#carrie autumn prompts

[cherryredstars]

Not sure if I’m doing this right since I’m new to tumbler :D but hi love ur writing followed you in an instant!

I was wondering if you could write something for a very low self esteem, inexperienced reader who goes to uni so is like 21 or something and is Miguel’s neighbor. They live in this building and their other neighbor is a rude lady who complains at the slightest Noise basically. she doesn’t dare bother Miguel but is always bothering the reader since reader can’t tell her to f off. Reader is just such sweet chubby lil cinnamon roll :(

Idk if I should have been less descriptive or more TvT; ?

Anyway hope you’re doing great :D don’t forget to hydrate ♥️

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Sexual Touching (With Clothes on), Slight Fluff

Summary: He helps you, you help him.

A/N: This is perfect, don’t worry, love!!!

Word Count: 2.4K (Not Edited)

This is most definitely going to leave you a crying wreck in your bathroom later.

Your nerves were already on high alert with finally becoming independent and moving out of the college dorms, that pesky exam and assignment you procrastinated on working on, and your job has been firing and hiring people left and right. The last thing you needed was your cranky old neighbor, (it is crazy to think that you once thought she was going to be a kind old woman who would give you cookies when she was lonely), to come banging on your door with a  list of complaints and reasons why she could get you evicted. You do not know what to do, never being in this type of situation before. Honestly, you do not even know about half the things this woman is accusing you of. 

You can only stand there, hand tightly holding the door open as you try not to cry from stress. In your head, you are counting in an effort to make sure your breaths are coming out evenly. The last thing you want is to have a panic attack and have your neighbor add the threat of a mental hospital to the list. You nod along weakly to what she says, letting out whispered apologies that only seem to make her angrier. 

“You useless teenagers and your need to ruin good things, don’t think I forgot when you tr-”

“Is there a problem here?”

His voice is deep and smooth, causing the both of you to jolt. You visibly relax when you turn your head to find Miguel standing outside his apartment door. He has just gotten back from work and running errands, his lab coat draped over his arm as he holds paper bags in his arms. His hair is slightly tousled from the autumn breeze, and a few strands of his black hair are scattered with grey. His sweater hugs his arms and torso in a way that is mouthwatering, and you quickly look away when his eyes meet yours.

Miguel is the only neighbor you really know. He had helped you the first time you moved in, hearing the way you struggled to bring some things up to your apartment. He offered to help, carrying in boxes faster than you could into your apartment. When you had gotten furniture, he was happy to come over and assemble it for you. He is so kind to you, offering to help with a leaking pipe or to answer any of your questions about how to do something. You might have grown a slight crush on your neighbor, something that slightly freaked you out when you realized because of the obvious age gap the two of you have. You have not even finished college yet and he is in his mid-thirties working in a big corporate lab. 

Miguel clears his throat and you look back at him. He stares at you expectantly, totally ignoring the stuttering woman who tries to answer his question. He is only ever interested in what you have to say. You flush under his intent gaze, quickly shaking your head. You do not want to cause more problems, and you definitely do not want to have your cranky neighbor form a bigger vendetta against you. 

Miguel’s eyebrow raises, definitely catching the anxious expression on your face. He hums dismissively after a minute, eyes lazily trailing back to the older woman. His nose scrunches up slightly at the sight of her and he looks away again as the woman stops trying to defend herself. Miguel shrugs, the paper bags rustling with their contents. He turns to face you, once again ignoring the older woman. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind helping me put away my groceries, right? Can’t get my keys with my hands full,” Miguel speaks in a lazy drawl. 

You are quick to nod your head in agreement, stepping out of your doorway and closing the door. The woman steps back, a displeased look on her face as she watches you walk over to Miguel. Miguel keeps his eyes trained on you, watching everything you do. You are shy when you smile up at him. With your back turned towards the old woman, you mouth a ‘thank you’ to him. His eyes instantly snap to your lips, intently studying your exaggerated words. His eyes seem to darken for a second before he blinks and it is gone. His eyes trail back up to your eyes and he tilts his head slightly down. 

“Keys are in my pants pocket.”

You quickly nod, whispering out an ‘okay’. Your face burns as you have to get closer to him to not knock into his arms. The angle is slightly awkward, your hands slip into his pants pocket and your face burns from having your hand so close to his…thing. As you try to find his keys, Miguel looks down at you with a heated look. He watches silently for a few minutes before looking back up and over your shoulder to the older woman. His face is masked in indifference, maintaining eye contact with her until she fidgets and turns away without saying a word. 

At the same time she walks into her own apartment, you make a sound of victory as you finally retrieve his keys. You dangle them in his face with a proud smile, and he gives you an amused smirk. He steps away from his apartment door, giving you room to step in front of him and unlock his door. As you insert the key, you feel Miguel press up against your back. His warmth seeps into your spine and you are quick to bite your tongue so you do not let out a squeal.  

His breath tickles your neck and ear, warm and slightly minty. “What did I tell you about standing up for yourself, hmm cariño?”

The question rumbles with his voice and you have to hold your breath in order to not make an embarrassing sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and instantly regret it. He has not moved his face yet, and you are a breath away from him. If you leaned forward the slightest bit, your noses would be touching. You gulp nervously, and Miguel’s eyes trail down to your lips once again. He lets out a deep hum as you lick them nervously. 

“I- she’s not that mean to me.” You whisper out in the older woman’s defense. You cannot help the way your lashes flutter as you try to meet his eyes. 

Miguel scoffs at your defense, finally backing away from you. He shifts his hold on the bags, freeing his hand to turn the doorknob. Your hand is still there, and your breath hitches when his large hand encompasses yours. His hand moves both yours and the doorknob, making a combined effort to open the door. You are still watching him from over your shoulder, mouth slightly opened in awe. Miguel looks down at you, something playful in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. 

“You’re blocking the doorway, cariño. The ice cream I got you is going to melt.”

Your blush returns from the pet name and you stutter out an apology as you rush inside his apartment. It’s warm, and you’re hit with the smell of him. You find the light switch and turn on the lights, flooding the whole place with a warm glow. Miguel follows you into the kitchen, placing the paper bags on the dining room table. He rummages through them, glaring at you when you try to grab one to start helping. His hands connect with something cold, and he pulls out a personal pint of ice cream. He hands it over to you and you turn it around to see the label. Your eyes instantly light up when you read the brand and flavor. Last week you had ranted to Miguel about how the grocery store did not have your favorite ice cream in stock as he was fixing a problem with your internet. The whole time he just hummed along, you did not actually think he was listening. 

He smiles softly at you as you beam up at him. He turns back to the groceries, sighing when he sees your hand reaching for the bags again. He turns to you with a bored expression. He gently removes your hands from the bag, telling you to go eat your ice cream before it melts. You grumble playfully under your breath, complaining about how you were supposed to be helping. He chuckles as he follows after you, getting a spoon out for you. 

“I thought the whole point was that I was supposed to help you put the groceries away, not eat them.” 

Your complaining is cut off by a yelp when Miguel grabs your waist. He lifts you up, putting you on top of the counter. Your eyes are wide as you look at him and his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You squirm slightly from his proximity. 

“You can help me by sitting prettily and keeping me company. Tell me about your day.” 

He pulls away then, returning to the dining room table and carrying a bag to the counter next to you. Your eyes are still bashful as you watch him, quietly opening your ice cream and beginning to eat it. Miguel starts to pull contents from the bag and looks over at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you begin to go through your day, easing into it the more you talk. You speak between bites of ice cream, half paying attention to Miguel as he walks around the kitchen to place things in their proper places. Occasionally, he looks over at you as you speak, his eyes trained on the way you place the spoon in your mouth and lick at the delicious treat. 

You are almost done when he puts the last thing away. He walks over to you as you continue talking absentmindedly, just finished slipping the spoon out of your mouth again. You stop talking when Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, his thumb coming up the swipe at your lower lip. When he pulls it away, a bit of melted ice cream is stuck to his skin. His eyes meet yours again when he brings it to his mouth, licking it away. He hums in appreciation for the taste. 

Your mouth drops open with a gasp as you watch, eyes trained on the pink muscle. You watch as his lips form a sly smile, and you blush as you look back into his eyes. But his eyes are still trained on your parted mouth, eyes dilated and hungry. He leans forward slightly, hand returning to rub at your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. He is not kissing you exactly, only sucking on your lip until it is swollen and red. He gives it a small nip before he pulls away, his hands falling to rub your thighs. It causes a small whimper to escape your mouth and Miguel basks in the noise. 

His hand seeps closer and closer to the area between your thighs, grabbing the carton of ice cream and moving it to the side. His hands hastily return to the area between your thighs, fingers brushing against your center. Your breath hitches and you look down to where his hands are. Your attention is snapped away when his gravelly voice meets your ears. 

“Continue with the story, querida. You don’t sound like you finished.”

You stutter over your words, the topic of conversation blanking from your mind. Miguel chuckles knowingly, his fingers continuing to brush up and down until they land on your clothed bud. He presses into it hard enough so you can feel it through the fabric of your pants and panties, gently reminding you where you left off. You nod nervously, hands snapping up to meet his shoulders as you feel wetness rushing into your panties. You stutter and choke on your words, eyes shutting as you rotate your hips sloppily into his hand. The movement is jerky, and you feel slightly embarrassed at how painfully obvious it is that no one has ever touched you like this before. But Miguel seems to like it, likes the idea that you’re untouched and he is the only person who has seen you like this. 

It gets even better when you make those soft noises, cutting yourself off and having to be reminded about what you were saying. Miguel continues his hand movements, pressing into you and rubbing and stroking. Your wetness has seeped through your panties, dampening the material of your leggings. If you were not lost in how good it feels, you would have been grossed out and uncomfortable. A weak call of his name escapes you and Miguel looks up from your cunt to look at your face. He hums in acknowledgement, watching as you try to pull his face closer to yours in a kiss. 

He swiftly avoids it, and you would have curled into yourself at the blunt rejection if you did not become distracted by his mouth suck and licking along your neck and jaw. Your mouth falls open with a moan, head leaning back to give him more room. He groans against your skin, fingers pressing tight circles to your clit. With a few hard circles, your back arches and your hold on him tightens. Gasping moans leave you and you feel the band in you snap, releasing more wetness into your panties as you finish. Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, keeping his fingers to your bud as you ride out the orgasm. Once you slump back down, he pulls his hands away. As you catch your breath, Miguel cleans up the mess on the counter. He reaches over, closing your melted ice cream and putting the spoon in the sink. 

You are still in a daze when he pushes the warm container in your hands, his own hands gentle as he lifts you off the counter. Your eyes are glossy in after-lust as he gently guides you out of his apartment and into yours. His warm hand leaves the small of your back, massaging your sides before he whispers a thank you into your ear for your help. You are only pulled completely out of your daze when you hear your door lock and close as Miguel leaves. You turn to look at the door, cheeks blazing as you clutch tightly onto your ice cream.

You are totally getting a noise complaint for that old woman tomorrow.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

Extra 1

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[revasserium]

beloved - Tsukishima and being soft for you and only you

prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed

beloved

tsukishima; 1,787 words; fluff, established relationship, no "y/n", soft!tsukki, kissing and banter, tsukki being... tsukki

summary: 5 times tsukki is soft just for you and 1 time when he doesn't care that everyone else can see

a/n: this is an ancient req but... welp, here we are! u__u

01.

in the middle of the night, his eyes still marred by sleep and the lack of glasses, when the world is a watercolor haze of shapes and softness — he feels you tug away from where you’d been curled up against his chest, shifting under the blankets. he groans and tries to pull you back.

“kei… what’re you doing?”

“don’t go… i was warm.”

there’s a whine in his voice you’re certain he’s never let anyone else hear before, no one other than you and the silent, watchful moon, swinging low in the mid-autumn night.

“i’ll be right back — i need to pee!”

“well pee quick,” he says, voice gravely from sleep as he shoves his face back into his pillows and tries not to mourn the you-shaped emptiness in the bed next to him. he wonders briefly how he’d lived so many years, slept so many nights just by himself in this bed, his body and no one else’s to keep him warm.

he counts backwards from twenty, knowing that by the time he gets to about seven or six, you’ll be crawling back under the blankets, nuzzling into his side. he gets to eight, seven, six —

“there, see?” you shimmy back into his arms and he sighs a sigh that could be misconstrued as exasperated. but you know him well enough (and he knows you do) to know it’s nothing short of absolute contentment.

“mm. sleep,” is his only mumbled reply as he once again buries his face into the soft bend of your neck and breathes.

02.

out shopping, even though he’d made such a fuss about not wanting to go, about how it’s nothing more than a pointless endeavor and only contributing to the economic monster that is capitalism — but the way you press a sundress to your front in front of a full length mirror, the light in your eyes, the bright smile on your lips — it stirs something inside him. it inspires quiet; it inspires… admiration.

you spin around, laughing, clearly delighted to have caught him staring.

“what do you think? does it look good?”

tsukishima purses his lips, schooling his expression back into a frown as he scoffs and casts his eyes up towards the ceiling.

“’s all the same to me.”

“aw… c’mon, you don’t mean that,” you say, twisting back around to tug at the dress, contemplating if it’s worth trying on.

“sure it is. i mean — i’d like you in whatever, so.”

and silently, he thinks that the way you blush at his words is worth the trip… and all the bags he has to carry along the way.

03.

over strawberry shortcake, with two steaming caramel lattes — you humming happily to yourself as you snap one picture after another of the delicious-looking assortment.

“camera eats first!” you declare, snapping your phone shut and reaching out to pick up a fork. you pause over the petal-pink of the shortcake, decorated with three glistening strawberries, the soft white cream light as clouds.

you bite your lips, “ah… it looks almost too good to eat!”

at this, tsukishima sighs, reaching out to stab straight through a strawberry, despite your squeak of indignation and alarm. he wordlessly presses the strawberry to your lips, smirking to himself as he watches the buttercream smear across your mouth before you have the sense to open it and take a bite.

“mm! it’s good!”

“hn. i’d hope so — it was 2,000 yen.”

tsukishima scopes another bite for himself before pausing, his eyes caught on the languid sweep of your tongue across your lips as you try to catch the remaining cream. and, thoughtlessly, almost as if driven by nothing more than instinct and that strange, animal magnetism, he leans forward to swipe a thumb across your lips, pressing the excess into your mouth.

slowly, you close your mouth around his thumb, and he feels the slight pressure of your tongue against his skin. he swallows; you suck, letting his thumb go with a slip pop that leaves tension swelling in his chest like an overfilled balloon.

later, caught just outside the cafe, with his fingers curling into your hair, tilting your head up to meet his — tsukishima thinks that there are some things, perhaps like the strawberry shortcake, too lovely to devour. and then — there are some things, perhaps like your lips, entirely too lovely not to.

04.

after practice, when the moon hangs heavy in the mid-summer sky and the cicadas are singing loud enough to shake loose the stars — tsukishima leans back against your legs, his head falling into your lap as you reach down to slip off his glasses.

“so… how was the training camp?” you ask, tracing your index finger along the high bridge of his nose.

“tiring. the little orange dolt thought it’d be a good idea to break in —”

“break… in?”

“yeah, he just showed up and — i dunno — prayed that no one would notice that he wasn’t invited. idiot.”

your laughter is summer-sweet and full-bellied, and it has you tipping back on your couch with your fingers still tangled in tsukishima’s slightly shower-damp hair.

“it’s — it’s not funny!” tsukishima twists around, frowning hard enough for you to burst into another fit of giggles, reaching forward to run your thumbs along the ridges between his furrowed eyebrows.

“i mean… i think it’s pretty hilarious. that takes balls, doesn’t it?”

tsukishima huffs, swiveling back around, shoulders hunched as he grabs for the remote and clicks on the tv, switching through channels at light-speed. his glasses lay forgotten on the sofa next to you.

“or he’s just too stupid to think about the consequences.”

you reach forward with an indulgent smile, looping your arms around his wide shoulders.

“oh, c’mon… cut him some slack. not everyone can be as tall, handsome, and talented as you are, right?” you say, nuzzling into his cheek even as he swats half-heartedly at you.

“quit it.”

you giggle, hugging him all the tighter until he spins around, pinning your wrists above your head with a speed not usually associated with someone of his height. he hovers over you, his head cocked to one side.

“oh yeah? and what’re you gonna do for your tall, handsome, talented boyfriend to make him feel better after such a stressful day at camp, hm?”

you hiccup, lashes fluttering as he bears down over you.

“i — ts-tsukki —!”

“hn. wrong answer — two more chances.”

you press your lips and glare at him with what you hope is a reproachful air. tsukishima only smirks, shaking his head even as he bends down to press into your space, your chests pressed, his body covering yours and then some. his lips brush the lobe of your ear and he revels in the way you shiver.

“fine line between stupidity and courage, i’d say… don’t you agree?”

05.

before the game with shiratorizawa, with his brand new glasses, and his head bowed low.

“don’t be scared,” you say, reaching down to link his fingers with yours. they’re so long, so strong. the palms peppered with calluses.

tsukishima scoffs, “i’m not scared.”

you smile, rocking up onto your very tip toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. luckily, tucked behind a large column, around the corner to a deserted corridor, no one is there to see.

“you’re not a very good liar,” you say, falling back onto your heels, peering up at him as he stares down at you with slightly narrowed eyes. then, he bends forward to trap you against the column, his breath hot along your lips.

“and you’re gonna make me late for warmups.”

he pulls back at the last second, leaving you breathless. but the smile that dangles from his lips is less sanctimonious than usual. he reaches up and flicks at your forehead when you make no move to follow him.

“i’m not scared, i’m nervous. but… i guess seeing you in the stands would make that a bit better.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, linking your hands behind your back.

“well then, what are we waiting for?”

06.

after the shiratorizawa match, when everyone is still running high on adrenaline, puffy-eyed with happiness, you bound down to meet him, skidding to a halt just outside the giant gymnasium doors. there are bandages on his fingers and sweat dripping down the tip of his nose.

his cheeks are pink with exhaustion, but his eyes are clear and bright and wanting.

“guess you didn’t have any reason to be nervous after all,” you say, trotting up to meet him as the rest of the team parts around the pair of you like water around a river rock. yamaguchi glances over his shoulder even as he herds hinata and kageyama away, the pair bickering over this or that.

tsukishima crinkles his nose, but his eyes narrow at the sight of the redness beneath your eyes. he reaches up his uninjured hand to trace along the dried tear-tracks along your cheeks.

“what’re you crying for?”

you sniffle, shooting him a glare.

“just because you weren’t scared doesn’t mean i wasn’t either — but you won — so that’s all that —”

he quiets you down with a kiss, standing there, in the open gymnasium hallways, the chattering of hundreds of students ebbing around you both. distantly, you can swear you hear tanaka whoop, only to be cut short by what sounds like sugawara smacking him painfully upside the head.

tsukishima frowns as he pulls back, “y’know… i’d prefer if your mind wasn’t on other things when i kissed you.”

“wh-what — i wasn’t —”

his lips thin into his trademark smirk as he tugs your chin towards him with two fingers, his hold more gentle than it looks.

“hm… seems like you’re not a very good liar either but… guess i don’t really mind that much.”

your retort dies on your lips as he leans down again, and this time, you don’t think about how the pair of you are still standing in the middle of a very visible hallway, how people are probably starting to stop and stare.

this time, you kiss him back like nothing else matters in the world except for his lips and how perfectly soft they are on yours.

[hanbinics]

✧.* BINNIE'S BOO FEST | DAY 03.

HALLOWEEN '24 [based off these prompts]

!dealer chris x !crybaby reader

leaves crunch under your boots as your eyes dart around the pumpkin patch you’re walking through, taking in every single one you pass by. none of them go unnoticed, your mind whirring as you take in every detail: size, shape, stems or stumps, the shade of orange. you need the perfect pumpkin to take home, and you won’t settle for less.

behind you, chris is walking with his hands shoved into his pockets, hair sticking out of the sides of his beanie. he���s not talking much, not exactly seeing your reasoning for the autumn spirit, but he does grace you with a few mhms and yeah, looks good when you turn to get his opinion.

when the bite of october’s afternoon air begins to nip a little too well at his skin, the brunette huffs quietly. “hey, uh—you thinkin’ you’re gonna be done any time soon? freezin’ my fuckin’ dick off, kid,” he complains, but it falls on deaf ears as your gaze lands on a pumpkin a few feet away from you.

you can see its long stem, slightly curved at the top, as well as its bright shade of orange from where you’re standing. you know it’s the one you’re taking home as soon as you set eyes on it, a grin spreading across your mouth as you glance over your shoulder at chris and point to the one that’s caught your eye.

“look!” you practically squeal to him, your voice rising with excitement.

chris’s eyes follow in the direction you’re pointing in, squinting slightly at the pumpkin you’re so enthusiastic about. he doesn’t see anything significant about it—other than the fact that it’s definitely too fucking big for you to carry—but he presses his lips together, the corners of his mouth tilting up anyway.

“’s good, sweetheart. lets get it so we can get out of here,” he insists, watching in amusement as you hurry towards the pumpkin you’ve picked out.

you’re a few short steps away from it when suddenly another pair of strong hands is reaching down to pluck the pumpkin from the ground, causing you to halt in surprise. you look up to find another guy presenting the pumpkin to his girlfriend, a wide smile on her face as she nods her head at his choice. you watch as the two of them begin to turn away from you, your lips parting to protest, but all that comes out is a little oh as they take a few steps away from you.

chris watches the whole thing unfold, but when you turn to him with your eyebrows drawn together and a pout forming on your mouth, shoulders slumping, he immediately lets out a short breath of surprise before he’s stepping forward and brushing past you, his fingers only momentarily grazing your own.

“hey.. hey!” he calls out a little louder, stopping just short of the couple that’s just taken your pumpkin. he hooks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards you. “you picked up my girl’s pumpkin back there. she was just pickin’ it out,” he explains to them, doing his best to maintain a friendly expression despite his mild irritation. as cute as he finds it, he fuckin’ hates seeing that pout on your face when it’s caused by someone other than him.

the pumpkin thief himself furrows his eyebrows, glancing down at the pumpkin and then at you where you’ve stepped closer, hovering just behind chris so that you can peek around him at the situation happening before you.

“so?” he all but snorts, shaking his head before gesturing to the patch you’re standing in. “there’s a hundred other pumpkins here. just grab one?” he suggests like it’s the most obvious solution in the world, and a muscle in chris’s jaw twitches.

he smiles, unfriendly and condescending, gaze narrowing. “yeah, ya’ see—she wants that one,” he reiterates, taking one hand from his pocket to point at the pumpkin he’s still clutching in his arms, maybe even tighter now. “kid spent twenty minutes pickin’ that pumpkin out before you came over and fuckin’ took it from her. so why don’t y’just hand it over and you guys can find another one?”

“since there’s so many,” he continues, gesturing towards the other pumpkins laid out around you much like the other guy had just done seconds prior. when the stranger’s spine straightens and he sort of puffs out his chest, you know right then and there that this isn’t going to end well.

you’re quiet as you sit in the passenger seat of chris’s car. his grip on the steering wheel is tight, but where his knuckles should be white, instead they’re blooming a soft shade of purple, and you bite the inside of your cheek when you sneak a glance his way only for him to catch you staring.

he notices the way your gaze snaps back to your pumpkin, small fingers idly circling the large stem. you look oddly content, and he can’t figure out why he feels so warm inside at the sight of you sitting in his passenger seat with that huge fucking pumpkin in your lap.

his jaw flexes as he returns his gaze to the road. “’m sorry we’re not allowed back there,” he finally says, breaking the silence for the first time since you two left the pumpkin patch. he isn’t sure why, but his heart feels like its pounding in his ears as he waits for your response.

only, when you do finally reply, nothing about your tone gives way to the idea that you’re upset, and he finds himself glancing your way again as you shrug your shoulders.

