and your pair of black chelsea boots that had yet to let you down. You smile at your reflection, happy that you’d managed to choose a comfy and cute outfit that felt like you.

There’d been too many dates before this one where you’d gone out and spent insane amounts of money on brand new outfits that you weren’t even sure you really liked, all in the name of impressing your date and hoping he likes you enough to ask you out on a second one. When prepping for those dates, you spent hours upon hours running around like a mad woman. Shaving, plucking, tweezing, waxing. Making sure your hair curled just right and that your eyeliner was sexy, but not slutty.

You couldn’t figure out why Eddie felt so different to you. Even though the nerves of a first date had really freaked you out the night before, this morning was fairly calm. Sure, you took plenty of time in the shower and doing your hair and makeup, but it didn’t feel like you were trying to morph into a different version of yourself to please a man.

It felt more like you were trying your best to look like your favorite version of yourself.

You want Eddie to know who you are inside and outside of work, and you really hope that he likes what he finds.

Eddie stays parked outside of your house for a minute or two to try and settle his nerves.

You lived in a small, red brick house in a family neighborhood. There were flowers planted in the beds under your windows, and your front door was painted a deep turquoise color. Eddie sucks in a breath when he sees your figure moving around through the gauzy white curtains covering your windows.

How can a hazy silhouette still be so beautiful?

Looking into his rearview mirror, Eddie takes a deep breath.

“You got this man. Be cool.”

He turns his car off and makes his way to your front door, knocking three times and then taking a step back to wait for you.

It takes all of two seconds for your front door to swing open, revealing you on the other side.

Eddie immediately feels weak in the knees. You looked so cute in your little boots, and he couldn’t help but to let his eyes trail up the smooth skin of your legs. He gulped a bit at the short hem of your dress, and then realized he should probably say something.

“Hey you.”

“Hi,” You smile up at him bashfully as he looks you up and down. You take the opportunity to look him over as well, and damn. You already knew he was sexy, but his tight tee shirt and pulled back hair made you want to drag him into your house and do things to him…

You only notice that he’s been holding a hand behind his back when he brings it out in front of him, revealing a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

“These are for you. I didn’t know which was your favorite, so I just asked the lady to throw together a bunch of different kinds and to make it look pretty.” Eddie holds the colorful bouquet out to you and smiles sheepishly.

Your mouth hangs open as you reach out to take them, being so careful for no real reason. You look up at Eddie with those big, sparkling eyes.

“Thank you so much, Eddie. These are so incredibly beautiful,” he watches you looking down at the flowers, gently brushing your fingers against their petals. “Let me run inside and find a vase for them real quick. Come on in!”

You wave him in behind you and hurry inside.

Eddie tries to suppress the excitement he feels at being invited into your home. He felt like he already got a good glimpse at who you are and how you express yourself when he was inside your classroom, but he’s now getting to see where you spend the majority of your time, where you live. As he steps over the threshold and into your house, he readies his brain to take mental pictures of everything he sets his eyes on, just in case he never sees it again.

Instantly, he’s hit with a sense of “home.” The inside of your house is the perfect temperature and it smells so good and womanly, like your perfume and also like you’ve been baking something but somehow also like flowers…Eddie loves it already.

You scurry off into the kitchen, trying not to think about the fact that Eddie Munson is looking around your house right now.

Where in the hell have all of your vases run off to?

Eddie walks around cooly with his hands clasped behind his back, taking in everything about your space. Much like your classroom, Eddie is able to spot at least four different sized lamps and light fixtures placed around your entryway and living room. There were warm white Christmas lights hung up along the ceiling, multiple green-leaved plants in different corners, and Eddie even thinks he spotted a black cat sprinting under your soft looking white sectional.

Overall, he’d give your interior design skills an 11/10.

He’s just starting to miss you a little when you come out from your kitchen holding your flowers in a sparkly glass vase.

It’s an odd feeling, seeing Eddie in your house. His ‘edgier’ look seems like it wouldn’t fit with your overall aesthetic, but to your surprise he looks like he belongs here. You walk up to him almost in a daze, admiring the silver hoop earrings he’s wearing, the smile on his lips, and the way some of his hair has made its way out of his low bun to frame his face.

The two of you stand there for a moment looking at each other, with you holding your flowers in between your bodies. You engage in a staring match for almost a second too long before you break the silence.

“No one’s ever gotten me flowers before,” you sheepishly admit, looking down at them instead of at him. Eddie grins at the blush that blooms onto your cheeks after your prolonged eye contact.

Eddie scoffs before he can stop himself.

“Seriously? That’s a damn shame, sweetheart.”

You look up at him again and try not to faint at how easily the word fell from his perfect lips. Unable to take another second of his eyes on yours, you retreat into your living room to find the perfect place for your new flowers. You decide to put them on your coffee table, then turn around to find that Eddie had followed you in.

He offers his arm out to you, “Shall we?”

This time, you can’t fight the smile.

You take his arm and swipe your purse from the coat hanger next to your front door on your way out.

Eddie was the perfect gentleman for the entire duration of the car ride to IKEA. He had opened the car door for you, he let you pick the music, and he definitely did not sneak a glimpse at your bare, voluminous thighs when your dress shifted as you sat down. The sweet smell of your perfume spread throughout the interior of his truck, he hopes that smell never fades away.

He couldn’t help glancing over at you every other minute, looking so beautiful in his passenger seat while you bobbed your head to whatever song you had queued up on his phone.

“Would it be a total invasion of privacy if I played your On Repeat playlist? I’m dying to know what the music teacher’s favorite music is right now.” Eddie turned to see that you were smiling pleadingly at him, and how could he say no to that face?

“I suppose,” Eddie sighs dramatically. “But, you are not allowed to judge me for whatever pops up.” He playfully points a finger at you while keeping his eyes on the road. You giggle girlishly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You hit ‘shuffle’ on Eddie’s playlist and aren’t surprised when the first song that plays through the speakers is ‘The Unforgiven ll’ by Metallica. You already knew Eddie was a fan of the band thanks to the music he always has playing a tad too loudly whenever you pass by his classroom.

“Oh, I know this song!”

Eddie’s face whips towards you sporting a shocked ‘you’ve gotta be kidding me’ expression. He was definitely expecting you to be the ‘indie music’ type. Your eyebrows furrow adorably angrily at the look on his face.

“What? A girl can’t like Metallica?” You fix him with a look that tells Eddie he should think twice about his response.

“W-well…I just didn’t expect you to be into them…that’s all.” You roll your eyes playfully at him and cross your arms. “But! I’m very pleasantly surprised that you are! Girls rule, alright? Men like…totally suck and stuff.”

You chuckle at his frantic attempt at avoiding a lecture on gender inequality and feminism while settling back into your seat. And because you actually do know and love this song, you start mouthing the words, which eventually evolves into singing them under your breath.

When Eddie thought he spotted you mouthing the words out of the corner of his eye, he was sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him. But just barely hearing you singing the words to his favorite Metallica song just further confirmed a fact that he already knew.

Eddie Munson was totally going to fall in love with you.

The rest of the car ride consisted of sharing music, talking about work and life, childhood memories, and other random topics. Eddie discovered that you love thunderstorms, your cat’s name is Pascal (after the chameleon from Tangled), and that you moved here at the beginning of summer from Chicago.

Eddie swears there’s never been a conversation in history that flowed as well as yours and his. He felt like he’s known you for years, and he hopes you’re feeling the same way.

You totally are.

Once the two of you made it to IKEA and inside the giant store, Eddie quickly realized that he never really put any thought into what he actually wanted to buy for his classroom. You swiftly came to his rescue and pulled out your phone to open up Pinterest.

Together, you found a couple pictures that matched the general vibe of Eddie’s classroom. He grabbed a map of the store and a cart, and set off into the maze of furniture.

You were back to being shy again, now that you were out in the wild with Eddie. He found that making jokes about all of the funny names got you giggling, and so he didn’t miss an opportunity.

He made you laugh the hardest next to the Koppang drawers.

You bumped your shoulder into his around the Baggebo bookcases.

His hand brushed yours next to a Tornviken kitchen island.

And Eddie finally worked up the courage to hold your hand next to a Klippan loveseat.

You gasped a little when you felt his warm hand slide into yours, interlocking your fingers together. A red hot blush worked its way up your neck as you snuck a glance over at him, only to find that he was already looking at you with a smirk. He knows exactly what this hand holding is doing to you.

He chuckles smugly as the two of you arrive at the lights section of the store. As he pushes the cart through the aisles, you’re enamored by the twinkling lights that are draped overhead. You’re lucky he’s holding your hand, or else you probably would’ve fallen flat on your face. Eddie can’t help but to stare at you as you stare up at all the different light fixtures. The different colors and hues of light shine beautifully onto your face, and the soft smile on your lips makes Eddie wish he could just grab you and kiss you right here in the aisle. But, he figures that would cause you to explode after your reaction to his hand-holding.

He watches as you look further down the aisle at the lamps that are on display there, your face lighting up in recognition.

“Oh! That’s one that I’ve got in my room!” You point at an orange, donut shaped light called a Varmblixt. Eddie recognizes it, you do indeed have one hanging on the wall behind your desk.

“I must have it,” Eddie says with a flourish ,”Never have I seen a more extraordinary donut lamp.”

You giggle and go to grab one to place in the cart, but the box proves to be way heavier than you remember. Eddie notices as soon as you inhale to exert more effort, and he steps in immediately.

No fair maiden such as you should be forced to exert any effort whatsoever in his presence.

“I’ve got it, sweetheart.”

You try not to let the name affect you but once again, you fail. You’re left blushing and biting your lip, speechless. You stare unashamed at Eddie as he picks up the heavy box and goes to place it in the cart with ease. The overhead lights were really doing him favors, every ridge and contour of his body was lit to perfection. You could see the delicious bulge of his biceps, the ripple of his forearm muscles, and the outline of his chest in his shirt….why is your mouth watering?

Eddie easily places the box in the cart, turning to face you again. He finds you blushing up at him with wide eyes, and is unable to contain the smug smirk on his face. The sudden lack of distance between the two of you did not go unnoticed by him, he hoped you couldn’t hear his heart pounding in his chest.

The ‘normal you’ would’ve noticed that you were obviously in Eddie’s personal bubble, and you would’ve taken a step back like the respectable adult that you are. But the ‘normal you’ was long gone in Eddie’s presence. This version of you was not unlike the version that existed when you were an awkward teenager who was on the brink of passing out anytime a boy even breathed in your direction.

While you were busy ogling Eddie’s physique, you’d failed to notice the close proximity between the two of you, which led you to your current situation.

You and him were so close together, you could feel the warm puffs of air from between his parted lips gently hitting your face. His gaze trailed down from your eyes to your lips, but you wouldn’t have noticed anyways because you were one step ahead of him.

His lips looked so pillowy and soft, you wondered how they’d feel pressed against yours. Would he kiss you slowly, gently holding your face in his big hands and brushing his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks? Or would he be rougher than that, grabbing you by the waist and tugging you into him, kissing you with fire and passion?

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow as he watches you suck your bottom lip into your mouth to bite it. You’re so goddamn beautiful, and you looked like an angel in this aisle of lights. A lamp from behind you lights up the silhouette of your hair like a halo, and he can see the lights above his head reflected in your eyes like stars.

Eddie knows he shouldn’t kiss you right now, not in the middle of IKEA where he can hear kids whining to their parents and couples arguing over which shade of beige would match their living room better. He knows this, but he can’t stop himself from reaching his hand up to gently grasp your jaw. His thumb slides from your chin to your bottom lip, tugging it free from your teeth.

His hand snakes down to the side of your neck, and you can feel the slight tremor in his hand. You’re glad that the situation is affecting him too, because you are freaking out.

Is he going to kiss you right now?

In IKEA?

On your first date?

Is this even a date?

Do you even want him to kiss you? Idiot, of course you want him to.

Eddie’s eyebrows lift slightly, almost questioning you. Asking you, ‘Do you want this? Is this okay?’

You answer him with a soft smile, and you feel his hand move behind your neck to pull you in.

It is at this moment that a baby starts to wail one aisle over, effectively ruining any sort of moment you and Eddie had been sharing.

He lets out a frustrated huff, and touches his forehead to yours with closed eyes.

“Of course,” he groans.

You’re secretly giddy at the fact that he so obviously wanted to kiss you badly. You bring your hand up to his arm that’s still resting on your neck to give it a reassuring squeeze, and in a surprising burst of confidence, you rise up on your toes to peck him on the cheek.

Eddie’s eyes shoot open at the feeling of your soft lips on his cheek. He pulls back to stare down at you as his face turns red.

You giggle at him, then turn around to walk down the aisle.

“C’mon, I think I saw another one of my lamps down this way!”

Eddie snaps himself out of his daze with a shake of his head, he’s sure that he’s got hearts in his eyes as he watches you walk away from him. Grabbing the cart with one hand, he holds his other gently to his cheek, touching the spot that’s still warm from your lips.

Eddie ends up purchasing five lamps from IKEA after an hour and a half of wandering through the aisles with you.

He can’t help but to act like the loverboy he is when he’s looking at furniture with you. He fantasizes about a life with you, imagining that the two of you are actually here to pick out items to furnish your shared house.

He wonders which kind of wood floors you’d pick out and which backsplash you’d want in the kitchen. You’d probably want to decorate with colorful rugs and throw pillows, and Eddie wouldn’t complain. Not as long as you’re happy. He’d live in a pink house decorated with bows and lace trim as long as he was living in it with you.

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, it’s only your first date together right?

If only he knew you were having similar thoughts as you strolled up and down the aisles, hand in hand. You thought about what kind of decorating he did in his house, you figured it was styled in some way considering the amount of effort he puts into making his classroom look as cool as it does. Does he have shelves full of records or different posters framed and hung up on his wall? Which side of the bed does he sleep on? You hope he likes plants, there’s no way you could part with your beloved greenery if the two of you were to live together.

You’re quick to silence the random thoughts buzzing around in your head, it’s silly to think about these things on your very first date…you don’t even know his middle name yet!

You and Eddie both seem to snap out of your stupors at the same time, sighing simultaneously. You both turn to look at each other and then begin to laugh, unsure on whether or not the ‘jinx’ rules apply in a sighing situation.

Eddie pays for the lights, and soon enough you’re both back in his truck.

It dawns on you that your date is almost over, but you’re quickly redirected when you hear the starting notes to the next song that starts playing when Eddie’s phone connects to his radio.

Is that…Taylor Swift?

You turn to him slowly, confused at why a Taylor Swift song is on his ‘On Repeat’ Spotify playlist.

Eddie’s already staring at you mortified. He holds a hand up, pausing any words that might’ve come out of your mouth.

“Before you say anything,” he begins ,”I really admire her lyricism. Girl’s a wizard with words.”

The two of you sit in a charged silence for a moment before you can’t hold in your reaction any longer. A laugh breaks free from your chest, and Eddie can’t help but to laugh along with you.

You’re wiping tears from your eyes as your laughter dies down, and Eddie just grins at you.

“I can’t believe it. The rock and roll music teacher listens to enough Taylor Swift for it to end up on his ‘On Repeat’ playlist.” You shake your head at him with a wide smile on your face that Eddie wants to take a picture of and frame.

“Yeah, yeah…laugh it up. As a music teacher, it’s my duty to appreciate all types of music.”

You nod along to his explanation, “Yes, of course. How else are you supposed to connect with the teenage girls these days?”

“Right! Yes!” Eddie exclaims. “I do this lesson on lyrics and Taylor’s music is a great example of what storytelling in music can look like. I respect her, hard.”

You stifle another laugh at his emotional Taylor Swift themed outburst.

“This stays between you and I alright?” Eddie points a finger at you playfully. “If Harrington gets word of this I’ll never live it down.”

“Of course, my lips are sealed.” You mime zipping your lips shut and throwing away the key.

Eddie settles back into his seat with a huff, boyishly smiling over at you.

“I have a very important question for you Eddie.”

He leans in, intrigued by your seriousness.

“Which era are you in right now?”

Eddie scoffs, throwing his head back with a groan. This sends you into another laughing fit, Eddie can’t help but to join in again. He’s coming to find out that your joy is such an infectious thing.

“Hmm let’s see…,” he muses. He turns to look at you with one hand on the wheel and a smirk on his face as he puts his keys in the ignition.

“Right now…I’d have to go with ‘Lover,’” he says with a wink.

Your laughter is cut off abruptly as you gasp and bite your lip, attempting to subdue the cheesy grin that’s surely made its way onto your face by now.

You stare unashamed as Eddie puts his right hand over the back of your seat to turn around and look through the rear window as he reverses the car out of its parking spot. You can smell the cologne he must’ve sprayed on this morning, which immediately awakens the butterflies in your stomach.

As soon as Eddie is set on the route back to your house, he holds out his hand expectantly over his center console. You look at it, then at him, then back at his hand before shyly placing your hand in his. He’s quick to lace his fingers through yours, holding on tight and running his thumb back and forth.

You’re both thinking that you could get used to this.

Eddie (reluctantly) only lets go of your hand in order to rush around the front of his truck to open your car door for you after he’s pulled into your driveway. He’s quiet as he walks you to your front door, wondering which way is the best way to ask you out on another date.

You stop when you reach your door, looking down at your hand in his. The silence begins to feel just a tad awkward as you both search for something to fill it.

“Thank you,” you start quietly ,”for today. I had a wonderful time.”

Eddie lets out a relieved breath and grins widely down at you.

“I did too,” he begins, readying himself for his next question. “Would you…I mean–would you like to…uh…shit, would you want to maybe do it again sometime?”

You know what he means, but it’s still so tempting to tease him when he’s blushing like this.

“Would I want to go to IKEA with you again?”

“N-no! I mean, if you wanted to we could I guess…b-but I was thinking something more along the lines of dinner?”

You find it adorable how nervous he is to ask you out on a second date, as if you wouldn’t agree to go out to dinner with him tonight.

“I’d love that.”

Eddie’s face lights up with a triumphant smile as he lets out the anxious breath he’d been holding in.

“Good, that’s really good.” The way you’re smiling up at him right now is causing him to lose his train of thought. “Um…how’s tomorrow night? Around 7?”

“Tomorrow night is perfect.”

“Awesome. Great, yeah I’ll just…I’ll pick you up, okay?”

You’re beaming as you nod your head, much too ecstatic at the idea of going out with Eddie again to form a coherent sentence.

Eddie finds himself smiling and nodding with you, you’re just too adorable.

“Hey could I uh…c-could I get your number?” Eddie stammers the question out like he’s a prepubescent teenager, mentally face palming the whole time.

He’s relieved when you chuckle and hold your hand out for him to place his phone in. He fumbles around trying to give you his phone as quickly as possible, he can’t believe how nervous he feels right now.

He finally somehow manages to pass over his phone with a new contact page pulled up and ready for you. You type in your number and name, making sure to add the artist’s palette emoji afterwards. Eddie laughs through his nose when he sees it, then pockets his phone again.

There’s a weird tension in the air that can only be brought upon by two people who so obviously want to kiss each other, but are too nervous to make the first move. Eddie wracks his brain for a way to ask you if it’d be okay for him to kiss you without looking like a total idiot. It’s really unfortunate that the way you bite your lip causes his mind to completely shut off and switch to autopilot.

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” he blurts out.

You look up at him, shocked at his bluntness. Eddie’s even more shocked than you are.

“Y-you probably should then,” you bashfully admit.

Eddie can’t believe that worked.

He steps towards you and softly places one hand on your cheek, the other going to gently grasp the side of your neck similarly to the way he had in IKEA during your almost-kiss.

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel his lips graze yours for the first time. The feeling is electrifying, and you can’t help but to venture forward for more.

