#even if he looks like a dork with all that white makeup

[softgrungeprophet]

thinking about those guns...

(peter parker's biceps in ASM#622)

[vintagecandy]

Now for the 1920s reimagining of Jonathan Crane ! sorry this explanation is even longer lmao

As everyone's been saying, I should do the rest of the Dork Squad to match 1920s Jervis, and so here is my Jonathan! Easily the hardest to draw out of the three-- but I must say! Despite being outside my expertise, I'm a little surprised how much it looks exactly like I was imagining! Even if it took me ages but that's just procrastination lmao.

Anyways! What is his deal? Well, for one, design wise I did go a more drastically different direction from his usual look by doing a literal scareCROW. He's much more bird like, with a plague doctor mask being common imagery in steampunk, but he's still very southern themed with his messy broken overall strap and patchwork coat. Even his wings are rustic. ( he can't fly just glide btw lol ) Also! I leaned hard into the color orange instead of his usual green gas because it..... bugs me that both Crane and Nygma have a bright green in their color palette. I just want them to have distinct colors if they're going to be a trio. And look how vintage halloweeny he looks !!

So why is he so well dressed out of costume? Well! This Jonathan Crane is not a psychologist at all, here he is the very successful grandfather of horror movies in the silent film era. ( An illustrious origin, i hope canon Crane would be proud lmao ). This is referenced in how his face looks, he's wearing white powder and black makeup that's usually meant to emphasize key features on blurry film like his upper lip and around his eyes. And yes, he just keeps his makeup on during most events, and people just accept he's a little on the... eccentric side.

To me, the archetype of the mad artist fits Jonathan's vibe perfectly. When it comes to striking fear, he's a perfectionist, a trait that drove him to learn every single skill necessary himself, from costume design to props to making his own cameras to mechanical engineering, to.... a "fear gas" that was supposed to gently encourage immersion in the audience but ended up becoming a dangerous chemical weapon.

For his origin crime I am thinking !! Full blown Scooby Doo style monster mystery!! With some nuance! Crane, as a first impression, gives off an immediate air of pompous, aggressively impatient, pretentious director type. His presence is big and dramatic, but its distinctly not southern-- in fact, he seems to play up something between a hollywood accent and a thespian one. But this is all to cover for his farm hick background that he was once very ashamed of.

As a child of a failing farmhand during an infamously dry and dusty era, Jonathan developed an extreme resentment for his country existence from both the bullying of other children for all his strange quirks and the severe verbal and physical abuse of his father, driven to alcoholism by the stress of poverty and the loss of his wife. Originally offering his artistic ideas as a means to help them, he grows sick of their closed mindedness and berating and runs away to learn about the emerging potential of film in Gotham City.

Its been many years, Jonathan now in his early 30s, he finds himself surrounded by the shallow, champagne aristocrats that reflect his childhood bullies. Feeling wrong in his own skin, he develops a sightly unhealthy obsession with the escapism he finds in performing as the monsters in his movies.

But upon discovering that the corrupt rich of Gotham plan to push legislation that would negatively effect farmers like his own history, and that they expected him to be amongst those who support it, his irritation with the shallowness of society reaches its limits. In day, he would feign support for their behavior to cover his tracks, but at night he would don the mask of the Scarecrow, rumored to be the vengeful spirit of a farmer who was hanged, and who he believes to be a more freeing expression of himself than his true face, targeting not just the rich but striking fear in their laborers to scare them off land. And it works. So, he tries bending the will of society more.

Is he doing this out of any moral conviction or just spite and a love for the role? It's... hard to say.

As the Scarecrow, his methods are so effective he's near uncatchable, even by Batman. Its only by solving the mystery of who is under the mask are they able to catch him. They surprise him during one of his screenings, jump him in the dark, and prove his subtle use of fear gas in the theater to the police once he's cornered. Instead of being angry, he goes to the mad house applauding Batman's performance.

What an interesting character they play. He's very inspired.

[wh0re43van]

Sparks (Evan Peters X Reader)

Summary: You’re a set director on American horror story’s Freakshow. Evan has been trying to convince you to ‘smoke and chill’ for months, but you’ve always rejected him in fear of jeopardizing your job. After a particularly stressful shoot, Evan finally convinces you to spark with him.

Warnings: intense smut, face fucking, choking, drug use.