“s’okay,” you hum, head tilted to the side as you drag one finger up the long stem of your pumpkin, a gleam in your pretty eyes that makes his heart swell. “i got my pumpkin anyway. next year, we’ll find a new patch.” you say it like it’s no big deal, and chris has to suppress a smile as one hand leaves the steering wheel in favor of resting on your thigh.

yeah, there will definitely be a next year.

a/n. not !dealer chris fighting for you at the pumpkin patch lmfao. i fear he'd do anything for !crybaby reader. <3

©hanbinics

: ̗̀➛ tag list: @blahbel668, @zay-sturns

: ̗̀➛ pumpkin divider 1 by @/strangergraphics. pumpkin divider 2 by @/saradika-graphics.

[oneforthemunny]

autumn changes |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you and eddie take bea to the farmer's market to pick out a pumpkin.

still on my fall shit lol. feeling hormonal and longing for a child, so a domestic soft dad!mafia!eddie x mom!reader fic was in order bc i said so lol. very fluffy and sweet.

“What about the big white ones?” You pointed across the aisle, stepping towards the wooden crate filled with ‘Cinderella Pumpkins’ as the chalk sign read. 

“Oh, look at these Bea, you know what they call these?” You cooed at the little toddler, bouncing her lightly on your hip, her cheek pressed to your shoulder, knuckling her eyes sleepily. The three year old was still a little grumpy about being woken up from her car ride nap. 

“Baby,” Eddie hissed, closing in on you, eyes scanning the crowds. “Stay close to me, alright?” 

You rolled your eyes. “We’re right here, Eddie.” Your tone clipped, shoulders tight with irritation. You knew his protectiveness came from a place of love, pure adoration and devotion for you and Bea both. Still, it was irritating. 

Eddie’s narrowed gaze pierced through you, even behind his darkened sunglasses. A tattooed hand sliding over your waist, squeezing your hip lightly in warning, the same way he used to when you two had first started dating. It sent a chilling thrill of excitement to your core, glancing over your shoulder at him with a small grin. 

“Look, Bumble Bee, these are called Cinderella Pumpkins.” Your voice lifted in a soft coo that had Eddie’s chest tightening with affection. 

“Princess?” Bea’s eyes lit up, perking up from her sullen state at the mention of one of her beloved Disney Princesses. Though she was favoring Jasmine these days, she was still a fan of any of them. 

“Mhm,” You hummed, holding her close to your chest. “What do you think, should we get those?” 

“Yes,” Bea wiggled, trying to push out of your arms, ready to get down and run around. “Get-Get the big one, Mommy.” She pointed a finger over towards the rather large white pumpkin on the ground. 

“The big one?” You gasped lightly, bouncing her on your hip so she shook with laughter, giggles trilling out in a soft screech. 

“You gotta ask Daddy if we can get the big one.” You muttered lightly, turning towards Eddie. “He’s the one who’s gotta carry it.” 

Eddie’s lips curled in a half smile, your cheek pressed to Bea’s, face to face; the two of you looked so alike. He always told you that. You’d roll your eyes, scoff and insist she was his twin, but he saw more of you in her every day. 

“Can we get the big one, Daddy?” Bea reached for Eddie, practically launching herself in his arms. “Please? I asked really, really nicely.” She curled into him, cheek pressed to his shoulder, looking up at him with big brown eyes rounded so sweetly- a look she definitely got from you. 

“You did ask nicely, thank you.” Eddie hummed, running a hand over her messy hair, tangled from the wind. “What do you think, sweetheart? Do you want one or two for the porch?” He looked at you, already reaching for his wallet in the back of his jeans. 

“Probably two. I can put them on either side of the door.” Eddie passed you his wallet, keeping a careful eye on you as you walked to the front to pay. He scanned the crowds again, letting Bea babble away to him about the different things she saw, humming in response lightly as he watched. Eddie knew Gareth was lurking around somewhere, no doubt scanning the crowds just as he was. 

“Hey, Ed,” You called, breaking him from his trance. “She said they have wheelbarrows you can borrow to load them to the car if you want.” 

“Oh,” Bea squealed, turning towards Eddie so quickly she almost hit him in the face. “Can I ride in the wheelbarrow?” 

“Ride in the wheelbarrow?” You parroted with a grin. “Why do you wanna ride in that, hm? Are you a pumpkin now?” 

“Nooo,” Bea giggled, leaning back to look at you. “I just wanna ride in it.” 

You eyed her playfully. “Hm, maybe if you ask nicely.”  

“Please?” Bea added quickly, already squirming to get out of Eddie’s arms, sending his heart lurching with panic. 

You didn’t seem bothered, pulling the wheelbarrow off the ground, maneuvering it towards the pumpkins. “Fine, but let me load these in first, ok?” 

“Let me get them.” Eddie clicked, reaching a hand out to stop you before you could wrangle the obnoxiously large pumpkin up. “I got it, baby. You hold her.” He passed Bea to you, bending down to lift the pumpkin, hoping his rings didn’t stab it like last time. 

“Are you going to help me decorate when we get home?” You cooed to Bea, swaying her lightly like you did when she was a newborn. You knew she was too old, all the parenting books told you that, but it was a habit- one that soothed the both of you. 

“Yes,” Bea grinned, curling in closer to you. “I’ll help you, Mama. We can put the bats up.” 

Eddie’s heart burst with warm joy at her soft sing-songy voice. For all his hesitation and terror about having a baby, he never knew he could love something so much. From the moment she was born, all seven pounds of screaming baby, he’d been so overwhelmed with a feeling of adoration he couldn’t begin to explain. Everyday it seemed to grow, for the both of you- his girls. 

Bea settled on top of the pumpkins, gripping the sides as Eddie pushed slowly over the graveled parking lot, her tiny giggles and squeals of laughter leaving you both beaming with pride. 

“Mama,” Bea turned, leaving both you and Eddie cringing in fear, for a moment, scared she would fall. “Can we make the pun’kins into carriages like on the real Cinderella?” 

“Sure, baby. I think we can craft that.” You smiled, speed stepping to stand beside her, a hand on her back to steady her. 

“We can put bats on them too so-so it’s scary.” Bea giggled. “Right? Because Halloweens ‘sposed to be scary, right, Daddy?” She turned to look at Eddie over her shoulder. 

“That’s right.” Eddie grinned, making his way towards the sleek black car in the parking lot- bigger than the luxury sports cars he had in the past. Safer now and bigger for a baby, his baby. 

You lifted Bea out of the wheelbarrow, carrying her around towards the backseat to buckle her into place, while Eddie loaded the pumpkins in. The car ride back was much louder than the one there, Bea babbling on and on to you and Eddie about Halloween, her costume, the decorations, what candy Grandpa Wayne would have this year. 

Eddie held your hand in between the console, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he allowed himself to relax just for a moment. He let himself feel at peace, safe in the serenity of the car with his family. 

[hotluncheddie]

for @steddie-spooktober day 4 prompt : corn maze

rated: T | cw: hospitals | tags: post s4, getting together

🌽 🌽 🌽 🌽

Eddie wakes up blurry eyed and disorientated in his now very familiar hospital bed. He spend the end of spring dead to the world, in and out of induced comas while they reconstructed his skin, the multiple processes too painful for him to be awake for. Followed was a summer of twilight and half wakefulness. Barely sentient between medicines and sponge baths and too many doctors telling him too many things.

Sometimes he’s wake up with the phantom feeling of his hand being held. Often he'd wake up with Wayne dozing on the little plastic chair beside him.

And maybe a little more often than sometimes, Eddie would wake up with Steve Harrington by his bedside. First shepherding Dustin, then bracketing Eddie’s new favourite midwestern queer Robin Buckley. Then just, Steve. Reading car magazines and folding the corners of pages he thinks Eddie might like. Or filling endless water cups, and scavenging snack in from vending machines. Or, just, staring into space.

Steve always seemed to just be there.

And Eddie was afraid to admit, even to himself, how much he liked that.

Now autumn was finally here, just starting to turn the leaves outside his window. His time awake slowly overtaking his time asleep, finally. And Steve is still there. Most days. Many days.

And at some point Eddie had started reaching for that phantom hand holding his, but in real life. Confirmed secretly by Robin that Steve was in fact there doing so while Eddie was out of it. (Gripped with a needless sense of protection and guilt over getting Eddie to the hospital in the state he did. Carried out of hell in Steve’s strong hands. Though safe, heavily injured, and Steve seemed to take that upon his own shoulders.) But Eddie only wanted those hand to support him again, wanted to find a way to thank him with words he didn’t possess. Wanted anything Steve would give him as his feelings blossomed into something he was still too scared to really look at.

But he could hold Steve’s hand. Only just allowed to push himself on a walker to the bathroom. Only just able to sit up and eat without biting his lip in pain, stopping half way to lay prone again.

He can, could, does, and doesn’t want to stop, holding Steve’s hand. And Steve gives that willingly.

But still, Eddie wakes up in his bed disoriented. Not by the bed, or the room, or even by Steve who stands beside him.

No, Eddie’s disoriented by the two items Steve has just deposited on his little table.

Steve standing by, arms crossed and hip cocked like this is English class and he needs to be ready to detach or say something snarky if his idea gets called stupid. It tugs on Eddie’s heartstrings. Eddie blinks, clears his head.

‘Corn maze.’ Steve says. Thinly veiled in his dismissal. Achingly honest in his mask.

Eddie looks at his little hospital table. A bowl of hot corn, steaming and shining with the butter melting through it, plastic spoon standing straight up amongst the kernels. And a box of Candy Land, old, with the corners taped together, well used, well loved.

‘I love corn mazes.’ Eddie says, quietly because he just woke up from another damn nap. And it’s autumn. And Steve Harrington is everything and nothing like what Eddie ever could’ve hoped for.

Steve softens. Visibly. Eddie watches it happen. His shoulders untense and his face smooths out into the sweet glowing thing of a boy who cares too much, who loves so hard he leave claw marks on everything.

Eddie wants Steve’s claws. Eddie wants them attached to the bone. But Eddie’s doesn’t want to give Steve the space to scratch. Eddie wants him close. Eddie wants him always.

‘Next autumn we’ll go for real, deal?’ Steve says.

Eddie nods, heart in his throat, rib cage exposed, heart beating for Steve Harrington and Steve Harrington alone.

He eats a bite of corn.

They travel through a candy maze.

Eddie Munson holds Steve Harrington’s hand.

🌽 🌽 🌽 🌽

Tag list (message to be added/removed): @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @marvel-ous-m

@thecatkingsthrone @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

[speaknow-sw]

𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒦𝒯𝒪𝐵𝐸𝑅 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

17/10/2024, Prompt : Incest, Daddy Kink, Orgasm Denial, Breeding kink, Threesome with Clayton Beresford & William Beeman

A/N : mdni, incest, daddy kink, slight orgasm denial, slight breeding kink, threesome.

Third fic yay ! This one is hella long and scrumptious as fuck. Don’t search the logic. Anyway enjoyy !

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓁𝒶𝒹𝓎 : 𝒶 𝑔𝓊𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒷𝓎 𝐵𝑒𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓃 & 𝐵𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒹

You step out of the sleek black car, feeling the crisp autumn air brush against your skin as you glance up at the towering glass skyscraper. Clayton Beresford, your fiancé, stands beside you, his presence calm yet commanding. With his sharp suit tailored to perfection and his eyes glinting with confidence, he’s every bit the billionaire CEO the world knows him to be. But to you, he's just Clay—the man who makes your heart race with every smile.

As you both make your way through the lobby, the gleaming marble floors echoing beneath your heels, you can't help but feel a sense of nostalgia. It’s been years since you last visited your father’s office. William Beeman, the legendary stock-broker and CEO, is known for his financial empire, but to you, he’s always been "Daddy," even with all the business aura surrounding him.

Clayton places a reassuring hand at the small of your back as the elevator doors slide open. "Ready?" he asks, his deep voice smooth and steady, a stark contrast to the nervous flutter in your chest.

You nod, offering him a small smile. "As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s see if my dad still as intimidating as I remember."

The elevator ride is swift, the numbers flashing by until it reaches the top floor, where the empire your father built waits. As the doors part, you're greeted by the familiar scent of polished wood and leather. William Beeman's office is a blend of power and legacy, the walls lined with shelves of finance books and framed photographs of world leaders he’s shaken hands with.

Your father looks up from his desk, his expression unreadable at first. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face as he stands to greet you both. “Ah, finally. The future Mr. and Mrs. Beresford.” His voice carries the same authority that’s made him a titan in the industry, but there’s a softness reserved just for you.

You step forward, your pulse quickening as you prepare to introduce Clay to the man who’s shaped your life in more ways than you can count. « Hi, daddy » you smiled brightly, hugging him.

Will's arms wrap around you in a tight embrace, pulling you close against his firm chest. You can feel the warmth of his body seeping through his crisp dress shirt, and smell the faint hint of his cologne - a spicy, masculine scent that always reminds you of home.

"My baby girl," he murmurs into your hair, his large hand stroking the length of your back. "I've missed you. How have you been, sweetheart?"

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his intense blue eyes searching your face. There's a hint of concern etched in the lines around them, and you know it's because of the accident that left you hospitalized.

"You’ll always be a little Beeman…" he whispered affectionately. "Are you feeling better? I hope that Clay here has been taking good care of you." His gaze shifts to your fiancé, a hint of challenge in his expression. "Because if he hasn't, well... let's just say I won't hesitate to teach him a thing or two about how a real man treats a lady."

His tone is light, almost teasing, but there's an underlying current of protectiveness that sends a shiver down your spine. Even after all these years, your daddy's love can be both comforting and intimidating.

Clay steps forward, his presence filling the space between you and your father. He extends his hand to Will, his grip firm and confident.

"Mr. Beeman, it's an honor to finally meet you. I'm Clayton Beresford, your daughter's fiancé. And yes, sir, I've been taking excellent care of her. She's my priority, always."

His gaze locks with Will's, a silent challenge passing between them. Clay's not one to back down easily, and it's clear he's not about to let anyone, not even his future father-in-law, push him around.

"I've heard so much about you, sir. Your reputation precedes you. I look forward to learning from your wisdom and experience." There's a hint of respect in Clay's voice, but also a subtle assertion of his own status and accomplishments.

You smiled but stayed in your father’s arms « He’s so sweet daddy… like you » You wiggled your hips.

Will's eyes darken as he feels you wiggle in his arms, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He tightens his hold on you, one hand sliding lower to rest on your hip.

"Is that so, baby girl?" he purrs, his voice low and husky. "Well, I'm glad to hear Clay is treating you right. But remember, no matter how sweet he is, he'll never be able to love you the way I do."

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "And don't think I haven't noticed the way you're pressing yourself against me, little minx. Your daddy knows exactly what you need."

Will's hand on your hip squeezes gently, a silent reminder of the connection between you. Even in front of your fiancé, he's not afraid to show his possessive side.

He pulls back slightly, his gaze shifting to Clay. "I hope you know what you're getting into, son. My little girl is precious, and I expect you to treat her like a princess. Because if you don't..." He trails off, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

Clay's jaw clenches slightly at Will's words, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before he schools his expression into a neutral mask. He takes a step closer to you both, his presence a stark reminder of his own strength and authority.

"Mr. Beeman," he says, his voice calm but firm, "I assure you, I have every intention of treating your daughter like the treasure she is. My love for her is unwavering, and I would never dream of hurting her."

He reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he turns your face towards him. "She's my world, and I'll spend every day of our lives proving that to her... and to you, sir."

There's a challenge in Clay's eyes as he looks at Will, a silent message that says he's not about to be intimidated. He may respect your father, but he's not afraid to stand his ground when it comes to you.

You pouted and brushed your fingers slightly against your dad crotch.

Will's eyes widen slightly at your bold actions, surprise and excitement dancing in their depths. He doesn't stop you, instead, he shifts his hips slightly, allowing you better access to his crotch. His voice is low and husky as he speaks.

"Baby girl, what's gotten into you today? Trying to stir things up, huh?" He chuckles softly, the sound deep and resonant. "Let's see how long Clay can keep his cool while you're playing with Daddy."

Will's hand rests on your thigh, his touch light but possessive. He turns his attention to Clay, a knowing smirk on his face.

"I see you're quite the gentleman, Clay. But I wonder, how long will that last when my little minx starts getting frisky?"

His gaze is challenging, daring Clay to rise to the occasion. Will's not backing down, and it's clear he's enjoying the tension that's building in the room.

Clay's eyes narrow slightly as he watches you play with Will's crotch. A muscle twitches in his jaw, betraying his annoyance, but his voice remains steady when he speaks.

"Darling, perhaps we should keep things civil," he says, his tone gentle but firm. "Your father and I have just met, and I'm sure he wouldn't want us to be too... forward in his office."

He turns to Will, his expression unyielding. "Mr. Beeman, I understand your desire to protect your daughter, but I assure you, my intentions are pure. I only want what's best for your daughter, and that includes maintaining a respectful relationship with her family."

Despite his words, Clay's hand tightens slightly around yours, a silent reminder of his claim on you. He's not about to let your father provocations go unchallenged, but he's also not going to stoop to the same level.

"Now, why don't we focus on getting to know each other better, without any unnecessary distractions?" He suggests, his gaze never leaving your dad’s one.

The sight of you spread out before them, your legs parted invitingly, is enough to break the last of their resistance. With a low growl, your dad descends upon you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss.

At the same time, Clay positions himself between your legs, his fingers trailing teasingly along your inner thighs. He leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin as he whispers, "You're so beautiful, baby. We're going to make you feel so good."

Will's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and dip with a hunger that sets your skin ablaze. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate flesh as he goes.

Clay, meanwhile, is focused on bringing you pleasure. He parts your folds with his fingers, his touch gentle but insistent as he explores your most intimate places. He groans at the wetness he finds there, a testament to your desire.

Will continues his assault on your senses, his lips blazing a trail of fire down your body until he reaches your breasts. He takes one hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue as his hand massages the other.

The dual sensations of your dad’s mouth on your breasts and Clay's fingers between your legs are almost too much to bear. You arch your back, pushing yourself further into their touch, desperate for more.

Clay, sensing your need, begins to thrust his fingers inside you, his pace steady and deep. He curls his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

Will, not wanting to be left out, moves lower, his tongue replacing Clay's fingers as he laps at your dripping core. He moans against you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

Together, they work in tandem, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. The sounds of your combined moans and the wet, obscene noises of Will's mouth on you fill the room, creating a symphony of lust.

Your moans and the way your body writhes beneath their touch spur Will and Clay on, driving them to new heights of passion. They continue their relentless assault on your senses, determined to bring you to the peak of pleasure.

Will, his face glistening with your juices, looks up at you with a wicked grin. He increases the pressure of his tongue, alternating between long, slow licks and rapid flicks against your sensitive clit. His eyes never leave yours, watching the ecstasy play out across your face.

Your fiancé, his fingers still buried deep inside you, leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth. He tugs gently, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. His free hand comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck, which he proceeds to lavish with kisses and bites.

The combined sensations are overwhelming, and you can feel your body beginning to tense as your orgasm approaches. Will senses it too, and he doubles his efforts, his tongue working furiously against your most sensitive spot.

Your fiancé presses a third finger inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that feels so incredibly good. He matches the rhythm of his fingers with the movement of his mouth on your nipple, creating a delicious friction that sends shockwaves through your body.

As you teeter on the brink of ecstasy, they both seem to sense the impending explosion. They redouble their efforts, their touches becoming more urgent and demanding. Will's tongue circles your clit, while Clay's fingers piston in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot inside with unerring accuracy.

With a final cry, you come undone, your body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over you. Will and Clay continue their ministrations, prolonging your orgasm and drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

Clay's breath hitches as you turn around and take him into your mouth, your skilled tongue swirling around the head of his cock. He tangles his fingers in your hair, guiding you deeper onto his shaft. "Oh, fuck, doll. Your mouth feels incredible," he groans, his hips rocking forward to meet your movements.

Will, not wanting to be left out, moves behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself at your entrance. He rubs the tip of his cock against your slick folds, coating himself in your juices. "You're so wet, baby girl. I can't wait to feel you wrapped around me."

With a single, powerful thrust, Will sheaths himself inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that makes you moan around Clay's cock. The dual sensations of being filled from both ends are overwhelming, and you can't help but push back against Will, wanting more.

Clay, meanwhile, is lost in the sensation of your warm, wet mouth. He fights the urge to thrust into your throat, instead allowing you to set the pace. His grip on your hair tightens as he guides you, encouraging you to take him deeper. "That's it, baby. Take all of me."

Your dad, sensing your desire, grins wickedly. "Oh, baby girl, you want Daddy and Clay to breed this sweet little pussy of yours? To pump you full of our seed and make sure everyone knows who you belong to ? I was waiting for a grandchild but who knows ? It could be your sibling ?" He grinned menacingly.

Clay, nodding in agreement, leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "We'll fill you up so good, doll. Pump you full of our cum until it's dripping down your thighs. Everyone will know that you're ours… but I’ll be the one to knock you up."

As you continue to bob up and down on Clay's shaft, Will establishes a steady rhythm, his hips slapping against yours with each powerful thrust. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixing with the moans and grunts of the three of you as you lose yourselves in the throes of passion.

Will leans over your back, his chest pressed against your shoulders as he reaches around to play with your clit. His fingers circle the sensitive nub, adding to the intense pleasure coursing through your body. "You like that, don't you, sweetheart? Having both of us inside you, filling you up?"

Clay, feeling your walls tighten around your dad’s cock, recognizes the signs of your impending orgasm. He pulls your head back, forcing you to release his cock, and captures your lips in a searing kiss. "Let go, baby. Come for us," *he commands, his voice rough with lust.

Suddenly you felt yourself being pulled off Clay’s cock and bounced furiously on Daddy’s one.

As Will pulls you off Clay's cock and bounces you furiously on his own, you can't help but let out a loud moan. The sudden change in position and the relentless pace of Will's thrusts send shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

Clay, not wanting to be left out, moves in front of you, his cock bobbing mere inches from your face. He wraps his hand around the base, guiding it towards your mouth. "Open up, baby. Let me feel those pretty lips again."

You eagerly comply, taking your fiancé’s cock into your mouth once more. The taste of him mixed with your own juices is intoxicating, and you find yourself craving more. You suck and lick, your tongue swirling around the shaft as you bob your head up and down.

Will, feeling your walls tightening around him, knows that you're close. He leans over your back, his teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder as he continues to pound into you, chasing your orgasm. "That's it, baby girl. Come for Daddy. Let me feel you come undone."

The combined sensations of Will's cock hitting that perfect spot inside you and Clay's thick shaft filling your mouth are too much to bear. With a muffled cry, you reach your peak, your body shaking and convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over you.

As you come down from your high, Will and Clay continue to move, their own releases approaching. Will's thrusts become more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own orgasm. "Fuck, baby girl, I'm going to come. Are you ready for Daddy's load?"

Clay, feeling your throat constrict around his cock, grabs your hair and holds you in place as he thrusts into your mouth. His body tenses, and with a low groan, he releases himself inside you, his hot seed spilling down your throat.

A few moments later, Will reaches his own climax, his hips stuttering as he empties himself deep inside you.

As they switch places, you feel a momentary emptiness before Clay is sliding into you from behind, his cock replacing Will's. He groans at the feeling of your tight heat enveloping him, and he starts to move, his thrusts deep and powerful.

Meanwhile, your father moves in front of you, his cock, still hard and ready, brushing against your cheek. He cups your face, guiding you to take him into your mouth once more. "That's it, baby girl. Suck Daddy's cock while that little fucker fills you up."

You eagerly comply, your lips wrapping around Will's shaft as Clay pounds into you from behind. The new position allows you to take Will deeper, and you relax your throat, letting him slide all the way in.

Clay, his hands gripping your hips, sets a brutal pace, his thrusts rocking your entire body. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with your muffled moans around Will's cock and the grunts and groans of the two men.

Will, his eyes locked on yours, watches as you take him deep, reveling in the sight of you so thoroughly debauched. He rocks his hips, fucking your face with shallow thrusts, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. "Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good. You're such a good girl for Daddy."

You chocked on his gigantic cock, tears running down. « Daddy… » you moaned around his shaft.