Your lips were just as soft, if not softer, than Eddie imagined.

You plunge forward to press your lips against his, instantly deepening the kiss. Eddie found himself instantly addicted to the feel of your lips and the way you sigh into the kiss. It’s a shy kiss at first, where the two of you slowly begin to figure out your shared rhythm. But it wasn’t long before you sank into a synchronized dance, mirroring each other’s movements in a way that crafted the most perfect, earth shattering first kiss.

You let Eddie Munson kiss you at your front door in a way that you had longed to be kissed for your entire life. This was how the women you saw in movies or read about in books were kissed. You’d read about magic and sparks flying, and you think you’re finally starting to believe in all of it.

Eddie moves his hand from your cheek to your waist, gripping it and pulling you closer to him. The gasp you let out gave him the sweet opportunity to run his tongue against your bottom lip, asking, pleading for an entrance which you of course granted. You tasted like autumn and felt like home, he decided he could kiss you for hours on end.

You both stood there for a good five minutes at your front door, making out like giddy teenagers and feeling like them too. Eddie finally pulls away from your lips, pleased to find you subtly chasing his mouth with your own. You open your eyes and come out of your kiss-induced haze to find him smiling adoringly down at you with both hands now circling your waist.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you once more.

“Actually, I’m gonna call you tonight.” He kisses you again. “Is that okay?” Another peck.

You're giggling as he places a final kiss on your forehead, “Yes, please.”

“Good.”

Eddie steps back, grabbing your hand to kiss it like he did on Tuesday. He pulls you back in with that same hand to plant one last kiss on your lips, then jogs back to his truck. He waves and quickly honks his horn twice as he pulls away.

You’re left standing at your front door, watching his truck disappear down your street and reliving every moment of your first kiss with Eddie Munson.

When you finally make your way inside, you make sure to smell your brand new beautiful flowers before scurrying off to your bedroom to pick out an outfit for your second date with Eddie tomorrow night.

TAGLIST:

@josephquinnsfreckles @the-fairy-anon @anukulee @littlebebebunny @meetmeatyourworst @lalalala-melmosworld @someantics @lokis-army-77 @loserboysandlithium @strangerstilinski @mystra-midnight @lesservillain @queenimmadolla @luveline @munson-blurbs @fairyysoup @urhoneycombwitch @oneforthemunny @rebelfell @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @eiightysixbaby @bettyfrommars @loveshotzz @lovebugism @carolmunson @rustedhearts @lonelysatellites

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson stranger things

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hargreeves-duncan · 1 month

Note

Hey! I saw that you’re taking tua requests and after season 4 I’m in desperate need of fluff fanfics. May I request a Five x Y/N where Y/N looks exactly like how Five envisions Delores but they haven’t met yet and right when Five and Lila were about to kiss in the greenhouse, Y/N appears with a gun because this two strangers invaded her greenhouse and Five would be utterly shocked and immediately let go of Lila and went to Y/N calling her Delores and she would say something like “I don’t know who Delores is but the two of you better start explaining what you’re doing in my greenhouse or I’ll bury a bullet in your skulls.” And after that it could be all fluff with a happy ending. Maybe Five takes her to meet his family when he finds a way back?

a/n: thank you for your lovely request! the idea of reader as a dolores variant is so sweet, i just had to write this! i hope you love it!!

summary: five mistakes you for dolores, you turn out to be quite the opposite

warnings: reader has a gun😟

word count: 2.4k

Trying to traverse this damn subway was driving Five insane. If he had been keeping track accurately, he and Lila had been stuck down here for seven years. For someone that had made it through forty years alone at the end of the world, you’d think that he’d be able to hack it, but a couple of key factors had changed since his first time around.

1. This time he wasn’t alone.

When he’d brought Lila down to the station, the thought of getting stuck there hadn’t even crossed his mind. Every other time Five had visited the subway, he’d made it home with no problems whatsoever.

It was typical that when he was accompanied by the one woman he’d never want to be around for a prolonged amount of time, that the universe would screw him over and trap them there.

He did have to admit, the more time that they had spent together, and the less likely getting home seemed, Lila had become tolerable. He might even go as far as to say he liked her now.

She was smarter than he’d given her credit for and painfully determined in working out their way home. Lila had always kept them both going, insisting that if they’d gotten there in the first place that there had to be a way out. Five wasn’t so sure anymore.

2. Dolores wasn’t here.

Whilst Five could pretend that if he stopped looking for a way out and settled down with Lila in a new timeline he would be happy enough, he knew that in reality, he wouldn’t be. There was no way that his friendship with Lila would ever measure up to the company of Dolores and the love he had for her.

She had been his everything for more of his life than not and his connection with her had truly meant something to him. Unlike whatever circunstancial friendship he had built with Lila.

For a long time, Five’s daily routine had revolved entirely around making sure that Dolores was cared for and making sure that they were always one step closer to finding a better way of life. Because he would be damned if his girlfriend had to live a life with anything but the very best.

This time, without the motivation of holding Dolores in his arms at the end of a long day, Five had found little reason to keep searching for a way to get home. He was beginning to lose all hope entirely as he and Lila had got off the subway for the fiftieth time that day.

As they stepped out into the sun, it became clear that of all the timelines they’d been to, this one was, without a doubt, the most peaceful. They were surrounded by woodland that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Somewhere above their heads Five could hear birds twittering. That was a good sign, this timeline was still habitable, many of the last ones hadn’t been.

Five walked out into forest. The trees there shot up almost 70 feet into the sky. It was breathtaking.

Somewhere along his stroll, Lila, had ended up off course, discovering the new world around them, “Wow.” She whispered to herself.

Five chuckled and raised an eyebrow as he walked towards her, “If you’re done here, there’s something much more interesting that we ought to take a look at.”

He pointed to the bottom of the hill that they stood on, where a small cottage sat. It looked as if it came from a fairytale, with its thatched roof and adjacent greenhouse, that housed all sorts of plants and flowers.

A small seed of doubt planted itself in his head the more he looked it over. It looked too nice. What if it was some sort of trap?

Lila clearly didn’t have the same trepidations. She gasped with excitement, then turned back to him, saying, “What’re you waiting for? Let’s go.”

As suspicious as he now was, he wasn’t strong enough to crush Lila’s hopeful expression. He hadn’t seen her look this spritely in weeks and if this didn’t end up being what they wanted he needed her to be okay to keep going. So, he followed her down the hill.

By the time he’d reached the bottom, Lila was already waiting, hands on her hips as she laughed at him, “Come on, old man, what is taking you so long? I want to explore this cottage before someone comes and tells me that I’m imagining it.”

She reached out, pulling on his arm impatiently and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. He supposed he could entertain this fantasy of normality for a while.

Lila grinned as she led them up the steps, peering in through the glass at the throng of shrubbery packed into the building. With a tug on the door, Lila led them into the greenhouse.

Five had to appreciate the organisation of it. One corner of it hosted a mix of plants and herbs, another held flowers, another for vegetables as well and even one for- “Strawberries!” Lila gasped, dropping his arm and rushing over to them.

In that moment, there couldn’t have been a better sight in the world than home-grown fruit. It’d been a painfully long time since they’d last eaten real food and Five suddenly felt starving.

He watched as Lila picked a strawberry, taking a bite. She groaned in pleasure, closing her eyes. Mouth still full, she beckoned him closer, “Five, come here, you have got to try these.”

Five obeyed, walking over to her. Lila took another enthusiastic bite, as she declared, “I think these might be the best things that I’ve ever eaten.”

Tossing the hull of the strawberry behind her, Lila reached for another. She smirked at Five, waving the strawberry in front of his lips tauntingly, “Open up.”

Five rolled his eyes, trying to repress the smile that was creeping onto his lips as he relented, opening his mouth. Lila pressed the strawberry to his lips and as he bit down…

Click.

Five froze, eyes snapping open. Lila spun around and her lips parted in shock as she took you in. There, you stood, shotgun cocked and pointed at the pair of them.

You were a sight for sore eyes, with your tousled hair around your shoulders and polka dot dress that fell effortlessly around your hips. Five was completely mesmerised.

Your soft hair, the polka dots that covered your dress, it was all so familiar to him. Your presence felt like a greeting from an old friend and he smiled lovingly at you as he said, “Dolores.”

Lila’s presence was entirely forgotten as you stood in front of him, just as beautiful as he’d remembered. Lila raised an eyebrow, asking, “You know her?” at the same time as you asked, “Dolores?!”

You looked them both in the eye, stepping closer and aiming the barrel of the gun at their heads, “I don’t know who Dolores is but the two of you better start explaining before I shoot you both.”

You had to admit, you were slightly intrigued by the appearance of the two of them. More specifically, the man in front of you. Even more so when he audibly laughed at your words.

You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking with amusement as you said, “You do realise that you’re trespassing, right? That I’m well within my rights to pull this trigger and put a bullet through both of your skulls?”

Five was still looking at you as if you’d hung the moon and the stars and not just threatened to shoot him.

Lila shoved her elbow into his chest and he groaned, clutching it, “Jesus… Lila!” He said, glaring at her.

“What?” Lila groaned, looking over at him with a huff, “She asked you a question.”

“Yes, thank you.” You said with a small nod as you watched her. She nodded back with a pleased smile, holding her hands behind her back.

You look back at Five, expectantly, gun still raised, “Well?”

He smiled saccharinely at you, being sure to emphasise his words as he said, “Me and my friend here just got a little lost, that’s all.”

“Hm… getting lost is what we’re calling breaking and entering now?” You challenge and your combative demeanour only made Five want to get to know you more.

He grinned, shrugging his shoulders innocently, “It would appear that way.” He said, making it impossible for you to ignore the cockiness in his tone.

You simply laughed at him, lowering your weapon slightly, “And Dolores?”

“She’s…” He paused, thinking it through. He couldn’t exactly say who Dolores really was, you’d think he was crazy and that was the last thing he wanted.

If he ignored the fact that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, he could also tell that you were exactly the kind of woman he wanted to know and he was not going to mess up any chance he might have with you, “…my ex-girlfriend.”

That wasn’t entirely untrue, he thought to himself. Lila’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Slowly, a look of realisation spread across her face and she stifled her laughter as she asked, “Hold on, you don’t mean that manne-“

“Please, excuse my friend.” He hastily cut Lila off with an infuriated glare thrown in her direction.

“She has terrible conversational etiquette.” Five offered, smiling politely at you as if he hadn’t just completely shut Lila down, “I’m Five, and that over there is Lila.”

You nodded in return. Lila smiled but made no more attempts to initiate a conversation as she wandered off deeper into the green house.

Five, happy to have the chance to speak you alone, stepped closer, “It’s a nice place.” He said, putting his hands in his pockets.

You lowered your gun, slinging it over your shoulder and offering him a warmer smile, “Thanks, I think so too.”

You were funny. He felt himself grow more smitten with every word you said. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, raising an eyebrow at you, “What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.” You answer, brushing off your skirt. His eyes followed your fingers as you did.

You walked by him to pick up a bag of compost and dropped it onto the countertop beside you. Five walked after you, placing a hand on the table in your eyeline, practically begging you to keep the conversation going.

The last time he’d gotten so quickly attached to a girl, he’d been with her for forty years and he was already thinking about what that might look like with you, “Are you going to tell me it?” He pushed, tilting his head to the side as he smiled at you.

You stopped breaking up the soil, laughing softly as you looked over your shoulder at him, “You know, you’re very interested in knowing about me for someone I just caught breaking into my house.”

“I thought we’d agreed that we were just lost? I can confidently say that there was no ill intent on my part.” He replies, smirking at you.

“Maybe not.” You say, smacking your palms against each other to dust them off, “But there is intent of some kind.” You bend down, pulling out an empty plant pot from below the counter.

“True…” Five hummed, tapping his finger on the counter as he watched you place the pot onto the table and begin to fill it with compost.

He looks around the room some more - noticing the lone chair and table in the observatory by the back door, “You live here alone?”

He asked, watching your nimble fingers form a well in the centre of the pot. He looked over his shoulder to where Lila was prodding a venus flytrap and then back to you for your answer.

“I do.” You reply as your fingers continue to press deeper into the soil. Five nodded, rolling his sleeves up and leaning them on the countertop with a sly smile.

You dust off your hands again and go back to kneeling on the floor. Five watches with interest as you sift through pots and packets of different flowers.

“Okay and why is that?” He asks, bending down beside you as you consider which flower to pot.

You look over at him and notice how his eyes lingers on the bright, yellow marigolds tucked away to the left. You take them out.

“Because…” You say, hauling the smaller pot onto the counter again, “I’ve never been much of a people person.”

“Hence why you live in the middle of the woods.” Five nods along, smiling to himself. He was beginning to get an idea of what kind of girl you were and he liked it.

“Exactly.” You nod, gently prying the marigolds from their original pot and settling them into the divet in their new one.

You scooped some compost into your hands, sprinkling the marigold with an extra layer of dirt, “That’s me, but what about you? What makes a guy like you take a wander in the woods?”

A guy like him? Five glanced down at himself, suddenly feeling very self-conscious of his dirtied appearance. He hadn’t looked in a mirror in a while but he couldn’t imagine that seven years without a shower had done him any good.

Then again, your arms were buried elbow deep in dirt right now, so he figured he couldn’t look that awful, “It’s a long story but… simply put, my friend and I are looking for a place to stay.”

“I see.” You hum, touching up the marigolds. You pull open a drawer, taking out some pruners and making tiny adjustments to the flowers.

Five appreciated the precision with which you worked on them, he imagined that you treated all of your plants with the same amount of time and care. He was beginning to feel a little jealous of them.

You tilted your head to the side as you looked back at him, “So, you just thought that you’d crash here?”

Five looked slightly embarrassed as he stood up straighter, searching for the right answer. Lila smiled, yelling from the other side of the room, “Yeah, pretty much. It’s a really nice place.”

You laugh at her bluntness, placing down your pruners and dusting off your hands again, “Good to know.”

Five chuckles and looks back down at the counter. Taking in the sight of the finished marigolds, sitting plump and pretty in their new home, he smiles, “They’re beautiful.”

“Consider them a welcome gift for the two of you.” You say, pushing the pot towards him. Then, you wink, walking past him and back into the house.

Five is rendered speechless.

#fanfic #fanfiction #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader

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surftrips · 9 months

Note

luke x daughter of aphrodite!! maybe a super cute fluff where they help luke show percy around and just their experience with percy!

-🥽 anon

stop this prompt is soo cute ! thanks for sending it in <3

"You okay?" Luke asked the newest camper in his cabin.

"Super."

"We all have them, you know." Luke clicked his tongue. "Intense, recurring nightmares. That's normal here. For the first time in your life, you're just like everyone else."

"So are you also... Do you not know who your..." the blonde boy began to ask.

"Am I unclaimed?" Luke shook his head. "No, Hermes is my father. That doesn't matter though, we're all on the same team here."

"Why is it okay they ignore some of us?"

"Spend too much time figuring out what the gods do whatever it is they do, you'll drive yourself crazy. Sooner you can stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer."

"And what's that?"

Luke smiled, guiding Percy out the door to show him the rest of camp.

The two boys ran into Clarisse and the Ares kids first. Luke explained to Percy that the Ares kids were always confrontational and brutally honest, but he had nothing to worry about, as long as he was around.

"Come on, let's go figure out what you're good at."

After crossing off archery and metalworking, and dodging several near death experiences, they sat down for lunch.

"Is there a Greek god of disappointment?" Percy sighed.

"We're gonna find the thing you're good at, I know it," Luke reassured him. "We should try-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Luke's eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face, causing Percy to turn around.

A girl came over to Luke's side of the table and kissed the top of his head. "Hi, love."

Luke beamed, turning toward Percy. "Y/N, this is Percy, I'm giving him the tour. Percy, Y/N. She's in Aphrodite."

That much he could tell, Percy thought she was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen.

"Ah, bonjour! Comment ça va?" she asked him.

Percy looked confused, only recognizing the first part of the sentence. "Uhhh... hello?"

Y/N smiled softly, "Guess he's not in Aphrodite then. Any luck finding out your skill, Percy?"

"No, unforunately," Percy grumbled.

"Aw, don't worry. Soon enough you'll be like Luke here," she had moved to sit in his lap by now, one of his arms curled around her waist. "Did you know he's the best swordsman at camp?"

She looked at Luke proudly, Percy swore he saw hearts instead of pupils in her eyes.

"I think it's come up once or twice," Percy responded.

The Aphrodite girl smiled again, "Have you shown Percy the lake yet?" she asked Luke.

"No, not yet. Do you want to come with us?"

"You mean, do I want to show him the place where we met? Is that even a question?"

The trio finished up their food and headed back outside. Y/N led the way, her presence enough to clear a path in the group of campers idling outside. Luke and Percy followed a few feet behind her.

"So... how long have you two been...?" Percy asked shyly.

"Three years. Since we were 16," Luke responded. Though Percy had only known Luke for about a day at this point, he couldn't help but notice how Luke's entire demeanor had changed since Y/N's arrival.

"Oh, wow. That's a long time."

"I got really lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I got here, I had nobody. I mean, there was Annabeth and Thalia, but they're like my sisters. Y/N was the one that showed me what love is."

"Is that what you meant earlier? About enjoying what this place has to offer?"

He smiled. "You might be surprised, Percy."

"Are you boys coming or not?" Y/N called back toward them.

"Yes, ma'am!" Luke yelled back, jogging up to where she was. They were almost at the lake by then.

"So, Percy, anyone at camp catch your eye yet?" Y/N asked, her hand wrapped around Luke's arm.

"Babe, he just got here." Luke said.

"So? I knew I liked you the second we met."

Luke blushed, caught off guard by her sincerity. That was one thing he wasn't sure he would ever get over, her ability to express her emotions so unabashedly. It was something he still struggled with from time to time, but for her, he would let down all of his walls.

"I wouldn't say I have a crush on her or anything- she kinda just scares me but she did catch my attention," Percy interrupted Luke's thoughts.

"What's her name?" Y/N asked.

"Annabeth, I think."

Y/N nodded knowingly, looking over at Luke. "Well, I guess we'll just see if anything special blooms there. Anyway, we're here!"

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon now, painting the sky in beautiful hues of purple and pink. A gentle breeze accompanied the three as they sat down by the water.

Y/N leaned against Luke's body, savoring the warmth he offered. He absent-mindedly twirled a piece of her hair.

"Three years ago, I was sitting right here, when I saw someone a few feet away from me. He was throwing rocks into the lake and disturbing my peace," Y/N began. "When I looked over to see who it was-"

"You saw the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on," Luke cut in.

"Hey!" Y/N playfulled smacked his shoulder. "I know you've heard this story one hundred times but Percy hasn't yet."

"Yeah, I haven't yet!" Percy backed her up.

The two older campers laughed. "Thank you, Percy. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I saw this boy with curly dark hair and soft brown eyes, and I thought that's him. He's the one. This was before I was claimed by Aphrodite, but I just had a feeling, you know?"

Percy nodded, even though he wasn't sure he had experienced that feeling yet.

"But anyway, this boy looked kind of sad, so I decided to sit next to him."

"I think that's why he was throwing rocks into the water," Percy broke in.

Y/N giggled and Luke nudged her shoulder to continue.

"You're right, Percy, I had the same thought. When I sat next to him, I sensed that he was annoyed."

"Okay, love, let me finish from here." Luke softly kissed her shoulder and she buried her head in the crook of his neck.

"I wasn't annoyed-" he clarified. "At least, not at you. I had just been claimed by my father, but I was still frustrated with the whole idea of gods having children and just ignoring them. Then, this angel sat next to me and for the first time, I felt seen."