Word count: 3k

A/n: This is my first time writing in awhile so I’m bit rusty

"Hey y/n I just re-upped,” Evan announces as he walks up behind me.  “He's got the best homegrown around and It's cured perfect every time. Come to my place tonight and I'll let you sample," He offers as he slips an arm around my shoulder. "You don't even have to match, just give me something else in return," he says lowly in my ear. My heart skips a beat and my cheeks blush red. Evans been blatantly flirting with me since we started shooting. It's been my own personal hell having to reject such a perfect man because its 'not professional to have personal relations with the cast'.

"Evan," I sigh as I look up at his dark eyes. "I honestly would love to-" he cuts me off.

"Then consider it y/n," he simply states. I smile at him. I have to admit that he's starting to wear me down

"Evan, I have to finish my walk through before the shooting starts" I turn back to the counter to consult my mockup. He backs up and leans against the wall.

"I’ll just keep you company then," he grins.

•

•

‘Fuck’ I curse internally as I run from a very angry Mr. Murphy. One of my idiot crew members forgot to do their only job and set out the menus for the next scene. We’re an hour behind on filming and we’re only here for three days. The director is pissed to say the least.

I throw open the door to the storage room and start ripping open boxes. I swear I'm going to lose every last ounce of sanity I have left. We started shooting two hours ago and I've rolled my ankle, got broken glass stuck in my hand, and of course, been bitched at constantly.

"Did you find them?" Evan questions as he closes the door behind him.

"What?" I ask, not processing what he's saying as I rip haphazardly through every single cardboard box in this room, brown paper flying everywhere.

"Did you-" He begins to repeat, then pauses. I feel him grab my arm gently, stopping my whirlwind of motion. "Y/N," he says calmy.

"What Evan?" I snap at him. I can feel the stress dripping out of every pore of my body. Turns out stress smells a lot like sweat. Evan jumps a bit at my tone, then simply points his 'lobster claw' to a box of pink menus that I opened without even realizing it. I was so stressed and overwhelmed I didn't even realize I found the goddamn menus four boxes ago.

I groan and lay my head on Evans chest.

"I'm such a fucking stupid idiot." I mumble his white shirt, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Evan chuckles and clumsily lifts my chin up with his makeup bound hands. His smile immediately drops when he sees my face.

"Hey y/n don't cry," he coos, his voice laced with concern.

"Evan I'm losing my mind," I sniffle as he pulls me into a hug.

"You know what you need?" He asks I shake my head 'yes.'

"A blunt." We both say in unison. I feel his cheek stretch into a smile against mine, proud of himself for finally convincing me.

•

•

My hand shakes as I ring the doorbell to Evans hotel room.

“Ma’ Lady,” Evan bows as he opens the door for me. What a dork.

“Thank you good sir,” I attempt a curtsy as I walk in. I guess were both dorks.

We chuckle as he latches the door behind me.

“Right this way,” he ushers me to his balcony looking over the city. I step out onto the cool concrete, hearing Heaven Beside You by Alice in Chains playing. There's two bean bag chairs set up with a bundle of blankets on each one. Purple and white string lights hang all around the ceiling and railing of the small balcony.

“Wow Evan, this is really cool. I’m impressed with how you spend your free time,” I admit, sitting down in one of the chairs, pulling a blanket into my lap.

“Actually,” he sits down in the chair beside me as he picks up the rolling tray. “I’ve never done this before. I set all of this up as soon as I got home,” he chuckles.

“I don’t even know what to say,” I tell him honestly. I’m dumbfounded. This might seem like a small gesture, but this is one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me. He went out of his way just for me.

“Then don’t say anything. Just grab me that bong,” he grins, pointing to the glass sitting on the ground next to the door. I stand up and bend over to pick up the simple clear bong, feeling Evans gaze burn into the back of me. When I hand him the piece, I get close enough to his face to see that his eyes are already glossy.

“Evan Peters,” I tisk. “did you start with out me?” I ask putting my hand to my chest in faux offense.

“I was a little nervous, I’ve been waiting for this for so long… I was scared if I was sober I’d mess it up,” he admits. His pale cheeks tinting pink.

“I’m flattered,” I smile. He opens the metal grinder sitting on his lap and begins to pack the bowl. “but it is rude to start a sesh before your guest arrives.” He hands me the packed bong.