The sight of you choking on his cock, tears streaming down your face as you moan around him, only serves to drive Will wild. He grips your hair tightly, holding you in place as he continues to fuck your face. "That's right, baby girl. Take Daddy's cock. You look so beautiful like this, all choked up and desperate for my attention."

Clay, noticing the tears, slows his pace slightly, his thrusts becoming more deliberate and controlled. He leans over your back, pressing his chest against yours as he whispers in your ear, "You okay, baby? Do you need a break?"

Despite the tears and the choking, you shake your head, your eyes locked on Will's. The love and devotion you feel for him, along with the intense pleasure coursing through your body, keeps you going. You want to please him, to show him how much you adore him.

Will, sensing your determination, nods approvingly. "Good girl. You're doing so well. Daddy's proud of you."

He continues to thrust into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. The combination of pain and pleasure is overwhelming, and you can feel another orgasm building within you.

Clay, feeling your walls tightening around him, picks up the pace once more, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. He reaches around to play with your clit, his fingers rubbing in quick, firm circles, pushing you closer to the edge. "Come again, baby. It’ll be good."

The dual sensations of Will's cock in your mouth and Clay's fingers on your clit are too much to resist. With a muffled cry around Will's shaft, you come undone, your body shaking and convulsing as another powerful orgasm rips through you.

As you ride out the aftershocks of your second climax, stars in the eyes, Will and Clay continue to move, their own releases approaching. Will's thrusts become more erratic, his grip on your hair tightening as he chases his own orgasm.

As your body trembles with the intensity of the pleasure, Will and Clay sense your impending orgasm. They want to prolong your ecstasy, to keep you on the edge for as long as possible. In a show of dominance, they tighten their grip on you, preventing you from reaching that final peak.

Your father pulls out of your mouth, his cock glistening with your saliva. He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth and tangling with yours. At the same time, Clay slows his thrusts, his hips undulating in a slow, sensual rhythm that teases rather than satisfies.

You whimper into the kiss, your body begging for release, but Will and Clay remain relentless. They continue their ministrations, keeping you in a state of constant arousal without allowing you to climax.

Breaking the kiss, Will looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Not yet, baby girl. Daddy wants to feel you come undone when he's deep inside you. Can you hold on for me a little longer?"

Clay, echoing his sentiments, whispers in your ear, "We want to feel you shatter, sweetheart. Give us just a little more time, and then you can let go."

They resume their movements, Will's cock sliding back into your mouth while Clay picks up the pace once more, his thrusts growing more forceful and deliberate. The dual stimulation is almost unbearable, and you can feel your orgasm building again, even stronger than before.

As you struggle to maintain control, Will and Clay continue to push you higher, their hands roaming your body, pinching and squeezing your sensitive flesh. They're determined to drive you to the brink, to make you beg for release before they finally grant it to you.

« Daddy please….Clay… I n-need to….please please… » you begged, crying shakily. Your desperate pleas and the sight of your tears are enough to sway Will and Clay. They've pushed you to the limit, and they can see the desperation in your eyes. It's clear that you need release, and they're not determined to give it to you.

Will pulls out of your mouth, his cock slick with your saliva. He cups your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. "Shh, baby girl. Daddy's here. We're not going to let you come now, I promise."

Clay, his thrusts becoming more erratic, nods in agreement. "That's it, doll. Don’t you dare let go. If you come there’s going to have a punishment, baby." He slapped you butt cheek earning a cry. 

You sobbed, trembling « Please…please…I’m a good girl….i can have it…please… »

Will slides back into your mouth, his cock gliding effortlessly past your lips. At the same time, Clay's thrusts become more forceful, each one driving deep into your core and hitting that perfect spot inside you. "That's it, baby girl," Will encourages, his voice strained with his own impending orgasm. "Take Daddy's cock again. Let go and come for us."

Clay, his fingers digging into your hips, picks up the pace even more, his thrusts becoming almost violent in their intensity. "Come on, doll. Let it happen. Show us what a good girl you are."

The combined sensations of your father’s cock in your mouth and your fiancé’s thrusts pounding into you finally push you over the edge. With a muffled cry around Will's shaft, you come undone, your body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over you.

The feeling of your walls clamping down around him is too much for Clay, and with a guttural groan, he releases himself inside you, his hot seed filling your depths. Will, feeling your throat constrict around him, follows suit, his own release pulsing down your throat. He pulled away and tapped his fat cock against your cheek, laughing.

As the three of you ride out the aftershocks of your shared climax, they collapse on top of you, their bodies covering yours in a warm embrace. They pepper your face and neck with soft kisses, praising you for being such a good girl and taking everything they had to offer. « This is how a real man treat a lady, Beresford. » your Dad patted his back.

[astrxq]

modern!jacaerys velaryon x reader — prompt list 1.25 from my autumn party!

words: 3.7k

notes: “You have my permission to do whatever you want with me.” — modern!jace gets injured in one of his games. you’re taking care of him and his broken leg doesn’t let him fully thank you properly. requested. (p in v, mutual masturbation, kissing… idk i think that’s all)

The game had always been part of Jace’s life — an anchor that grounded him in ways you knew little else could. The roar of the crowd, the pounding of feet against turf, the adrenaline that rushed through him like an electric current. You’d seen it in his eyes, the fire that lit up when he was out there, a star player on his college football team, and you’d always admired that about him. But everything changed the moment his body collided with another player, sending him crashing to the ground.

The gasp that tore from your chest in the stands still echoed in your ears, even days after the incident. It was supposed to be a regular game, just another weekend of watching him dominate the field. But it wasn’t. The moment Jace didn’t get up, a sickening knot tightened in your stomach, and you bolted down from the bleachers faster than your mind could process.

Hours later, you found yourself in a hospital room, standing at his bedside as he came to. His leg was in a cast, elevated in a sling, his face contorted in pain and frustration. It wasn’t long before the doctors confirmed the worst — his leg was broken, and with it, his football season. Maybe even his future.

The days that followed felt like a blur, a mix of managing your own emotions and tending to Jace’s frustration. His fire, once burning bright, had dulled, replaced with a constant state of agitation. He wasn’t used to being still, to not moving forward, and now he was stuck — confined to his bed, helpless in ways he’d never been before.

You spent most of your days at his side, tending to his needs, trying to make things easier for him. You’d bring food, help him get comfortable, change his bandages, and offer your presence. At first, it felt like you were walking on eggshells, unsure of how to navigate his moods. The Jace you knew was confident, in control, and this new reality was jarring for him.

But, slowly, you began to find a rhythm. He'd make sarcastic remarks about his situation, and you'd tease him back, trying to keep the mood light. Some days, he’d smile, and you’d feel a flicker of relief. On others, he was silent, brooding, and you would let him be, sensing he needed space.

Today, though, something felt different. You’d come over to his place after your classes, as usual, carrying a bag of groceries and some takeout from his favorite restaurant. When you walked into his room, he was already sprawled across the bed, his leg propped up, flipping through the channels on the TV with a bored expression.

“You’re here,” he said, his voice lighter than it had been in days.

“Of course I am,” you replied, dropping your bag on his desk before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Did you think I’d forget about you?”

He gave you a lopsided grin, shaking his head. “Nah. You wouldn’t let me suffer through this alone.”

You smiled, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Exactly. Now, I brought food, so you don’t have to complain about hospital food for the millionth time.”

“God, you’re a lifesaver.” He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm. “I don’t know how I’d survive without you.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his touch sent a warm, familiar shiver down your spine. It was always like that with Jace — the smallest gestures felt electric, even when they weren’t meant to be. And lately, you’d noticed a shift in the way he looked at you. The frustration of his injury was still there, but beneath it, something else simmered — a tension that neither of you had fully acknowledged yet.

After you set up the food and helped him get comfortable, you both ate in silence, the TV playing softly in the background. It was a quiet evening, just the two of you in his room, and as the night wore on, the tension that had been building seemed to grow heavier.

Jace had been staring at you more, his eyes lingering when you moved around the room. You felt the weight of his gaze, the unspoken hunger in his expression that made your heart race. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt like this around him, but now, with his injury forcing him into stillness, it seemed like all the pent-up energy had nowhere to go but into the space between you.

As you were cleaning up, Jace’s voice broke the silence. “You’ve been doing so much for me.”

You turned to him, surprised by the sudden seriousness in his tone. “Of course. You’d do the same for me.”

He nodded, but his eyes darkened slightly. “Yeah, but…I’ve been kind of a pain. I haven’t exactly made it easy.”

You bit your lip, considering your response. “You’re going through a lot, Jace. It’s okay.”

“I just hate feeling useless,” he muttered, frustration evident in his voice. “Like I can’t do anything. Not even for you.”

You sat beside him on the bed, your hand resting on his arm. “You don’t have to do anything for me. I’m here because I want to be.”

He looked at you then, his brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His hand moved to your thigh, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. The air between you felt thick, charged with something that had been building for days.

“Sometimes…I don’t know how you put up with me,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. “But I don’t want to take you for granted.”

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise in your chest as his hand lingered on your leg. “You’re not taking me for granted, Jace. I — ” Your words caught in your throat as his fingers trailed higher, just barely under the hem of your shorts.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice was softer now, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to speak.

“Have you ever thought about…” He hesitated for a moment, his hand pausing. “I mean, with my leg like this, I can’t do much, but I’ve been thinking…”

He trailed off, turning his attention back to the TV, as if suddenly embarrassed. “Never mind,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You let out a quiet breath, feeling the tension thicken, but you didn’t press him. Instead, you watched the TV in silence, your mind racing. Every few minutes, he shifted uncomfortably, and you leaned over to help him adjust. The cast on his leg was heavy, awkward, and you could see the way his muscles tensed with every small movement, his jaw tight with frustration.

Each time you leaned in to help, your bodies brushed together — your arm grazing his chest, your hand on his waist as you lifted his leg gently to prop it on more pillows. You could feel the heat of his skin beneath your fingers, his scent filling your senses as you worked to make him comfortable.

And each time, you noticed the subtle change in his breathing. A small hitch when your hand lingered a little too long on his thigh, or when your chest brushed against his arm as you reached across him to adjust his pillows. His breath came out in slow, uneven exhales, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, lingering on the curve of your neck, the dip of your shirt, his eyes darkening with every stolen glance.

Finally, after shifting him again, you noticed the way his hand clenched at the sheets, his chest rising and falling faster than before.

“Do you need to move again?” you asked softly, half-expecting another request.

Jace looked at you, his lips parting as if to answer, but instead, he reached up, his hand finding the back of your neck. The gesture was gentle, but firm, guiding you down until your lips met his.

The kiss caught you off guard, but it didn’t take long for you to melt into him. His mouth was warm, eager, and you felt the familiar tug of desire pulling you closer. His fingers curled in your hair, and he deepened the kiss, his frustration melting into something else entirely — something raw, unrestrained.

The room seemed to hum with the energy between you, the forgotten TV playing in the background as your hands moved instinctively to brace yourself against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest under your palms. His leg might’ve been broken, but there was nothing weak in the way he kissed you, nothing hesitant in the way he held you closer.

Jace’s hands moved to cradle you, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck, tracing the curve of your spine. The low groan that escaped his throat made your stomach twist with longing.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were darker, more focused. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he admitted, his voice rough, “about this… a lot.”

You blinked, catching your breath. "You have?"

He nodded, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. You shifted, suddenly hyper-aware of the closeness between you. His gaze was hot, searing, and for the first time, you noticed the flicker of vulnerability in his expression.

You held his gaze, feeling the heat radiating between you like a live wire, drawing you both closer. The air crackled with anticipation, and your heart raced as you contemplated the shift in your relationship. Jace’s breath was warm against your skin, the rhythm of it matching the quickening beat of your heart.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips with his, and you melted into him, your body instinctively moving closer. His kiss was urgent, hungry, igniting a fire deep within you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you kissed him back, feeling the warmth of his mouth against yours.

Jace deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against your lower lip, teasing, coaxing you to open up. A soft whimper escaped your throat as you parted your lips, allowing him entry. The taste of him was intoxicating — familiar and sweet, sending a rush of heat through your body. You lost yourself in the moment, forgetting the world outside, forgetting everything except for the way he made you feel.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you against him, the warmth of his body igniting your senses. Every brush of his fingers sent shivers coursing through you. You felt alive, every nerve ending on high alert, responding to his touch as he explored the curve of your waist and the softness of your skin. The intensity of the kiss only heightened your desire, his tongue sliding against yours, a dance that felt both foreign and thrilling.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he murmured against your lips, breaking the kiss momentarily. His voice was husky, thick with yearning, and it sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

You breathed out a shaky laugh, your fingers trailing down the strong lines of his arms, marveling at how effortlessly he pulled you into this world where nothing else mattered. “Me too,” you admitted, the confession slipping past your lips before you could second-guess yourself.

He captured your mouth again, the kiss more urgent this time, as if he were trying to convey everything he felt through the heat of his lips and the soft pressure of his body against yours. You pressed against him, your heart racing, feeling the weight of his desire mingling with your own. The world outside faded into insignificance, leaving just the two of you lost in the moment.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Jace pulled back, his brow furrowing slightly as he regarded you. “I know I can’t do a lot right now…” he said, his voice low and serious. He trailed off.

You met his gaze, your heart still racing from the intensity of the kiss, but a flicker of concern clouded your thoughts. The weight of his broken leg loomed over you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that, even in this moment, it might be a barrier.

“Jace, are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, easing the tension in the air. “I broke my leg, not my ability to have sex,” he replied, a mischievous grin creeping across his face. The teasing glint in his eyes made you smile despite your worries, but the sincerity behind his laughter remained.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. “That’s not really what I meant,” you said, your tone playful yet serious. “I just don’t want to accidentally hurt you while we’re… you know.”

His expression softened, the humor giving way to something deeper. “Trust me, I’m still very much up for it,” he assured you, his fingers brushing along your arm, igniting warmth in their wake. “You have my permission to do whatever you want with me.”

He held your gaze with an intensity that made your heart flutter, and before you could fully process it, his hands found your hips. Gently, he maneuvered you to straddle him, the warmth of his body igniting a thrill deep within you. You could feel the solidness of him beneath you, and it sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low and playful, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

You nodded, breathless, as you leaned in to capture his mouth again. The kiss deepened, a sweet exploration that felt both familiar and thrilling. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you savored the taste of him. His lips moved against yours with a slow, tantalizing pressure, sending waves of heat through you.

As you pulled back slightly, breathless and flushed, Jace’s eyes sparkled with desire. His hands slipped from your hips to your thighs, fingers brushing softly along your skin, igniting sparks of sensation wherever he touched. The weight of his gaze made you feel exposed yet cherished, a blend of vulnerability and thrill that sent your heart racing.

With that assurance, Jace’s hands moved higher, his fingertips trailing up your thighs and resting just below your waist, where he hesitated for a breath, seeking your permission. The heat of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you nodded, urging him on silently.

He took that as his cue, his fingers exploring the softness of your skin, brushing lightly over your waist. The sensation was intoxicating, every caress igniting a flame within you. His fingertips reached the hem of your pants, slowly moving them out of the way so he could fit his hand inside and closer to you. You leaned back slightly, giving him more access, craving the connection between you as he traced delicate patterns across your body.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his voice filled with awe as his fingers continued to explore, igniting every nerve ending with anticipation.

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks, his words settling deep in your heart. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you replied, your tone teasing yet earnest, making him chuckle softly.

You felt a shiver run through you as one of his fingers began to tease you, rubbing in delicate circles, igniting sensations that radiated through your body. A breathy sigh escaped your lips, and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. But then you opened your eyes, locking gazes with Jace, the intensity in his gaze both thrilling and grounding.

“Gorgeous,” he urged, his voice low and gravelly, filled with a yearning that mirrored your own. You watched as his fingers slipped inside you, and your breath hitched, a wave of pleasure washing over you as you adjusted to the feeling. Jace’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mix of awe and desire, as if every movement of his fingers was a connection between your souls.

His fingers worked you, moving with a rhythm that made your heart race, sending you spiraling into a sea of warmth and bliss. You could feel the tension building within you, every brush of his skin against yours intensifying the sensations, the world around you fading away. In that moment, nothing else mattered — just the two of you, entwined in this newfound intimacy.

You reached for him, your hands trembling slightly as you fumbled with his pajama pants, urgency and need coursing through you. As you finally freed him, he gasped, the sound raw and hungry, almost losing himself at the mere contact after days of pent-up frustration and unspent energy. You marveled at how he reacted to you, the way he leaned into your touch, his breath hitching as you wrapped your hand around him.

He breathed out your name, his voice strained with desire.

The way he looked at you, his eyes dark and filled with longing, made your heart race. You began to move your hand, your touch slow and teasing at first, feeling every muscle in his body tense beneath your fingers. You could sense the buildup of energy within him, the way his body responded to you, and it fueled your desire even more.

You moved your hand down to meet his, your fingers intertwining as the intensity of the moment heightened. Jace’s fingers continued their expert dance, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you, each caress eliciting soft moans that escaped your lips unbidden. The rhythm he set was intoxicating, a melody of desire that pulled you deeper into the moment.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you grasped his wrist gently, guiding his hand away as you leaned up on your knees, positioning yourself fully above him. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the tension hung in the air, electric and palpable. Jace’s eyes widened slightly as you moved, a mixture of surprise and hunger flashing across his features.

You could see the way he swallowed hard, his body taut with anticipation. With a gentle, deliberate motion, he slipped inside you, and you both gasped at the sensation, a rush of heat flooding through you as you adjusted to him.

You took a moment to savor the fullness, the way your bodies fit together, the connection transcending everything else. Jace’s hands found your waist, anchoring you as you began to move, slowly at first, savoring the intensity of the moment. His breath quickened, matching the rhythm of your movements, and you could feel him respond to every shift and thrust.

“God, you feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire, urging you on. The way he spoke, filled with awe, sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you.

He leaned down, his lips trailing soft kisses down your neck, leaving a path of warmth that made you shiver with delight. Each kiss was open-mouthed and warm, a gentle reminder of his presence, his desire for you. You could feel his breath against your skin, each exhale igniting a new wave of sensations that danced across your body.

“Mmh,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low and thick with longing. “You’re taking such good care of me.” The way he said it sent a rush of heat through you, your heart swelling at his words.

His hands roamed your waist, fingers brushing against your skin, grounding you as you reveled in the connection. It was exhilarating to feel him respond to your every movement, the way his body welcomed you, made you feel cherished and desired. You could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he watched you, completely captivated by the sight of you above him, the two of you entwined in a rhythm that felt both intimate and liberating.

You leaned back slightly, arching into him, seeking deeper connection as you began to move with more confidence. The sensation of him filling you, combined with his words, sent another wave of heat flooding through you, stirring a deep longing that intensified with each thrust. You felt powerful in this moment, completely in control, and the thought of giving him pleasure while savoring your own only fueled the fire within you.

With each thrust, each kiss, you felt the world outside fade into nothingness, leaving just the two of you — lost in each other, exploring the depths of your desires. Jace’s hands tightened on your waist, urging you to find that sweet spot, and you did, the sensation making you gasp, a blissful sound that hung in the air between you.

you could feel the familiar knot of pleasure tightening in your core, the world narrowing to just the two of you. The rhythmic pulse of your bodies became a beautiful dance, each movement pushing you closer to ecstasy. You moved faster, chasing the wave of pleasure that loomed just ahead, your body responding to the deepening connection you shared.

Jace’s gaze never wavered, locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “You’re so close,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy. “I can feel it.”

His words sent you spiraling, a rush of heat flooding your senses. You cried out, a mix of pleasure and relief, as you finally tipped over the edge, waves of bliss crashing over you. Jace held you close, his fingers digging into your skin as he followed you over the precipice, his own pleasure mingling with yours in a beautiful harmony.

“God,” he groaned, his voice thick with emotion, as he reached his peak, filling you in the most intimate way. The sound of his pleasure echoed in the air, amplifying the electric connection that pulsed between you. You were both breathless, hearts racing, bodies entwined in the aftermath of your shared release.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, you sank into him, your bodies still pressed close, the warmth of his skin against yours a comforting reminder of the moment you just shared. You could hear the soft thrum of his heartbeat, steadying as he caught his breath.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Daryl's feet felt heavy on the stairs and across the porch. You heard his boot steps inside and were immediately up, rushing toward the front door. A heavy sigh escaped the archer as he reached for the doorknob. He was weary. It had been an entirely crappy couple of days. They'd barely been able to find any useful supplies on the scavenge trip.

Before his fingers could even touch the brass of the knob, it pulled inward and you were standing there with tousled hair and a grin on your face that seemed brimming with sunlight. His eyes drifted over you. You were wearing your favorite pair of socks, surprisingly soft wool ones that were clearly too big and folded and bunched around your calves. You were wearing one of his sweaters, also far too large. The hem was brushing your bare thighs.

"Hi," you greeted him, still beaming.

Some of the pain in his shoulders and back seemed to diminish just at the sight of you. "Hey," he drawled, stepping in toward you across the threshold. He tugged the door gently from your hand and shut it behind him and that's when you barreled into him, your body flush against his, your arms wrapping around him tightly. You ear came to his chest and you closed your eyes as you listed to the steady whoosh of his heart. Daryl let out a low chuckle, some of the fatigue falling from him now too. His arms hugged you back tightly.

"I missed you so much," you breathed.

"Missed ya too," he murmured, tucking a kiss into your hair. "Can't imagine I smell too good..." he murmured.

"Shut up," you retorted, pulling back. "I don't even care."

Daryl let his pack and his crossbow slip from his shoulder and hardly had any notice before you looped your arms around his neck and jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. You tucked your face in against his neck and breathed in his smell. Musky. Wood smoke. Leather. Autumn air. Grass after a rainstorm.

Daryl had to shift to regain his balance and laughed as he brought his arms up to loop around to support you. "Christ, woman... Can't even hardly let me get in the damn door," he said.

"Nope. I can't." You pulled back to look into his blue eyes and brushed some of his wavy hair out of his face. "I missed you."

Daryl smiled. This is what he fought for. This is what he did everything for... He hugged you more tightly and carried you straight toward the bed you shared.

Prompt: "Sometimes you have to go home to remind yourself what you're fighting for."

[vividxpages]

1 and smut pls 🤭🤭

a/n: the way I was like 'how the hell can I include the beer can' hehe. I hope you like how it turned out!

vivid's little autumn writing: If you want, you can now send me a number (or two combined!) from this list of visual prompts and I'll write a little drabble (fluffy and/or smutty, you decide) for it.🧸 you can suggest them until the end of October!

🍂

Mornings at Jace’s dorm could go two very different ways.

After nights out or late study sessions, you sometimes were woken up by his blustering roommate next door, stumbling through the hallway in search for some breakfast. When Jace and Cregan threw parties, you’d find the living room littered with party corpses, scrunching your nose at all the glasses you knew Jace had to wash later. Jace, it seemed, was used to the frequent come and go in the dorm, but you with your very organized and neat girl dorm, could not relate.

Other times, when Cregan went out for an early morning jog and the dorm floor was quiet and sleeping still, you got to indulge into the pleasure of having Jacaerys all to yourself.

This morning, you had woken up from his kisses, slow and searchingly travelling over your sleep-warm skin, your attentive boyfriend already having pushed you over the edge once with his fingers buried deep inside of you and your little mewls echoing off his walls.

Now, relaxed and still a little hazy from your orgasm, Jace had carried you into the bathroom, struggling a little to get into the shower while making sure none of your body parts bumped into any walls.

“You’re getting too good at this…” You slurred against his neck, lazily kissing the underside of his stubbled jaw as he gently set you down on your feet and turned the showerhead on.

“At walking into the shower with you?” He grinned knowingly at you, shielding you from the water until it quickly reached a comfortable temperature. Rich kid dorm shit.

“You know exactly what I mean…” You mumbled, stepping right into his open arms and melting against his chest, the warm water trickling down both your naked entwined bodies. His wet curls tickled your cheek as you peppered little kisses on his strong chest, his breath hitching as you teasingly licked over one of his pecs before bringing your lips together.