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend, her face full of nothing but admiration. No matter how many times she heard this part of the story, she still couldn't believe how she got quite so lucky.

"Percy, our parents may never redeem themselves for their wrongdoings, but I thank the gods every day they sent me Y/N." With that, Luke gently placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her.

"Hello! As lovely as this story is, still a minor here!" Percy waved his hand in front of their faces enthusiastically, causing all three of them to burst into laughter.

#🥽 anon #luke castellan prompt #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you

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cupcaketeddybehr · 2 months

Text

pinky promises (toji x reader)

toji x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 1.1k

blurb!: toji comes home late from work again. you want a break, but you don't know that he's been working overtime to spoil you.

a/n: wow i forgot how much i love writing. cranking out fics is so fun hehehe <3 thank you so much for stopping by! i hope my blog brings you comfort and happiness!

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You lie awake, staring at the ceiling, waiting for Toji to come home. He was supposed to be home hours ago, and while this is the thousandth time this has happened, you can’t help but worry.

Every time your phone chimes, you glance at the screen, hoping it’s him, but it never is. Your sweet texts, “Toji, I made your favorite for lunch!” and “When are you coming home? I miss you!” remain unanswered. His cold lunch (which could now be considered a midnight meal) sits on the counter untouched. Yours sits right next to his as you cling to the hope that you’ll be able to eat together at least once this week.

When the traffic outside almost finishes lulling you to sleep, you hear the lock click in the living room. A bag drops, and the shuffling of feet ensues.

“Toji?” You call into the emptiness.

He walks into your room slowly and sits on your bed. “I’m so sorry, doll.” He apologizes. He kisses your forehead as he continues profusely apologizing.

“Toji, you’re always late.” You say, refusing to look at him.

He sighs, “I know doll. I’m sorry. They needed me to work overtime today.”

You turn away from him. “You always say that.”

“I know. I-”

You pull the blanket over your head, done with his excuses. “It’s like you don’t love me anymore.” You whisper.

He stares at how the blanket engulfs your petite frame, heart breaking as he wills tears not to fall from his eyes. He hasn’t cried in years. “Of course I love you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Why would you even say that?”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” You peek your head out of the blanket to look at him through glassy eyes. “If you’re cheating on me, you can just tell me.”

“Doll, do you not trust me? You’re the love of my life.” He says, reaching over to rub your back over the blanket. “I would end the world for you.”

“I don’t know, Toji. All I do every day is wait for you and cook your favorite meals in case you come home on time. But you never do.” You look at him and start to sob, refusing to believe that you’re saying the next few words that come out of your mouth. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“No, wait, don’t say that.” He says. “Please.” He adds.

“Toji, I don’t see this changing. You apologize to me every day you come late, but nothing ever changes.”

“No, please. Just give me one more chance. Just one more. I promise I’ll change.”

“I just want to be alone right now.” You choke out through your tears.

You don’t look at him as he leaves; you couldn’t even if you wanted to. Tears are blurring your vision. You’ve never cried this much in your life.

After a while, your tears turn into sniffles. You lie awake the entire night, unable to sleep.

In the other room, Toji remains hunched over, his head in his hands. He raises his head ever so often to pull at the skin on his fingers. How could he be so careless?

An hour passes when you hear the door squeak open. You beg your tears to stop where they are, but they come down anyway. How could he just leave like that? He would give up on the three years you spent together just like that?

Your phone dings, but you ignore it. He’s probably ending things. You should be happy. This is what you wanted, right?

Eventually, you cry yourself to sleep.

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of pancakes, your favorite. Didn’t Toji leave? And even if he didn’t, shouldn’t he be at work by now?

As you move to open the door, it swings open. You walk straight into a plate of pancakes and a rock-hard chest. Syrup drips from your hair.

Toji stands in front of you, trying not to laugh at the sight in front of him.

“‘s not funny, ‘ji.” You make eye contact with him once. He looks at you with adoration and a million apologies in his eyes. You start to cry. “Toji, please stop forgetting about me.”

He puts the plate down on the counter and pulls you into his chest. “I’m so sorry, doll. I’ll be better, I promise. Please don’t leave. I don’t know how to do life without you.” He whispers into your ear. “You’re everything to me. I would set the world on fire if it meant keeping you in my life.”

The sentiment is weird, but you get it. You get him, and he gets you.

After a few moments pass, he tries to pull away. You cling to him, refusing to take your face out of his chest. “Just one second, doll. I have something for you.” He says. He takes your hand and leads you to the island in the middle of your kitchen.

When you finally pull away from him, you see a giant basket in your favorite color. In it are all your favorite things. Your favorite snacks, drinks, a fuzzy blanket, fuzzy socks, three stuffed animals, and the new designer bag you’ve been talking about for ages.

You gasp. “Toji! Where did you get the money to buy this?” You know your boyfriend enough to know he can’t even afford the basket all his gifts are placed in.

“I worked overtime.”

You immediately hug him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask between sniffles. “Thank you so much.”

“It was a surprise.” He says. “I’ve been saving up for a really long time.” He pets your hair as he basks in your arms a bit longer. “I’m sorry for neglecting you, though. I didn’t go about this in the right way.” He admits while rubbing the back of his neck.

You drag him to the couch and sit on his lap. “I’m sorry that I made you think I wanted to break up.”

“I deserved that. I was an asshole. I’m sorry for not responding to your texts.” He takes the pancake plate off of the counter and begins feeding you pieces of pancake. “I promise we’ll spend more time together, yeah?”

You nod, clinging to his wrist, scared that he’ll leave again. “Pinky promise me.”

After years of being with you, he knows better than to start an argument about the silliness of pinky promises. “Of course, doll.”

Your fingers interlock, and you feel his love and devotion in the weight of his pinky finger.

“I love you, ’ji”

He kisses you all over your face. “I love you more.”

-------------------------------------

thank you so much for reading 🥹 it really means the world to me

reblogs and comments are welcome and very much appreciated! 🤗

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number1mingyustan · 4 months

Note

hihi !! I love your fics sm. <3

If you're taking requests can you do Mingyu as a biker bf? What if you wanna learn how to ride a bike and he says "you should practice on the biker first." OMFGGG IM CRAZY. Love you

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, cursing, kissing, explicit smut, oral (f+m), sixty-nine, unprotected sex, creampie, riding, light breast play, multiple orgasms

_______________________________________________

Mingyu nibbles on his bottom lip as his eyes remain fixated on the easel in front of him. He's concentrating, hand moving slowly as he drags the brush along the canvas.

You smile to yourself, feeling your heart warm at the sight of him.

Painting is not his thing.

Even with all the effort he seems to be putting into his painting, his lines are crooked and a little messy. He knows this too, he's never really been one for the arts.

Painting is one of your hobbies and always has been. You're more of the artistic type and Mingyu well... Mingyu likes his bikes. He's got more of a grunge sort of vibe that consists of leather jackets, obnoxious motorcycles, and cigarettes.

You were polar opposites. You preferred your quiet life in the arts, sundresses, walks in flower fields, and painting. You've noticed the way he's softened up since you two met, you're sure it's the effect you've had on him.

He sticks his tongue out, drawing his last two strokes before dropping the paintbrush into the cup. "Done."

You turn your head, completely facing him. You eyes scan over the painting in front of him and your smile grows. "Gyu you've gotten so good at this."

He grins at the praise. "Learned from the best."

The painting in front of him is simple, a landscape of a beach sunset. There's not nearly as much detail as the reference photo in front of you two, but it's undeniably solid work, especially for a beginner like your boyfriend.

He leans over, planting a kiss onto your cheek. His eyes can't help but drift to your painting as he does so.

"Oh wow," His jaw slacks open.

He admires your painting. Even though the two of you painted the same thing, yours is exponentially better. He loves how talented you are, and you never fail to impress him.

________________

When Mingyu comes home the next evening, he expects to see you. You're usually in the living room or the bedroom. He searches the house for you, checking every room to no avail.

He frowns. He saw your car parked out front, so he knows you're here.

A loud sound suddenly catches his attention. He makes his way toward the source of the sound, walking downstairs into the garage.

"Fuck!" You exclaim, racing to the aid of the bike.

You struggle to hold the heavy vehicle up as it remains tilted inside the garage. Your boyfriend saves the day, rushing to your side and helping you to lift the bike up to its proper stature.

"Sorry," You apologize quickly. "I swear I was being careful!"

Your words are muffled. He looks at you with confusion written over his face. You're wearing black leggings and a tight-fitting black zip up. It's unusual attire for you.

Not to mention his entirely large helmet is covering your head.

"What are you doing?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"I wanna learn how to ride it," You say.

"What?" He asks.

You pull the oversized helmet off of your head and place it under your arm. You huff out.

"I wanna learn how to ride it," You move your hair out of your face. "I was trying to surprise you."

"You hate bikes, babe," He lets out a breathy laugh, taking the helmet out of your hands.

"I've had a change of heart," You insist.

He raises an eyebrow. "Why so suddenly?"

"Well... I don't know. When we were painting it made me realize how much you've embraced my hobbies and stuff. I wanna embrace the stuff you like too," You explain. "So teach me.... please?"

Oh you're adorable, He thinks to himself.

"That's very sweet Y/n," He grins. "But it's okay."

You cross your arms over your body. "But.."

"If you really wanna get into my hobbies, we can find another one baby," He kisses your forehead. "But taking my bike is extremely dangerous and it's probably good that I caught you."

"I know," You say.

You lean against the bike, staring at the vehicle with a glint of sadness behind your eyes. You trace your fingers along the metal of the bike, admiring your boyfriend's precious vehicle.

He places the helmet down. "You know, if you wanna learn that bad, you should practice on the biker first."

It takes a second for his words to settle into your brain. You lean against the bike and raise an eyebrow. "Gyu?"

He walks closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you in close. You can feel his breath fanning over your skin, causing goosebumps to raise. His lips press against the shell of your ear.

"Come upstairs," He whispers against your ear. "I'll teach you whatever you want to know."

You intertwine your fingers with his. He pulls your body back into the house and leads you upstairs.

"You're so cute," He smiles. He presses his lips to yours. "I love doing the things you love.... love you." He says between kisses.

He lifts you up and carries you into his bedroom. He places your body down on the bed and pulls off his shirt. His toned body is exposed, muscles bulging beneath his warm skin as he looks at you with hungry eyes.

His back meets the bed with a small thump and he pulls your body on top of him. Your hips meet his and he lets out a soft groan. You pull off your own shirt and drop it onto the ground. You grind against his hips slowly. He unzips your jacket and pulls it off your body.

His hand snakes around the back of your neck and he pulls you into a passionate kiss. He moans against your lips as you continue to grind against his hardening cock.

You can feel him growing beneath you. His cock swells in the confines of his jeans, causing you to moan as you grind down on his growing length. Heat rushes between your thighs and the aching need for pleasure grows in your body.

You pull away from the heated kiss and sit up. You pull your shirt over your head and Mingyu sits up too. He kisses up your stomach and continues to grind against you needily as you unhook your bra. You let it fall and his lips immediately travel to your breasts.

He holds you by your hips as his lips wrap around your nipple. He sucks on your skin, ensuring to give both your breasts the same amount of attention. Your skin burns at the feeling of his touch. Be it his lips on your chest or his hands on your waist, it ignites something in you.

But as much as you love it, you quickly grow impatient. You lift your hips and pull your underwear and leggings off in one go. You toss them and start undoing Mingyu's black jeans.

"C'mre," He says, pulling at your legs.

He lifts your legs and flips you over so he can taste you. He wraps your legs around his head and immediately starts sucking on your clit.

"Fuck.." You moan out.

Your grip on his jeans quickly grows weak as pleasure clouds your senses. You try to undo the buttons, but the feeling of his tongue on you is highly distracting.

He sucks on your clit, occasionally lapping his tongue through your folds. The pleasure builds in the pit of your stomach quickly. You're finding it difficult to do anything, squirming and grinding against his face.

He holds his hands on either side of your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. He moans against you, nearly enjoying it almost as much as you are.

You finally get him undressed and return the favor. You take his hard cock in your hand, stroking his length and spreading the precum from his leaking tip.

He moans against you again, allowing his eyes to fall shut as relief washes over him. He keeps his focus on you, pushing two of his fingers into your soaked hole.

You take his cock into your mouth, moaning around his length as you feel his fingers fill you up. He sucks your clit and his digits pump into you, and the vibrations from his moaning quickly have you nearing the edge.

His cock repeatedly hits the back of your throat as you stroke his length, bobbing your head to make him feel equally as good as you do.

You find down against his face with little to no coordination. Your hips move desperately, chasing your incoming orgasm as your saliva coats the entire length of his cock.

He curls his fingers into you and pumps them at a faster pace. His face is coated with your arousal and he slurps it up gladly, wrapping his lips around your clit and circling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You lift your head, crying out as your orgasm overwhelms you. You grind against his face and fingers as you cum, continuing to drip onto his face.

"Hah-shit," You moan out.

His cock still remains in the grip of your hand, leaking more precum as he tastes you on his tongue.

When you come down from your high, his hands are quickly on your body. He pulls your body flush against his, kissing you sloppily and needily.

He is so obsessed with you and everything about you. His hands wander along your skin, tracing over every inch of your body gently. He lays on his back, pulling you back on top of him without breaking the kiss.

You're the one to pull away, lifting your hips on his lap. He leans back, allowing you to take over.

You sink down onto his length, groaning at the stretch of his cock. He holds you by the hips, guiding you down on his cock. The warmth of your pussy envelopes him perfectly, dripping down his length as you accommodate his length.

"So good baby," He moans.

Your eyes are screwed shut as you sink down, only tightening as he fills you up bit by bit. You gasp out once your hips meet, feeling the entirety of his length inside of you.

"Fuck...holy fuck–" You grip the bedsheets.

You start moving your hips slowly, still getting used to the feeling of fullness. He's patient with you, guiding your hips with soft hands and gentle movements.

You start to pick up a steady rhythm, lifting your hips and sinking down onto his length. You roll your hips with each movement, allowing his cock to fill you up and reach deep into you.

It feels so fucking good.

He watches you with love and lust clouding his eyes. His gaze is locked in on you, admiring how beautiful you look right now. Your mouth hangs open as loud moans pass through your lips.

Your body is dripping with sweat and your tits are bouncing in his face every time you lift your hips and sink back down onto his length. The stretch of pussy is addictive, sending waves of pleasure through his cock and entire body.

He sits up, resting his hand on the small of your back. Your hands wrap around his back, nails digging into his skin as your chests press together.

He lifts his hips, matching your pace as he fucks himself into you. You cry out, lips pressed against his shoulder. The feeling is intense and addictive and incredibly intimate.

His cheeks are flushed red and sweat glistens down his face and abs. His hair falls perfectly on his face and you can't help but admire him. His mouth remains in a small 'O' shape, allowing small moans and grunts and groans of pleasure to ring in your ears.

"Fuck baby," He moans. "I'm close."

His head tilts back, exposing his adam's apple to your line of sight. He continues to thrust into you, cock pressing against the sweet spot deep inside of you with every movement of his hips.

"Hah-me too," You pant.

The pleasure continues to grow, eventually overwhelming your entire body. You cry out and your body falls limp against him. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, moaning and breathing heavily as you cum around his cock.

Your pussy throbs, tightening around his length and bringing about his own orgasm. His hips still and his cock swells as he fills you with his load.

He lets out a long groan as he pumps his load into you. Your chests rise and fall in unison as you breathe heavily and come down from your orgasms. You lift your head and cup his cheeks with your soft hands.

His vision clears and his eyes meet yours. He flashes you a grin. "Hi baby."

You return his expression with a shy smile. "Hi Gyu."

He presses his forehead against yours and plants a kiss on your lips. "I love you, pretty girl."

"Love you more," You grin.

"Impossible," He smiles.

His hands hold your hips as he lifts you up. You wince at the emptiness and and lays you down on the bed. He presses a kiss onto your bellybutton and stands to his feet.

He disappears into the bathroom and you hear the bathwater running. He comes back a few minutes later and picks you up bridal style. You wrap your arms around him happily and he carries you to the tub. He slips into the warm water behind you, leaving soft kisses on your shoulder and back.

"Baby," he says.

"Hmm?" You quirk up.

"We can take a ride tonight if you want, on the bike," He proposes. "Together."

You perk up. "Really?"

"Yeah, but you can't be scared," He grins.

"I'm not!"

He kisses your shoulder. "Okay baby, whatever you say. Just hold onto me tight and I won't let you fall and teach your a few things. Sound good?"

You tilts your head all the way back so your eyes meet his. You smile. "Okay. I love you Gyu."

"I love you too."

_______________________________________________

#seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen drabbles #mingyu smut #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #kpop

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janeyseymour · 7 months

Note

hiii!! i love your writing and i hope you’re doing well <3 i was hoping to request a melissa x reader with “causal” work crush between the two of them. reader is a very put together teacher during school hours but a trendy aesthetic person off campus. mel comes across reader at the grocery store and is astonished at the revealing alternative style and sexy tattoos. reader gets super nervous and shy once mel teasingly approaches. no one at work has ever seen her like this but especially not her crush melissa

oh wow, this one... nice. written as i procrastinate cleaning my house!

Personal and Professional

wc: ~2.4k

You grew up hearing from both of your parents that you should never mix the personal with the professional. So you compartmentalize. You’ve always done it. You kept school life away from home life when you could, and now you keep your work life away from your home life. That’s not to say that you aren’t friends with your coworkers at school. It’s just that it’s much easier to keep professional Y/N and personal Y/N separate.

And the personal and professional you are two entirely different people.

You see, at school, you’re ‘Miss Y/N’. You keep it all together. You’re buttoned up, you’re conservative in your clothing style, and you strive to maintain that aura of professionalism that you see coming off of people like Barbara Howard. You’re pretty damn good at it too. You’re kind, you allow your coworkers to see small bits of your home life (“Oh, I’ll probably just do some grocery shopping before laying on my couch for the entirety of the weekend… maybe I’ll go to the gym,” is your usual response when they ask what you’re doing over the weekend), and the teachers have all come to respect you once you settled into your position.

But once the school hours are over and you can let your hair down, both figuratively and metaphorically, you trade out your blouse and sweater or blazer for more form-fitting and revealing shirts, pants that aren’t slacks, and you change your flats to your doc martens that you’ve been rocking since the eleventh grade. You take out the clear stud and put in your nose ring, and exchange earrings different from the delicate hoops you wear to school. Your multiple tattoos show in your street clothes, and you love it.

You’re not entirely sure how your coworkers would feel if they knew that this was how you presented yourself outside of the school, but it doesn’t matter. They’re so used to seeing you all done up to teach that even if they did see you outside of school, they probably wouldn’t recognize you. You sure as hell wouldn’t go out of your way to say hello if you saw one of them outside of campus.

But then things start to change about six months into working at Abbott.

Shit. You have a thing for one of your coworkers- Melissa Schemmenti to be exact. It’s a very casual and silly thing the two of you have going on, really. She flirts with you, you flirt with her; it’s all in good fun. You know that you’ll never act on it though because you keep your many lives as far away from each other as possible, even going as far as grocery shopping a few streets over from where you know most of your coworkers go in order to not run into them. You’ve never had an issue with running into anyone outside of the school anyway- why would that change?

“What are your plans for the weekend, hot stuff?” Melissa flirts with you while you’re eating lunch. “And don’t give me your usual answer… you gotta have more of a life than what you lead on, miss mysterious.”

You roll your eyes. “You wish I was with you.”

She hums in lieu of an answer before asking you again, “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“Honestly?” you chuckle. “Probably some grocery shopping, I have a friend coming over tomorrow, and then Sunday is a day to grade and veg out on the couch while I catch up on some shitty reality tv.”