“Well how’s bout you get this all to yourself and we call it even,” he wagers. I take the bong with a smile, accepting his offer. As I put the cool glass to my lips, I reach for the lighter on Evans thigh, but he snatches it, looking me in the eyes as he flicks the zippo, igniting a hot bright flame that he circles around the bowl. He begins to pull the flame away, but I grab his hand to hold the light in place for a couple more seconds. His eyes widen a bit and he smiles.

“Damn I’m glad I didn’t want any,” he chuckles, finally pulling away to spark his own joint. I pull the stem and inhale the milky smoke sharply, holding it in my lungs for bit before exhaling slowly. The smoke clouds around my face before a small gust of wind disperses it.

“Yeah, me to,” I grin softly as Evan takes another hit off his joint. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but with the past few weeks I’ve had, I’m goanna need a lot more than some weed to recover from all this stress,” I take another hit and lay my head back in the soft chair, finally feeling my muscles relax as the golden light flows through every nerve of my body. I turn my head and open my heavy eyes to look up at Evan.

“Wow that is bad,” he says, staring at something in the distance. I take this moment to truly admire the man beside me. The purple lights cascade onto his sharp features, violet pin pricks reflect in his coffee-colored eyes. The wind blows his loose brown curls around on his forehead as a rough hand holds the paper filter up to his pink lips. The end of the cone glows crimson as his chest rises, taking in a hit of hot smoke. Evan looks down at me to finish his thought. Had I been sober, I would have quickly looked away. But right now, nothing could tear my eyes from this perfect image in front of me. Evans’ eyes lock into mine as he releases the smoke slowly out through his mouth and nose. “Y/n, I-“ he begins, but before he can finish, I sit up and pull his face into mine. Gently kissing him, the smell of smoke mixed with his cologne is intoxicating all on its own. He tenses for a moment, processing what had just happened, before putting his hand on my back to bring me closer.

“I’m sorry,” I pull away suddenly feeling embarrassed for being so forward. Evan looks at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks for a second before furrowing his brow,

“Are you kidding me,” ashes fall from his joint onto his pants, reminding him of its presence. He takes small drag before finishing. “That’s all I’ve wanted since the moment I saw you.” I smile at his confession. He holds the joint to my lips offering me a hit. We hold eye contact as I pull the smoke into my mouth, then to my lungs. “You’re beyond beautiful y/n,” he compliments. I lean into kiss him, shot gunning the smoke to him. He kisses hard and inhales the smoke as if it’s his last breath. He sits the joint in the ash tray then puts his hand on the back of my head, gently but firmly, so I don’t pull away this time, Evan exhales the smoke though his nose, so he doesn’t have to break the kiss. I clumsily crawl into his lap to straddle him, and his hands instinctively grab my ass. The heat from his hands warming me through the thin fabric of my leggings. I feel hungry, starving for more and more of him. As my knees sink into the soft chair around him, I begin to grind my hips against his.

“Evan,” I breath out, begging to feel more of his skin on mine. He looks at me with lust filled eyes and kiss bruised lips as I begin to lift his shirt up. He grabs my hand gently.

“Let’s go inside, darling,” he whispers. “You never know if one of those creeps are near by.” He looks around, checking for paparazzi. I was puzzled for a second, before remembering Evans’ status. I nod and climb off him. He stands, his dark jeans tented at the crotch and his white t-shirt rising and falling quickly on his chest. He grabs my hand to guide me inside.

“Can’t forget this,” I grin, stopping to grab a fresh blunt and the zippo. He chuckles as I spark the cone. He pulls me into his lounge, locking the door and closing the blinds. After I had a few hits, I hand the joint to Evan as I sit down on the leather couch.

“We don’t have to do anything more than this if you don’t want y/n,” he almost whispers through the smoke, sitting down next to me. I look into his desperate eyes as he hands me the warm paper.

“Please,” I inhale. “Please Evan I need you,” I beg the stoned man in front of me. With that, in one swift move, he takes the cone from my hand, putting it on the side table ash tray, removes his shirt and smashes his lips to mine, laying me down on the sofa. His kisses trail from my lips to my ear. Grabbing my throat gently he whispers. “You have no idea how desperate I am for you,” all I can do is moan in response my brain too high off THC and lust to form a coherent thought. His kisses continue trailing down my neck as his fingers work with the buttons on my black flannel. He smiles like a child when he sees that I have nothing underneath the warm button up. His mouth quickly drops to one breast swirling his warm tongue around as his hand massages my other breast, sending me into a fit of pleasure. After giving the same treatment to the other side, he rips off my leggings. He grabs the waistband of my thong. “May I?” he asks with heavy bloodshot eyes.