The kiss quickly got heated and you moaned in his mouth as he pressed his hips into yours, his hard cock still on edge after watching you come so sweetly in his arms earlier. You pressed your chest against his and shivered as one of his hands ghosted over the side of your breast, slowly walking you towards the tiled wall behind you.

“You’re so pretty…” He whispered in awe, water falling into his eyes as they stared hungrily at you. His raspy morning voice sent a thrill down your spine and something low in your stomach stirred awake yet again. “’need to fuck you good, baby, will you let me?”

“Hell yeah, I need you…” You breathed against his lips and let him slide his tongue into your mouth, the kiss becoming deeper and more desperate. In one swift move, he hoisted you up and into his arms, your legs winding themselves around his hips. Behind you, a dull sound of something clinking against the tiles after your elbow touched it distracted you.

You looked over your shoulder, brushing away the wet hair from your face. There, nestled between the guys’ bodywash and shampoo (3 in 1 for Cregan, a whole luxurious hair routine for Jace), was a beer can.

“Really, Jace?” You cocked a disappointed eyebrow at him, the warm water continuing to flow down your naked back as he held you.

“Cregan was in here before us!” Jace protested and chuckled as you playfully leaned away from the beer can and squeezed his shoulders. “Do I taste like beer to you? At nine in the morning?”

You hummed in consideration, briefly kissing and licking over his lips, his eyes on you darkening with desire when you leaned back and squeezed your thighs around him. “No. Just toothpaste. You’re lucky you’re so cute, Jacaerys Velaryon, because you will clean that up right after you fucked me, got it?”

“Bossy, but I’ll take it.” Jace mumbled under his breath and surged forward again, eager to finally get inside you and draw more of his favorite noises from your lips.

As the steam around you rose up your bodies, the two of you came together as one, your sensitive core welcoming Jace as if he had always belonged there, deep and hot inside of you while you held onto him for dear life…

Later, you both had somehow forgotten about the can as you love-drunkenly stumbled back into Jace’s room, but at least Cregan had a nice surprise waiting for him when he took a shower after his jog…

[saythenametotheworld]

Risk | l.jn [1]

Genre: college au; crush-at-first-sight Synopsis: Firmly convinced that Love-at-First-Sight is a hoax, you never expected to be proven wrong when the universe decided to throw you, quite literally, into Lee Jeno's lap. Pairing: NCT Lee Jeno x Reader Warnings: slow burn—I know, classic Cali work. Notes: Can I interest you with another two-part fic that's also a slow burn? No? Alright. Here's the first 14.7k words! Song prompt was Risk by Gracie Abrams <3 (btw i did not proofread this)

[Part 2]

You first met Jeno Lee on a particularly cool autumn afternoon. The kind of day where the wind carried a crispness that hinted at the coming winter, and the leaves crunched underfoot in vibrant shades of red, orange, and gold. The public library—where you spent most of the school break had always been quiet, but today, it was more silent than usual, the heavy wooden doors muffling the outside world’s chill.

You found yourself in the farthest corner of the library, where the oldest books resided, their spines faded and worn from years of eager hands. You stepped onto a ladder, reaching for a book that had been buried on the highest shelf, just out of reach. The book wasn’t anything special, except for the pretty spine and an interesting title that piqued your curiosity.

Your fingertips brushed the spine, but as you tried to pull it free, it resisted. Frowning, you gave it a stronger tug, unaware that on the other side of the shelf, someone else had their fingers wrapped around the very same book.

Thinking it was simply stuck in the array, you tried again, exerting all of your strength on one last tug. The book suddenly gave way, sending you off balance. Your heart leaped into your throat as you toppled backward, the ladder slipping beneath your feet. You had just enough time to gasp before you felt yourself falling, bracing for the cold, hard floor to meet you.

But instead of hitting the ground, you landed in something warm and solid. Strong arms caught you, holding you securely as you blinked up in surprise, your breath coming in short.

And that’s when you saw him.

It felt like the world had shifted into a dreamy haze—one of those cinematic moments when time slows down as the female lead and her love interest lock eyes for the first time. The world seemed to blur around you, blocking out everything and everyone, and sweet background music was playing in your head. 

His eyes were the first thing you noticed—deep and warm, dark brown in color, flecked with gold that seemed to catch the light in just the right way. His dark hair fell in soft waves across his forehead, slightly tousled, as if he’d just run his fingers through it. His jawline was sharp, but softened by the slight smile that curved his lips as he looked down at you.

He was effortlessly handsome, in the kind of way that made your heart skip a beat and your stomach flip all at once. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice warm and soothing, with a hint of genuine concern.

“Huh?” you questioned, your own voice sounding like a switch that abruptly snapped you back to reality. The dreamy haze dissipated, and you were left with the stark, embarrassing reality of the moment. You realized you were still cradled in his arms, your hands resting against his chest. Your face flushed as you scrambled to get down, muttering apologies.

“Woah, careful,” he said as he gently set you back on your feet, his hands lingering on your arms for just a second longer than necessary. 

“I’m sorry about that,” you managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “The uh… the book! It was stuck.”

“Yeah, you almost got hurt there,” he smiled, a slow, genuine smile that made your heart flutter.

You glanced down at the book he was holding—the one you’d been reaching for, and then back up at him, a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Thanks. For catching me. And for this.”

He chuckled softly, and the sound was like music, smooth and easy. “No problem. I just happened to pass by.”

“Well, lucky me,” you replied, chuckling bashfully. For a moment, you both stood there, the library around you fading into the background. There was something in his gaze, a spark of recognition that made you feel like you knew each other, even though this was the first time you’d met. 

Is this the part where you tell him your name? Maybe not? Shouldn’t he be asking for yours?

“Right. See you around then,” he said while you were busy thinking to yourself. Before you could gather your wits to say anything back, he gave you an acknowledging nod and walked away.

You stood there, dumbfounded, watching him go. It wasn’t until he disappeared around the corner that you realized you should have asked for his name. Your heart was racing, and you were feeling a mix of gratitude and something else, something that made your cheeks warm and your thoughts scatter.

You kept wondering who he was, where he was from, and if he lived in town. His image haunted your thoughts, making it hard to focus on anything else. At night, you lay in bed, replaying the scene, his warm eyes and gentle smile etched into your memory.

Who was he? And why did your heart feel like it was doing somersaults? Clearly, you should know by now what that means: you have a huge, massive, gigantic crush on this guy. And you don’t even know his name yet!

Funnily enough, you never saw him again after that. In the remaining days of your break, you frequented the library, asked your friends about him, and even went on night outs hoping he’d show up. But you had no luck. Was it really possible not to see each other again after that day? Maybe he didn’t live there. Your town was small, the kind of place where everyone knows everybody. There was no way you wouldn’t have known if someone like that lived nearby. Maybe he was just passing through.

That was probably it. As you traveled back to the city for the start of the semester, you knew you would never see him again. It might be easier to think he didn’t exist at all. It was a little frustrating, but you decided to let it go.

Yet it seemed like the universe wasn’t ready for you to let it all go.

On one particularly cold and rainy afternoon, you stood outside a diner in the city, frantically waving your hand at a taxi cab. Your umbrella might have been keeping your head dry, but the strong gusts of wind blew tiny drops of rain all over your jeans and boots. After several occupied taxis passed by, seeing one finally pull over in front of you almost made you cry with joy.

“Apartment X on 46th Street, please,” you told the driver as soon as you slid inside, barely managing to close the door behind you. You sighed in relief, your heart slowing down as the warm air of the cab wrapped around you.

But just as you were about to settle in, the door was suddenly yanked open. Startled, you glanced back, and your breath caught in your throat.

A man peeked his head into the cab, his messy hair plastered to his forehead, drenched from the rain. But despite his soaked appearance, that smile was unmistakable—a smile you easily recognized even after all this time. The rain pounded against the cab roof, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat, echoing in your ears.

Jeno’s smile widened as he took in your surprised expression. “Sorry to barge in like this, but it’s pouring out here. Mind if I share the cab with you?”

“Sure,” you said softly, audible enough for him to slide into the seat next to you. You caught a whiff of his perfume—fresh, woodsy, intoxicating. Instinct made you scoot over slightly, trying to make room without seeming too eager.

The cab started moving, and silence filled the space between you. You could feel your pulse quicken as you stole glances at him, but he seemed oblivious, focused instead on his phone. He looked just as handsome as you remembered—maybe even more so—though it had only been a few months since you last saw him. Somehow, it felt like you were seeing him for the first time. And there was something in his demeanor that sent a sinking feeling to your stomach.

He didn’t remember you.

You were sure of it now. The way he had smiled, the casual politeness in his tone, all pointed to a simple truth—you were just another stranger sharing a cab on a rainy day.

You knew you should say something—anything. Start some small talk, maybe a simple “hi.” Would that be weird? It shouldn’t be, right? You’re sharing a space, after all, and a small one at that. You could remind him of the time he caught you in his arms like you were in a rom-com flick or something.

Making friends had always been easy for you, but with him, every conversation starter seemed silly or wrong, and the fear of making a bad impression held you back. What if he thought you were odd for remembering? What if he didn’t care?

Then again, how could you possibly form a deeper connection with him if you wouldn’t even talk to him? Was he really so attractive to leave you dumbfounded each time? You took a peek to confirm and ended up meeting his gaze when you glanced at each other at the same time. You smiled meekly before quietly looking away.

The answer was simply a ‘yes’.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the taxi driver’s voice. “Where to, young man?” he asked, glancing back at Jeno.

Jeno appeared to think for a second. “Is the road to NCIT still inaccessible?”

Your ears perked up at the mention of your university. Did he go there too?

“I don’t think so,” the driver replied, shaking his head slightly. “But I’ll try to get as close as possible. Taco Bell near the intersection alright with you?”

“That would be good, thanks.”

Your mind raced with questions. Does he go to NCIT too? You could ask him about it, maybe bring up the sinkhole that had appeared on the road near campus a few days ago. But once again, your nerves got the better of you. All you could do was scroll through your phone, pretending to be engrossed in social media as you tried not to gawk at him.

The cab came to a stop sooner than you expected. You noticed Jeno shifting beside you, preparing to get out.

“Thanks a lot,” he told the driver, handing over his fare. Then, to your surprise, he turned to you with a warm smile. “Thanks to you too. Stay warm.”

And just like that, he was gone. The door clicked shut, and you were left in the backseat, feeling mild annoyance and disappointment. You stared at the space where he had just been, your thoughts swirling with frustration.

Seriously? You thought to yourself, trying to keep the frustration from bubbling over. You’d let him slip away without saying anything. Ugh, how could you be so awkward? A tiny part of you wanted to throw a little tantrum and scold yourself at the same time.

As the cab started moving again, you slumped back in the seat, watching the rain streak down the windows. It was a little bit of a letdown, but you sighed and shook your head, deciding to laugh it off. He was just a fleeting, unexpected moment in your otherwise uneventful day. A quick ray of sunshine, maybe.

In itself, it was a relief to know that he was in the same city. Hunting him down should be easy. For now, you’d just have to let this go and move on.

“No, you’re not—” Sienna gestured quote marks in the air. “—‘hunting him down’, whatever that means.

“Why not?” you whined, slumping back on your bed.

Your flatmate sighed in exasperation, crossing her hands over her chest as she stared you down. “It’s weird and stalkerish. Get to know him like a normal human being.”

You had told her about Jeno, from the first encounter with him back in your hometown to the cab ride with him earlier that day. “That’s the thing. I can’t because I don’t know him at all. I don’t even have his name,” you told her.

“Yes, and you’re an idiot for that,” she chastised, sitting next to you on the bed. 

You groaned, narrowing your eyes at the ceiling. “You are absolutely correct,” you said, shutting your eyes as you flail your hands in the air.

“Let it go. If he does go to NCIT, then you’ll see him again and you’ll talk to him like a proper girl,” said Sienna, tapping the space between your eyebrows.

Normally, if something like that happened to you, you would just let it go. Not that it has happened before, but if it did, you would just let it go. Not this one. You can’t. Somehow, you were convinced that you crossed paths with him for a reason.

So, against Sienna’s advice, you hunted him down. It was outside a diner where you met him again, and he got off near your university. Assuming you were around the same age, he most probably went to NCIT too.

“If he was, you would’ve met him already,” said Sienna, alluding to your congenial personality and tendency to befriend just anyone.

“That’s the thing! I do not know him, so he’s probably a new student. If he isn’t, then he’s probably from the Sci-Tech building,” you told her.

“Sci-Tech? Why Sci-Tech?”

You looked at her like the answer to her question should be obvious enough. “Because I don’t go there.”

Sienna snorted. “Your deduction skills are spot on,” she said sarcastically.

There was only one place in uni that you never frequented, the Science and Technology building. It was because you had no reason to go there. That building was for NCIT’s specialized programs, which were programs in Natural Sciences and Technology. It housed departments like Engineering and Mathematics, Biology, Computer Sciences, and the like. As a Foreign Languages student, you have everything you need and everywhere you have to be in both the Arts and Social Sciences building. There was no reason to go elsewhere. But that might change if your suspicion turns out to be right.

So as soon as Monday rolled in, you headed to the said building with one goal in mind—to see if your mystery man was there. The halls weren’t entirely unfamiliar; you’d seen them before during your freshman tour of the campus. But the faces were new, unfamiliar, and you found yourself smiling at those you recognized.

The task was simple—look around, find out if Jeno’s there, get to know him, and done. If you happened to bump into your friends from this building, you’d tell them you were looking for them. No way were you going to let anyone know you were on a “hunt” for a boy.

“Are you lost?” said a guy’s voice from behind you.

You sighed and rolled your eyes before turning to face him. Smiling, you said, “I was just looking for you, Renjun.”

Renjun cocked an eyebrow at you. “Why? What did you do?”

You clutched your chest, pretending to be offended. “Nothing? I just came to see you. Lunch is on me today.”

His face softened but he still scoffed. “Why didn’t you just text me instead of coming all the way here?”

“I had to remind you because you’re old and forgetful,” you joked, falling into step beside him as he started walking.

“I’m not old and forgetful,” he muttered, though you just giggled, clinging onto his arm. 

Your eyes scanned the halls, peeking into classrooms, but there was no sign of Jeno so far. Meanwhile, Renjun was complaining about Haechan and Yangyang spreading the flu virus all weekend.

“Thank God they’re okay now,” he grumbled. “I can’t last another day babying those grownups.”

“Why don’t you kick them out?” you said absentmindedly.

Renjun hummed as if seriously considering the idea. “I would if I could pay all 1500 by myself. Even the rent is annoyingly expensive.”

“Then why not move to the on-campus dorm?” you suggested, though you knew he was just complaining for the sake of it.

“It sucks.”

Just as you rounded the corner to the stairs, you spotted Jeno in the crowd. You gasped softly, your heart doing a little flip. There he was, just as handsome as he had been last weekend. You were right, after all—he really was from this building.

You watched him from a distance, talking animatedly to a few other students in front of an open classroom. You couldn’t help but stare, your heart doing a little flip as you took in his easy smile and the way he casually leaned against the doorway like he belonged there—like he belonged everywhere. Nothing of note could be said about his good looks, except that he continued to be as handsome as he did last weekend. He laughed along with the rest of his classmates, eyes crinkling cutely.

“What are you staring at?” Renjun asked, following your gaze. “Ah, I knew you had ulterior motives for coming here. Which one is it? Hyunjin? Jeno? Soobin?”

You glanced back at Renjun, grinning from ear to ear. “Which one is Soobin?”

He scoffed. “You came all the way here and you don’t even know his name?”

“I know Hyunjin,” you said, shaking your head. You pointed at the guy in the grey hoodie. “That one. Is that Soobin?”

“That’s Jeno Lee.”

You gasped, covering your mouth in mock shock. “His name is Jeno? Oh my god! It suits him so well.”

“And? Did you come here for him?” Renjun asked, raising an eyebrow as he peered at Jeno and his group. “Should I call him over?”

“No!” you exclaimed, quickly tugging him back. “Do you two know each other?”

He nodded. “Yeah, he’s Jaemin’s friend from high school.”

At this point, your smile was probably blinding Renjun with how bright it was. But before you could pester him for more details, he slipped away with a quick wave, escaping to his classes.

Information was easy to obtain from your friends. Barely a day had passed but you have learned all the important things you needed to learn about him. He was new at the university, having enrolled here only last semester. Four months ago, he was dating this cute girl from Biology but they broke up only a month later. No one knew why, but they did break up. He used to play basketball and still does. He’s an Electronic Engineering student and is said to be very intelligent. You also found out that he currently shares an apartment with Jaemin and Mark.

That night, you lay on your bed, phone in hand, scrolling through his profile. He was active on it, posting mostly about his workouts in his Stories and getting tagged in posts by friends. He played basketball for his previous school and based on the posts and comments from his friends, he was great at it. There were pictures of him with his team, others mid-game, looking focused and determined. There were also pictures of him just hanging out with lots of different people; some faces were recurring, but it was mostly different people.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was how all crushes felt—silly and intense all at once, like a tiny spark that refused to fizzle out.

“I wonder if he’s as nice as he seems,” you thought, your heart fluttering as you looked at a photo of him laughing with his friends. His smile was the same one that had made your heart skip a beat the first time you saw it.

You tapped on the profiles of his friends, searching for clues about Jeno’s life. It was easy to tell which ones were close to him, and which ones weren’t. You even scrolled through the profiles of girls who seemed too close to him in pictures, hoping he wasn’t dating any of them. Based on your little “research”, he is single right now with plenty of admirers commenting on his photos.

You noted every detail, hoping to find common interests. His love for basketball intrigued you, and maybe you could strike up a conversation about it if you ever got the chance. Well, that is if you even knew a thing about basketball. You weren’t a big fan of the sport, but you would be if it was Jeno playing. If he was on your school’s basketball team, you would have joined the cheer squad. You didn’t have the skill for it, but you would have tried nonetheless.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you let your imagination run wild. You closed your eyes, allowing the faint light from your phone to fade into the darkness of your room. Images of Jeno’s smile and the sound of his voice played in your mind like a cherished memory. The idea of seeing him again made your heart swell with excitement, looking forward to the next few days.

Then, realizing how far down the rabbit hole of your crush you’d fallen, you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself. “Get it together,” you murmured, shaking your head with a grin. But even as you tried to reel yourself in, the excitement of possibly seeing him again was too much to suppress.

There was no denying it now. You told your girlfriends that you had fallen in love with Jeno Lee from the Sci-Tech building.

“It was love at first sight. I just know it,” you said dreamily, twirling in front of the mirror.

Kayla raised an eyebrow. “You said love at first sight is a scam.”

“I know what I said,” you sighed, knowing she was right. You were a skeptic when it came to love at first sight. Sure, you liked romance and were a massive fan of romcoms. But love at first sight in real life? Total BS. “Obviously, I was wrong. I have to admit that now,” you added, a mixture of disbelief and excitement swirling within you. Part of you still couldn’t believe how quickly your feelings had changed.

Kayla and Sienna exchanged glances. Sienna smirked, her tone playful as she asked, “Are you sure you weren’t just blinded by his looks? That can happen to some.”

“Well… He did look handsome, but I’m sure it was more than just that.” You walked back to your dresser, sporting a reminiscent smile. “I know it sounds crazy, but there was just something about him. I can’t explain it. It’s like… like he was meant to be there.”

Kayla rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her grin. “Next thing you know, you’ll be writing love letters and doodling his name in your notebook.”

You laughed, shaking your head, but a part of you couldn’t deny it. Maybe you would. “Hey, if it comes to that, don’t judge me,” you said, a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Yo! I have arrived!” came Haechan’s voice from outside your bedroom door, followed by heavy knocks. “Come on, come out now before I change my mind and leave your asses.”

You opened the door and raised an eyebrow at him, leaning on the doorframe as you sized him up. “First of all, the car isn’t yours. Second, how dare you bring your shoes in here.”

“Move. I’m not here for your ugly mug. I need my baby,” he retorted, trying to push you out of the way, but you wouldn’t budge.

“You move,” you shot back, playfully pushing his chest and sending him back a few paces.

Sienna giggled as she brushed past you. “You guys never stop fighting, do you?” she asked rhetorically, knowing full well the answer was ‘yes.’

“I hate her so much,” Haechan muttered to Sienna as she greeted him with a soft kiss on the cheek. “How are you putting up with her?”

You rolled your eyes at their PDA. “The real question is, how is she putting up with you,” you quipped, turning on your heel to fetch your stuff.

Yangyang’s SUV was parked outside, and you could make out Renjun’s figure sitting in the shotgun. As the four of you boarded the car, Yangyang glanced back at you in the backseat, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“Hey, I heard you’re seeing someone from Sci-Tech. Is that true?” he asked, his tone teasing.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, about to respond, when Renjun sighed exasperatedly from the front seat. “I said she went to see someone,” he corrected, his voice calm but laced with mock annoyance.

Yangyang turned to Renjun, feigning innocence. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No, dumbass,” Renjun shot back, rolling his eyes.

“Wow. Renjun, you’re a fucking tattletale,” you blurted, pretending to be offended but unable to keep the smile off your face.

Renjun just shrugged. “Let’s just go,” he said, his tone final but light, signaling the end of the banter as Yangyang pulled out of the driveway.

On rainy days, you often carpooled with Yangyang, who generously offered to drive you safely to school. While the sinkhole repairs were still ongoing, the city had found a detour that made it possible for cars to access the street where NCIT is.

“How much longer do you think it’s gonna take?” Renjun asked as you passed by the sinkhole.

“Hopefully not long. The traffic in this part of the city is a nightmare,” you replied, leaning forward to peer through the space between Renjun and Yangyang as you looked outside.

“Mark’s asking if we’re still going to Felize’s for lunch today,” Haechan said, his eyes glued to his phone.

“Of course, man. We haven’t eaten at Felize’s in ages,” Yangyang replied with a sigh. “I miss their quesadillas.”

“Who else is coming?” Sienna asked, peeking at her boyfriend’s phone.

“No one else. Just Mark, Jaemin, and maybe Jeno.”

Your stomach did a little flip at the mention of Jeno’s name. “You’re going to Felize’s and you never told me?” you accused, feigning indignation.

Kayla cocked an eyebrow at you. “We talked about it in the group chat last week.”

“Why didn’t I know that?”

“Because you never check your messages,” Renjun said, not missing a beat.

Haechan chimed in, “And you rarely show up to our invitations anyway.”

“I do sometimes!” you insisted.

“Rarely,” Renjun shot back, smirking.

You grinned. “Well, today is your lucky day!”

“Oh, shut up. You just want to see Jeno,” Renjun teased, his smirk widening.

“Jeno?” Haechan repeated, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you suspiciously. “Do you like Jeno?”

“Mind your own business, alright?” you shot back.

After a long day of classes, you and your friends finally made your way to Felize’s. The familiar scent of sizzling fajitas and freshly baked tortillas greeted you as you stepped inside the cozy, dimly lit restaurant. It was a favorite hangout spot, a place where you could unwind and enjoy some of the best Mexican food in town.

The group quickly spotted Mark and Jaemin already seated at a booth near the window, waving them over. You all crammed into the booth, the chatter flowing easily as menus were passed around—even though you all knew what you were going to order.

As you looked around the restaurant, your excitement started to wane. You scanned the tables, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jeno, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Jaemin noticed your expression first and grinned. “What’s with the long face? You look like you lost something.”

You tried to play it off, shrugging. “Nothing. Just thought it would be more crowded.”

Haechan chuckled. “She was expecting someone in particular.”

“Someone whose name rhymes with… Den-o?” Kayla teased, her grin widening.

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile on your face gave you away. “Okay, fine, maybe I thought Jeno would be here. But I’m not disappointed. Just… mildly inconvenienced.”

“Mildly inconvenienced,” Yangyang mocked with a playful smirk. “I can practically see the broken heart emojis floating above your head.”

“Yo! Wait, what’s going on?” Mark asked, holding up his palms. Turning to you, he asked, “Do you like Jeno?”

“No,” you denied, but you were grinning from ear-to-ear. “Who is he anyway?”