“Sounds riveting,” the redhead jokes.

“Well, what do you have going on?”

“Nothin’,” she grins. “I fully plan on staying in my Eagles sweatshirt and catching up on laundry and some chores- probably have some wine while I’m at it. Care to join me on Sunday after I go to church?” She’s never asked you if you wanted to hang out outside of work before, and it throws you for a loop. You nearly choke on your salad.

“Oi,” she huffs playfully. “I was just messin’. I don’t want to have to endure any of that shit reality tv in my house.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I wouldn’t want you to have to sit through that either.” The two of you finish up your lunches and head back to your classrooms to deal with your monsters for the rest of the Friday.

“See you Monday, babe,” Melissa winks at you as she closes the door to her classroom and locks it.

“Oh, counting down already, I see,” you roll your eyes. “See you Monday, babe.”

When you get home, you change out of your stuff work attire and into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. You change out your jewelry for the things you prefer. You fully plan on laying on your couch with a bottle of wine on this lazy Friday night, but when you get home you realize that you finished off your favorite white last weekend. With a sigh, you go into your bedroom to change into some nicer street clothes- you would rather be caught dead than wear sweatpants and a sweatshirt out in public. At the front door, you pull on your docs, and then you’re off to the grocery store.

If you’re there now, you decide it’s best to just get your grocery shopping for the week out of the way. You grab a cart and start perusing the aisles like you usually do.

You have a few things in your cart when you find yourself in the aisle with the wines and beers, and you’re currently pouring over the selections. What would your friend want? Probably just some Yuengling. So you throw a case of that into your cart before turning to look for the wine that you love. Little do you know, Melissa is turning her cart down the aisle that you’re currently in, and she recognizes you almost immediately.

You look so starkly different than she’s used to seeing you. If she’s being honest, she’s a little thrown off with your outfit. She’s so used to seeing you in your work attire, your hair either in a neat, low bun or down. But here? This look is entirely different from what she was expecting you to be done up in outside of work. She of course knew that you wouldn’t always be dressed like a teacher, but wow. She was not expecting this. You’re in a pair of tighter, ripped black jeans, you have a tank top on, and your hair is thrown up into a stylish messy bun with a few pieces strategically pulled out to give off the appearance that it’s an effortless look (it is for you). Is that a tattoo on your shoulder that she sees? And a tattoo on your arm? How has she never noticed that before? You have a cartilage piercing, bold earrings for your first and second, and… is that a nose ring? She didn’t even know you had your nose pierced. If Melissa’s honest with herself, it only makes you that much more attractive.

You turn, satisfied with your decision, and pop the bottle into the top of your shopping cart. You make eye contact with the redhead that is practically drooling over the sight of you. You give her a shy wave, but you don’t dare to interact. Don’t mix the personal from the professional. The woman snaps out of her own trance and waves back with a curious look.

You continue down the aisles, and you think that you’re in the clear from Melissa- you acknowledged her, that’s all you had to do. She goes on her way too, but the two of you run into each other again during checkout.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” she winks at you as she starts putting her groceries up on the conveyor belt. “Never pegged you as a beer girl.”

“Hey,” you say softly, shyly. “It- it’s actually for my friend.” That also throws Melissa for a loop. At school, you’re so confident, quick to make a remark. But now, you sound like you have something caught in your throat, and you nervously tuck one of the loose strands of hair behind your ear, as if that would make you more professional looking. “I’ve never seen you around here before?”

“I usually go to the one that everyone else goes to, but they were out of my wine, so…” she gestures to it before putting it up on the belt. “It was worth the extra ten minute drive though if it means I get to see you.” She winks at you with those emerald green eyes of her, but you don’t reciprocate. You nervously worry your lip between your teeth, as if you have no idea what to say.

Melissa understands your hesitation and shrugs. The two of you stand in line together awkwardly. She’s rung up, and as she leaves, you call a gentle, “Have a good weekend, see you Monday.”

She turns and blows a kiss your way, waving flirtatiously before leaving.

Your weekend is nice. Your friend comes over, you go out to the clubs, and you almost forget about the encounter that you had with the hot redheaded second grade teacher.

The small break from work is over all too soon, and you find yourself somewhat dragging yourself into Abbott on Monday, but duty calls. You’re back to wearing your lightly colored blouse and a sweater over top to cover the tattoo that you didn’t feel like putting makeup over today, you’re back in your dress pants and flats. You didn’t even bother to do your hair, just simply brushing it and letting it cascade over your shoulders instead.

You enter the staff lounge and it’s empty, as it always is. You’re always the first one in. Whoever comes next is always a mystery, but today, it’s Melissa Schemmenti. Of course it is. Without anyone else there to buffer, you know she is absolutely going to bring up your meeting on Friday night.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” the redhead says suavely. “Have a nice weekend?”

“Yeah, babe,” you shoot out. The coffee pot dings. “You want some?”

“You know I always do,” she sighs out as she makes a move for the cabinet with the mugs inside. She grabs hers before sauntering over to you. The second grade teacher hands you the mug before cozying up to you.

“For you,” you roll your eyes as your pour the scalding hot liquid into her cup.

“Thanks, babe,” she smirks and winks. “So… when were you goin’ to tell me about this little number?” she rests a gentle hand on your shoulder- the one with the tattoo.

“What do you mean?” you chuckle.

“That tattoo,” she licks her lips.

“I forget it’s there,” you roll your eyes. “Young Y/N mistakes.” Not true at all. You love that tattoo, and most of your street clothes show it off.

“It’s sexy,” she tells you lowly. “Kinda like the ear spike and the nose ring I had no idea you had.”

“I’m a different woman outside of school, babes,” you tell her, smirk evident as you start to fix your own coffee. “Didn’t realize I had to tell you about it all.”

“You don’t,” she shrugs. “I’ll find it all out myself… little miss alt girl.”

“In your dreams,” you fire out, and you get pretty close to her.

“Oh, every night,” she challenges you and moves even closer. At this point, the two of you are nose to nose.

And wow, it wouldn’t take much more for you to-

“Good morning!” Janine bursts in through the door, not knowing what she’s walking into.

You and Melissa couldn’t jump away from each other faster. The young, energetic teacher starts to ramble on all about her weekend, and your other colleagues start to make their way in. When it comes time to watch the news, Melissa settles herself in next you. Her hand finds its way to your shoulder, and she starts to trace the outline of you tattoo. Then, you feel the redhead’s hand make its way to your arm, where the other tattoo is that she saw. You didn’t know she saw that one too. She lets her fingers lazily trace around that one as well. All of your coworkers are too enamored with what’s happening on the screen to really notice, and Melissa’s green eyes are trained on the television as well. You could not be further from what’s happening on the screen. All you can think of is Melissa, and the things that she’s doing right now are driving you crazy.

Soon though, the kids will start to trickle in, and you know you have to get to your classroom. So you head out, a flirtatious smile and wink thrown the second grade teacher’s way before you close yourself into your room. You take a deep breath, and get ready for your day.

As you’re about to make your way out of your classroom, you hear heeled boots clinking along the linoleum floor, and you know those boots belong to the redhead that’s been on your mind all day.

“Hey, babe,” you says, back turned to the door, but you know it’s her. “Come to walk me out?”

The clicking gets louder, and before you can even think, Melissa has you pinned up against your desk. You can feel the corner of it digging into your back, and then you don’t because all you can feel are her lips on yours. Instinctively, you kiss her back. It’s better than you had been dreaming of. And then she pulls back, wipes away the lipstick she left smudged, wipes her own mouth to fix her own lip, and then winks at you.

“I’m done pretending that all this flirting we do is harmless,” she says once she’s righted herself. “You, me, dinner tonight at The Capital Grille. 6, sharp.”

You don’t know what else to do other than nod.

“And don’t come dressed in your teacher outfit,” she instructs. “I want the babe that you are… Ear spike, nose ring, tattoos out.”

With that, she turns on her heel and makes her way out of your room. As she’s making her way down the hall, you hear her call over her shoulder, “Don’t miss me too much!”

So much for not mixing the personal with the professional.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction

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hunnylagoon · 8 months

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Pt 2: Jailbird

Ellie Williams x reader

I want to write a poem about you but I’m afraid it won’t be enough. I almost feel ashamed that I want you to fit into a word because we both know that you are beyond anything that can be put on paper.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood friends before you drifted apart. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find there way back to each other. While you both visit home for winter break, events unfold and it is no longer possible to avoid each other.

Warnings: Angst / homophobia / brief violence / reader has religious issues

Part one here!

Part three here!

Part four here!

I may have been wrong to say that I could never hate Ellie. Fuck she was vicious, in the most passive-aggressive way too. She's so sly about it that I can't even get mad without seeming irrational.

Winter break finally rolled around and I had yet to make any progress with Ellie it was whatever the opposite of progress is. If she wanted to hate me, that was fine, I could do the same, I could be petty. It's now December and all of this bullshit started in September, she could hardly be courteous.

Fuck her.

I had survived mid-terms and finals but the way Ellie was acting had me skipping happily towards the edge. She will wash a whole sink of dishes and leave just my fork, or Venmo request me if I ate one of her grapes. Everything had gotten worse when Dina, Abby, and Cat all left to visit their families for winter break leaving just Ellie and I, without the girls there to hold us to the house rules we were at each other's throats.

She was foaming at the fucking mouth to tear me apart. There was no level-headed Abby or fun-loving Dina, not even Cat who was just mellow. Just me and Ellie verbally abusing each other. "Fuck off, with your wild animal teeth," I spat, slamming the dish cupboard closed with a loud thud.

"Wild animal teeth?" She repeats "Wow, you're getting creative, I'll give you that," Ellie's gaze held a certain bitterness "Heard you were on your knees again last night and I don't mean praying."

My eye almost twitches at her words and it takes everything in me not to throw a ceramic bowl at her. I hated her, I hated her freckled face, and eyes as sharp as knives, just hearing her raspy voice, and seeing her sardonic smile made me want to keel over and let the earth wrap me in her flourishing greenery. I often wanted that to happen. I was trying to refrain from going home as I didn't want to spend the entire break with my family but I was starting to think nothing was better than this, I was set to leave the following day (Christmas Eve) anyway but I was seconds away from grabbing my bag and jumping into my car. "Can you just learn to be fucking civil?"

"Why would-

"Because we were sixteen years old when that stupid shit happened!" I spat "You're holding a grudge from when we were sixteen," I reiterated, searching her features for some sign that I'd gotten through to her.

"It's not like you've changed since any of that happened." She stands, unnervingly calm on the other side of the kitchen island. "You were always awful since we were young, always crying, always emotional, always explosive, my dad said you're like a birch tree, one spark and you burst into flames."

"Fuck off."

"You always had to have the attention," Her eyebrows furrow "Nothing was your fault, blame being fucking erratic and insane on your parents."

"You don't know my parents half as well as you think you do."

"What don't I know about them? They've been in my life as long as you have."

"Ellie, stop," I say, suddenly I'm taken away from the mood to fight, I just want to scream into my pillow.

"What?" She asks "You're going to say some shit like 'they aren't loving' or 'you wouldn't get it' Please, enlighten me, what wouldn't I get?" She moves closer just an inch or so "Wow, your life sounds so hard, you have two parents who love each other and a huge fucking house, oh shit," Sarcasm drips from her tone "Maybe it's that trust fund that's taking a toll on you."

"Please, stop."

"You could commit every crime known to man and you would still be their pride and joy, there is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you-

"Here we go with your 'life is so fucking hard and I'm edgy and indie and I have a sad backstory that I'll bring up every second sentence even though I was seven when it happened' " I mock her.

She bites the inside of her cheek and I can tell that I've struck a nerve "You know when my lease-

"Don't even worry about it," I move out from the kitchen and begin towards my room, Ellie's eyes are trailing me "The minute my lease is up, I'm packing my shit and moving into student housing so I won't have to look at your fucking face while I'm eating!" I slam my bedroom door behind me.

I left that night, I couldn't bear the sound of her guitar strums, so repetitive it made me want to slam my head through the drywall.

You better believe that I cried my entire way home while blasting Julien Baker. My mother was pleasantly surprised to see me at her doorstep a day early, I knew Ellie would be coming down sometime tomorrow to spend the Holidays with her family, I didn't know when, I just knew that I didn't want to see her.

I never even told my parents that Ellie was my roommate and they hadn't heard it from Joel as they drifted when Ellie and I were fifteen.

My bedroom was exactly how I left, I cuddled into my twin bed that night sinking into the absolute silence of the the snowfall, with my dog Dusty curled at my side. I always loved the snow, the way it acted as soundproofing for the earth, when I was little I would just sit in the backyard so I could hear the birds sing in their purest and truest form.

Christmas Eve was dull to begin with, to say the least; my mom made Christmas tree-shaped waffles as she did every year, I was then dragged to an excruciatingly long church sermon. When we returned home I was sent to shovel the driveway, turns out visiting home from college doesn't excuse you from chores. I knew Ellie had arrived when I saw her grey sedan in Joel's driveway as well as Tommy's Range Rover. Bundled up in mittens and a hand-knitted scarf that Naomi gave to me I felt really tough giving the middle finger to Ellie wherever she was in Joel's house.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Elijah was cackling in the doorway. Dusty I happily bounding through the snow, paying to mind to my brother.

I immediately dropped my arm, trying to play nonchalantly "Uh, shoveling the driveway?"

His laughter only grew "You look so stupid," He huffed between cackles "You're standing in a foot of snow in the driveway giving Mr. Miller's house the middle finger in your cute little mitts."

"Say that louder, no one could hear you," I say, sarcastically.

"Hear ye, hear ye-

My eyes go wide and I drop the shovel to form a snowball and deck it at my brother "Shut up!"

"Ow!" He flinches, and his track and field hoodie from high school is now covered in powdered sleet. "Whatever," He yanks his hoodie off to shake the snow off of it "Just finish the driveway so we can watch a movie or something, I haven't seen you in months, Naomi and Aaron haven't shut up about you all holiday break."

I give him a mitted thumbs up before I try to speed run the shovelling, albeit slipping on black ice more than a few times. When I came back inside, I needed to change, my parka was dripping with snow that had melted into water.

I bundle up into sweatpants and an old soccer t-shirt. Being in my old room digs up memories pinned on my wall with bright thumbtacks year after year of photos of my soccer team, in every single one Ellie and I have our arms slung over each other. We're smiling wide and not focusing on the camera but on one another. I tear the picture away from the thumbtacks and throw them into a random shoe box that sits at the bottom of my closet. After that, I take down every artifact I have of Ellie, the drawings she made me, drafts of songs we wrote together, and t-shirts she left in my drawers, I throw it all into a Rubbermaid storage bin.

Though I leave the little wood carvings that Joel made for me alone.

My family's famous Christmas Eve dinner rolled around and I couldn't believe how excited I was, I'm not the best cook and despite me and my mother going through spats every other day, she was one hell of a good chef and I had spent months craving her honey roasted carrots and creamy mashed potatoes.

Please don't judge me when I say this, but we are the family that dresses up for dinners at home. Nothing black tie, just something a little dapper, one time I wore jeans to our family dinner and I was grounded for a week.

I finished zipping up my white sundress and I let my little sister tie a matching bow into my hair, when she saw what I was wearing she changed into her white dress which was ankle length while mine fell right above my knees.

"Oh, my sweet girls are matching again," My mom fawns over us "Let me get a picture of this cute little moment," I smile for the picture, and Naomi does the same, hooking an arm around my midriff. "Adorable," Mom looks at the picture before tucking her phone into her pocket "Now girls, please set the table."

Even though I hadn't been at home for months, setting the table was like muscle memory to me, Naomi put the placemats down, and then I did the dinner plate and salad plate, Naomi would place the napkins and cutlery then I would set glasses and pour everyone water from the pitcher. By the time we finished setting the table everyone aside from my mother and Elijah were at the table, early awaiting what was sure to be a filling dinner.

Slowly but surely my mom brought the dishes with Elijah, placing them all through the center of the dining table. After everything was placed my father, who sits at the head of the table cleared his throat, that was his signal for everyone to join hands. "Dear God, We gather today with grateful hearts to thank you for this food before us. We appreciate the effort and resources that have provided us with this nourishment. May this meal sustain our bodies and remind us of the many blessings in our lives. We are thankful for the love of family and friends who surround us and for the abundance we enjoy. Bless this food, our time together, and those who prepared it. May it strengthen us physically and spiritually. This is your body, this is your love. We thank you for feeding us with your gracious hands. In Jesus' name, we give thanks and pray. Amen."

"Amen," My family repeats before we all ravishingly fill our plates with chicken, maple-roasted mushrooms, buttered green beans, bread rolls, and mashed potatoes. I was eating so fast, I was shocked that I didn't spill anything on myself.

"So, have you met any cute boys at college?" My mother asks me, she is the only one eating politely "I'm sure you could get a real smart guy with those looks of yours."

My father nods "Just make sure he's Christian."

"Or catholic," My mother adds.

I laugh awkwardly in response, I take a sip of my water, the condensation making it slippery in my hands. Elijah gives me an odd look that goes unnoticed by my parents.

"I think we should drop off some bread or cookies or something to the Miller's, just something to say hi while Tommy and Maria are still there." My mom tells us, she isn't speaking to anyone in particular.

"Is Ellie there right now?" Aaron asks.

Elijah shrugs "Probably, her car is in the driveway."

Now Naomi is looking at me "We should invite her over for New Year's or something if she's staying for the rest of break."

My dad shakes his head "I don't know if that's a good idea," All eyes fall on him "It's just- I think she's a bit of a bad influence." He takes a swig of his wine and attempts to suppress a burp but fails. I press my lips into a thin line and look down at my plate to hold in my laughter, Elijah does the same beside me.

"I don't remember Ellie being a bad influence," Aaaron furrows his eyebrows, racking his brain to think of a time that she had done their family wrong.

"It's just that there were rumours of her having-" My father searches for the words "Unnatural tendencies I suppose, and I tried to talk to Joel about it but he got defensive and said that she didn't need fixing, that's how I lost my best fishing buddy."

My mom looks at the discomfort on all of her children's faces "I mean, we all need a bit of fixing."

Dad is quick to catch on "Oh, yeah, of course, I mean it's not just Ellie," He fumbles over his words "And it's not her fault that she's that way, I think It's because she lost her mother when she was young so she got confused about the parental roles, Joel never remarried and he didn't date around much so Ellie didn't have a proper mother figure, it's not her fault she's a dyke and there's still time to fix it if she wants to choose the right path."

Stillness falls over the table, I had never heard silence quite this loud. Even my mother is at a loss for words. All of my siblings are darting our eyes at one another, we don't utter a single word but we understand each other clearly 'Dad actually said it'.

He noticed this and tried to backtrack on his words "I'm not a bad guy, I mean we've all read the bible cover to cover, we know it's a sin. I'll wrap this up, you all know that we love you no matter what and all I'm saying is I'm glad we could distance ourselves away from it."

"Hey Dad, did you watch the Canucks game last week?" Elijah swoops in to change the topic. It's too late, a wave of sickness has already overtaken me.

While my family discusses nothing in particular, trying to ignore what Dad said, I am sick to my stomach, I push my plate away and prop my elbow the the table for my hand to support my head. I am nearly shaking. My dull eyes peer across the table and meet my father's drowsy gaze.

"Honey, are you feeling alright?" My mom pauses whatever conversation she is enwrapped in.

I don't respond, I don't know how.