“Please,” I nod. He wastes no time removing the flimsy fabric and spreading my already trembling legs. He dips a long finger into my heat, groaning at how slick I already am.

“All this, just for me?” He licks the fluid off his finger, just to dip it back inside of me and out once more. “Have a taste baby,” he reaches his finger up and I close my mouth around it, licking seductively, making sure to keep eye contact.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. “Good girl,” he praises with a kiss on my nose. He quickly dips his head back down, licking from my entrance up to my clit, sucking and licking with expertise, earning a loud moan and a string of profanities from me. I quickly feel my orgasm building in my stomach, but its not enough.

“Evan, I need you to fuck me, please,” I whimper. He pulls his head up, his mouth and chin shimmering. I definitely didn’t need to ask twice. He jumps up dropping his pants and boxers allowing his perfect cock to spring free, giving himself a few good pumps. I shiver at the sight. Evan dips his head down to my core one last time, giving me a kiss then allowing a trail of warm spit to drip down and trickle to my entrance. The sight is enough to make me melt into this sticky leather couch. Evan lines his length up with me, pulling my hips up and guiding me onto his dick. Slowly filling me, stopping halfway in allowing me to adjust, but I don’t want it. I buck my hips forward, making him bottom out immediately. A string of curses leaves both our lips as he pokes at my stomach from the inside. He begins thrusting quickly, taking the hint that I’m not  wanting to make love tonight. Evans’ toned body begins to shimmer with sweat as he brings a strong hand to my throat squeezing the sides, making me just lightheaded enough to intensify the pleasure. He looks down at me, biting his lip, as he watches my face contort in pleasure from what he’s doing to me. The louder I moan, the harder he pounds into me. My breathing starts to hitch with each thrust as I clench around him.

“Evan I’m going to-” before I can finish my sentence, he pulls out completely, making me groan from the sudden empty feeling. I curse and open my mouth to question him.

“Turn over,” he demands as he stands up. I obey and begin to shift on the couch. “hands and knees.” He specifies, slapping me hard on the ass, I cant help but giggle as the sting lingers on my sweaty skin. I prop myself up on my forearms on the arm of the couch and spread my legs, wiggling my ass a bit as wait for Evan to fill me back up.

“Your body is so perfect,” he says as grabs and kisses my ass before I feel him line himself up again, quickly thrusting in to satisfying the ache in the empty space he left behind in my stomach. Once he finds his rhythm, I feel his hand snake around my throat and the other around my torso as he pulls me flush against him. My shoulders press against his as I arch my back. In this new potion, he hits my g spot perfectly.

“Shit Evan! Yes please,” I pant. “just like this. Please fuck me just like this! Don’t stop,” I plead as I squeeze his strong arms that are wrapped around me. Even groans lowly at the praise.

“I need you to cum y/n,” he whispers in my ear, reaching down to rub circles on my clit. “Can you do that for me, gorgeous?” All I can do is moan and nod my head ‘yes’. His thrust propels me towards my orgasm as I scream out profanities. “That’s it, good girl,” his hot breath moans into my ear laced with the smell of stale smoke. I curl my toes and grip his forearms with all my force, leaving nail marks as my whole body tenses, then releases in pleasure.

“Evan I’m cumming!” My screams and the sound of our skin slapping together fill the room. “Fuck you make me feel so good,” I whimper as he begins to slow down his thrusts, allowing me to ride out my high.

“Good job baby,” he pulls out, pumping himself. “now get on your knees. Open your mouth.” I quickly obliged. I drop down and look up at him. The sight of his heaving, glistening chest and his brown curls sticking to his red sweaty face is enough to make me orgasm all over again. He reaches his veiny arm down and pulls my hair into a ponytail and. I happily open my mouth for him as he gently taps his rock hard tip on my lips, I moan quietly as he begins to slowly thrust in my face. I take it upon myself to press his dick as far as I can down my throat, gagging as my nose touches his abdomen.

“Holy fucking shit baby,” he pants out, now fucking my face. It doesn’t take long before he’s twitching in my deep in my throat and the salty pre cum drips into my mouth. “That’s it baby, fuck,” he swears as he grips my hair so hard I can feel a few strands snapping. It takes all of my strength to pull my head a away.