“No, seriously,” Mark pressed, eye gleaming with interest as he turned to your other friends for answers. “Seriously? Since when?”

“Not long,” you replied, hoping they'd move on. “Just very recently.”

“Recently? Alright, that makes sense. We’ve been flatmates since he got here. I was wondering why you never told us,” Mark said, nodding..

“Right? I didn’t even know there were three of you in that apartment!” you groaned.

Jaemin smiled at you. “Too bad he isn’t here. He had other things to do.”

Renjun, ever the instigator, leaned back in his seat with a knowing smile. “You know, if you really want to see him, you could just text him and ask where he is. He might appreciate the effort.”

Mark nodded in agreement, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah, or maybe we should’ve just kidnapped him and brought him here ourselves.”

Yangyang added with a grin, “Or better yet, we can all show up at his place with food and be like, ‘Hey, you missed out!’”

Haechan’s laughter was an insult to you. “Does he even know you? I heard you get tongue-tied at the mere sight of him!”

There was a chorus of disbelief from the boys at your table. Jaemin asked, still shocked, “You? Tongue-tied?”

Kayla chuckled softly. “Come on, guys. Don’t tease her like that. She’s just a bit  shy.”

“Oh god,” Yangyang exclaimed, rubbing his arms. “I got goosebumps hearing you say that.”

“Yeah, ‘shy’ and ‘you’ don’t belong in the same sentence,” added Haechan, pointing his finger at you.

You groaned, half-laughing as you covered your face with your hands. “You guys are the worst.”

“But you love us anyway,” Sienna said, patting your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, though the smile on your face gave you away. Even though Jeno wasn’t there, you couldn’t help but enjoy the moment with your friends.

With the midterms fast approaching, you momentarily forgot about Jeno, focusing instead in making notes and studying. Instead of the campus library, you opted to the city library. You liked it there. It’s quieter, with fewer students, and more books to choose from. Except this time, instead of maintaining your streak as a recognized Most Diligent Reader—third place overall last year—you buried yourself in notes and textbooks.

One particularly slow weekend, you were absorbed in your study when you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you. There, leaning against one of the towering old bookshelves, was Jeno. He held a book in one hand, and his other hand twirled a pen absentmindedly. Your heart leaped to your throat, and a wave of nerves washed over you.

You quietly observed Jeno from behind the cover of your textbook, trying to focus on your notes. But despite your best intentions, your gaze kept drifting towards him. The way he casually flipped through pages and twirled his pen seemed to make time stand still. You watched as he moved from the shelves to a table across the room, burying his head into the book. You tried to concentrate, but your efforts were in vain as your mind wandered back to him.

The next day, you were back at the city library, hoping for another glimpse of him. To your surprise, Jeno was there again, looking just as engrossed in his studies as before. You couldn’t help but think that maybe he enjoyed this library as much as you did. Although that day, he studied little and slept most of the day.

One afternoon, Sienna showed up and immediately noticed your distracted state. She took one look at you and followed your gaze, rolling her eyes when she saw Jeno.

“Seriously?” Sienna said, sitting down next to you and grabbing your notes. “You’re here to study, not to gawk at some guy.”

You blushed, trying to regain your composure. “I’m not gawking. I’m just—”

“Just talk to him,” Sienna interrupted, her tone a mix of exasperation and encouragement. “He’s right there. How hard can it be?”

You felt your cheeks grow warmer. “I can’t just walk up to him. I’m—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’m shy.”

Sienna raised an eyebrow. “You? You’re never shy.”

“I know,” you admitted, feeling a bit flustered. “It’s just… different with him. I don’t know why.”

Sienna sighed dramatically. “Fine, I’ll do it for you then. But you owe me coffee.”

You shot up from your seat, grabbing her arm to stop her. “No, wait! Please don’t.”

Sienna looked at you, puzzled. “Are you sure? He seems like a really nice guy. It wouldn’t hurt to just say hi.”

You shook your head, giving her a pleading look. “I don’t want to rush things. Just let me handle it.”

Sienna studied you for a moment, then sighed and relented. “Alright, alright. I won’t push it. But you better get on with it soon, or I’m going to start making plans for you.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, and Sienna returned to her seat, shaking her head but with a smile. You knew you needed to muster the courage to talk to Jeno on your own terms, but now is not the right time yet. Of course that’s just an excuse, but you wanted to believe it.

Once more, you found yourself at the city library, where you spotted Jeno studying with Jaemin. You decided to sit at a table right behind them, carefully positioning yourself so that Jaemin’s back was to you. This way, you could observe Jeno without risking being seen by your friend.

As you settled into your seat, you pulled out your notes and pretended to study, though your attention was primarily focused on Jeno. You discreetly stole glances over the top of your book, trying to catch glimpses of his expressions and the way he animatedly explained something to Jaemin. You found yourself fixated on his lips, the way they moved and the way they’re so pink and plump.

Just as you were lost in the sight of him, Jeno’s gaze flicked in your direction, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly ducked behind your book, pretending to be engrossed in your notes. You could almost feel your cheeks heating up, and you cursed yourself for being so obvious. Surely, he didn’t realize you’d been staring at him, right? 

You were probably wrong. He definitely saw that.

Trying to regain your composure, you forced yourself to focus on your studies, though your mind kept drifting back to that fleeting moment of eye contact. You stole another glance from behind the cover of your book, only to find that Jeno had returned to his conversation with Jaemin, seemingly unaware of your presence. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, but the excitement and nervousness of the encounter lingered, making it hard to concentrate on anything other than him.

Exams arrived, and you couldn’t help but regret not studying as diligently as you should have. You knew you wouldn’t fail any of them, but you braced yourself for some disappointing scores. That did not stop you from attending an off-campus house party though. 

The party was in full swing when you arrived, and you were having a blast with your girlfriends. Amid the laughter and music, you spotted Jeno with his group of friends. Your friends, in high spirits, decided to make a bet involving a game of flip-cup. The stakes were simple: if you lose, you had to go up and talk to Jeno.

“News travel fast,” you snickered, eyeing Sienna in particular.

Sienna shrugged nonchalantly. “Wasn’t me. They found out by themselves.”

“Yeah, you weren’t as slick as you thought,” said Olive, tossing the cup towards you.

“Don’t worry, babe,” said Kayla, squeezing your shoulder gently. “No one’s ratting you out.”

As the game progressed, you tried your best to lose, but Flip Cup just so happened to be one of those games you were oddly good at. Every time you thought you were about to lose, you somehow managed to pull through. 

“Oh, come on! Just let her lose already,” Kayla teased from the sidelines, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“You’re actually scared to talk to Jeno, are you?” Sienna asked with a grin, playfully nudging you. “There’s no way you’re this good.”

“I’m not scared!” you protested, though you were starting to sweat. “I’m just… strategically holding back.”

Your friends exchanged amused glances, clearly not buying your excuse. “You know what? I don’t even need this,” you said with a dramatic flair, taking a big swig of the spiked punch in your red cup. “I’m gonna go talk to him right now.”

“Oooh,” your friends chorused. 

With newfound confidence, you made your way toward Jeno’s group. He stood by the music console with a few others, talking and laughing. You clenched and unclenched your fists, trying to squeeze out the nervousness that was starting to creep back in. The closer you got, the more your heart pounded, your palms growing clammy. 

It would be easier if he was alone, you thought and it was like the universe heard your plea because his friends walked away from him, rushing somewhere else while cheering. You took a deep breath, trying to muster up the courage to approach him. Just when you were almost within reach, Haechan unexpectedly passed by.

Without thinking, you grabbed his arm, veering off course. “Hi! I’ve been looking for you!” you blurted out, trying to sound casual.

Haechan blinked at you, baffled. “What? Why? What did I do?”

You forced a smile, dragging him further away from Jeno’s group. “Nothing. Just wanted to catch up with you!”

Haechan gave you a suspicious look, noting how you kept glancing over your shoulder. “What’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

When you were safely out of sight, you finally let go of Haechan and waved him off. “Go away.”

Haechan pointed at himself in mock disbelief. “Me? Go away? You’re the one who dragged me over here!”

“Well, thanks for your service. I don’t need you anymore,” you quipped, turning on your heel and heading back to your girlfriends. You were welcomed by their disappointed gazes.

“That was so anticlimactic,” Kayla remarked, shaking her head.

“Oh, shut up,” you sighed, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the rueful smile tugging at your lips.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and drinks. By the time you got home, you were drunk but wide awake, whining to your friends as you sprawled out on the living room carpet. Squinting up at the ceiling, you muttered, “I’m home.”

“Yeah, you are,” Sienna replied, nodding as she watched you.

You pointed at the lightbulb above you. “But I don’t see Jeno Lee. He should be here.”

“He probably would be if you didn’t chicken out at the last minute,” Sienna scolded, shaking her head. “And you’re not in your bedroom, dumbass. Get up!”

You groaned, closing your eyes as you smiled. “Next time... maybe.”

Sienna rolled her eyes and nudged you with her foot. “Yeah, sure. We’ll believe it when we see it.”

Days passed with you casually crossing paths with Jeno more often. It was like the universe had decided to make him appear everywhere you went. You noticed that you both arrived on campus around the same time, late in the morning at 10:30. He was often at the quad, surrounded by friends or just passing by. Each glimpse of him was like a small thrill, a bright spot in your routine school day.

The public library was a hit-or-miss; sometimes he was there, and other times he wasn’t. Still, you went there every day out of habit, mainly to read and also to see him if he happened to be there.

You got to know him in this way, piecing together bits of his life through observations and casual conversations with others. You learned about his friends, his classes, and his easygoing personality. He seemed to be well-liked by everyone, always ready with a smile or a kind word.

But there was one place you rarely saw him: the food court. It has been a while since you found out about him, and despite having mutual friends, you have yet to talk to him or share the same space. Today, you walked into the food court and scanned the place for any sign of him, only to be disappointed by his absence.

You settled on the chair next to Kayla, fixing your bag. Sliding next to you, Kayla whispered, “You look glum. Haven’t seen your crush today yet?”

You rolled your eyes at her mischievous grin. “No. And I’m not glum at all! Especially not because of that.”

Sienna snickered from her spot next to Haechan. “Yeah, you are totally glum because of that.”

Just as you were about to retort, you caught sight of Jeno walking into the cafeteria. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him navigate through the crowd, his easy smile drawing you in. He greeted a few friends with casual high-fives and settled into a seat with a group of students—Mark, Jaemin, and Yangyang among them.

Kayla nudged you, a knowing look in her eyes. “There he is.”

“Yeah, don’t care,” you said, but the grin spreading across your face was a clear contradiction of your words.

Haechan shuddered exaggeratedly. “You’re so creepy when you smile like that.”

You shot him a glare. “And? How about making yourself useful to me for once and make it so that we can have lunch together?”

Haechan flashed a challenging smirk. “Think you can handle it?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you opened your salad. “Never mind. I don’t need your help. I can manage my own love life.”

“Sure you can,” he jeered. “Isn’t that why you still haven’t talked to him after all this time?”

You were about to snap back when Sienna interjected, “Table manners, sweethearts.”

Haechan rolled his eyes, then mimed zipping his lips. “Your friend is annoying,” he muttered to Sienna.

“And your boyfriend is super annoying,” you retorted.

“Your friend is ultra—” Haechan started, but Sienna cut him off.

“Stop it,” Sienna chided sternly. He quickly complied, pretending to lock his lips. “Ugh, kids.”

In the afternoon, as you were walking through the Arts building, you spotted a familiar figure down the hallway. It was Jeno! Your stomach fluttered, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing there. Curiosity got the best of you, and after some subtle investigation—okay, maybe a little eavesdropping—you discovered the reason. He had taken up Carpentry as an elective!

To make things even better, you were in that class! You had chosen it just for fun, but with Jeno there, your mind raced with possibilities as you found something new to look forward to. Did this mean you’d see him more often? What should you do? You have no idea yet, for now, you must go to class.

When saw him there, you could barely keep your eyes off him but you had to try. Though you didn’t have any chances to talk yet, you were content with just seeing him there, sharing the same space. 

Later, you told Sienna and Kayla about it, your head floating in the clouds out of sheer joy. They exchanged amused looks, teasing you mercilessly about your "carpenter crush," but they understood your fascination, even if they enjoyed poking fun at you.

Carpentry was scheduled every Tuesday and Thursday. On Thursday, as you were heading to class, you found yourself walking behind him. He was talking to one of his friends, his laughter echoing in the hallway. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warm glow inside.

In class, you worked on your project, stealing glances at Jeno every now and then. The room smelled of clay, and the sound of tools clinking filled the air. He was focused on his own work, unaware of your silent admiration. It was enough for now, you told yourself. Just being near him was enough.

But as you worked on your project, sneaking glances at him, you knew this was just the beginning. There was a quiet contentment in being near him, but a part of you couldn’t help but hope for more—just one conversation, one chance to see if your feelings were more than just a crush.

“What are your plans for the Sports Fest?” Kayla asked, nudging your arm. “I’ll be doing Badminton Doubles with Olive.”

In the living room of your apartment, you and your friends gathered around the coffee table, eating takeout from a fast food restaurant. Everyone in your close circle was there, and you had asked them to bring Jeno but apparently, he had plans.

You waved your hand dismissively as you swallowed your food. “Hard pass. I’m still healing from that awful injury last year,” you replied, massaging your right wrist.

During last year’s sports fest, you played volleyball for your department. You remembered the sharp pain as you fell on your arm, the way your wrist twisted awkwardly beneath you. It had long since healed, but the memory of that day still lingered, leaving you with an irrational fear of getting hurt again. It was an awful experience that you would rather not relive.

“I thought you’re completely healed?” asked Mark, taking your hand to examine your wrist. “Did you break a bone? I thought it was just a sprain.”

“I’m just exaggerating,” you snickered, retracting your hand. “My wrist is healed but my heart is not. It’s called trauma.”

“Yeah, I know what it’s called,” Mark chuckled.

You eyed him curiously. “What about you? Basketball?”

Mark nodded, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Honestly, I can’t wait to kick Yangyang’s ass.”

Across the room on the leather couch, Yangyang was gobbling his burger. Unable to speak with his mouth full, he flipped a middle finger at Mark, who just laughed.

“Ah, I almost forgot!” Mark exclaimed, looking at you with widened eyes. “Jeno’s playing too!”

The mention of Jeno made your face light up. “He is?”

“Look at you all bright and excited,” Jaemin teased.

Renjun smirked, patting his hands as he finished his food. “Watch her betray her department and cheer for a different team again. Like she did last year for her ex.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, covering your ears and closing your eyes. “No bad words on the dinner table.”

Sienna leaned in with a smirk. “Wanna bet she’d cheer for the Humanities Department this year?”

Kayla chimed in, “Pass. We all know she’d support Jeno no matter what.”

You rolled your eyes, but the thought lingered. “We’ll see,” you mumbled, hiding your smile behind another bite of food. “I’ll be there for all your games, though. Moral support and all.”

The three-day Sports Fest dawned on NCIT with a strong air of festivity and excitement. Banners and streamers hung around the campus, bearing the crests and colors of each department. For the first two days, you cheered and supported your friends in their respective sports, while making sure not to miss each one of Jeno’s basketball games. In between games, you enjoyed the booths that the clubs had set up on the campus grounds. There were food stalls with a variety of snacks and meal sets. There were fair games with plush toys for prizes. Your favorite was the photobooth where you and your friends took lots of pictures to commemorate the event. 

The last day of the event was for championships. To showcase the camaraderie of the student body, everyone dressed in the colors of their respective departments, and the entire campus thrummed with cheers and enthusiasm for the day.

You wore a vivid blue shirt bearing the crest of the Humanities Department and throughout the day, you moved courts cheering for your friends in their respective sports. Haechan did well in his soccer game, and Kayla seemed to have secured the silver for your department. But the highlight of your day was the basketball championship.

It was a match between the Humanities Department and the Engineering Department. The covered court was booming with cheers from the students who filled up the bleachers. The school band played an upbeat tune, adding to the festive atmosphere. You and your friends went early to get the best seats to watch the game. The blue flaglets in your hand blended with everyone else on your side of the court. On the other, green long balloons were cheering for the Engineering department.

Players were warming up down at the court, stretching, and doing practice shooting before the game officially began. Mark spotted your group and waved two hands at you.

“Boo!” Yangyang jeered beside you with his thumbs down. He was salty after his Business Department lost to Engineering yesterday.

You looked for Jeno among the different faces. There he was, dressed in his uniform—white and green jersey, matching shorts, and sneakers that seemed to gleam under the bright lights. The uniform hugged his athletic build, showcasing his toned muscles and broad shoulders. He blended in with the team but the way he moved with an easy grace and confident stride made him stand out even more in your eyes.

“Close your mouth!” Jaemin teased, earning a chorus of laughter from your friends. “We don’t want Jeno to see you drooling.” 

You quickly clamped your mouth shut, feeling your cheeks heat up as Sienna nudged you with a knowing smile. Still, you couldn’t take your eyes off Jeno. The way he carried himself and the way his eyes sparkled with excitement made him look even more captivating. It was as if he was glowing, radiating an aura of coolness and charisma.

As the final minutes before the game ticked away, the energy in the court grew higher. You could feel your pulse quicken in sync with the rising tension in the air. The earlier games and festivities had been thrilling, but this match was the one you’d been waiting for. You couldn’t help but wonder if Jeno had noticed you in the crowd during his previous games, or if he was too focused on the game to even glance your way. The thought made your heart race, but you pushed it aside, deciding to enjoy the view instead.

As the game started, the energy in the court surged to new heights. You were on the edge of your seat, your heart pounding in time with the rhythm of the game. The Humanities Department was strong, but your eyes were only on Jeno and his team. Every time the Engineering Department scored, you couldn’t help but leap to your feet, waving your blue flaglets as if they were green.

“Go, Engineering!” you shouted, your voice ringing out loud and clear among the crowd. You were so absorbed in cheering for Jeno that you didn’t even notice the confused looks from your own department. It was strange, even to you, seeing someone in the vivid blue of Humanities cheering so passionately for the opposing team.

It didn’t take long for Jeno to notice your enthusiastic support. During a brief pause in the game, he glanced in your direction. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes met, and a slow, amused smile spread across his face. You could feel your cheeks flush, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling back, your heart soaring.

Throughout the game, you continued to cheer louder than anyone else, your voice echoing across the court. Every time Jeno glanced your way, you felt a thrill shoot through you, making you cheer even louder. At one point, he made a particularly impressive play—a quick steal and a flawless layup—that had you jumping to your feet with a wild cheer.

As he jogged back down the court, he caught your eye again and flashed you another smile, a playful glint in his eyes that sent you straight to cloud nine. It was as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared glances and silent connections.

“Are you even from Humanities?” Yangyang teased, nudging you with his elbow. “You might as well be wearing green.”

You just laughed, too giddy to care about the odd looks you were getting. Nothing else mattered at that moment. All you could think about was Jeno—how his every move seemed effortless, how his smiles made you feel like you were the only one in the crowd.

The game continued, but you were already winning in your own way, basking in the warmth of Jeno’s attention. Mark had been grinning mischievously at you, clearly amused by your bold display.

The game was intense, with both teams neck and neck until the final quarter. The tension in the air was palpable, every dribble and pass holding the crowd in suspense. You were on your feet almost the entire time, cheering your heart out for the Engineering team, and especially for Jeno. With every basket, your voice rose above the rest, earning even more curious and amused glances from those around you.

As the clock ticked down the final seconds, the Engineering team managed to pull ahead by just a few points. The crowd roared as Jeno’s team scored the winning basket, securing the championship title. You screamed with joy, jumping up and down, waving your flaglets wildly. It didn’t matter that you were in blue—you felt like you were part of the victory too.

After the game, as the teams shook hands and congratulated each other, you noticed Mark heading your way, with Jeno walking right beside him. Your heart skipped a beat again, and you tried to calm your racing thoughts as they approached.

Mark grinned widely as he reached you. “Hey, Jeno,” he said, turning to his friend, “I’ve got to introduce you to the loudest cheerleader you had out there today.”

You felt a blush creeping up your neck as Mark gestured toward you. Jeno’s eyes sparkled with recognition, and that familiar smile curved on his lips.

“I am honored,” Jeno said, his voice warm and teasing. “I could hear you all the way from the court. Thanks for the support, even though you’re… clearly not from Engineering.”

You laughed, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “I couldn’t help it,” you admitted, grinning up at him. “You guys were just too good.”

Jeno chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “We appreciate it. You should consider switching departments,” he added playfully.

You shook your head, still smiling. “I’m pretty attached to Humanities. I’ll always root for you though.”

“Good to know,” Jeno said, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that made your heart flutter all over again.

Mark smirked, clearly pleased with himself for setting up this interaction. “You guys are coming to the party tonight, right?”

You shrugged, glancing at your friends behind you. “We wouldn’t miss it!” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Great,” Jeno said, his smile widening. “Let’s celebrate, then.”

As the crowd began to disperse and the festivities moved off the court, you couldn’t believe your luck. As you walked out of the court, surrounded by friends and buzzing with excitement, you couldn’t help but feel like something wonderful had begun.

“The ship is finally sailing!” Kayla chimed as you exited the campus together with Sienna.

“About damn time!” Sienna exclaimed and the three of you squealed in excitement.

Tonight, you will talk to Jeno Lee. You had finally made up your mind about it. It should be so hard now, considering he now knows of your existence and you two had already been introduced. 

You arrived at the provided address with Kayla, wrapped in thick coats due to the cold weather. The house was a sprawling two-story with a large backyard, and it was already rowdy. Music blared from the speakers set up on the patio, and the air was filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter.

Inside, the party was in full swing and you had to lose your coats due to the hotter atmosphere. The living room was packed with students, some lounging on plush sofas while others danced to the beat of the music. Red solo cups and plates of snacks were scattered everywhere, and the whole house was filled with the aroma of pizza and chips. Green LED lights and the Engineering department’s green banners added a nice touch.

You were there to have fun, that’s a given. But you were mainly there to see Jeno, you wouldn’t deny that fact. It wasn’t hard to find him. He was standing near the snack table, talking and laughing with a group of friends. He seemed to be in high spirits, smiling and looking handsome under the warm glow of the lights.

He moved across the room, catching your eye, and for a moment, you froze, wondering if he noticed you. When he settled on a single couch and pulled out his phone, you took this as your cue to approach him.

“Okay. Calm down,” you told yourself, steadying your breathing. “You’re just gonna say hi. Tell him he did great at the game or something.”

With your heart pounding, you started walking towards him, rehearsing your words in your mind. Just as you were about five steps away, you noticed a girl walk up to Jeno. She had a confident stride and a friendly smile. Your steps faltered, and you hesitated, watching as they exchanged a few words. And then, in a moment that felt like it was stretching on forever, they kissed.

It was a brief but unmistakable kiss, a tender connection that spoke volumes. His hand around her waist was firm, and the smile he gave her should have been sweet, but it was painful for you to look at.

Your heart sank, and the world around you seemed to blur. The warmth of the party, the music, and the lively chatter all faded into a distant hum. A cold, empty feeling settled in your chest, making it hard to breathe. It felt as though someone had pressed pause on your world, leaving you standing on the edge of a scene you could no longer be a part of.

You turned away quickly, embarrassed and worried someone might notice you gawking. You took a deep breath, lifted your chin, and walked the opposite way, pretending you hadn’t seen anything. But the image was seared into your mind, refusing to fade.

You forced a smile at some students who recognized you, but your heart was aching so badly that you felt like crying. The excitement of the evening had dimmed, replaced by a feeling of quiet sadness. Still, you forced yourself to stay, determined not to let the moment ruin the night entirely. You were supposed to have fun here, after all, however difficult that might be now.

“Hey, you okay?” Kayla suddenly appeared by your side, his eyes searching your face.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied, forcing another smile. “Just needed some air.”

Kayla didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t push it. Instead, she looped her arm through yours. “Let’s find something to drink.”