My family's eyes find a resting place on my figure. Mom pushes herself away from her chair and walks over to me, she places one hand between my shoulder blades, the other takes my cold hand and she slowly rubs a circle on my back to comfort me. "Sweetness, whatever is repressed inside, say it, let it out, we're all family."

Naomi nods in agreement, her wide eyes full of concern. "I don't know how to say it," I tell them.

"Air it out," My dad says, finishing off his glass of wine and pouring himself another "Today is the perfect day, tomorrow is the birth of Jesus, a fresh start."

My heart is racing faster than it ever has before, faster than when I broke my wrist in Ellie's backyard or when I had been on a rollercoaster for the first time. "I like girls," I say, my voice is quiet, and my three words take my family with silence. My mother freezes and takes a step back, her comforting hands leaving me.

"You're joking," My dad scoffs "Tell me this is a joke and you're normal."

"I can't," My voice cracks and I can already tell that the tears are oncoming. I think briefly back to Ellie's words 'There is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you' if only she could see what was about to happen.

"All of those sleepovers with Ellie?" He is disgusted, his face contorting with horror "Were you dating her?"

"no-

"How can I believe anything you say, you lied to us for nineteen years when you knew you were sick."

"Dad, I'm not sick-

"How many sinful acts have you done under this roof?"

"None, I swear," I shake my head, it took less than a minute for me to be filled with regret at my words. I shouldn't have even come home for the holidays, actually, I never should've found Dina's listing and jumped at the deal.

"Get out," Any light tone in my dad's voice is gone, replaced by pure resentment.

"What?"

"You heard me, get out."

"Dad, it's Christmas Eve-

"Get out!" His voice rumbles through the dining room like thunder "I thought we fixed this phase when we sent you to boarding school."

"Please, dad-

"Get up and get out or I'm going to make you,"

"Fine- make me," Tears prick in my eyes but I cross my arms trying to muster up that false coolness Ellie is so good at feigning.

My dad slams his glass down so hard that it shakes the table, and the partially empty wine bottle my parents had been nursing all night is knocked over by the abruption, tipping over the deep red liquor to travel down the tablecloth and drip onto what was once my pure white dress. "Get up!" He grabs a fistful of my hair and I scream from the shock of pain. He yanks me off my chair and my face slams against the hardwood when his arm slumps, impact heavy from the sudden drop, it doesn't take long for my nose to start bleeding. He drags me to the door pushing it open; my siblings don't do anything they're petrified in horror and my mother begins to cry, covering her eyes from the scene before her.

My dad doesn't stop at the door, I thrash on the ground and he pulls me over both of my hands trying to pry his away from the roots of my hair, he drags me into the snow, finally releasing me. I shake as my hand gently finds the way to my burning scalp where I fully believe he has pulled out clumps of my hair with his harsh and unforgiving grasp.

From the doorway the rest of my family watches, Naomi has a hand covering her mouth her doe eyes brimming with tears of her own. My father disappeared into the house, it didn't take long to see what he was doing he slammed the window to make the bedroom open and began to throw all of my belongings out of the window. My pictures, my old soccer uniform, armfuls of clothes from my old beaten dresser, candles, books, paints, and shredded posters were torn straight off my wall.

"Dad, stop, I'm sorry, I'll get better!" I am on my knees, hands clasped together pleading with him. My skin is burning from the contact with the snow, I know that it must be a horrific sight to behold. White sundress, stained with wine, tangled hair, red-tinged skin, puffy eyes and incoherent sobs.

The snow makes everything so quiet the only sound travelling through the night are my sobs. I can no longer see my father in my bedroom, he is coming back down and somehow that is worse, he pushes past my family and throws the presents I was supposed to receive on Christmas morning beside me, I flinch at the movement.

"I'm sorry!" I plead like I'm bargaining with the Grimm Reaper for my life "Give me a job and I'll do it, just tell me what to do to get better!" The screaming carries through the night, alerting the neighbours in what was supposed to be a calm and quiet neighbourhood. Across the street, Joel turns on his porch light, squinting his eyes at the scene on the opposing lawn and trying to make sense of it. "I want to get better!" I shake with every sob. I could hear my dogs barking from the loud noises.

My dad shakes his head "You're too far gone, I didn't raise a fucking dyke," He is almost crying himself, he doesn't mourn for the daughter that he has but the daughter that could've been. The daughter who donned white every Sunday for church and settled down with a nice family man, a daughter who was holy but in this moment I am the purest form of holiness, born again from the violence of my father.

"Dad, I was created in God's image, why would he create his child to be this way if it was so wrong?"

"You're a fucking mistake is what you are," He seethes "Get off my property or I'm calling the cops."

"You still have my bags!" I scream and I watch him retreat to get them "Are you going to do anything at all?" I search my family for any sign of life but they all avert their eyes from mine. My father comes back out, and he throws my purse and suitcase on the lawn, this time both of them hit me, talking about kicking someone when they're down.

My dad begins to usher the family inside "I never want to see you again, get your ass up and start working, I'm not paying for you to fuck around with women instead of getting an education."

"That's it?" I cry "You won't come to my wedding or meet my kids? What about my funeral?"

"Not as long as you're with a woman." With that, he slams the door behind him and locks it. I let out another guttural sob, I've already cried so much that it's beginning to hurt within my stomach. I take a deep and shaky breath in, wiping the tears away from my eyes with my freezing hands, I'm sure to catch hypothermia if I don't warm up. I look up to see my neighbours all around either watching from their window or in the Miller family's case, the front porch. I'm sure that someone has already called the police.

"Let me in, I'm sorry!" I scramble off the ground and begin to bang on the door. Shaking the handle "Let me in!" This goes on for longer than I would've liked, I hammer on the door and scream as loud as I can but they all ignore me. Eventually, I stand by the window and slam my hands on it "Let me in or give me my fucking dog, you can't take care of him!"

I knew I was fucked when I heard sirens. It only made sense for the neighbours to call the cops at this disturbance.

I'm going to do you all a favour and tell you some useful information; when the police arrive and you don't wanna seem guilty, don't try to drive away from the scene because you might just end up getting handcuffed and shoved into the back of a police car for your childhood bestfriends family to watch from their front row seats.

"Prison life isn't for me," I wallow as I press myself against the bars of the holding cell. There are two other women in the cell with me and they both snigger. One of their names is Lucia, and she has bronze skin and brown hair so dark that it almost looks black with gold hoop earrings the size of my head, I don't know the other woman's name but she looks significantly older and has stringy blonde hair, the wrinkles of her face drooping.

"Honey, this isn't prison, you'll live another hour," Lucia sits on the uncomfortable bench, her arms crossed, she's kind of hot to be blunt.

"You reek of liquor though," Blondie cackles and I catch a glimpse of her rotting yellow teeth, what's the opposite of pearly whites? Golden nuggets? Something like that.

"Because I got wine spilled on me," I retort. I had been crying before they even placed me in the cell, wailing so loud that I was annoying the officers. I was so upset and starved for affection that I hugged the officer who detained me, babbling incoherently about how my life was ruined, I don’t even blame them for arresting me, I looked like a crackhead trying to break into a nice suburban home. “I'm not drunk."

"Could've fooled me," Lucia smirks, she's wearing a black tank top and skinny jeans. I wasn't a fan of skinny jeans but she was converting me.

I fell asleep hugging myself on one of the uncomfortable metal benches with chipped blue paint, when I woke up, it was Christmas, even though it didn't feel like it. I saw the snowfall outside of the windows on the other side of the cells. Lucia had told me just before she was released that they had the right to hold you longer over holidays, I wanted to weep all over again.

Blondie got removed from the cell too and I was all alone. The only thing that kept me sane was pretending I was Katniss or Lucy Gray, if they had survived the Hunger Games, I could survive this. I genuinely thought my life was over and I was getting sent to prison for hammering on my dad's door and screaming.

With each hour that ticked by, my profound sense of loneliness only grew. The sounds of distant laughter flitted through the hall and I am reminded of the world that lies beyond the metal bars. I wonder what my family is doing at this moment, every voice that I hear acts as a reminder of the love I had jeopardized. I lost Ellie, I lost Conner, and now I had lost my family.

I think about praying to god for a moment though I discard the thought. If he was real why did he let that happen to me? Maybe forgiveness and redemption were not necessary.

"Crybaby, call someone to pick you up," Officer Reid who initially arrested me and interrogated me began to unlock the cell, "Charges are dismissed." He had been calling me Crybaby since I was stuffed in the back of the police car and wailing uncontrollably.

"Like for real?"

He was in fact, for real. I was brought to a landline phone and my hands acted faster than my head, dialling the number of someone I would trust with my life, I just prayed that the number hadn't changed.

After making my call I was told to go to a weird booth thing to collect my effects, where an old and very judgmental woman dumped my few belongings out of an envelope. I wish I knew the technical names for this stuff but it's not like I've been arrested before this one off occasion. She looked at each of the items, stating what it was while she took inventory of it. "Smartphone, lipgloss, a single gold earring, and a cross necklace," She marks something down and then turns the paper around and holds out a blue pen for me to take "Sign here."

My phone had died already, I was missing an earring, and the cross had failed me, all I had left to rely on was my cover girl lipgloss. I sat in that stark grey room for what seemed like hours, everyone seemed miserable as I am, at least I wasn't the only person having a not-so-merry Christmas.

Holy shit, I was still disgusting. I was sticky and freezing, still in the wine-ruined white dress, there was still dried blood on my face despite my pestering Lucia to help me get it off. My hair is tangled, the bow that my sister had tied in lost somewhere in the snow. I haven't looked in a mirror but I know I look rough from the side glances that everyone is casting me. I can't imagine the dark bags beneath my red, puffy eyes to be any sort of appealing.

The sterile waiting room is beginning to get on my nerves, I flinch at every movement and hold onto hope that every person walking through the door is the person I'm waiting on. I try my best to avert my eyes from the clock so time doesn't drag on any longer than it already is.

By the time Joel gets here, the sun is beginning to set, his eyes frantically search the room until they land on me, I'm already standing up and walking toward him. "Kiddo, are you okay?"

My lip quivers and it feels like every awful thing I've ever felt is going to seep through my teeth. My head falls onto his chest but this time I don't cry, I think I've run out of tears "I have nothing ahead of me."

Joel doesn't ask questions, he just hugs me in return, resting his chin on the top of my head, there is the comfort I had been so desperately searching for.

He signs release papers and he guides me to his red Ford Explorer. When I called him I asked him to bring me shoes as I was barefoot when I was detained, being the number one dad that he was, he brought a reusable grocery store tote bag, containing a hoodie, sneakers, fuzzy socks, sweatpants and a bag of my favourite chips. I slip the sweats on underneath my dress while the hoodie goes overtop, I awkwardly unzip it and shimmy it off, stuffing it into the tote bag.

The drive back to his house begins and he turns on the radio, trying to make lighthearted chatter "Thanks for coming to get me," I say, my voice is quiet and I pull my knees to my chest like as I tend to do when I get nervous "You can just drop me off at my car and I'll be out of your way."

"Sorry, kiddo," He says, eyes focused on the road "You're staying with me tonight, I don't want you driving these roads in the dark and it'll be good for you to have a hot shower and a warm meal, get some sleep somewhere that's not a holding cell."

"It's just that-

"If you still want to leave in the morning that's up to you but you shouldn't end your Christmas alone," Each word seems so genuine "And you know I would gladly have you stay with me three hundred and sixty-five days a year."

I look at him, a soft melancholic smile on my face, "Thank you," I say.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

A sigh falls from my lips "What happened to all of my stuff that was left on the lawn?"

"Tommy and Ellie brought it all inside."

Ellie brought it back inside? Did she actually give a shit or was this something her dad ordered her to do? "Did my dad say anything to you?"

Joel shakes his head "Maria went barging on his door, those two were in a screaming match for a good two minutes before he locked the door on her. Hasn't been outside since, everyone in the neighbourhood has been coming by to ask what happened."

"Even Sharron?" I ask Joel, wrinkling my nose in distaste.

"Even Sharron," He solidifies. Sharron was the grouchy crone of the street, shutting down every party, cussing out teenagers from her porch, and yelling at barking dogs "She said she was worried about you." The windshield wipers painted rhythmic patterns across the glass, clearing a path through the soft snow that continued to fall.

"She's not worried about me, she's worried I'm on drugs and I'll break into her musty home to steal all of her hummels."

Joel huffs a laugh "I can't believe that I used to let her babysit you and Ellie."

"Me neither, you should be paying for my therapy." I tease.

He chuckles at my words, "So you're majoring in wildlife biology?"

"You remembered what I wanted to major in?"

"Of course I did."

"Hey, Mookie!" Tommy wraps his arms around me the moment I set foot in the door. He's called me Mookie since I was a little girl, it started when I couldn't pronounce monkey and thus Mookie was born. "Let me get a good look at you," He pushes me back just the slightest hands clasped on my shoulders "Look at that bruise you've got on your cheek, looking awful tough, like those greasers you used to read about."

"Look at that, Mookie grew up," Maria greets me with a warm smile, pushing Tommy away to hug me "Good to see you made it through prison alive," She jests.

Joel's house is exactly how it was when I left.

The air carried the familiar scent of firewood and lavender incense. In the living room, an inviting fireplace stood as the heart of the home. Its gentle crackle and the dancing flames provided a soothing backdrop to the overstuffed couches adorned with cozy blankets and throw pillows, worn from years of shared family movie nights. A well-loved rug covered the wooden floor, its pattern a mosaic of memories and spills easily forgiven and of course, a coffee table hand-crafted by Joel and intricately carved.

The shelves lining the walls were a treasure trove of family history. Photographs in mismatched frames captured smiling faces frozen in time, chronicling the evolution of Ellie through the years. A collection of well-read books, their spines creased and pages worn, stood proudly, offering a glimpse into the literary adventures that had unfolded within those walls.

The kitchen, the heart of many childhood homes, held the lingering aroma of Christmas dinner. The countertops, scarred from countless meals prepared and shared, were a testament to the love that had gone into creating family dinners. A worn wooden table in the center of the room bore witness to the countless conversations, celebrations, and moments of solace shared over shared meals.

"You know what, when I was around your age, I spent my fair share of time in the cooler, good to see you're taking after me," Tommy winks and gives me a hard pat on the back. Neither of them acknowledges the reason behind last night's events and somehow it feels worse than talking about it.

"We've just finished up making dinner, I'm sure you're hungry," Maria smiles softly, taking my hand into her calloused one.

"Yeah, I'm starving," I smile in return and trail behind the blonde woman to the dining table.

All of the plates are laid out with portions of food on each one, Ellie is sitting alone, spooning mashed potato into her mouth while she texts someone, she glances up at me and offers nothing more than a tight-lipped smile and awkward wave before going back to her phone. Tommy comes by with a tray of garlic butter rolls and uses tongs to add more onto my plate "Don't think I've forgotten how much you love these."

I grin up at him, I'm sitting in the same chair I sat in all those years ago when I Ellie and I would settle down after spending all day in the sun, Joel would ask us what we wanted for dinner and almost every time we would shout hotdogs.

"Good to have you back," Joel nods to me "House always felt a little empty without you."

I always felt a little empty without this house "Good to be back," I smear some mashed potato onto Tommy's famous garlic butter bread rolls.

I feel almost sick with nostalgia as I look around the dining room, Joel still had Ellie's crafts from elementary school hung up and if you look closely, you find little clues that I've left behind; proof that I once existed as a girl beneath this roof. There's a dent in the wall from the time I stood on my chair to catch a spider and accidentally fell over, my head hitting right into the wall, Ellie was laughing too hard to help me.

"So what school do you go to?" Maria asks me, washing down her pot roast with some ice water.

"Northridge actually," At my words, Ellie's head perks up, she's looking dead at me with a look of fear in her eyes.

"Oh, Ellie goes there!" Tommy smiles "She never mentioned that you do too."

Ellie is silently pleading with me, I know she doesn't want me to tell her family that she's been borderline tormenting me as my roommate and sending me to bed with tears in my eyes. I didn't plan on telling them anyway "That's funny, I guess we just keep missing each other."

Joel set up an air mattress in Ellie's room, that's when it became clear to me that he had no idea just how bad the fallout was between us. I hate to say that I missed her room and all of the memories we shared in it.

Ellie's bedroom resembled something of a teen guy who'd never gotten laid before. She had a navy comforter, her shelves were lined with comics and novels, I know for a fact that she'd read every single one of them. Her desk was always a mess, covered in pages of poetry and sketches that she had torn out from her journal. Almost every inch of her walls is covered in posters of bands, movies and her nerdy video games.

I was fresh out of the shower, finally in my clean clothes that I had dug out of my suitcase. I got to charge my phone too, there was an overwhelming number of messages.

D-Manz: HAPPY CHRISTMAS BITCH!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU AND CAN'T WAIT TO PARTY WHEN WE GET BACK

Jesse: Merry Christmas, hope your day isn’t shit! 😁😁😁

Riley: Merry Christmas! Hope you're having fun at your new school!

Abs: Merry Christmas and stay safe!

Kayla: Missing you girl ☹️ so excited for that staff party!

Kit-Cat: Merry Christmas, don't have too much fun without me

Yara: Merry Christmas ❤️ this probably isn't the time but I was hoping you could send over your notes from the last conservation lecture, just wanna text you before I forget!

566-460-4374: I got your number from Kyle, this is Roderick, I saw you last night and wanted to check up on you, hope everything is okay and merry Christmas.

Lindsey: Hey, haven't talked to you in a while but my parents said some stuff went down, just wanna make sure you're okay.

Ellie: Lmk if you need a ride back to our place

Ellie: Don't know if you can even see this but I got all of your stuff off the lawn, I promise it's safe 👍

Naomi: I'm so sorry

Naomi: I didn't think that would happen

Naomi: I didn't know what to do

Naomi: I love you

Aaron: U good?

Naomi: Please don't hate me, I'm sorry I didn't do anything

Elijah: Sorry but I wish you didn't tell Dad that

Naomi: I'll try to talk to Dad

Elijah: Hope you're safe

Elijah: Call me when you can

Still, there wasn't any word from either of my parents. I replied returning well wishes and assuring everyone that I was okay, I turned my phone onto Do Not Disturb and began to watch the Hunger Games on my phone. The room would've been pitch black if it wasn't for the blue light from my screen and the gentle beams of moonlight gliding through the window.

Ellie walks into the room after she finishes with her shower, she's in sweatpants and an old hoodie that she got from a rodeo, I had the same one, and we bought them together. I glance up at her before looking back at my movie and pulling the quilt further up my body. "You still like the Hunger Games?"

"Yeah," I say, being as brief as possible.

"You should take my bed and I'll sleep on the air mattress," Ellie says while she ties her hair into a low ponytail.

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"Seriously," Ellie is standing awkwardly at the foot of her bed, waiting for me to do something.

I shut my phone off and turned on my other side to face away from her "Just go to bed."

Ellie runs her hands down her face in frustration, she's starting to feel like an asshole "Please take the bed, it's the least I can do." I ignore her so she speaks again "I am begging you," She tells me bluntly "I feel like a dick and it would make me feel better if you just took the bed."

"You are a dick," I answer, she should've seen this response coming from a mile away.

"Please take the bed."

I sit up to look at her, frustration now boiling up inside of me "You're going to be nice now because you feel bad for me?"

"That's not why-

"It is actually," I tell her "This will last for a few days and then we'll go home and you'll be a cunt all over again, fucking keeping a list of everything I lay a finger on so you can say it's my fault if it breaks." She bites the inside of her cheek, that's her tell. Every time she does that I can tell that I've gotten under her skin. "You'll still act like you don't know me and I'm just some weird girl who thinks the world of you, I know what you say to those girls you have over, the walls aren't that thick." My insides ache from all of the screaming and crying of the past couple of days "And I know that I hurt you and I've told you a million times over that I'm sorry, you don't get to start having empathy for me now."