You nodded, grateful for the distraction. The two of you made your way to the kitchen, where a group of students were mixing drinks and chatting loudly. You grabbed a soda and pretended to listen to the conversations around you, though your mind kept drifting back to what you had just witnessed.

After a few minutes, Kayla nudged you. “There’s Sienna and Haechan! Let’s go say hi.”

You followed her gaze and spotted the couple near the back door, laughing with a group of students. She greeted you both with a big hug, immediately noticing your mood.

“What’s up?” Sienna asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. “Just tired.”

Sienna eyed you for a moment before nodding. “Well, this party better wake you up! Come on, let’s dance.”

You allowed yourself to be dragged to the makeshift dance floor, where the music was louder, and the energy was infectious. You danced along with Kayla and Sienna, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm. For a moment, it worked. You laughed and moved to the beat, letting the music drown out your thoughts.

But it wasn’t long before your mind wandered back to Jeno. You caught glimpses of him across the room, and each time, the image of him with that girl played on repeat in your head. It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

As the night wore on, you found yourself sitting on the living room couch, watching people play, talk, and drink.  Your mind floated to space, consumed by thoughts of Jeno. Everything had gone so wrong so fast. Suddenly, this whole crush thing felt ridiculous and stupid. How classic of you to jump into something without carefully measuring the fall.

Just as you were about to drown in your thoughts, Mark appeared from the crowd, smiling as he skipped over to you and plopped down on the couch beside you. “There you are! Having fun?”

“Hey,” you said weakly, trying to muster some enthusiasm. But Mark’s scowl told you that you weren’t fooling him.

“Apparently not. Is everything okay?” Mark asked, concern etched across his face.

You hesitated, then let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Just… tired,” you replied, chuckling softly as you leaned your head on his shoulder. “I should probably just go home.”

“Why? Shouldn’t you be talking to Jeno right now?”

“Ugh, forget it. I don’t like him anymore.”

Mark winced. “What happened? Did you find an ick that made you cringe?”

You exhaled sharply, glaring at him. “Go away if you’re just gonna talk about Jeno all night.”

“Alright, fine. I won’t,” he chuckled heartily, raising his hands in surrender. Then, he offered you his bottle of beer with a grin.

Without hesitating, you grabbed it and chugged the contents in one go. The cold liquid burned down your throat, and you burped a little too loudly, causing Mark to burst out laughing. You were annoyed at first, but his laughter was contagious, and soon enough, you found yourself laughing along with him. The heavy weight on your chest lifted even only for a moment, replaced by a warmth that spread through you, making everything a little more bearable.

It wasn’t difficult at all to push Jeno out of your mind: you just had to focus on other things. Mornings began with the shrill ring of the alarm, followed by a hasty breakfast and the walk to school. Classes became a sanctuary of focus. The workload was manageable, and you found a rhythm in balancing your assignments with extracurricular activities. You continued to be the congenial girl that you are, making friends here and there while keeping up with old ones.

Carpentry class, however, was a different story. Jeno sat just a few tables away, his presence a constant, aching reminder.  You occasionally caught glimpses of him, but your gazes never lingered anymore, concentrating instead on your projects.

Lunchtimes were spent mostly with Kayla and Sienna—Haechan too since he couldn’t seem to stand being away from his girlfriend. You shared stories and laughter over cafeteria food that ranged from surprisingly decent to downright questionable. You talk about your classes, your adjustments, and, occasionally, the lingering shadow of your crush. They couldn’t believe their ears when you said you didn’t like him anymore. When you refused to tell them why, they didn’t press for an answer.

Afternoons were reserved for your favorite spot in the public library. It was your quiet retreat, and if Jeno happened to be there, you hardly noticed. Your focus was on your reading and studies, pushing aside any lingering thoughts of him.

Evenings are quieter. You come home, tired but content, and reflect on the day’s events. You sit at your desk, do your homework, and occasionally glance at social media, where Jeno’s updates serve as a bittersweet reminder of a failed romance—not that it even began in the first place.

Fate had other plans though. Like a prank just to rain on your parade, you were paired with Jeno for a Carpentry project.

If this had happened before you discovered he was taken, you would have been over the moon with excitement, thrilled by the prospect of working closely with him. But now, all you could feel was apprehension and awkwardness.

“Looks like we’re partners,” he said, his heart-melting smile making it impossible to ignore the flutter in your chest.

“Yeah, looks like it,” you replied, striving for nonchalance despite the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

As you both settled at a table, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you and the project before you. You mentally scolded yourself, determined not to fall back into the crazy crush you’d put behind you.

“So, where do we start?” you asked, pulling out your notebook and your pen case out of your bag.

Before responding, Jeno tilted his head slightly, studying you with a curious expression. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Nervousness engulfed you. “What do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“The taxi cab a few months back,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “It was pouring and I barged into your cab.”

You laughed shyly. “Of course. I remember.”

He nodded, leaning back slightly. “What about before that?”

“Before?” you asked stupidly, racking your brain.

“The library. You fell, and I—”

“Ah!” you exclaimed, suddenly recalling the day you first met him. You laughed softly, shaking your head. “How could I forget?”

Jeno chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, you remembered? Why didn’t you say anything?”

You scoffed. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “I thought you might not recognize me.”

Oh god, Jeno, if you only knew, you thought, suppressing a smile. “Well, now we know,” you said in feigned indifference. There was a moment of silence, a comfortable one, where the two of you simply looked at each other, a newfound connection sparking between you. 

“So,” you said, breaking the silence with a smile. You pressed a thumb on the sheet handed to you by Mr. Harris. “Shall we get started?”

“Sure,” he replied, his smile widening.

This could be it—the beginning of something new, a chance to turn a long-held crush into a real connection. And you would have been ready for it if not for the fact that he had a girlfriend. So you pushed your feelings aside and resolved to not step out of the line.

What started as an academic collaboration soon turned into something more comfortable and natural. You got to know each other in the few days you spent working together so far. Your task was to create a fully functional reclining chair, and from the outset, it was clear that this was going to be a challenging project. The first day, you both laid out the design, Jeno’s enthusiasm was infectious and it was clear that he was enjoying this class, unlike you who only signed up for fun. 

“I think we should go with a sleek, modern look,” he suggested, his eyes bright with excitement. You nodded in agreement, appreciating his vision and passion for the project.

Jeno was surprisingly meticulous with his measurements and cuts, his focus sharp and his explanations clear. You found his dedication impressive and his passion for the craft endearing. He showed you how to properly measure and cut the wood. His patience and willingness to teach made the learning process enjoyable.

One afternoon, as you worked on sanding the wooden pieces, Jeno shared a story about his childhood, describing how his father used to involve him in small woodworking projects around the house. His eyes lit up with nostalgia, and you could see the joy in his voice as he spoke. It was a side of him you hadn’t seen before, and it made you appreciate him even more.

In return, you told him about your own experiences, your hobbies, and the challenges you faced when balancing school and extracurriculars. Jeno listened intently, his smile genuine and his responses thoughtful. The conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time.

During these sessions, you learned that Jeno was more than just a charming basketball player. He was kind, thoughtful, and had a dry sense of humor that made you chuckle. You also discovered that he was a great listener, always eager to hear your thoughts and ideas. Despite your resolve to forget about your crush, you couldn’t deny that he was easy to talk to and genuinely pleasant to be around. Funny how it was so much easier to get to know him and talk to him now that you decided to forget having a crush on him. 

Still, there was no point in hoping to make a special connection with someone who’s taken.

“You were really good at it,” you told him once when you happened to talk about the Engineering Department’s basketball win. You were in the workshop, watching him color the sketch you made for your project.

“Not good enough to be MVP,” he said, shaking his head without lifting his head. “Speaking of, you were really supportive then.”

You shrugged, mentally rolling your eyes at how silly you were at the time. “I’m a fan of Mark’s when it comes to basketball,” you said, saving face with a harmless lie. “You were amazing too, so I thought you deserved the cheers.”

Jeno chuckled heartily, eyes crinkling as he looked up at you momentarily. The mole under his eye was a cute distraction. “You’re praising me too much. I should take you out to dinner.”

You flashed a deadpan expression before you burst out laughing. Jeno watched you with a goofy grin.

“I guess that was too fast, huh? Should I have gone for coffee instead?” he said and you could swear he was flirting with you.

Rolling your eyes, you brushed your assumptions aside. “I am tempted. But I must decline.”

He shrugged, taking your rejection in stride. “I’ll try again tomorrow then.”

“Charming,” you mocked. “It’s a shame you’re in a relationship. I would have accepted.”

Jeno’s hand froze on the sketchpad, looking up at you with a confused expression. “I’m in a relationship? Since when?”

“Since—” you paused, realizing the tone of his voice just now. “Wait, you’re not?”

You stared at each other, confusion and bewilderment visible on your faces. Before either of you could break the silence, Mr. Harris arrived to dismiss the class.

“I have to go,” you told him, gathering your stuff in haste before rushing out of the room.

The living room of Renjun, Haechan, and Yangyang’s shared apartment was peaceful, the slow melodic music playing in the background bringing a tranquil vibe to the space. Sitting on the carpeted floor with their heads resting on the couch were Haechan, Jaemin, and Mark. The three of them had sheet masks on their faces, and on the coffee table sat a humidifier fogging the room with a sweet citrusy vanilla scent.

Renjun sat on the sofa, reading a book while also wearing a sheet mask. From the small kitchen, Sienna emerged with a glass of water.

“How’s it going?” she asked, beaming at the calming view of her friends taking care of their skin. It was her idea, of course. They do this once every two weeks, even calling it Spa Day.

“I look forward to this every time, Sienna,” said Jaemin before taking a deep breath. 

Kayla appeared next to Sienna with a smirk. “You’re doing God’s work, S. I doubt these boys would recognize a moisturizer if it smacked them on the face.”

“Or a sunscreen,” Sienna added and the two shared a laugh. “They’re running late, aren’t they?” she asked, referring to you and Yangyang.

“Well, Yangyang said he’s opting out because he needs to be somewhere today. As for our girl—” Kayla was cut off by the loud sound of the door slamming open. The sound briefly shattered the tranquility of the atmosphere, catching everyone off-guard and even causing Renjun to jolt up from his seat.

All eyes turned to the doorway where you stood with your hand on the door, huffing as if you’d been running. Your eyes were wide and color seemed to have been drained from your face.

“Speak of the devil,” Kayla quipped, walking over to you.

Haechan tutted sternly. “Did you really have to slam the door like that? You’re so dramatic.”

Ignoring Haechan’s taunting, you walked into the flat and stood in front of Jaemin and Mark, who both looked up at you curiously.

“What’s up?” Jaemin asked, grinning.

“Tell me. Does Jeno have a girlfriend?”

Mark’s brows furrowed. “Not that I know of,” he said, turning to Jaemin for confirmation.

Jaemin shook his head at Mark and turned to you. “No. He doesn’t.”

You dropped your bag on the floor and knelt next to Jaemin, placing your shaking hands on his forearm. “But I saw him kiss this gorgeous girl at the Engineering party last month.”

“Really?” he questioned. He pondered for a moment and you shook his arms impatiently. “Last month? Then it must have been Camille from Com-Sci.”

“Do you know her?” you asked, confusion and concern evident.

“Yeah, she asked Jeno out, but he turned her down. I thought they might have hooked up, but Jeno said nothing happened,” Jaemin explained.

You cast a suspicious gaze at him. “Are you lying?”

Jaemin scoffed. “No. Why would I lie to you?”

“So, he’s single?” you asked, your voice tinged with relief.

“Pretty much,” Jaemin confirmed.

“Does he… you know… sleep around?” you asked hesitantly.

Jaemin chuckled, shaking his head. “Not as far as I know. But if he did, I’d rather not talk about his sex life.”

You rose to your feet, heading for the couch and slumping on it, face first. Thoughts raced in your head, so many of them at the same time that it was almost incoherent.

Mark turned to you on the couch. “Wait, you said you didn’t like him anymore? Was that the reason?”

“Oh my god!” Kayla exclaimed, realization slowly dawning on your friends.

“You saw him kiss a girl?” Renjun recalled, looking lost and confused. “And thought she was his girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice muffled by the soft couch. You flailed your arms and kicked your legs in frustration. “God! I was so stupid!”

Sienna sat on the couch, taking your head and gently placing it on her lap. “No, you’re not. It was a completely normal reaction. I’d think he’s dating someone too if I saw him kiss her.”

“Right?” you blurted, lifting your head to see her face. You shifted on the couch, sitting up properly. “But that was a total miss, wasn’t it?”

“Kind of,” Sienna shrugged.

“Yeah, you should have just asked,” Mark added, smoothing out the sheet mask on his face.

Kayla sat on your other side. “So if he’s single, does that mean you can take another shot at him? You guys know each other now, right?”

You smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know. I’m kinda bummed now. Although I’m gonna be honest, I’m relieved that he’s single. I just… lost the motivation.”

“You still like him though, right?” Sienna asked.

You nodded and the girls exchanged looks. Kayla said, “Then what’s stopping you now?”

The realization began to settle in. Maybe things weren’t as complicated as you’d thought. This could very well be the universe giving you a second chance. Perhaps now you can approach him without the weight of false assumptions.

You shook your head slowly, processing the revelation. “What am I even gonna do about it? It’s not like I had a shot in the first place.”

Jaemin chuckled mischievously. “I don’t know why you’re saying that, but I think you have a clear shot.”

“Yeah. You can’t give up now after everything you’ve done so far!”

Haechan giggled beside Sienna. “Did anyone else notice that whenever we do Spa Day, we get juicy girl conversations like this?”

Leave it to Haechan to ruin an otherwise lovely moment. As you laughed along with your friends, you felt a renewed sense of hope. Maybe this time, things could turn out differently.

The familiar scent of freshly cut wood and the sound of saws and sanders filled the air as you entered the Carpentry workshop. Your eyes scanned the room, landing on Jeno. He was already there, engrossed in his work, brows furrowed in concentration as he shaped a piece of wood.

Oddly, it felt gratifying to see him now knowing he wasn’t actually in love with someone. The sight of him always made your heart race, but today it felt different—more hopeful. You walked over to your workstation, trying to appear casual while stealing glances at him.

Jeno looked up and caught your eye, giving you a small, friendly nod. You returned the gesture, feeling a warm flutter in your chest. The knowledge that Jeno was single was a game-changer, but pursuing a relationship with him was an entirely different dilemma. You first needed to figure out if he even liked you at all.

Just the thought of being rejected was already bruising your pride and crushing your spirit. For now, you were resolved to act as normally as possible around him and avoid revealing your feelings.

You smiled, feeling a little self-conscious. Relax, you told yourself. It’s not like he—or anyone else—can read your mind. “Actually, yeah. Could you show me how to get this joint right?”

“Sure thing,” he said, his voice calm and patient. He walked over, and you held your breath nervously as he stood close to you. Trying to focus on his instructions, you found your gaze fixated on his lips.

“You got that?” he asked, eyes meeting yours. 

You blinked, surprised and confused. “Sorry?”

Jeno chuckled lightly. “It’ll be easier if I just show you. Here.”

He took your hands in his, placing them on the piece of wood. The warmth from his skin seeped onto yours, sending a blush to your already burning cheeks. You mentally scolded yourself for being awkward and reminded yourself to breathe or you’d pass out.

Unaware of your mental struggle, Jeno guided your hands deftly, showing you the right angle. “See? It’s all about the angle,” he said, glancing up and catching your gaze. You quickly looked away, cheeks flushing.

“Got it,” you mumbled, attempting to steady your racing heart. Whatever happened to not being obvious? you screamed in your head.

As he continued to explain, you found yourself relaxing, letting his steady presence and soothing voice calm your nerves. You managed to follow his instructions, feeling a small surge of triumph when you finally got it right.

“There you go,” Jeno said with a smile, his eyes twinkling with approval. “You’re a natural.”

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. 

“Anytime,” he said, still standing close. 

As days turned into weeks, you found yourself admiring Jeno more and more. His dedication to the project was evident in every detail, from the meticulous sanding of each piece to the careful assembly of the frame. He was not just talented but also incredibly kind and encouraging, always ready with a smile or a reassuring word when you struggled with a task.

One afternoon, as you both worked on the chair’s reclining mechanism, Jeno glanced over at you, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve got a real knack for this,” he said, his voice warm with sincerity. “I’m impressed.”

Your heart fluttered at his compliment, and you felt a rush of gratitude. “Thanks, Jeno. I couldn’t have done it without your help,” you replied, meeting his gaze. 

Your admiration for him grew with each shared glance and quiet conversation. During breaks, you chatted about everything from school to personal interests, laughing together over jokes and enjoying companionable silence. The air between you was charged with a growing sense of familiarity and ease.

“Do you have any hobbies outside of this?” he asked one day, genuinely curious.

“I love photography,” you admitted, feeling more comfortable sharing your passions with him. “Though I’m not very good at it. I like to sketch too, sometimes.”

“Oh yeah. The sketch you made for this chair was awesome. It looked like you can actually touch the details,” Jeno said, a smile spreading across his face. 

“Yeah, you already told me that,” you chimed.

“Maybe you could show me some of your work sometime.”

“Hmm. I only show it to my close friends,” you teased, grinning at him when he clutched his chest pretending to be hurt by your words.

“Four weeks of being partners and I still don’t count as a close friend?” he questioned, face contorted in mock offense and curiosity.

“You're overreacting. Four weeks is only eight days for us, Jeno Lee. We have Carpentry class on Tuesdays and Thursdays only.”

“But we worked on this outside class last Friday.”

“Once. That’s nine days. Still not a lot of time,” you quipped. It was gradual but the boundaries between project partners and friends began to blur for you and Jeno, which is why you now feel comfortable just hanging out and joking around like this. Although you’re still gaga about him and get butterflies over the smallest gestures, you no longer get tongue-tied or nervous around him.

You went from sneaking glances at him in the cafeteria to sharing lunch together twice. From admiring him quietly in the quad or the library to smiling and saying ‘Hi’. You were definitely friends now, although not as close. It was a welcome change, making you look forward to every school day.

One particularly memorable afternoon, you both struggled with the final adjustments to the chair. You have been working on this mechanism for a while now and still couldn’t get it to work properly. You’ve done everything you possibly could, even getting hands-on help from your professor.

“Now, then,” Mr Harris said, wiping the sweat on his forehead. “Try that again.”

You nodded, feeling a surge of determination. Working together, you managed to align the pieces perfectly, and the chair finally reclined smoothly. There were quiet gasps in the classroom while you and Jeno stared at each other with mouths hanging open.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, hands flying over your mouth. Quietly, you added, “We did it.” 

Jeno’s smile was warm and relieved. “We did it,” he echoed.

.Overwhelmed with joy, you threw your arms around his neck, and he hugged you back, lifting you slightly off your feet. Realizing belatedly that you were hugging Jeno made you hyper-aware of the moment. You shyly pulled away, glancing anywhere but at him. Mr. Harris was clapping behind him, making you smile gratefully.

Being lifted made you hyper-aware, realizing belatedly that you were hugging Jeno. You shyly pulled away, glancing anywhere else but Jeno. Mr Harris was clapping behind him, making you smile gratefully.

“Thanks, sir!” you told your professor. 

“Mr. Harris was putting you up for failure when he assigned you the reclining chair,” one of your classmates quipped, walking over to examine your work.

You laughed lightly, watching your other classmates approach your worktable. Your eyes met Jeno’s among your classmates, and he showed you a thumbs-up which you returned with a smile. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your mind replayed the part where you were hugging Jeno over and over.

Jeno approached you with a proud smile in his eyes. “We did it!” he said, giving you a high-five that lingered just a moment longer than necessary. The brief contact sent a thrill through you, a reminder of how much you enjoyed being close to him.

Mr. Harris announced that the projects would be judged by other professors, which would impact your grades. Every pair had completed their pieces—tables, lamps, chairs, and more. While yours might not be the prettiest, you hoped it would get the recognition it deserved.

After class, as students cleaned up, Jeno pointed out something that made you laugh. “You’ve got a lot of pens and pencils,” he said, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “Like, a lot.”

“That’s not even half of them. I keep buying them for no reason. It’s hoarding at this point,” you admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Hmm. I see,” he responded, still amused. He leaned on the worktable, his backpack slung over one shoulder. “You must write a lot. Or draw.”

“Like I told you before, I sketch. And I do write, but not as much as you think. Even if I did, the sheer volume of pens I have is excessive. I think I need to see a psychiatrist for this,” you joked, shaking your head.

Jeno shook his head, “I don’t think so. Everyone is allowed their own harmless obsession. Mine is probably weirder.”

Your curiosity piqued, you asked, “Oh really? What’s yours?”

He hesitated, a glint of embarrassment in his eyes. “Nah, you don’t wanna know.”

Sometimes it was frustrating that Jeno was completely clueless about your massive crush on him. If he had even the slightest clue, he’d know you were definitely—absolutely—totally, interested in anything and everything about him.

“Actually, I do,” you replied, trying to tone down your interest to the Not-So-Obsessed-With-Him Level. 

Jeno looked away, scratching his nape. “Forget it. Let’s just go.”

“Oh come on, you can’t say something like that and then not tell me!” you protested, playfully nudging him.

After some pestering, he finally confessed, “When I was in high school, I liked keeping confetti.”

“Confetti?”

“Not just any confetti. Only the ones from our basketball games. The ones where we win. Like a little memento.”

You smiled at his revelation, zipping your bag after you finished packing your stuff. “That’s actually really cute.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, looking away shyly with his ears reddening out of embarrassment.

“It is!” you insisted, letting him take your bag after he stopped you from wearing it over your shoulder. “Didn’t you say everyone is allowed their own harmless obsessions?”

“Alright… I guess?” Jeno shrugged, a shy smile making his cheeks burn. You walked out of the classroom together, your bag in his hand. “I have them in small ziplock bags.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Why ziplock bags? Don’t you have a jar or something?”

“I do, but it’s easier to organize them with ziplock bags.”

“How about a scrapbook? You could glue them in and write about them.”

“Uh… no thanks. I’m not at all artistic or craftsy.”

“You were good with woodworking though.”

“That’s different.”

The project is nearly complete. You realized how much you cherished these moments with Jeno. The reclining chair, with its smooth lines and functional elegance, stood as a testament to your combined efforts and growing friendship. But more than that, it symbolized the bond you had forged through hard work, shared dreams, and mutual respect. The realization filled you with a quiet sense of joy and hope that this closeness would continue to grow even after the project ended.