Ellie's silent again, she can't seem to find the words, so instead she slips under the covers of her bed, giving up. Minutes pass us, we've slept in this room together a thousand times but this time it's different, we don't share her queen bed and stay up all night watching the walking dead and talking shit about people at our school, we lay in the uncomfortable silence. We're grown but in this moment I still feel like a child searching for her mother's hand to guide her, I feel like my teeth still need to fall out so brighter, stronger ones can take their place, that the baby fat has yet to shed from my bones.

"I didn't know that you liked girls," Ellie said, breaking the silence "And I shouldn't have assumed that stuff about your parents." I don't respond to her, though she knows that I heard her. "I lied that night when you moved in."

"What?"

"I got all bitchy and said that you don't even cross my mind, I was lying," She's confessing to me as if I'm a priest "There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't think about you."

I'm not doing well.

I want nothing more than to crawl into bed next to Ellie and just hug her until I fall asleep but the resentment I've garnered for her these past months refrains me.

"I don't know if you ever knew this, but back in high school I had a bit of a crush on you," She says and my break hitches in my throat "Hey, you there?"

'I don't know if you ever knew this but I turned myself inside out trying not to be in love with you.' I don't say that, instead, I say "Goodnight, Ellie, Merry Christmas."

"Goodnight," She mutters, and like me, she turns her body to face away from me.

I don't feel mature in the slightest, I'm kept awake, haunted by shame and embarrassment. Ellie had seen me only one night prior, on my knees begging for love. We may be cold and calculated to one another now but I remember when she was a little girl who overwatered her plants because she didn't know how to stop giving.

TAG LIST I just tagged whoever wanted a part two: @elliesaesp @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @elliesaturnsoftdrink @mikellie @melanie-watermelon @skylerwhitwyo

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

07. sharing a bed series ; skz ; seungmin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 7/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. sassy bad girl reader, sassy good boy seungmin. handcuffed together trope. sex toys, blow jobs, strap-on blow jobs, handjobs, dick piercings, fake sex. lots of bickering, lots of moaning, lots of evil smirking hehe.

It takes about ten minutes to get through the doorway because neither you or Seungmin will concede ground. With your right hand handcuffed to his left hand, your shoulder-to-shoulder breadth is too big for the doorframe.

After some arguing, you face each other. You are glaring the entire time but you manage to force your way into the bedroom.

You can’t change clothes with the handcuffs so you head straight for the bed where you proceed to stumble around clumsily. With some cussing and your failed attempt to put him in a headlock, you and Seungmin manage to get in bed.

You lay on your backs with your handcuffed hands between you.

There is a minute of silence. Everyone else went to bed hours ago so the vacation house is silent. It’s just you and the most annoying man on earth, forcibly handcuffed together, stuck in the same bed.

“My life is a joke,” you say.

“Yeah,” Seungmin says. “Your life is a joke. Ow!”

He slaps your hand when you pinch his thigh and you smack his chin only for him to chomp at your fingers. You both roll your eyes and look away from each other for all of ten seconds, then you glare at him and he gives you a judgemental stare.

“How are you going to sleep like that?” he asks.

You raise your joined hands, the chain jingling.

“Wow, Seungmin, whatever do you mean?” you say dryly.

“Wow, Seungmin, meh-meh-beh-beh,” he mocks your tone then uses his free hand to smack your arm. It makes a crinkling sound when it collides with the leather jacket you can’t remove. “I’m talking about the skinned cow on the cow.”

“Funny.”

“The skinned cow is the leather jacket.”

“I know that.”

“And you’re the other cow.”

“I got it, Seungmin.”

“Just checking,” he says with that blithe, shit-eating grin of his. “You’re just not very smart so I wanted to be nice and check.”

This fucking guy.

Kim Seungmin is the mouthiest smartass you have ever met. A friend of your friends, the acquaintanceship has been forced on you for the sake of the overall friend group. You two are like oil and water, completely incompatible in every way. You are the denim-and-leather bad girl and he is the blazer-and-tie good boy. Equally sassy, but astronomically apart in lifestyle. You clashed from your first introduction.

You can usually manage an hour or two of civility, especially if you stay out of each other’s way, but this vacation has pushed that strained dynamic to its breaking point.

Changbin’s family owns a vacation house near a ski resort so your whole friend group is spending the winter holidays at the luxury cabin. This means you and Seungmin have been forced to interact for much longer than a few hours.

You expected some annoyance but Seungmin is an even bigger brat than you remembered. You have already spent three days at each other’s throats. Tonight you went to a party at the resort and the few hours away from him did wonders, but it only took one stupid remark for you start fighting all over again.

You didn’t even have time to remove your boots or jacket. With Seungmin, it was on sight.

Fed-up, Minho leapt off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom. The others were just groaning or slouched in their seats, shaking their heads at you and Seungmin. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, every dry remark needing a comeback, every insult escalating.

Then Minho returned. He yanked Seungmin out of his seat and practically threw him at you. You should have let his stupid face hit the ground but your reflexes kicked in and you caught him in his flail. There were a few seconds of confusion before Minho clasped the handcuffs around you. The whole room went silent, you and Seungmin staring at the cuffs then looking at Minho.

Minho dangled the keys in your face.

“I will let you out of the handcuffs,” he spoke as if speaking to particularly stupid children, “when you overcome your differences and decide to stop ruining the holiday.”

You and Seungmin both sputtered in protest, but neither of you were brave enough to physically fight Minho for the keys. That kitty has claws, mean ones. Not even you mess with Lee Minho.

Now you and Seungmin are stuck sharing a bed. You are still fully dressed, in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, whereas he was already dressed down in pyjama pants and a t-shirt. All he has to do is remove his glasses and he’s fine to sleep.

You, however, are dressed for a whole different kind of evening.

“Trust me,” you say with an aggrieved sigh, “the jacket is not the most uncomfortable thing I’m wearing.”

He pinches his glasses at the stem, wiggling them up-and-down like it will help him see better.

“What do you mean?” he asks. “Wait, you’re a freak, right? Is it something kinky?”

He asks it mockingly but you smile and turn your face to him, lifting an eyebrow. You get some satisfaction from the way his face contorts with realization.

“Wait, really?” he asks. “What the hell. Why? What is it?”

“You sound curious.”

You really can’t help but tease him, anticipating he will snap back with equal verve. You are surprised when his remark gets tangled on his tongue, his mouth open with no reply. The tips of his ears are faintly red.

“Oh, you are curious,” you say.

“Gross, no way.” He comes back to himself and scrunches his whole face with revulsion. “Keep it to yourself. Pervert.”

“Proudly.”

“Wow.”

You feel satisfied with the silence that follows, feeling like you finally won a conversation and sent him into a mute stupor. But then he looks at you and you brace yourself for the incoming wave of irritation.

“It’s not gonna suddenly go off or something, is it?” he asks. “I don’t want to wake up to you thrashing around like a fish on a boat deck.”

“It’s a hard packer. You know, a strap-on for wearing out? A ready-to-go, signed-sealed-and-delivered dick?” You list everything with the same pleasant smile. “Big one too.”

His face is perpetually frozen in a state of prepared ridicule so he still looks marginally judgemental, but more confused than repulsed.

“Right now?” he says. His eyes drift down to your jeans. “You wore… you wore it out?”

“Brave new world, Seungminnie,” you say, the nickname making his eye twitch despite the sarcasm in it.

“You’re lying,” he says. He doesn’t wait for you to argue; he reaches with his cuffed hand to feel for extra weight between your legs. It drags your own hand along with it, too surprised to react fast enough to stop him. He finds what he was looking for, his brow furrowing when he closes his fist over the hard bulge under your fly. “Whoa, wait, seriously?”

“Dude!” You pry his hand off, though he doesn’t go without a fight, patting it like it’s puppy. “What the hell, man. You can’t just grab someone’s dick like that.”

“Why not? It’s not real.”

“It is in a way! I can still feel it!”

“You can?” He pokes it.

“Yes.” You swat him away. “Depending on position.”

“And you wore it to the party?” he says, then whistles low and shakes his head. “Wow. You have a high opinion of yourself. Thought you were gonna get lucky?”

“I did very well for myself, thanks.”

He holds up your cuffed hands with a sarcastic look of his own.

“Not that well,” he says. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t tend to stay the night,” you say.

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em,” he says. “I should have known.” He sighs as if disappointed in you.

You barely register his retort, your brain jumping ahead a few paces.

Walking around with ready-to-play silicone in your pants does have a tendency to leave you teetering on the side of horny, so maybe that’s why your brain is incapable of supplying another type of plan, but a plan begins to form nonetheless.

“I have an idea,” you say.

“Breaking your wrist so you can slide out of the handcuffs?”

“Kim Seungmin, I’ll let you know that while I might have one hand out of commission, I am still capable of shoving your slipper in your mouth.”

“Kim Seungmin, meh-meh-meh, beh-beh-beh.”

“Why do I even bother?” You sigh. “Do you wanna get out of these handcuffs or not?”

“Fine.” He fiddles with his glasses and glares at you. “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your idea?”

You sit up and nod your head towards the wall behind the headboard.

“Minho’s room is on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?” you ask.

“Yes,” he replies, warily. “Why?”

“Let’s pretend to have noisy sex.”

“What!” He sits upright too, the cuffs jingling again.

“We can bang the headboard against the wall,” you add.

“What the hell is that supposed to accomplish, you idiot?”

“Two things,” you say. “One: that we have clearly resolved our differences through the release of sexual tension. And two: if we are exceptionally noisy about it, it will piss him off enough to want to separate us again.”

“That is a terrible plan,” he says, which is not a rejection. “Besides there’s no sexual tension between us. There’s no way he’d believe it.”

“Well then,” you say, leaning closer to his face, “you better put on a believable performance to make up for it, hm?”

You expected him to lean back but he didn’t move, so you find yourself nose-to-nose and locked in a staring contest. It is so quiet that you can hear every intake of breath. His gaze goes from your eyes to your lap and back again, jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he says. “I’m only willing to try because I’d rather chew off my hand than spend the night with you—”

“I mean, you can try that too,” you say.

“Shut up.” He grabs the collar of your jacket and jerks you around. “Just get down.”

“Uh, get down?” You push when you realize he is trying to wrestle you onto your back. You lift your joined hands off the bed so he loses his balance. “You get down. I’m on top.”

“Can you relax?” he says, scrambling back upright. “We’re not actually having sex, you uptight weirdo.”

“Yeah, but do you think those skinny arms can push this headboard against the wall?”

“I think these skinny arms can push you off the bed.”

“I think those skinny arms will find themselves following.”

You tussle for a good minute, pushing at each other’s faces and tugging each other’s shirts. Your physical strength overpowers his but he isn’t hindered by a stupid leather jacket. Already a bit sweaty and exhausted, you surrender with an aggravated huff.

“Fine, try it then,” you say, flopping on your back. You stubbornly cross your arms, trapping his cuffed hand in your arm.

“Let me go,” he says, trying to wrest his arm back.

“I’m not doing anything. Ahh, stop that!”

He tires to lick you. Tongue out, he dives at your head. He only stops when you snatch his glasses off his face, at which point he climbs on top of you to try and grab them back.

“Stop it. This is so immature,” he says, stretching to reach your own outstretched arm.

“Immature?” you ask, aghast. “You were trying to lick me!”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because you suck,” he says.

He manages to get his glasses back. He sticks out his tongue as he puts them on his face.

You tussle a little more, shuffling around and swiping at each other. Eventually you get to the middle of the bed with him still straddling your hips. Your cuffed arm lifts when he grips the headboard with both hands. He strains for one pitiful push. His hair bounces but the headboard barely hits the wall.

You lift an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” he says.

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply.

“I can hear your ugly face.”

“That’s a you problem.”

He ignores you and braces himself to push on the headboard again. All the beds are extravagantly woodworked pieces, the headboards dense and heavy. Despite the proximity to the wall, you are not surprised it takes effort to actually make the bed bounce.

Seungmin, to his credit, does not give up easily. He braces his shoulders, but this time when he pushes he rocks with his whole body.

Unfortunately, this does drag almost all his weight against the toy in your pants. You are wearing the kind of underwear designed to support a toy, the base of it separated from your clit by only a strip of fabric. When he rocks against you, it grinds there, and your hands instinctively fly to grab his hips.

It knocks him a bit off balance because your cuffed hand drags his down too. He puts that hand over yours, cupped around his hip, and glares down at you.

“What the hell was that?” he asks.

You let go of his hips immediately.

“Nothing,” you say.

He looks at you with a scrutinizing eye, then looks down, then up again. You hold his gaze unflinchingly, at least until he rocks again and a little spark of heat goes off inside you.

“Can you feel that?” he asks. He asks it matter-of-factly, peering down at you from behind his big round glasses, sitting comfortably in his stupid pyjamas.

“Yes,” you speak in as steady a voice as you can, because you will not show weakness first. “There are only a couple positions where I can feel it strongly. This… is… one of them.”

“Wow,” he says. He looks genuinely reflective for a minute, then he grins one of his evil grins. “So… you can feel when I do this?” He puts his free hand on the middle of your chest and leans forward so he grinds against you at a different angle, his own bulge pushing against yours.

“Ohmyff—” You grab his hips again, freezing him while he snickers above you. “Dude.”

“Just checking,” he says. He grabs the headboard and pushes again. The thud is a soft one.

You clench your jaw, annoyed and wound up. You grab his waist and roll over in one fluid motion, knocking some wind out of him when you thump him on his back. His thighs clench instinctively to hold onto your hips, his legs still around your waist when you grab the headboard and shove it several times in a row.

His cuffed arm is above his head, hand dangling under your grip on the headboard. His glasses are askew from the flip, his legs still open around yours. He stares at you, however crookedly through the tilted glasses. Your breathing is heavy in the quiet room. He swallows.

You break the silence with a pointed, “Well?”

“Well, what?” he asks just as roughly.

“Moan or yell or something. Whatever you normally do in bed.”

“I’m normally quiet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you say dryly. “Since that mouth never stops.”

“Why don’t you moan?”

“Because I’m in charge of bed pushing.” To make your point, you rock the bed some more, pushing slightly against him with the motion. The headboard hits the wall for a few rhythmic thumps.

He fixes his glasses with his free hand, still frowning at you. That hand freezes on his glasses when you shrug your coat off your free arm, too hot to keep wearing it. It will only get caught on the handcuffs if you push it down the other arm so you leave it hanging off your shoulder. You put your hand back on the headboard, muscles flexing with the next shove. His eyes go to your arm.

“Well?” you say.

He looks at you. It’s a cold, unfeeling stare, followed by an annoyed puff of a breath.

Then he makes a sound, a small, rough moan in the back of his throat. You are certain only you can hear it. He looks right at you while doing it, legs still accommodating your shape, on his back with an open mouth while glaring at you despite the noises.

It is, in a word, hot. Hot as fucking hell. Oh god. You are not getting turned on by Kim Seungmin. Absolutely not.

He moans again, closing his eyes and shifting with the next push, as if he can really feel it. He cants his hips and falls back again. He moans one more time.

Ah, you think. Fuck.

You stop shoving the bed for a second, breathless and not from exertion.

You clear your throat. Seungmin is still staring at you. You stare back, then your gaze drifts. The leather jacket starts to slip down your shoulder so you tug it back up. You gulp.

“You’re hard,” you say, a very basic observation. His soft pyjama pants leave little to the imagination.

He drops his legs from around your waist, but you are between his thighs so he can’t quite close them. He plants his feet on the bed and glares up at you.

“So are you,” he says.

“Mine’s not real,” you say.

“Ohh, so now it’s not real?” He rolls his eyes. “Sorry, I can’t keep up with Schrodinger’s dick.”

“You know what I mean, smartass.”

“If anything yours is more real,” he says. “Your dick is more deliberate than mine. I can’t control my hard-on but you put one there on purpose.”

That logic is a weirdly difficult to argue. You try to think of a witty comeback but your brain is more than a little fried.

“So,” is all you say, at a loss.

He stares up at you for another second, then pushes himself upright. You let his cuffed hand lead yours, at least until you realize he is bringing his hands to the button of your jeans. You seize his cuffed hand and tug it away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks contemptuously. He even snarls.

Despite the viciousness, he dives in without waiting for an answer. He uses his free hand as a guide, but otherwise he leans forward and clamps his teeth around the button. He works it open quickly, then takes the zipper in his mouth and yanks it down.

You let go of his hand, surprised. He uses both hands to fish the toy out of your pants.

He balks at it.

“You walked around with this all night?” he asks, looking up at you.

Fuck. It is literally right by his face. It looks obscene. Your figures twitch with the urge to cup his chin.

“Yes,” you answer in a low voice. “It’s my preferred method of, uh, action.”

“Action,” he repeats, smiling like the word is a hilarious punchline. He even cackles a little. “Action,” he repeats. “Not ‘making love?’” His tone is drole.

“Not really the making love type,” you say.

“Wow,” he says. His eyes flick to your toy dick, just millimeters from his face. He pushes his glasses up his nose. He glances up at you with that evil smile. “Same,” he says.

Then suddenly he has his mouth wrapped around the end of it, looking up at you as he sucks on it.

For a second, you think you have gone completely insane, because you swear you can feel it. Your clit and pussy and every other body part rears to life with sudden, unbidden arousal.

“Jesus fucking—” you start.

He pops off your dick with a wet sound. He licks his lips.

“Hmm,” he says, eying it thoughtfully. “Tastes funny. Could you feel that?”

“Kinda,” you squeak. “In a way.”

“Got it.”

Is this even turning him on? His dick is filling out his pyjama pants so you think so, but he is also approaching the entire thing like it can be hacked through a scientific algorithm. He studies the toy with a lot of scrutiny, as if he is calculating the mechanics of it.

“You don’t have to—” you start, but then suddenly his mouth is back on the end of it, his free hand is in the middle of it, and he is pushing it back against you, clearly having figured out you can feel the part against your clit. He grinds it there, up and down, bobbing his head and staring up at you.

It is usually fairly difficult to reach orgasm this way but he takes you the edge in an almost terrifying speed run, then abruptly stops. He takes in a deep breath, a huge wad of spit connecting his lips to the end of the toy.

“Did that do something?” he asks, wiping his mouth.

Your jacket slips down your arm and catches on the handcuffs. You stare at him.

“Uhhh…” you say, voice guttural. “Yes.”

He grins, looking immensely satisfied with himself.

“That wasn’t so hard,” he says. “I thought it would be more complicated. I’m guessing gravity works in your favour when someone sits on it?”

Yes, that is your brain spilling out of your ear in a big, mushy goop.

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Yeah.” What the fuck else are you supposed to say?

He suddenly narrows his eyes at you, his regard suspicious even while he starts jerking the toy with his free hand.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

You show him the only way that makes sense, leading his cuffed hand to your pants and nudging the toy aside so he can slip his fingers past it. He freezes completely when he feels how turned on you are, looking up at you as he returns his now wet fingers to himself.

“Oh,” he says. He looks at his fingertips. “I see.”

Then he grins at you and puts his fingers in his mouth.

“Right,” you say. “Got it.”

You grab him and put him on his back again, reaching immediately for his waistband. You have barely grasped the material when you are suddenly shoved back, his foot planted squarely in the middle of your chest.

“Slippers first,” he says.

He is just being difficult. You know that, but you indulge the little brat anyway, glaring at him while removing his stupid slipper. You toss it behind you and he switches feet, shoving his other one in the same spot. He smiles at you, leaning back on his elbows at tapping his slippered toes against your heart. You shake your head but remove that one too. Before he can try any more funny business, you grab him under the knee and push his knees back to his chest. His glasses slip a little again. His cuffed hand can’t leave yours, hooked under his knee, so his free hand awkwardly reaches up to fix them.