[To be continued in Part 2]

[rainystarters]

💫 love is cosmic ! a collection of dialogue + action prompts inspired by red velvet's album cosmic. some prompts usfw. add +reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. adjust as necessary.

dialogue :

meeting you as the stars would have it.

i can't get you off my mind.

what did you do to my mind?

i want to know you.

how about you stay a little longer?

perhaps we're travelers searching for orphaned dreams.

come with me.

discover things no human eyes have seen.

i just can't say goodnight.

your love is cosmic.

you got me hypnotized.

i saw you hiding.

what are you? my god.

honey, i give you my all.

i'll find you in my dreams.

summer, autumn, winter, spring: the whole world is you.

my memories are floating away.

the beautiful times are leaving me, stealing you away.

this isn't the end ...remember.

i will gladly stay by your side.

it's you who kept me through the long nights.

no one knows where a fading star goes.

and i'll fly light-years to find you.

to you, my universe, the only reason i exist.

i'll always be here for you.

is it love?

i remember the first moment i saw you.

you feel the same way, right?

we can't play no game the right way.

it doesn't matter 'cause you're my prize.

i saw the same moon.

i want to dream every day.

i want to whisper in your ears the things i couldn't say.

we're not that young anymore.

i still remember the summer days when i first saw you.

believe in us more than anything.

i don't mind staying up all night, my love.

let's talk like we did when we were young.

i'm your friend. i'll be there.

take my hand and run.

sweet dreams, my love.

our story continues even in dreams.

when the moon shines bright, i'll tell you my story.

close your eyes and lean on me, my love.

oh, you've grown so quickly, kid.

we were always young and fearless.

we're together and we have the same dream.

actions :

crash-landing. sender chases a falling star but finds receiver where it fell.

stargaze. sender lies down next to receiver to stargaze.

daisy chain. sender weaves flowers into receiver's hair.

hypnotize. sender falls under receiver's spell, hypnotized.

zodiac. sender asks for receiver's sign.

bubble. sender blows/magically creates bubbles that surround receiver.

string. sender sees an invisible string of fate tying them to receiver.

chase. sender chases receiver through the woods.

arcade. sender loses a game to receiver while at a neon-illuminated arcade.

last drop. sender pours a drink into receiver's mouth.

hallucinate. sender finds receiver hallucinating and talking to inanimate objects.

memory. sender steps into one of receiver's memories.

sunburn. sender kisses receiver's skin and leaves behind a burn mark.

far-flung. sender wakes in another world to receiver staring down at them.

funny story. sender watches receiver trespass on a fairy ring and join the dance.

sunset. sender kisses receiver against the setting sun.

peek. sender doesn't notice receiver watching them dress through a hole.

honey. sender sends a bee to sting receiver.

stars align. sender fails to stop receiver from completing a ritual.

cosmos. sender and receiver feel each other's heart beat despite being apart.

night drive. sender and receiver drive through the night in a convertible.

butterfly. sender catches receiver transforming into [magical girl/werewolf/etc].

long-lost. sender reunites with receiver who has no memory of them.

sunflower. sender tucks a flower into receiver's lunch/purse/etc. to find later.

tarot. sender draws a card and waits for receiver to reveal its face.

flight. sender bridal carries receiver as they fly.

sweet dream. sender and receiver snuggle in bed below glow-in-the-dark stars.

may queen. sender crowns receiver queen of the spring festival.

turbulence. sender trips receiver, sending them falling.

carousel. sender grabs receiver's hand as they ride on a carousel.

moonlight. sender and receiver bathe naked in the moonlight.

astral. sender astral projects to receiver's location far away.

cat's cradle. sender performs a spell with receiver using cat's cradle.

night. sender and receiver walk through an illuminated night festival/market.

ride. sender sits on receiver's lap, straddling them.

see you. sender kisses receiver before they part forever/for a long time.

electric. sender teases receiver, brushing their lips across intimate skin.

cosmic love. sender and receiver break the bed during sex.

[lovebugism]

hi! not sure if you’re still taking requests but if u are may i request the prompt “it’s okay to cry in front of me, you know. you don’t have to carry this alone.” with reader comforting steve? tysm <3

bug's blurb sleepover (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)!

Steve tends to feel things really, really deeply.

When Nancy called him bullshit at a Halloween party and ran off with the weird kid from chemistry class a day later, he felt like it was the end of the world. His world, at least. 

He thought it was going to stick with him for the rest of his life — that she was right, that he really was bullshit, and that that truth would haunt him forever. It did. It does. It lurks over his shoulder sometimes, like a shadow or a sleeping dragon.

And when Robin’s mad at him, like mad mad, it makes him feel like dying. 

One time he overestimated how tired he was after a shift and forgot to pick Robin up after band practice. He was startled awake from his nap out of nowhere, like his brain knew he’d done something wrong, and realized he was supposed to drive her home over an hour ago. 

He found her standing with her trumpet case under the awning in a futile attempt to hide from the pouring rain. She didn’t talk to him for days — not during the drive, not at work the next day, not until he was milliseconds from groveling at her feet for her forgiveness.

But it’s different when he’s happy. He’s got you and he’s got Dustin, and he loves the two of you so much it feels like he might burst sometimes. Adoration spills from his pores like so many little rays of sunshine, leaves him a grinning and gushing thing in the place of a teenage boy. 

It’s so much worse with you, though. Because sometimes he feels like his heart beats only for you — that it follows the rhythm of your pulse, that it will stop when yours does. 

He can taste every word that spills from your mouth, the one’s coated in venom and honey alike. He can hear every sound of your soul, too. It’s the crackles of an old record player when you’re content, autumn leaves crunching when you’re angry, and the sounds of a deep, deep ocean when you’re sad.

You’re embedded into every fiber of his being. You’ve entwined yourself with him without even realizing it, tucked yourself into the outer regions of his bleeding heart with a fuzzy blanket and a good book — no sign of leaving any time soon.

He loves you hard, too hard. So hard there’s no breath without you.

So when Vecna almost kills you, it feels a little like his life is ending.

He watches you float in midair, his feet still stuck on the ground, totally helpless. 

Tears spill from your glazed-over eyes and glitter beneath streams of moonlight. Your body is slack, but your fingers tremble and your brows twitch and your chin quivers. You’re not all there, but you can feel every ounce of fear like an ice-cold bath, painful and numbing all at once. Because you know that you’re going to die. And that there’s nothing anyone else can do to stop it.

Dustin shouts for help into his supercomm, begs for Max to bring her walkman or steal the nearest boombox they see and bring it with them to Lover’s Lake. They’re too far away, though, on the other side of town in Nancy’s too slow Station Wagon picking up more hunting supplies to kill the son of a bitch trying to kill you. He knows they won’t make it in time.

Steve shakes your shoulders and shouts in your face, but you still don’t wake. He keeps a hold of you until you’re out of his reach entirely — rising and rising and rising until you’re six feet off the ground. Then he’s just begging, shouting pleas up at you, at god, at Vecna — the shriveled skin creep doing this to you. 

“Please,” he shouts to everyone and no one all at once. “Please, just— you gotta wake up, okay? I’ll be better, I’ll be so much better, I promise. I’ll listen to all the music you like, watch all the movies you want — even the ones that suck — I’ll be a better boyfriend, okay? You just— You need to wake up!”

You don’t. 

You just keep on crying, like you can hear him in whatever world Vecna’s sucked you into. Eyes fluttering, neck jerking, lips trembling. You succumb completely to the monster’s curse.

It’s Eddie that saves you.

He rushes to the stolen R.V. for his guitar, the one Steve said made him look like he was overcompensating for something, the one that’s about to save your life. “What’s her favorite song?” the boy urges as he slips the strap over his head with pale and trembling fingers.

Steve looks over at his shoulder at him. It’s hard to see through the stinging tears. “Wh— What—” He can’t form words. Or thoughts, really. The only thing going through his head is that you’re about to die, that he’s about to lose you forever. It clouds his mind like thick black smoke.

“Her favorite song?” Eddie snaps. “What is it?”

He scrambles to answer. “Uh, it’s uh— it’s Take— Take On Me… Do you know that one?”

“No,” the boy answers honestly. “But I can try.”

That’s all they can do for now. Try. Hope.

He puts his fingers to the strings, trying to find the right placements, but it’s hard when you don’t know how to play the song and you’re shaking that you’re fucking freezing. Eddie’s forced to play it by ear and tells Steve that it won’t sound exactly right and that it won’t be loud without his amp. 

It takes him a moment to find the melody, but Steve hears it the second it comes — the synth-y da-da-da-dum, da-da-dah, da-da-da-da-dum’s that were practically engrained in his psyche after he heard it on the radio the millionth time.

You weren’t as afflicted by the earworm as he was. You loved it. 

The song came out the year the two of you started dating, so all he heard for months was that catchy beat and even catchier falsetto. You played it on the jukebox when you went to the diner, popped the tape into your radio whenever he was over at your place, requested for it to be played virtually wherever you went.

You hear the song from where you’re stuck in your own head. The strums of the guitar are quiet and a little out of tune, but the uncanny notes make sense when you’re trapped in a world that isn’t really your world. Suddenly you don’t see Vecna or his claw in your face — just Steve, Steve, Steve.

He’s with you at the diner with whipped cream on his chin, making fun of you for singing to the song so off-key. He’s with you in your childhood bedroom, spinning you around and singing all the high notes with you. He’s with you at Enzo’s, the fanciest place in Hawkins for your anniversary, and slips the mini-orchestra a hundred-dollar bill to play the song for you.

Suddenly, you’re on the ground again — back in Hawkins — and gasping for breath in his arms. You can’t see him from where he’s got his face tucked into your neck, but you can feel the scarily rapid beat of his heart and the way it matches your own.

Steve sobs into you, uncaring about how loud he is or how his snot and tears stain your t-shirt. Because he almost fucking lost you. And, for a split second, he tried to think of what a life without you would look like. He quickly came up short. There was nothing — no light, no sound, no music — just darkness. A void. 

Sometimes, he thinks he would’ve died with you that night.

Vecna is dead within the next twenty-four hours after the fact. You and Nancy take turns shooting bullets in the pale patchy skin of his chest where his heart’s supposed to be while Steve and Robin throw hand-made bombs in his direction. He trips and stumbles out the window while the rotting basement erupts into flames. There’s nothing left but ashes.

Steve doesn’t feel a thing for a little while after that, just the acute urge to protect the group of you even though the boogeyman is long gone. 

He doesn’t let go of you for days, always holding onto some part of you, because he’s terrified of you slipping away again. 

He lets Dustin sleep at his place when the boy asks, but it’s for his own peace of mind more than anything else. He doesn’t let the boy out of his sight until his mom gets concerned about him. 

He drives forty-five minutes to the hospital every day for two weeks with you so you can visit Max and Lucas, always with two peanut butter jelly sandwiches for them — just in case.

He’s on auto-pilot for a while. He just keeps on taking care of everyone else because it distracts him from himself — from his own inner turmoil, from the horrors he saw that night, from the boogeyman still in his closet.

It takes you a month for you to tell him what you saw. You were a lot like him in that way, still trying to hide from it all. You would’ve been more than happy if you could squish your great big problem into a tiny little ball that you could stomp underneath your feet and forget about completely. 

But that’s not how life works. 

The thing just swells and swells and swells until it takes everything in you to stay sane.

You sit Steve down on his bed and curl into his lap — knees to your chest, head tucked beneath his chin. And you tell him about it. Everything.

You tell him that Vecna showed you Brad, the boyfriend you had before Steve. It was a replay of the last night you saw him parked at Lover’s Lake, the very same place you had been when Vecna almost took you. You’re sitting in his passenger seat and he’s trying to feel you up. “Billy’s girlfriend lets him fuck her all the time,” he gripes when you swat his hand from your thigh.

“Then maybe go fuck Billy’s girlfriend,” you shoot back. 

It’s the last thing you’d ever said to him before storming off and catching the late bus back home. He went missing the next day; his car still there, but no sign of the boy himself.

Vecna shows you everything you’d been making yourself sick over for years, tells you exactly what happened to him that night.

A demogorgon appears in thin air and snatches the boy, takes him to the Upside Down like he’s some kind of light night snack. The thing doesn’t eat him, though, just plays with its food for a while until it gets bored and lets him rot. Brad was down there, for days, beggingfor someone to save him. Help never came, though. Just the slow, slow hand of death. 

“You never even looked for him…” you recite the words Vecna said to you, voice much softer than his cruel baritone one. “You let him rot down there while you threw yourself at a boy that didn’t even want you…”

Steve eyes squeeze shut then, like he’s trying to hide from your words. It’s about as effective as those idiots in horror movies who try to hide under their bedsheets from demons.

You sought refuge in Steve that night and many others, when Brad was acting especially douchebag-y. It was innocent at first. He was your friend. But somewhere down the line, you realized that you had bigger feelings for him than you ever did for your boyfriend. Steve, meanwhile, was still caught in the web of his complicated feelings for Nancy.

It wasn’t until you got kidnapped by Russian soldiers that he realized how much he loved you.

There’s just something about the end of the world that makes a person see clearly again.

Everything seems to hit him exactly a week later. 

He’d done a pretty good job at hiding it all — the nightmares, the panic attacks, the sleepless nights. He hid that all from you because you were recovering too. He didn’t think it was fair to dump all his hurt on you while you were still trying to get back to normal.

You noticed it very quickly, though, that Steve didn’t seem to be very affected by any of it. 

He was so nonchalant about everything, the kind of casual only a person who was aching could pull off. 

And he’d get real reserved at times, uncharacteristically quiet, and you’d ask him if he was okay. He’d scoffed and say he was fine —of course I’m okay, what do you mean? — while his cheek speckled with red and he blinked back glassy tears. 

You’d try to hug him and he’d let you, but kept shrugging off your concern — I’m fine, babe. I promise. I’m not the one who almost died.

Steve did that a lot. Made it seem like his problems didn’t mean as much because they weren’t as big as yours or Max’s or Eddie’s. He convinced himself that they didn’t. Why should he be upset when he didn’t have to meet the monster face to face or live through something traumatic all over again? What does he have to cry about?

But when he sleeps all he sees in you — in that spot at Lover’s Lake, succumbing to Vecna’s curse, while the rest of them try like hell to bring you back. In his nightmares, they never do. He watches your bones break one by one, piercing cracks in the quiet night that he can feel in his chest, before you fall limply to the ground again.

He wakes with a gasping breath, the same way you had all the time ago. You’re sleeping peacefully beside him, hair wild and face smushed into your pillow, but he can’t seem to get the vision out of his head — of your mangled body and sucked-out sockets. He stumbles off to the bathroom on tired and trembling legs.

You wake to the door slamming shut and stir at the sound of the faucet turning on. 

Light spills from the crack underneath the door, bright in the darkness of your bedroom. You watch Steve’s shadow with bleary eyes, how it stands in one place for a moment and then paces back and forth.

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you tiptoe to the door, but don’t do anything when you reach it. You just wait, listen. 

Steve mumbles something to himself that you can’t quite make out — you’re okay, stop being such a baby, jesus… is all you can hear. He sniffles as his feet pad the length of the tiled bathroom floor. It doesn’t take a genius to know that he’s crying.

Your knock upon the door is a soft one. You don’t want to startle him. The second he realizes you’re outside the door, he freezes.

“Stevie…” you call gently out for him. “Are you okay?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah—” Then again. “Yeah, I’m fine… Go back to bed.”

“Are you sure?” you press. “Do you want me to get anything for you?”

The boy has to take a deep breath in to stop himself from snapping at you. He’s angry at himself more than anything — for hiding, for failing at hiding. He runs two anxious hands through his hair and plants himself along the ceramic edge of the bathtub. 

“I’m sure. Just… Just go back to bed, okay?”

You don’t listen. You just slide along the door frame until you’re sat on the carpeted floor of your bedroom. Steve can hear your shuffling outside.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay. You know that, right?” you ask him through the door.

Steve puts his face in his hands before he can catch his scrunching face in the mirror. Just when he thought he wasn’t going to cry, here you come, pulling this shit. 

“I know,” he answers tightly, muffled through his palms. He rubs them up and down his face once, twice, and then a third time before throwing his hands into his lap. “But I’m fine, okay? Seriously.”

“You can cry in front of me, Steve. It’s okay. You don’t have to— You don’t have to go through this shit alone, you know? I’m here. I’m right here, okay? Let me help you.”

It’s that reminder that does him in; the assurance that you’re here and not a disfigured mess in the tall grass of Lover’s Lake. A sob spills from his mouth too abruptly for him to stop it.

“Steve…” you call for him again, heartbreaking on the other side of the door.

“I’m almost lost you,” he cries, more than himself than to you, then sniffles. “I’m almost fucking lost you.”

“But you didn’t. I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere, Steve Harrington. The universe is gonna have to try a whole lot harder to keep me away from you.”

He manages a laugh through his tears. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” you quip. “If Vecna couldn’t stop me from being with you, nothing will.”

The thought of that warms him. He realizes it’s not the universe keeping the two of you together, not fate or some higher power in the clouds. It’s love. It’s all the love the two of you have got for each other, stronger than any demogorgon or Russian soldier or dark wizard. And it’s love that’s gonna hold the two of you together for the next several decades, until you’re old and wrinkly and ugly. 

But Steve won’t think you’re ugly. He’ll think you’re as beautiful as the first moment he saw you — throwing up in the bushes outside Tina’s house after your first high school party.

You rise quickly when the door opens. Steve stands in front of you, eyes puffy and face red and smiling gently down at you anyway. “I love the shit outta you, you know that?” is all he can think to say. Because that’s all that he feels in that moment.

“Of course, I know that,” you grin up at him. Your hands rise to cup his jaw, thumbs swiping at his tear-stained cheeks. Your browns pinch in concern. “You okay?”

For the first time, he’s honest.

“No…” he murmurs with the soft shake of his head. His eyes dart away from yours and to the floor where his and your twenty toes stand, still on the ground, not floating in thin air.

“No— I… I don’t think I am,” he confesses softly. His tired, sad, and heavy honey eyes flit back up to yours again. “But I will be.”

You nod until your words catch up to you. “Yeah. Yeah, you will.”

“If only out of pure spite of all the monsters to all the monsters trying to destroy our lives.”

“They’re gone now,” you promise, like a parent who’s checked under their child’s bed for shadows and ghosts. It works well enough. Here, with his face in your hands and standing in your shared bedroom, he’s never felt safer.

“Can you… Can you hold me?” he wonders, a little meekly because he feels like an idiot saying them. Then he feels even more like an idiot for feeling like an idiot. You’re his girlfriend, after all, cuddles sort of came with the package.

“Of course,” you answer without thinking twice. You grab his hand and tug him back to the bed almost immediately. “I’ll hold you for the rest of our fucking lives, Harrington, you know that.”

The two of you settle into the mattress. Steve uses you like a pillow, wraps all of his limbs around you and tucks his face into your neck. Your scent is a familiar one, warm and comforting, like home. “I like the sound of that,” he mumbles into your shoulder after a moment of quiet.

“Well, buckle in, baby. ‘Cause I got you for the next, like, six decades.”

You feel his smile form against your skin as Steve tucks himself inside your soul.

[hanbinics]

✧.* BINNIE'S BOO FEST | DAY 02.

HALLOWEEN '24 [based off these prompts]

october has always been your favorite month of the year. you’ve always argued that absolutely nothing can beat the crisp autumn air, pumpkin spice invading everyone’s homes, and the excitement of halloween just around the corner—at least, that’s how it usually is.

this year, however, brings a sense of nostalgia. it’s the saturday before halloween and usually you would be with chris talking about anything you still needed for your party. since high school, you and your best friend have thrown a halloween party together, it becoming a tradition and a fun way to get everyone together, especially as you’ve gotten older. maybe it was naïve of you to think it would carry on forever, but you liked to believe that in order for one of you to back out, it would have to be for something really important.

turns out, quite a few things become more important—college, new friends, new relationships, and life in general. you’d noticed over the last few months that it’s been harder to catch any quality time shared between you and chris, which you think might be the reason why you were even more excited for fall’s arrival knowing that most of the season has always been occupied by activities with one of your favorite people.

now, though, you just feel silly. it’s like a slap in the face to be standing in the middle of a craft store in search of decoration inspiration for halloween, knowing you’ll be doing it alone this year. just as your fingers are brushing over a few plastic pumpkins, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. when you fish it out of your pocket, your eyes glance over the text message previewed on the screen.

chris: hey. busy tonight?

you hesitate for a moment before replying, vaguely wondering why he’s asking since you haven’t spoken to him in a few weeks.

no, why?

he doesn’t answer your question, instead sending back a vague “good” in response that you don’t reply to, entirely confused. you decide to put it out of your mind, your gaze only briefly glancing over the pumpkins again before you’re leaving the craft store entirely, no longer in much of a mood to think about how you’re going to decorate your dorm room by yourself this year.

it's not until you’re pulling into the parking lot of your dorm building that your phone goes off again, only this time it’s a phone call. when you see that it’s chris again, you frown in confusion, your thumb tapping the green button before pressing the device to your ear as you struggle to get out of the car with your bag.

before you can even greet him, or ask why he’s calling, the brunette is huffing into the phone. “thought you said you weren’t busy, kid. where the hell are you?”

your head jerks back slightly in surprise and maybe a little irritation at the fact that he’s questioning your whereabouts. you could ask him where he’s been for the last few weeks, but you don’t really feel like arguing.

“i’m just getting home, chris,” you say in response, your tone a bit clipped. you make your way into the building, grateful for once that you live on the first floor. “why? do you need something?” you suddenly feel a little bad, wondering if something is going on, if he’s okay.

but when you hear him snort on the other end of the line, you roll your eyes. “’m fine, kid. look up.”

immediately your eyebrows knit together in confusion, but you listen to him anyway—only to realize that he’s standing right in front of your dorm room. he’s grinning at the look on your face as you get closer, but your gaze immediately falls to his occupied arms full of orange lights, fake cobwebs, and plastic pumpkins. when you look up at him again, his smile only widens.

“don’t look so surprised. didn’t think i was gonna let ya’ decorate on your own, did you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, but when he notices the way you purse your lips, he snorts. “fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right? you’re short as shit, kid, y’won’t be able to reach nothin’. now open the door, my arms are gettin’ tired.”

you can’t help the smile that threatens your mouth as you open the door for him, his blunt teasing doing nothing to calm the gentle thud of your heart in your chest. it stays like that for the rest of the night, chris teasing you here and there as you decorate the inside of your dorm together before settling down in a fort of blankets and pillows with hot chocolate clutched in your cold palms, hocus pocus playing on the tv.

your arm is pressed against chris’s, his warmth radiating around you like your own personal heater in the calm, cozy atmosphere of your dark room. you find yourself looking at him just as he takes a sip from his mug, admiring the sharp cut of his jaw and his side profile, something unfamiliar but pleasant settling in the heart of your stomach. when he catches you looking at him, a blush creeps up your neck.

“quit starin’ at me,” he huffs shortly. “movie’s the other way, kid,” he tells you sarcastically, but you can’t help but smile.

“thank you for coming tonight,” you tell him quietly instead, still looking at him despite the way his blue eyes remain focused on the tv. “i know it’s probably not as fun as a party, but it means a lot to me.” you feel incredibly sentimental in the moment even though you’re well aware of the fact that chris hates getting vulnerable in any way, shape, or form.

it’s why you don’t expect an answer from him, instead just pressing deeper into his side, your head coming to rest against his upper arm and part of his shoulder as you finally listen to him and focus again on the movie playing.

chris can’t help but be grateful that you miss the ghost of a smile on his face as you cuddle into him. he’s never really given a shit about throwing the halloween parties, but it’s been worth it every year to see the way you light up at every single one, to witness the cute little costumes you pick out, and more than anything, just to spend his time with you. but he lets the truth linger on his tongue as his body warms in every space you occupy.  

this, by far, is his favorite halloween.

©hanbinics

: ̗̀➛ tag list: @blahbel668, @zay-sturns

: ̗̀➛ divider by @/riottsrph

[adverbally]

Keep Me Coming Back for More

Written for the @steddie-spooktober day ten prompt “orchard” | wc: 865 | rated: M | cw: none | tags: fluff, anniversary, long-term relationship, vacation, implied/referenced sexual content | title from “Heaven” by Bryan Adams

———

The Apple Orchard Inn is a quaint bed and breakfast, nestled in the mountains to give its guests a breathtaking view of four acres of fruit trees across the valley. Not just apples, but pears and cherries, ready to be picked by adventurous visitors or to be made into jams and preserves and all manner of delicious baked goods for people to buy at the reception desk.

As the less outdoorsy of the two of them, Eddie had been skeptical of Steve’s chosen locale from the start. “That’s the only activity they have? Wandering around and providing free labor for the orchard?” he had complained. “And we’re supposed to drag that into a three-night stay?”

Steve hadn’t taken it personally, knowing Eddie would see the beauty of the inn and be forced to eat his words. He was right, as usual— Eddie had stood in front of their private cottage, complete with a porch swing and a great view of the trout pond up by the main house, and immediately been struck dumb.

Now, on their last night, Eddie stands on the back porch overlooking the valley and breathes in the fresh, fragrant air. He doesn’t want to leave. He already misses the quiet trickle of the stream that runs behind their cottage, the sweet smell of fresh fruit, the sight of Steve wrapped in one of Eddie’s flannels with his face turned up into the mid-autumn sunshine. Even the hike around the orchards, which Eddie had suffered for Steve’s sake, was now a fond memory of their anniversary trip. Three days of peace with the man he loves more than life itself, laughing and kissing and pressing together like they can’t get close enough.