“Careful,” he says, like you’ve been the unreasonable one in any way, shape, or form.

“I’ll try,” you say dryly, then reach for his waistband.

You get the material barely shuffled past his hips when your jaw falls open.

“Hold on,” you say, fingers reaching for his twitching dick. “No way. No way.”

Kim Seungmin. Blazer-and-tie good boy. Pristine socialite. Arrogant snob. High society darling. Spoiled brat. Good boy. Good boy. Good boy.

He has a classically beautiful piercing on the head of his dick.

He opens his mouth to speak, his expression revealing it is about to be some mouthy retort, but it turns into a gasp when you run your thumb up and over, teasing at it, gathering a not-inconsiderable amount of precum and stroking the whole length of him.

“Aren’t you pretty,” you say, circling the most sensitive cluster of nerves with your thumb. It makes his thighs twitch and his shoulders shake.

“S-surprised?” he asks.

“Honestly, yeah,” you admit.

He looks very satisfied with that, grinning at you. That evil smile drives you crazy so you flash a grin of your own then dive down.

His fake moans were pretty close to his real ones, but his real ones are louder as you expected. He has to bite his fist to keep the sound down. You rise, wiping at your mouth and glaring at him.

“Louder,” you say. “Remember?”

“Oh, right.” He drops his hand. “Your stupid plan. Okay. Continue.” He waves you onward like a prince, thumping his head back on the pillows.

He is so annoying. He really does have a pretty dick, though. Drawing real moans out of him is more fun than arguing over fake ones, and he makes some exceptionally lovely sounds when you put your mouth on him. He starts gasping when he gets close, his face scrunching up, but he grabs your head and stops before he gets there fully.

You look at him with a questioning eyebrow lift but move when he nudges you. He gets on his knees so you are kneeling in front of each other, then he guides your hand back to his dick at the same time he curls his fingers around the base of your toy.

Your eyes are heavy-lidded and your mouths are close together but not touching. It feels like another contest, to see who will give in and kiss the other person first, even while your hands are way past that stage.

Fuck it, you think when he gets a bit whiny, breathing hard against your lips. You clasp your free hand around his neck and drag him close for a kiss. It makes him come, his back locking and mouth opening under yours. He wouldn’t be Seungmin if he didn’t try and turn a kiss into a fight, licking at you with messy intensity. The rapid back-and-forth of his tongue coupled with his skilled hand takes you over the edge too.

You get a bit euphorically giggly when you come, smiling against his mouth.

Seungmin turns unexpectedly clingy, putting his free arm around your neck and burying his face in your shoulder. He holds so tightly that you fall, flopping onto the bed with him still nestled against you.

You lay there for a bit, him still hiding, your heavy breathing slowing to a more normal cadence. Eventually he lifts his head and exhales. He adjusts his crooked glasses then grins.

“I won,” he says.

“You can’t win at sex,” you reply.

“Yes you can, and I just did. Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Oh my god.”

Your exchange passes with far less animosity than usual. You still side-eye each other while dealing with your respective dicks. It’s a little easier for him to pull up his pants one-handed than it is for you to wrestle a toy out of an O-ring, but you do succeed. You let it roll off the edge of the bed, watching and listening as it thumps onto the floor.

You look over Seungmin who was watching too. When you make eye contact, you both start laughing. It turns the whole scene into an unusually affectionate one. Figuring you might as well commit, you hold his cuffed hand in your own. He rolls closer, eying you with those perpetually mischievous eyes.

Then suddenly the bedroom door flies open. It smashes into the wall, startling both of you.

Minho walks up to the bed and chucks the keys at you, glares, then turns and leaves the room. He slams the door shut behind him.

You and Seungmin look at each other then down at the keys.

“Told you,” you say.

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

He licks your cheek unprompted, then unlocks the cuffs while you complain and wipe your face. It has you so distracted that you are a second too late realizing he has another dastardly plan in mind.

Your wrist is still cuffed. He takes the now empty half and clasps it around one of the intricate loops in the headboard. You tug on it then look at him.

“Kim Seungmin,” you say.

“Kim Seungmin,” he repeats in that mocking voice, grinning as he climbs up over you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying not to smile at his wicked grin as he starts kissing under your chin and down your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks. “I’m winning.”

You decide not to argue for once. It goes without saying you both won this round.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin x reader #skz x reader #seungmin x reader

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notedchampagne · 3 months

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What makes a tlt au work for you? Do u have any favourites out there/that you’ve thought of?

its hard because it can go down to the writing! i have a huge bias for things that put focus on the characters acting awful and driving the story forward- if a story has a plot thats great, but its the difference between "gideon and harrow keep meeting up at parties and fall a little bit in love every time" and "gideons angry she lost her childhood to the cult so she attends a party with the tridentarii to shotgun adolescent experiences, and harrowhark, frustrated that gideon is pulling on her metaphorical leash, follows to stalk her". the former retains a 5+1 fic format and is more bite-size, while the latter puts more focus into their growth as characters. im not great at articulating what i like specifically, but ill put my favorite fics below:

what if nona was dogs tugs at my heart: its post-canon, slice-of-life, and has a unique concept (said in the title). i judged a book by its cover because i thought the premise seemed too silly at first but ive been made a fool and its pet clown. it feels so true to nona the way its about all the things nona loves and how she gets to explore the world through new eyes. i love the way it explores characters softening up and getting hurt through a third person pov

we have always lived in the apartment by @thatneoncrisis i keep saying this but for the love of GOD guys this au is so good it makes me cry and feel such a deep catharsis from it. it takes gideon and harrow and the ninth as a cult and explores their struggle to adapt to a modern society when noone ever gets a break (WOW ITS JUST LIKE IN REAL L-). quinn writes the sides of griddlehark i think go overlooked in fanfic often: their codependency, their tendency to lash out when theyre defensive, their mutual paranoia and different coping mechanisms, harrows psychosis and gideons bitterness, their relationships to each other as being the only other person who really understands what the other suffered through. god. i feel lightheaded.

"but SAM, i dont like angst but i want to see this writing!" read gap between a tragedy and a comedy

"SAM, i also like when gideon and harrow are horrible because theyre maladjusted teenagers! but i want more antics where the characters drive things forward over angst!" read whats eating gideon nav

you just aint receiving is one of my FAVORITE modern aus of all time (and i heavily recommend the authors other fics as well!) if you really want to see how much i love this fic the fact that my comments take up the entire phone screen probably says a lot. its hard to put it concisely: it keeps harrows air of misanthropy and cruelty but redefines it as the result of her upbringing and personal struggle to live in a university while dealing with a backpack of mental illness and frustration. it changes gideons personality as the daughter of john gaius in a way that makes sense having her grow up with johns middling parenting skills and getting everything she ever wanted (connecting it back to kirionas personality in ntn!). it brings in side characters (specially palamedes. my beautiful boy palamedes) in ways that compliment harrow and gideon but not so obviously that they only exist to be supports. they have their own lives and ideals. its a modern au that brings in the boiling politics of johns cult uprising once again in a really novel way

semi charmed kinda life by @griddlebait. jesuchristo and all his middle names this fic is GREAT for you if you want a slice of life, coming of age type modern au that explores what its like for gideon and harrow if they actually got the space to see who theyd become outside of the stifling fate tlt has for them. as far as modern aus go im usually very hesitant to read them because im afraid modernizing the characters takes features away from their core but i really love and respect the way the author treats the 69ers with care and draws distinct lines that shows me how their grow and change while keeping a line to the anchor. also they write HIDEOUS (complimentary) PINING. DISGUSTING. some of these chapters were so chock full of dyke drama that they made me nauseous and whimsical. i think once a friend said this fic felt like if gh could be reincarnated and i like that descriptor a lot

til the cows come home is another postcanon fic that made me feel sick and crybabyish about it- i would definitely recommend it if you want to explore a happier ending with griddlehark! with this and what if nona was dogs the thing i like most about them is that they mix up vulnerability with pain and fear, so it feels more lifelike that way if that makes sense. i lost my taste in fluff fics over time but when its interspersed with struggle and characters causing problems because they cant cope with themselves it feels much more earnest and raw

this became very long. im not sorry

#im very great at answering questions concisely!#the locked tomb #griddlehark #fic rec #talking back

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tortillamastersblog · 5 months

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♕ No Matter What | Lena Luthor ♕

Pairing: Lena Luthor x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: After an honorable discharge, you feel lost, not knowing what to do with the rest of your life. That is until your best friend Sam Arias takes matters into her own hands.

Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

“Sam, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” I hiss as the elevator doors slide shut behind us.

The security guard we just passed in the lobby was eyeing me the entire time while Sam explained our business to the woman behind the reception.

She seemed to recognize the brunette, which was somewhat of a relief because the next time her eyes met mine she smiled politely.

The security guard’s stare however did not waver and it made my skin crawl.

Yes, he’s supposed to be intimidating and scrutinizing, it’s what he’s payed for after all, working for National City’s most infamous tech-billionaire, but it didn’t soothe the nervousness bubbling in my stomach.

“It’s a little late for that now,” Sam deadpans, raising an eyebrow. “You know, with you having already signed the contract and all…”

I roll my eyes at her theatrics and shove her gently. “God, you’re the worst.“

Yes, I did sign a contract, but it doesn’t change the fact that the person I’m supposed to be a bodyguard for has expressed her doubt concerning the necessity of my presence time and time again until Sam finally got through to her.

She also very much has the power to destroy my life and possible future careers if she doesn’t like me or my performance, which isn’t something I’m particularly excited about.

I clench and unclench my fists, the feeling of cold sweat running down my back doing nothing to soothe me.

Pull yourself together!

I haven’t been this nervous in a long time. The last time was over a year ago before everything went wrong.

“Hey.” Sam’s soft voice brings me back to reality and when I meet her eyes I find her watching me with genuine concern. “You’re perfect for the job, stop worrying about it and Lena is—“ she laughs softly—“Well, she’s Lena.”

I scoff. “Wow, okay. That is not helpful. . . at all.”

Sam giggles and before long the elevator stops its ascent and opens its doors, revealing a polished white hallway.

We get out and I follow Sam to a sleek wooden door.

This is it.

“Lena?” Sam knocks, but it’s more of a courtesy than anything else because she pulls out a key card the next second and swipes it through the reader next to the door. It beeps quietly, a green light flashing for a moment before the door clicks open.

“Lena?” Sam tries again, stepping into the apartment. I follow her cautiously and look around, taking in the open floor plan.

The white leather couches are elegant and tasteful, the glass coffee table between them reflecting the morning sun shining through the floor to ceiling windows.

There’s a fireplace which doesn’t look used and a couple of expensive looking paintings on the walls.

“Sam! You’re early,” a voice greets us and when I follow Sam around the corner my eyes land on her.

Lena Luthor.

She’s in her kitchen, which is also part of the open floor plan, standing behind the island and making tea.

Tea? I pegged her as a coffee person, what with all her early morning meetings and late night conferences.

Now slightly curious, I take a step closer and look her over.

She’s nothing like I expected. She’s wearing makeup, yes, and her hair is in a sleek ponytail which screams business, but her simple purple sweater and bluejeans make her look. . . soft.

“You must be Y/N.”

I snap to attention, hoping to God I wasn’t caught staring.

“Yes! Yes, that’s me,” I blurt out. “Nice to meet you Ms. Luthor.”

The young Luthor eyes me skeptically and simply raises an eyebrow when I step forward and raise my hand from her to shake.

I gulp and send Sam a helpless look.

“Lena, we talked about this,” she warns her friend with a pointed glare. “Play nice.”

The billionaire relents and takes my hand, shaking it once before letting go. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Sam clears her throat which prompts the other woman to add, “And you can call me Lena.”

I laugh uncomfortably and waver her off. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary, Ms. Luthor.“

Sam and Lena both seem surprised by the refusal but neither of them linger on it.

“Alright then,” Lena says, taking a sip of her tea before turning to Sam. “I’ll see you at the office?”

“Yeah,” the brunette affirms. “Lunch?”

Lena smiles. “Sounds good.”

They share a quick hug and I catch a glimpse of Sam whispering something in Lena’s ear which makes the latter roll her eyes playfully.

“I mean it,” Sam warns as they break apart, though there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Lena huffs and takes another sip of her tea, watching over the rim of the cup as Sam squeezes my forearm.

“Good luck,” she mumbles. “Try and have some fun.“

Ha! Fun. . . I bet that word isn’t even in Lena’s vocabulary.

I don’t voice my thoughts, simply bidding Sam goodbye when she squeezes my arm again and before long she’s gone, leaving me alone under the predatory gaze of my new boss.

Shifting uncomfortably in my spot, I look around the apartment once again while Lena finishes her tea.

Yeah, this was not a good idea.

I should have stuck to living off my separation pay and the little money I make teaching self defense classes.

It’s too late to back out now, I remind myself. The only thing making all of this bearable at the moment is the knowledge that my contract runs out in a year.

“Just take a seat, will you,” Lena says, the exasperation in her voice making my insides clench uncomfortably.

I get it, she doesn’t want me here and quite frankly I don’t want to be here either, but Sam was right when she came to me last week.

“You can’t keep waisting away in your apartment,” she’d said. “You need a distraction, and I’ve got the perfect job for you.”

Let’s just see where this goes, I think before moving to take a seat on the stool by the kitchen island.

Lena seems satisfied that I listened and places her empty mug in the kitchen sink.

“We’re leaving for the office in half an hour. You can stay here while I get ready,“ she informs me, checking her phone.

Then, without another word she turns and disappears into what I’m assuming is her bedroom.

It’s going to be a long year…

________________________________________________

I know this one’s rather short, but it’s just to get the story going.

#lena luthor x reader #lena luthor #dc universe #dcu #supergirl #bodyguard #sam arias

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scoonsalicious · 6 months

Text

Chapter 6, Unattached - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, angst (Bring on the Pain!), alcohol usage, dumbass Bucky, noncon kissing that becomes con kissing, so..., arguing, jealous!Pocket, posessive!Bucky.

Word Count: 5.4k

Previously On...: After Bucky left you alone in your room, not wanting people to get 'the wrong idea' about the two of you, you came to the horrible conclusion that you were in love with your best friend. What the hell are you going to do about that?

A/N: Wow, okay! So, first off, Chapter 6 is long, and it only has the one part, so don't worry if you go looking for more and the next thing you find is Chapter 7! Second, there's a lot of progress and updates on Unwanted I wanted to share! I am already well into writing Chapter 14, and have planned out the rest of the story. We'll have a total of 25 chapters, plus an epilogue (unless something strikes me creatively that throws the entire thing for a loop, then all bets are off). This beast, as it currently sits, is already 208 Google Docs pages long and just shy of 80k words, so final product is probably going to be novel-length, which just blows my mind. I want to give a special shout out to @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for being my beta and my sounding board; your help and support has been immeasurable!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief

You stood in front of the doors to the common room, the low thrum of conversation and music filtering out from inside. Taking a deep breath, you tried for the umpteenth time to calm your nerves following your unsettling realization.

You had no idea how to approach this, how to approach Bucky. Do you tell him how you felt, in the hope that he felt the same way? But what if he didn't? Could you risk losing him all together? Or do you just keep on like nothing's changed, happy with what you have together? Would that be enough for you? Could you even be happy in a real relationship?

Why couldn't your mother have just been a decent human being and let you go to school like a normal child so you could have worked through all your awkward issues at the appropriate time, instead of saddling you with years of trauma and isolation that left you an emotionally stunted adult? God, you needed a strong drink and to talk to Nat, preferably in that order. Pushing open the common room door, you stepped inside, surveying the room with one eye out for Bucky, the other out for your friend.

It should have been of no surprise, then, that instead of either, you first spotted Jade Carthage. She was situated on a couch in the center of the room, like a queen on her throne before her court, and nearly every Avenger and agent with a penis was surrounding her, jockeying for her attention, even Clint who, you knew for a fact, loved his wife Laura more than life itself.

Your stomach dropped when, after one of the agents in front of the couch shifted slightly, you saw Bucky sitting immediately to Jade's left. And while it seemed like everyone else was clamoring for Jade to pay attention to them, she only had eyes for him. Jealousy coursed through you as she leaned in close, whispering something into his ear that had him throwing his head back in laughter. It was an entirely unpleasant sensation that you would be happy to never feel again. Especially because you knew you had no real right to feel it in the first place. You may have just realized you were in love with him, but he had made no similar declaration to you.

"Careful, you glare any harder, you're liable to bore a hole straight through him," Natasha said, coming up alongside of you.

"What if I aim for her, instead?" you asked, reaching for the tumbler of alcohol she offered you and taking a sip to distract yourself. It was like she could read your mind.

Nat shrugged. "So long as I'm not the one cleaning up the mess, I say have fun. But what happened to no-strings-attached, friends who happen to fuck?" Nat asked with a smirk. "Don't tell me you've grown strings, Pocket."

You looked away from the scene in front of you. "There might be some growing of string, in theory," you mumbled to her. Nat was the only person you had confided in regarding your arrangement with Bucky. Of course, your friend had been thrilled that there had been something going on between the two of you, but she'd been more concerned about protecting your heart-- was this the safest thing for you to do? You assured her at the time you'd be fine, but now...?

Nat's eyes widened as a grin took over her face. "Honey, that's fantastic!" She leaned in to give you a hug. "I'm so happy for you!" Taking in your forlorn expression, she quickly lost her good humor. "Why do you look like you're about to throw up?"

You cast another glance over at the couch. Jade was tracing her fingers along the golden veins of Bucky's vibranium arm and you felt like snakes were crawling through your stomach. "Because I don't know what the fuck to do about it, Natty," you told her with a sigh. "I've never felt like this before in my entire life and it's fucking terrifying; what if he doesn't feel the same way? Or worse, what if he does and I mess everything up because I'm so fucking damaged inside?"

Natasha looped her arm through yours, leaning into you. "Honey, first of all, you are not damaged. You've been through hell and it left its mark on you, that's true, but you've been so strong. We're House Martell, remember?"

You sniggered, remembering how, when the entire Tower was obsessed with watching Game of Thrones together and picking what houses you'd each belong to, you and Nat had been drawn to the words of the ruling house of Dorne. And also, Pedro Pascal, obviously.

"Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken," you recited from memory, a reminder that despite the obstacles life had thrown at you, you remained standing, stronger for what you had endured.

"Atta girl," Nat nudged you with her elbow. "And second of all, you don't need to worry about Bucky's feelings. Boy's obviously mad for you. Everyone can see it."

You drew your bottom lip in between your teeth. "I don't know, Nat. He's been acting strange lately. I tried to give him head earlier and he flat out rejected it." Come to think of it, that was exceptionally weird since, in your text exchange, he'd explicitly told you he'd been waiting in your room specifically for the purpose of getting off.

"Huh. That's... not like him." Nat tilted her head and looked over at Bucky, expression curious. "Did he say why?"

"He was real eager to come up here and get in the middle of that, apparently." You waved a hand in the general direction of the couch where Jade's little reverse-harem was still going strong. "I was getting on my knees and everything."

Nat raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"And then he made a really big deal about us coming up here separately. Said he didn't want people getting 'the wrong idea' about us if we arrived together."

Letting go of your arm, Natasha spun to face you, her face a mask of anger. "He said what now?!" she practically shouted, temporarily drawing everyone's attention to you. You looked around sheepishly as you tried to dismiss their stares.

"Nat," you begged in a whisper, "keep it down."