“Hey,” Steve greets, stepping out the backdoor with a fluffy green bathrobe over his favorite flannel pajamas. He’s carrying two steaming mugs of tea, a delicious cinnamon blend made here at the inn, and his hair is still dripping and fogging up his glasses with the residual warmth from the shower.

Eddie accepts the mug he’s given and pulls Steve closer with an arm around his waist. They lean against the porch railing and soak in the sight of the stars. They’re bright out here, tucked away in the mountains far from the nearest city, lighting up the valley with their glow.

“You did really good with this one,” Eddie murmurs. “Sorry I was such a dick about it.”

Steve chuckles. “I knew you’d come around as soon as you saw it. The porch swing alone—”

“I’m building a porch swing for our house as soon as we get back,” he enthuses. “It’s gonna be awesome.”

They fall back into comfortable silence, listening to the flower bushes rustling in the breeze and the laughter of a couple walking up the pathway to their own cottage.

“Ten years,” Steve sighs into his mug. “Hard to believe we’ve been together so long.”

“Our relationship is almost old enough to go to middle school,” Eddie jokes, even as he catches Steve’s hand on the railing and laces their fingers together. Turning serious, he admits, “I don’t think I could’ve imagined being in a relationship this long before I met you. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have thought I’d be alive this long.”

Steve shivers, more at the reminder of Eddie’s mortality than the evening chill. “I thought I’d, you know, be married with kids and all that by now. But then I wouldn’t have you, so I’m glad that didn’t work out.” His smile is small and crooked as he holds out his mug in a toast. “Here’s to ten more years of you ruining all my plans.”

“To ten more years of you doing all the planning for both of us!” Eddie declares, clinking their mugs together.

Before Steve can take a sip, Eddie pulls him in for a long, tender kiss. He feels Steve fumble to sit his mug on the ledge of the railing, freeing his hands to cradle Eddie’s cheeks. They’ve had their share of kisses over the past few days, from quick pecks beneath the apple trees to filthy exchanges of spit preceding a good hard fuck, but this is the one that makes Eddie’s knees weak. Steve tastes like spiced tea and a hint of toothpaste, and his body is a solid line of warmth pressed up against Eddie’s, and he’s taking his time to explore Eddie’s mouth like he hasn’t already done it millions of times over the past decade. It’s kind of blowing Eddie’s mind.

Breaking away with a gasp, Eddie is a little hoarse when he suggests, “How about we go defile another set of sheets?”

“Are you trying to get us banned for life?” Steve’s grin betrays his eagerness.

“I’ll hand wash them myself in the tub before we leave tomorrow, scout’s honor. Housekeeping never has to know.”

“Smart and good at laundry? I knew I kept you around for something,” Steve teases, leaning in for another kiss.

Eddie mumbles against his lips, “Don’t forget my massive dick.”

Steve’s delighted cackle echoes through the valley, but it’s for Eddie’s ears only when he whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Happy anniversary, baby.”

[dee-writes-angst]

TULIPS (Chapter Three)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY dinner with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court was going well- if not better- than you expected... until it wasn't.

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, cuteness, pregnancy, mentions of foot massages, rushed editing (you have been warned)

AUTHORS NOTE this was as adorable to write as it was to read, hope you all enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST

As the weeks transformed into a comfortable cadence of companionship, Eris's presence evolved from a persistent irritation to a source of solace and warmth. Each night, he would accompany you on leisurely strolls through the Autumn Court's sprawling gardens, engaging in deep conversations that ranged from trivial to profound. Initially resistant, your defenses gradually crumbled under the weight of his genuine interest and the gentle tenor of his voice. Eris, once a distant figure, had seamlessly become both a confidant and a friend. The awkwardness that had once marked your interactions gave way to an easeful rapport, characterized by shared laughs, quiet moments, and even intertwined arms as you walked together.

Despite your initial fears, keeping both you and your pregnancy hidden from Beron proved less daunting than anticipated. The castle staff, having grown fond of your presence and Eris's protective stance, covertly supported you, ready to accept Beron's wrath should the need arise. The life blossoming within you stirred more vigorously with each passing day, its movements transforming from uncertain flutters to joyous, definitive kicks—a constant, cherished reminder of the new life you were nurturing.

Lately, however, the joys of pregnancy have been tempered by its tolls: swelling and a pervasive fatigue that some days tethered you to your bed. Adapting to your needs, Eris crafted a new routine. Each morning, he would cross the short distance from his room to yours, coax you from the sanctuary of your bed to the plush couch near the fireplace, and spend a few moments ensuring both you and the baby were well before attending to his duties.

Now, you were nestled comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket against the autumn chill, while Eris attended to your swollen feet. His fingers, long and defined, pressed into your arches with a precision that coaxed sighs of relief from your lips. You massaged your growing belly, lost in the tranquility that only this quiet room, with its crackling fireplace and the soothing touch of a man you had grown to trust implicitly, could offer.

Breaking the silence, Eris's voice was soft, yet carried an undercurrent of something significant. "I have a meeting tomorrow," he murmured, his fingers shifting to your ankles, easing the persistent ache with gentle, circular motions. You hummed in acknowledgment, the peace of the moment making it easy to listen.

"I'd like you to come with me," he added, his suggestion prompting you to open your eyes and sit up, tension threading through your previously relaxed posture.

"Eris, I’m not sure that’s—" you began, only to be cut off as he expertly pressed into a tight spot on your foot, drawing a sharp, involuntary focus back to the physical relief.

"I know you are hesitant to go out, but I promise, no one will learn of your condition. You and the baby will be safe—I swear it," he assured you, his gaze intense and earnest.

"And who exactly are we meeting?" you asked, curiosity piqued despite your initial reservations.

"The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court," he replied smoothly, watching for any shift in your expression. He was aware of your past efforts in the Spring Court, though he remained blissfully unaware of that one fateful night with Lucien—a detail you continued to keep close to your heart more so out of fear than true, deep love.

Eris's next words came hesitantly, a rare vulnerability shadowing his usually confident demeanor. "There's something I need to share with you, something dangerous enough to threaten my life if it were spoken here. Until now, I’ve trusted no one with this knowledge, but I want—no, I need you to know."

The notion that Eris Vanserra, the heir to the ruthlessly pragmatic Autumn throne, could exhibit such bashfulness, such sincere openness, would have once seemed ludicrous. Yet, here in this quiet room, witnessing the softening of a man known for his sharp wit and sharper politics, you realized how deeply intertwined your lives had become. The trust he offered wasn't just a gift; it was a sacred bond, one that you now held as precious and vital, as he undoubtedly did.

Your decision to accompany Eris to the meeting was not made lightly. While the prospect of venturing out with him was enticing, the shadow of Lucien's potential presence loomed ominously in your mind. You couldn't shake the fear that he might discern the truth—that he might catch a hint of his child lingering on you—and unravel the fragile web of secrecy you had painstakingly woven.

"I'll go with you," you finally responded, forcing a soft smile to grace your lips, though your heart fluttered nervously in your chest. Eris's grin widened in response, a radiant expression that never failed to warm your heart. It was a sight you had grown to cherish—the genuine happiness that danced in his eyes whenever you agreed to accompany him.

Upon entering the House of Wind, the grandeur of the Night Court's architecture took your breath away. As you traversed the expansive hall, your eyes were drawn upward to the soaring ceilings, where the natural rock formations blended seamlessly with masterful stone carvings. The room was a symphony of art and nature, each element curated to showcase the might and elegance of the Night Court.

The House of Wind was perched atop one of the tallest mountains overlooking Velaris, the city of starlight. Its location offered a panoramic view of the sprawling city below, its lights twinkling like stars in the dusky evening sky. The ethereal quality of the place lent an almost surreal atmosphere to the meeting, the high altitude isolating it from the bustle of daily life and imbuing the gathering with a sense of detached serenity.

As Eris had insisted, the change of venue to Velaris instead of the grittier Hewn City was a strategic one, especially with your presence. Hewn City, with its darker undertones and the unscrupulous characters it often harbored, was not the environment Eris wanted to expose you to, particularly not in your condition. His protective instinct had flared, not just out of a sense of duty but something more personal, a deep-seated desire to shield you from any potential harm or distress.

Rhysand and Feyre, though initially surprised by the request to relocate, were accommodating. They understood the delicacies of political alliances and personal comforts, especially when it came to gatherings that might sway the balance of power in Prythian. Their acceptance of the change also spoke volumes of their respect for Eris's growing influence and his priorities, which now, intriguingly, seemed to include you.

Upon your arrival, you were greeted warmly by the High Lord and Lady. Feyre's smile was both welcoming and perceptive, her artist's eyes quickly taking in your slightly nervous demeanor. Rhysand's greeting was cordial yet measured, his legendary strategic mind likely already pondering the implications of Eris's sudden protectiveness over you.

The Inner Circle of the Night Court, comprising individuals of notable power and close personal ties to Rhysand and Feyre, were also present. Their curious glances were tinged with an unspoken question, their minds likely whirling with the possibilities of your relationship with Eris and what it meant for the political landscape.

Once dinner commenced, the conversation flowed like the fine wines served—rich, layered, and occasionally sharp. Topics ranged from trivial court gossip to the weightier issues of territorial disputes and trade alliances. Through it all, Eris spoke with an eloquence and assertiveness that reaffirmed his position not just as a scion of the Autumn Court, but as a player on the larger political stage.

The atmosphere in the grand hall of the House of Wind grew increasingly warm and congenial as dinner continued. It was a sharp contrast to the initial wariness that had marked the beginning of the evening. You found yourself slowly relaxing, the initial tension that had gripped you upon your arrival gradually easing as the hours passed.

Seated next to Eris, you were acutely aware of his constant vigilance. His gaze frequently swept the room, subtle but protective, always returning to rest on you with an unspoken reassurance. His hand, discreetly placed near yours on the table, was a silent promise of support. It was a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it warmed a part of your heart reserved only for moments of true connection.

Across from you, Cassian—the General of the Night Court’s armies and the so-called Lord of Bloodshed—was proving to be nothing like the fearsome figure painted in the tales whispered across Prythian. His reputation as a fierce warrior was well-known, and yet, here he was, displaying a charisma and warmth that belied his formidable title. His questions were thoughtful and his laughter genuine, filling the space around him with an infectious joy that seemed to brighten the entire room.

Cassian’s interest in your thoughts on matters ranging from art to strategy was flattering. It was clear he valued intellect and insight, regardless of one’s position or power. His ability to make you feel seen and heard was a rare skill, and you found yourself engaging in the discussion with an eagerness that surprised even you.

The conversation flowed effortlessly as you spoke of your past experiences, carefully curating the details to avoid revealing too much about your true connections and current predicament. Cassian listened intently, nodding thoughtfully and occasionally interjecting with a question that nudged you deeper into the topic. His engagement was so complete and so devoid of judgment that you felt a genuine sense of safety—an odd feeling considering the circumstances under which you had arrived at the Night Court.

The discussion took a lighter turn as Cassian shared anecdotes from his own adventures. The tales were filled with humor and humility, showcasing his dedication to his people and his unshakeable honor. The contrast between the man before you and the stories told of him in hushed, wary tones across the land was stark. Here was a man who fought fiercely but loved deeply, whose strength was matched only by his compassion.

The wine and warmth of the room seemed to weave a spell of camaraderie among all present as the night wore on. You found yourself laughing more freely than you had in a long time, the sound mingling with the gentle music that floated through the air. Eris’s occasional glances filled with quiet amusement and pride as he watched you interact with his allies, and you realized how important this evening was—not just for political alliances but for personal revelations.

The connection you felt to these people, forged unexpectedly through shared smiles and stories, reminded you of the complexities of life in Prythian. Here, alliances were not just built on power but on the subtle threads of mutual respect and understanding—threads that, once woven, could form a tapestry strong enough to stand against the darkest of times.

“So, your plans are set then?” Rhysand’s voice cut through the chatter, his gaze on Eris poised with a strategic restraint as he sat close beside Feyre, their fingers intertwined under the table in a display of unity and affection.

“They are indeed. My father’s reign will end before the year is out,” Eris replied with diplomatic precision, his fingers subtly tightening around yours under the table, offering a silent reassurance as you chatted with Cassian and Mor, who had now joined your group.

“Do you still train?” Cassian continued the earlier conversation about combat training. You were known as a formidable warrior who had bravely fought in the war against Hybern, emerging with only a few scars to tell the tale.

“No, though I do miss it dearly,” you answered with a wistful smile, recalling the days spent wielding a sword and teaching yourself survival tactics against imminent threats.

“Why did you stop?” Mor inquired, her gaze sweeping over you as if searching for a physical reason for your hiatus from training.

“I’ve been busy adjusting to life in the Autumn Court, and while I hope to resume training soon, it seems unlikely until I'm more familiar with the intricacies of this new environment,” you said smoothly, concealing the truth of your pregnancy with an ease that belied the ache in your heart from withholding such vital information from these potential allies. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally behead someone,” you joked, lightening the mood and drawing hearty laughter from Cassian.

“Well,” Cassian began, wiping away tears of mirth, “if you ever need any tips or want to spar, you’re always welcome to join me here. It would be good to have a fresh sparring partner.”

Mor's laughter rang clear and bright alongside Cassian's, their camaraderie infectious, filling the air with a sense of light-heartedness that briefly lifted the weight of your secret. The offer from Cassian, so freely given, was a testament to the Night Court's reputation for valuing strength and skill regardless of court affiliations. It was tempting, the idea of swinging a sword again, feeling the familiar weight in your hands, the rush of adrenaline that came with the dance of combat—a dance you missed dearly.

"I might just take you up on that, Cassian," you responded, your voice lighter than you felt. "It would be good to shake off the rust."

"Consider it an open invitation," Cassian replied with a grin that was both mischievous and welcoming.

Beside you, Eris shifted slightly, his attention momentarily flickering back to you from his strategic discussion with Rhysand and Feyre. His hand tightened around yours, a gesture that you knew was not only for reassurance but also a silent reminder of the stakes at play tonight. His plans, so boldly stated, were a gambit that could change the face of the Autumn Court, and by extension, the delicate balance of power throughout Prythian.

Rhysand’s gaze, sharp and calculating, moved from Eris to you, sensing the undercurrents of your conversation. He was a leader known for his insight, and you wondered briefly what he saw when he looked your way. Did he detect the nuances of your situation, the unspoken truths that lay beneath your carefully constructed facade?

"As long as Eris doesn’t mind sharing some of Autumn’s finest warriors with us," Rhysand added with a subtle smirk, easing the tension that had started to coil beneath the surface of the conversation.

"Only if you don’t mind returning them in one piece," Eris quipped, his tone light but his eyes scanning Rhysand for any sign of true political intent beneath the banter.

Feyre, ever the observant High Lady, interjected with a grace that smoothed the edges of the strategic dance unfolding at the table. "I think we can all agree that sharing knowledge and skills can only strengthen our courts," she said, her voice a soothing melody that seemed to weave peace into the words themselves.

Her comment steered the conversation towards safer waters, and you felt a silent gratitude for her intervention. The night continued, with discussions ebbing and flowing from politics to personal anecdotes, each moment carefully layered with both overt and hidden meanings.

As the dinner neared its end, you felt the first definitive kick from within—a startling, wondrous sensation that drew a gasp from your lips, momentarily drawing the attention of those around you, including Eris, whose concern was immediate.

"Are you alright?" Eris asked quietly, leaning closer to mask the conversation from curious ears.

"Just a bit of discomfort," you whispered back, offering him a reassuring smile to alleviate his worry. The moment was fleeting but significant, a poignant reminder of the life you carried—a secret that bound you to Lucien yet remained hidden even from him.

You composed yourself, returning to the conversations with a calm demeanor, the reality of your situation settled heavily upon you. The ties you were forging here, under the guise of mere political alliances, were becoming more personal, more vital. The truth of your child’s paternity lingered like a shadow; one you knew would eventually come to light.

The sudden silence that fell over the grand dining hall was palpable, a stark contrast to the lively banter that had filled the air just moments before. Cassian's knife hitting the floor seemed to echo through the chamber, an unintentional signal that caused every pair of eyes to swivel toward you, expressions filled with surprise and curiosity. The subtle yet unmistakable scent of pregnancy had wafted through the air, a fragrance familiar to those attuned to the nuances of fae biology.

Beside you, Eris's body tensed, his grip on your hand tightening imperceptibly. His quick, calculating eyes darted around the table, assessing each reaction with a practiced eye, before settling back on you with a look that was both protective and probing. He was searching for cues on how to proceed, his usual confidence momentarily overshadowed by the unforeseen revelation.

Your own heart thudded loudly in your chest, the sound almost echoing in your ears as you navigated through the rapid thoughts and fears crowding your mind. The intimacy and warmth of the room felt suddenly claustrophobic, the walls closing in as you contemplated the implications of your condition becoming public knowledge here, among potential allies and friends.

Rhysand, always the leader, was the first to address the sudden shift in atmosphere. His voice was calm and collected, though you could detect the undercurrent of authority that underpinned his position as High Lord. "Is there something you wish to share with us?" he asked, his eyes locking with yours, a mixture of intrigue and concern lining his features.

Feyre, ever the empath and peacemaker, extended her hand across the table toward you, her gesture one of solidarity and reassurance. "Whatever it is, you're among friends," she said gently, her voice a soothing balm in the tense silence. Her assurance was meant to comfort, to remind you of the support system that surrounded you in this room.

The deafening echo of fear reverberated through your ears, a raw, unfiltered panic seizing hold of you. Lucien's intricate connections to each person in the room flashed before your mind's eye, a stark reminder of the delicate web of alliances and loyalties that surrounded you. Though they might assume Eris to be the father of your child, the mere possibility of your momentary lapse in concentration betraying the truth sent a chill down your spine, tightening every muscle in your body with apprehension.

With a gentle lean and a deep, calming breath, Eris closed the distance between you, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he spoke softly, his words meant for your ears alone. "We can handle this together," he whispered, the warmth of his touch a silent pledge of unwavering unity and support. In that moment, his commitment shone through, steadfast and resolute, a beacon of strength amidst the tumultuous currents of political intrigue and personal turmoil.

You took a deep breath, buoyed by Eris's support and the encouraging faces around you, and found the courage to speak. "Yes, I… I'm expecting," you announced, the words coming out in a rush, laden with both fear and relief. The table responded in a variety of ways.

Cassian, the warrior with a reputation as fierce as his loyalty, recovered from his initial surprise with a broad grin spreading across his rugged features. "Well, that’s cause for celebration, isn’t it?" he declared, his booming voice breaking the tension, his demeanor shifting the mood towards one of festivity rather than scandal.

Mor, radiant and ever joyful, clapped her hands softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of happiness. "Oh, that's wonderful news!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious as she mirrored Cassian's sentiment.

The unwavering support of your new friends had the rest of the table exhaling deeply, the tension dissipating like morning mist under the first light of dawn. It was as if a collective sigh of relief swept through the grand dining hall, washing away the discomfort that had momentarily lingered in the air.

“You must be thrilled, Eris, I had no idea you were with a female, let alone close enough to start a family, an oversight on my part,” Rhysand's comment, though perhaps inadvertently brusque, was met with a swift reprimand from Feyre, her scolding glare a silent reminder of the importance of diplomacy and tact. Her subsequent words, however, carried a genuine warmth and sincerity, a testament to her graciousness and desire to foster unity among the courts.

"I believe what Rhysand meant to say," Feyre interjected smoothly, her voice gentle but firm, "is that we are genuinely happy for both of you. Congratulations are in order, and we look forward to the potential alliances that may blossom between our courts. You have found a remarkable partner, Eris, and we are honored to welcome her into our midst."

Her smile was radiant, a beacon of acceptance and friendship that illuminated the table, and you found yourself returning it with a mixture of gratitude and trepidation. The queasy churn in your stomach persisted, a reminder of the weight of the secrets still hidden, but Feyre's genuine warmth and the friendly wink she directed your way offered a glimmer of reassurance.

“Thank you,” Eris's response was measured and regal, his acknowledgment of their well-wishes tinged with a silent understanding of the delicate dance they were all engaged in.

As he pressed a tender kiss to your intertwined hands, a silent reassurance of his unwavering support, you felt a swell of affection and gratitude for the man beside you. His steadfast presence, a pillar of strength in a sea of uncertainty, was a source of comfort and reassurance amid the swirling currents of political intrigue.

With a steady voice, you echoed Feyre's sentiment, expressing your gratitude for the warm welcome extended to you both. The queasiness in your stomach persisted, a lingering reminder of the secrets still hidden beneath the surface, but the genuine warmth in Feyre's smile and the camaraderie that permeated the room filled you with a sense of cautious optimism.

"I hope to be great friends one day, Lady Feyre," you said earnestly, meeting her gaze with sincerity. The prospect of forging genuine connections with these influential figures was both daunting and exhilarating, offering the promise of camaraderie and support in a world fraught with political intrigue and danger.

As the dinner resumed, the mood lightened further, the conversation flowing freely as newfound bonds were forged over shared laughter and stories. The weight of the secrets you carried remained, a silent undercurrent beneath the surface of the evening's festivities, but for now, in the warmth of acceptance and friendship, you allowed yourself to savor the moment, cherishing the unexpected connections that had been forged in the crucible of uncertainty.

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[bookished]

( a collection of summer is ending starters or dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post ♡ if you like, please consider supporting me through tips

"The sun feels different today, like it’s saying goodbye."

"Every time the summer ends, I feel like the wind tries to tell me a secret, but I never quite hear it."

"Did you notice how the colors of the sunset have started to fade? It’s like the sky is getting ready for winter."

"The cicadas fell silent today. Do you think they know it’s the end?"

"The lake looks quieter now, as if it knows it’s time to sleep."

"I swear the shadows have gotten longer. It's like even they know the sun won’t be around much longer."

"I can feel the summer slipping through my fingers, like the warmth in the breeze is fading away."

"The ocean feels colder today, like it’s pulling away from the shore."

"The last of the fireflies are flickering out. I wonder if they know this is their last dance of the season."

"It smells different now, don’t you think? Like the earth is getting ready to sleep."

"The flowers are closing earlier each day. Do you think they know the season is ending?"

"I miss the sound of summer already. The air doesn’t hum like it used to."

"Do you feel it too? The way the light is softer, as if the sun is tired."

"The wind today feels like a memory, like it’s carrying the last whispers of summer."

"The days are shrinking. It’s like time itself knows summer is ending."

"The sunflowers have turned away from the light. It’s like they’ve already given up on summer."

"The sky feels higher now, like it’s pulling away from the earth."

"Every evening, the air smells a little more like autumn. Summer’s slipping through the cracks."

"The crickets sound different tonight, almost like they’re playing a slower tune."

"I saw the first fallen leaf today. It feels like summer is already a memory."

"Do you remember how we danced in the rain that night? It felt like the summer clouds were celebrating with us."

"We spent so many afternoons chasing the sun across the sky. Now it’s slipping away from us."

"Every time we went to the beach, the waves played with us, like they knew we only had a little time left."

"Remember when we stayed up all night, watching the stars? I think they burned brighter just for us."

"That bonfire on the last night of August… it felt like the flames were trying to hold onto the warmth of summer with us."

"I still hear the echo of our laughter from that day at the lake. Do you think the water remembers us?"

"We ran through those fields as if summer would never end. Now they look so still, like they’re waiting for us to return."

"The ice cream melted too fast, the sun set too late, and we never really noticed the days slipping away."

"Remember how the sand felt like it was alive beneath our feet, like it was trying to pull us deeper into the moment?"

"We spent the whole summer chasing sunsets, never catching one the same way twice."

"Do you think the fireflies miss us? They followed us through every twilight, lighting up our path."

"The nights were so warm, it felt like the stars were sitting with us, whispering secrets we’ll never remember."

"We picked so many wildflowers, I’m surprised the fields didn’t run out."

"The last picnic we had… the air was so sweet, like the wind had collected all the fun we’d had and wrapped it up in the breeze."

"We built sandcastles like they’d last forever. Now the beach looks so empty without them."

"We never needed clocks. The long days felt like they’d never end."