"Okay, okay, sorry." Natasha lowered her voice to a level only you could hear. "I'm sorry, but that's just complete and utter bullshit. Look, I know you guys think you've been in super secret stealth mode about hiding it, but pretty much everyone on the team knows you've been sleeping together. Hell, most of us placed bets on it." You opened your mouth in order to protest but she cut you off.

"If anything, it's weirder if the two of you don't show up to something together, so I don't know what the hell he's thinking."

"I do," you said morosely. "He doesn't want her getting the wrong idea about us."

"Pocket, don't even let your mind go there," Nat said.

"Think about it, Nat; I've been standing here for what, fifteen minutes now? And he hasn't even looked at me. When's the last time that happened?"

Nat's brows creased, her expression clouding over into something immensely sad for you, and you knew she was realizing what you'd already seen. In the last year, you and Bucky had been attached at the hip, nearly physically joined to one another, and if you were apart, your eyes were always scanning the room in search of the other's presence, seeking them out. The fact that he hadn't even looked for you, let alone come to you since you walked in, was telling in its own heartbreaking way.

Nat let out a heavy sigh. "Oh Pocket. Honey, I'm so sorry."

You shook your head, trying to dispel the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes if you kept down this path. "Don't Natty, please. I can't fall apart, not here."

"Yeah, okay-- you're right. Now is not the time. Come on." Linking her arm through yours once again, she directed you toward the bar where Tony was standing, whiskey in hand. "If anyone can talk you to distraction," she murmured as you approached him, "it's Stark."

You let out a startled laugh and let her guide you toward the man who had already saved you more times than you could count.

"Hey, kiddo; Romanoff." Tony saluted you with his glass and you did your best to smile back at him as you stuffed your emotions down as far as they would go. "What do you think of our new recruit?" he asked Nat.

"I think 'Weasel' would be a better fitting code name for her than 'Vixen,'" Nat replied with a sly smile as she took a sip of wine.

"Ah, saw the security feed, did you?" Tony asked her. Nat nodded.

"Watched it live as it happened. Wasn't going to leave my bestie without eyes on her six." She gave your arm an affectionate squeeze.

Tony hummed and glanced over to the couch. "Wish Cap had been as discerning as you. He refused to watch the feed; said it made him uncomfortable to spy on someone when they didn't know they were being recorded." Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Always the fucking Boy Scout," she murmured.

"So, how did the interview itself go?" you asked Tony, not really sure you wanted to know the answer, but feeling the need to punish yourself with the details, anyway.

Tony leaned back against the bar, resting his elbows on the polished wooden surface. "If it were up to me, we wouldn't even be playing this charade right now," he said, motioning with his chin to indicate the meet and greet. "Girl's a first-class bullshitter."

"Talent recognizing talent?" you asked with a wry smile that almost felt genuine.

He pointed a finger and winked at you. "Exactly. She talked a good talk, but it doesn't take much to see she's suffering from Big Fish, Small Pond Syndrome. She's in for a rude awakening if she thinks she's ready to swim in the ocean with the whales and the sharks."

"So, you're not going to offer her the probationary position?" you asked, hope rising pathetically in your chest. As if you could un-ring the bell.

"Oh, I didn't say that," Tony said as you deflated. "It's not all up to me. Though, given the fact that I personally fund this entire operation, you'd think it really should be, right?" At the look on your face he moved on. "Apologies, I digress. Anyway, Cap thinks it's only fair we offer it to her, seeing as how we don't have a ton of other options knocking on our door, and Fury's not going to get off my ass until we find someone." He sighed. "I think this entire exercise is a waste of time, and we should be kicking her out on her ass for how she treated you earlier, Pocket, but I'm outvoted."

"Thanks, Boss," you said softly, grateful at least that Tony could see through Jade's facade and took how she treated you seriously. Too bad your best friend couldn't offer you the same courtesy.

The timer on Tony's watch went off. "And that's the dinner bell," he said, putting down his glass. Clapping his hands, he called out to the rest of the room. "Attention Avengers, SHIELD Agents, and... whoever else managed to sneak in off the street! Dinner is served, so if we could all head to the dining room before the food gets cold and Raul quits on me, I'd appreciate it very much."

You held back as the crowd of people noisily moved to the dining room, hoping to catch Bucky's eye, but he remained steadfastly absorbed in his conversation with Jade.

"Come on, honey," Nat said as she took your elbow. "You can talk to him during dinner. You nodded and allowed her to lead you into the dining room. You and Bucky had sat next to one another, without fail, for every meal for the last year, the only exception being when one of you was away on a mission. You'd have plenty of opportunities to talk to him while you ate.

Normally, you all ate at one large table, but since this was a special occasion that required the attendance of a lot more than just the regular 13 members of your family (14, if Parker was around), Tony had the dining room arranged more like a restaurant, with a series of smaller tables spread out throughout the space.

You and Nat followed Bucky and Jade to a six-top where Steve and Sam were already getting ready to sit down, but you froze in your tracks when Bucky pulled back a chair for Jade, pushing it in behind her as she sat down before taking the seat next to her.

The air seemed to grow heavy, as though it weighed too much for you to draw it into your lungs and your chest began to hurt. How could such a simple action be causing you so much physical pain?

Steve, who had already been sitting at Bucky's other side at the head of the table, caught your eye and moved to get up to offer you his chair, instead, as though that could make up for Bucky's dismissal of you.

You subtly shook your head, not wanting to draw attention to the awkward situation you found yourself in. Instead, you made your way over to the only two remaining seats at the table: the one next to Sam that was directly across from Jade and Bucky or the one next to Jade at the opposite end of the table from Steve. Deciding it was better to be sitting across from Steve than either of the other two, you opted for the chair at the end, and Nat slid in next to Sam.

You cast a quick glance in Jade's direction and had to stifle a sick laugh-- she was physically coming between you and Bucky, quite literally.

Jade reached a hand out to Nat across the table. "Wow! Black Widow! It is so great to meet you! My name's Vixen; I'm a huge fan! I'm so excited for us to be working together!"

Bless Nat, she just stared at the girl with arms crossed across her chest, impassive and judging, until Jade slowly and awkwardly pulled her hand back.

"I take it, then, that you've deemed the Avengers good enough to be your backup team?" Nat asked without expression.

You did your best to cover the laughter that escaped from you with a fake cough, but you didn't try very hard to be convincing.

"What's this about, now?" Steve asked, leaning forward.

"Little Vixen over here," Nat began, leaning back in her chair until she was perched on the two rear legs, "was live-streaming this morning to her social media followers. Told them it wasn't so much that the Avengers were interviewing her to see if she'd be good for the team, but she was interviewing us to see if we'd be good back up for her."

Jade had the decency to look embarrassed for a moment before she turned to face you for the first time, anger taking over her features. "So, what? Didn't much take you for a tattler. You that intimidated by me?"

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but were interrupted by the sound of the legs of Nat's chair slamming back against the floor. "Pocket didn't tell me shit. I heard it straight from your mouth on the security feed. That and a lot of other interesting things."

"You're spying on her, Nat? Really?" Bucky spoke up. "She's our guest and she deserves a modicum of privacy, don't you think?" You stared at him, open mouthed, but he didn't spare you a glance.

"It was a part of her interview, Barnes," Nat spat. "Maybe if you---"

"Okay, Nat, Bucky," Steve said, using his official Captain America voice, "let's table this conversation for later and just enjoy our meal. Raul worked really hard on tonight's menu, so let's not spoil it for him, alright?"

Both Nat and Bucky grumbled their agreement as the catering staff brought out the first course and placed them on each of your plates. Normally, you loved when Raul, Tony's personal chef, cooked meals for the team; he always made sure to throw in something with lemon in it, knowing how much you loved the flavor; but tonight, your appetite was failing you and you ended up pushing more food around on your plate than you put in your mouth.

You couldn't help but steal glances over at Bucky, who continued to be wrapped in conversation with Jade. You tried to keep up with what the others were saying, occasionally nodding your head in agreement to something, but you weren't able to pay any real attention; your mind was elsewhere until you noticed Jade looking at you.

"You know, I have to say I'm surprised to see so many non-Avengers here. I got the impression that this group was... I dunno, elite? But it seems like you just let anyone in."

Steve laughed from the other end of the table. "Being an Avenger is a team effort, Vixen. Everyone plays their part. And besides, Pocket here's just as much an Avenger as I am." The comment took you by surprise, and you gave Steve a warm, appreciative smile.

"Thanks, Cap," you said, truly touched by his words.

"Well, she's more like Avenger-adjacent," Bucky amended, and all the warmth you'd felt at Steve's compliment vanished in an instant, leaving you feeling cold and hollow. The words shouldn't have stung-- it was how you had referred to yourself hundreds of times, but you tended to reserve it for your low moments, when you were feeling unequal to Earth's mightiest heroes. Hearing the words come out of Bucky's mouth, as if he, too, shared in your belief that you were inferior to the rest of them... well, that fucking hurt.

Steve let out a surprised laugh and clapped Bucky on the shoulder. "Pocket may not have enhanced physical abilities or powers or what have you, but she's got a brilliant mind. She's got a PhD in Mechanical Engineering and Computation from MIT, three Master's degrees, she speaks seven languages, she's got a black belt in Krav Maga, and she was the youngest Chief Technology Officer in Stark Industries history; all without ever having formally graduating high school. It's no exaggeration for me to say that I'd be dead a couple of dozen times over if I hadn't had her at my six. If anything, I think it makes her even more important than the rest of us. We're here because of the physical things we can do– primarily because of things that happened to us by accident; Pocket's essential to the team because of how she thinks, and the strength and quality of the work she’s willing to put in. We're replaceable, Pocket's one-of-a-kind."

You looked at Steve as if seeing him for the very first time. You had no idea he thought so highly of you, and his praise warmed you. You offered him a soft smile, your throat tightening with emotion and leaving you unable to express your gratitude. You mouthed a silent thank you instead, hoping that conveyed how much his words meant to you. He winked back at you in acknowledgement.

Bucky glanced back and forth between the two of you, as if analyzing your silent exchange. He coughed awkwardly. "I just meant that we try to keep Pocket away from the really dangerous stuff," he backpedaled, poorly, in your opinion. "Can't risk her getting hurt." He smiled at you, but you just stared back, expression blank, until he looked away in embarrassment. Good. Let him feel an ounce of the discomfort you’d been feeling this entire time.

Small talk resumed around the table, with Sam telling Steve about some new modification he was making to Redwing, and Bucky and Jade back to being locked in their own bubble. You did your best to ignore the little glances and gestures that Jade directed to Bucky, but it felt like your eyes were drawn to them like a magnet every time she touched him. Which seemed to be happening more and more frequently. You couldn't help but notice the way he leaned toward her when she spoke. Did he ever do that when he was talking with you?

"So, Bucky," Jade said eventually, her voice low and flirty as the caterers took away the main course, "handsome super hero like you, you seeing anyone?" Your eyes snapped up to Bucky's face, watching him. Surely he was going to look to you, make eye contact, something to acknowledge what was between you, to make you feel like you were in the same room, hell, on the same fucking planet as him. But he didn't.

"Nope," he said, running his hand over the back of his neck like he always did when he was feeling self conscious or nervous. "Not seeing anyone, though I'm not opposed to the idea." You had been stabbed in the abdomen on a mission once, and that had hurt less than hearing the words that had just come out of Bucky's mouth. It took everything in you to resist getting up from the table and leaving the room at that moment.

"Really, man?" Sam asked from where he sat on the other side of Natasha, his voice hard in disbelief. The atmosphere at your table had shifted. Natasha, Steve, and Sam all stared at Bucky with looks ranging from incredulity to flat out disgust. Bucky either was oblivious to the stares or was doing a great job patently ignoring them.

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him anymore. It felt like a betrayal, the way his eyes had met Jade's and not yours. How could he sit there and just completely deny you like that? Had you been deluding yourself? Had you just been some kind of fuck toy this entire time?

The caterers brought the next course, a cold raspberry soup. You sat there, staring into space as you mechanically spooned the soup into your mouth, trying your hardest to appreciate the taste, but everything seemed bitter in light of Bucky's attitude, actions, and words.

"Could you hand me the water carafe?" Bucky asked. You looked up to watch Jade hand him the bottle of water. "Thanks, doll," he said, smiling at her.

You dropped your spoon, letting it fall into your nearly empty bowl with a reverberating clang. Your companions at the table stared, eyes wide as their gazes traveled between you and Bucky. In his entire time at the tower, he had never once called another woman 'doll.' It was a moniker he'd specifically reserved for you.

Or, it used to be.

You could tell the exact moment when Bucky realized he'd fucked up. His eyes locked on yours, the color draining from his face. He opened his mouth as if he was going to speak to you, but you'd had enough. Without a word, you pushed back your chair with enough force that it practically tipped over and exited the dining room.

You made it all the way to the elevator before you heard him calling for you.

"Doll! Doll, where are you?" You stabbed repeatedly at the call button, as if it would bring the car to you faster. You could hear his footsteps drawing closer, and you really didn't want to talk to him right now.

Finally, the elevator doors opened and you slid inside, turning to press the 'Close Door' button just as you saw Bucky turn the corner to the elevator bay. You were ready to breathe a sigh of relief at evading him until Bucky's metal hand shot in the diminishing space between the closing doors. You were trapped.

"Doll, didn't you hear me callin' to you?" he asked as he slid into the car with you.

You looked around, as if searching for another person in the car. "I'm sorry, were you talking to me? Should probably be more specific with your pet names, then. A girl’s liable to get confused." You were impressed that the words came out as hard and bitter as you felt inside.

Bucky flinched. "I deserved that."

You leaned forward to press the button for your floor before crossing your arms and glaring at him. "You fucking think?"

"Look, it just slipped out, okay? I didn't mean anything by it. It's not a big thing you needed to storm out over." You rolled your eyes at him, disgusted that that was the only thing he seemed to realize he'd done to offend you all evening. "Pocket, can we just talk about this?"

"Oh, now you want to talk to me?" you asked, jutting out your hip in annoyance. "Seemed like earlier today, you couldn't wait to not be seen with me, or do you no longer care if people get the wrong idea?"

"Alright," Bucky said, slamming his fist against the elevator's emergency stop button. You stumbled as the car came to a grinding halt. Bucky tried to put his hands on you to steady you, but you pushed him away. "What is going on with you today, Pocket?"

"What's going on with me?" you asked him, incredulous. "What's going on with you? You've been an ass to me all night, that is when you weren't acting like I didn't exist."

"How am I being an ass?" he asked, voice rising. "You're the one who couldn't even hold a civil conversation with our guest! It was embarrassing!" You recoiled as if he'd slapped you, backing away from him until your back hit the elevator wall.

"Wow. Okay then." You blinked heavily, telling yourself not to cry. You'd be damned if you showed weakness in front of him now. Bury the emotions, encase them in ice. "Sorry I'm such a fucking embarrassment to you, Sergeant Barnes. Now that I know how you feel, I'll make sure to stay out of your way so you don't have to put up with me." You moved to press the button to restart the elevator, but Bucky grabbed your wrist.

"Don't do this," he growled at you. "Don't hide behind snappy quips so you can shut down and avoid having a real conversation with me." You stared between his eyes and where he held your wrist in his metal grip. It wasn't tight enough to hurt, but it was tight enough to keep you from breaking free.

His gaze softened as he watched you. "I never said I was embarrassed of you, Pocket. I just don't know why you had to be so rude to Jade at dinner tonight."

"Name one thing I did that was rude to her," you challenged.

"Okay," Bucky stuck out a finger as though he were about to count off all your grievous errors. "Let's see... You said... No, that was Nat... You were... okay, Steve said that... You said... No, that was Nat again." He looked up at you sheepishly. "So, maybe you actually didn't say anything during dinner, but not talking to her was still rude."

You scoffed. "You want to talk rude and embarrassing, Bucky? Do you know how embarrassing it was to have everyone staring at me when you pulled out my chair for Jade, or when my own best friend didn't defend me when she had the audacity to call me a fucking tattler? Like I’m some kind of fucking child?" Your voice was rising and you could feel yourself getting swept up in your anger. "How about the pity looks I got when everyone heard you lie about not seeing anyone, or when you called her 'doll'? Or when you told her I was 'Avengers-adjacent'? You think I'm the embarrassing one? You made me feel like an insignificant piece of shit tonight, Barnes. God, if it hadn't been for Steve saying what he said, you would have driven me to tears."

Bucky had been staring down at his boots as you'd been speaking, as though your accusations were too much for him to face head-on, but at the mention of Steve's name, his head snapped up, blue eyes like ice on your face. "Well, if Steve's such a hero, why aren't you fucking him, then?" he asked, voice clipped and bitter.

You yanked your wrist free from his grasp. "Maybe I should start!" you shouted. "At least he's not embarrassed of me and doesn't forget I exist when another pair of tits shows up!"

Bucky's gaze darkened and in an instant, he was on you, caging your body against the elevator wall, a hand on either side of your head. "Don't you even fucking joke about that," he snarled.

You jutted out your chin, refusing to show any sign of weakness, though his actions were beginning to frighten you. "Who says I'm joking? Sounds like a good idea to me; thanks for suggesting it." You moved to duck under his arm, but he grabbed you by the shoulders, pinning you in place.

His breaths were coming hard and fast now, as though he'd just run a marathon. His gaze darted between your eyes and your lips, as though trying to make up his mind about something. In the next instant, his mouth was crashing down on yours, his tongue demanding entry.

You gasped at the sudden intrusion and Bucky took that as his invitation, deepening the kiss with a primal fervor. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him. For a moment, you were stunned, unsure of what was happening. But then instincts took over – he was kissing you, really kissing you. Your stomach fluttered and your heart hammered in your chest.

One of your hands ran through his hair, while the other gripped his shoulder for support. His hands had somehow migrated beneath your shirt, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin at your sides. You returned his kiss with as much intensity as he gave. But then suddenly, as if waking from a dream, you remembered why you were angry with him. You pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss.

You were both panting, and despite your attempt to put distance between your bodies, Bucky leaned down, resting his forehead against yours as he fought to catch his breath. "Don't," he whispered hoarsely, his voice heavy with an emotion you couldn't quite place. "Don't sleep with Steve."

"You realize how incredibly infuriating you're being right now, don't you?" you asked. "You can't just treat me like that, ignore me all night in favor of someone else, then kiss me and try to tell me who I can or can't sleep with."

"I know, Sweetheart," he said, nuzzling your nose with his, "I know and I'm sorry, but please, promise me: no matter how angry you are with me, don't sleep with Steve. You wanna fuck someone else to piss me off? Go fuck Sam, Thor, Rhodes, hell, even Parker. I'll hate it, but if it's Steve, it'll fucking kill me."

"Your signals are all over the place tonight, Buck," you sighed, letting out an involuntary moan as his lips found the sweet spot on your neck and sucked at your skin. You had to pull away before he turned you into a babbling mess. "If you think you can just kiss me into oblivion and I'll forgive you for everything you've said and done tonight, you better think again, because that's not happening."

Bucky ran both his hands through his hair, sending it pointing every which way. Then he pressed the emergency stop button again, letting the elevator resume its journey. "I know I owe you an explanation, Pocket," he said. "So, can we go to your room and talk? No interruptions, no one else, just you and me, okay?"

You studied him, considering. A part of you was still so angry at him that you didn't want to hear him out, but the part of you that loved him hated the idea of leaving things in a bad place. In your line of work, you never knew when your next goodbye might be your last goodbye.

"Fine," you said, dropping your shoulders with a sigh. "We can talk, I'll hear you out, but I'm not promising forgiveness."

He smiled, his eyes bright once again. "That's all I ask, Sweets. That's all I ask."

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