“Cum on my face, please Evan,” I gasp for breath, looking up at him with tears running from my pink eyes, as thick strands of spit string from my lips to his perfect dick. With a few pumps, and his death grip still on my hair, I open my mouth and hum in satisfaction as he releases his strings of hot liquid all over my face. He groans and curses, finally releasing my hair.

“Fuck y/n,” he sighs, looking down at the beautiful mess he’s created on my face. He brings his thumb to my mouth scooping up some of his cum and bring it to my lips. I smile around his thumb, lapping up all the liquid. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he looks at me with such strong admiration in his eyes, I can’t help but blush as I lay my head into the hand he puts on my cheek. “Lets get you into the shower,” he begins guides me to the bathroom but I stop him.

“Don’t you want a cigarette first” I offer, grabbing the menthols from my flannel pocket. He grins. “Well, I’m not going to ever turn down a cigarette after sex that good,” he looks at the state of my face again. “But let me at least wipe off your face first. It’s the least I could do.” I giggle as he walks over to get a wet rag. This is absolutely worth risking my job for.

[dearanakin]

"Here's your treat, Sailor" - Steve Harrington x f! Reader

Summary: It's Halloween and you're celebrating your birthday. You throw a small party at your house, but end up locked in your closet with Steve. Give him a treat, he's upset, yeah?

Warnings: A little fluff, a little smut. Oral sex, cursing. 18+ DNI

Word count: 2.6k (just a quick story)

Being born close to Halloween means it was always most likely you would throw a themed birthday party. Two days before the actual date, you were celebrating at a bar with your closest friends, always excited to gather all of them and your other friends. 

Hours before the party, you were getting help from Robin and Eddie with the decoration, while Steve and Dustin - your not-so-baby-brother - were cleaning the house. 

Jonathan and Nancy were in charge of the rest; food, crockery, cups and stuff like that. A faint rock music was playing on a boombox as you were all busy with the arrangement. 

You were pretty excited this year, for the first time after getting into college you invited a few friends you got along. Not that you weren't missing having a boyfriend, but every time you'd go out with someone, it turns out they just want sex, and you didn't like that. 

Pumpkins with wicked grins lined the path to the entrance, their flickering candles casting eerie shadows. A large, ancient oak tree was adorned with fake cobwebs and ghostly apparitions hanging from its branches, swaying gently in the autumn breeze. A fog machine sent wisps of mist rolling across the yard, setting the perfect, eerie mood.

It was 8 pm sharp when the first guests arrived. Mike with El, Lucas with Max and Will, who were not that young anymore either, they were all like 18, 19. You couldn't hold a grin to see them dressed as Ghostbusters, like every year they wear matching costumes.

You and your friends made a deal you'd surprise each other with your costumes, so a while after the kids arrived, Eddie knocked on the door and as you opened it, and it was impossible to miss. He had transformed himself into a member of the legendary rock band, Kiss. 

He was wearing a very made up costume. He even painted in the signature black and white makeup, wearing a black leather vest, displaying his flat abs.

He wore a skin-tight, leather jumpsuit adorned with studs and spikes. Behind him, Robin was wearing a camouflage outfit, along with black boots just like Eddie. 

"Wow, you took the 'dressed to kill' idea very seriously!" She said as she complimented you. As a lesbian, she couldn't stop looking at your cleavage.

You went for an Elvira look with a black, form-fitting, low-cut dress, with a slit on the side. The v-neck showed a little too much of your chest, which would make every guy look at you for more than five minutes. 

"Eddie, come on dork. Stop stripping her with your eyes!" She mocked him, laughing at the way he was just frozen, still looking at you. 

"Happy birthday, sweetheart. Nice choice. Gonna make every dude in this house get a boner" He tried to sound playful, but he only just turned himself in. 

"Thank you so much for the heads-up. I had no idea" Ironically, you weren't really expecting that. Maybe that's why Mike and Lucas got flickered in their foreheads earlier. 

Steve was more obvious and it made you laugh. He just chose to wear his Scoops Ahoy uniform, without the hat. Because that would ruin his perfect hair.

And again, what Eddie said echoed in your head, because the hairy chested guy couldn't stop staring at your breasts until you tried to pinch him. Jonathan and Nancy were wearing something very couple-like, and it was heart melting. 

There were people chatting in the backyard, some were listening to music while talking and drinking, Dusty and the kids were talking about some game. The couple was somewhere, probably exchanging saliva, and you were talking with Robin, listening to her charm about Vickie, while Eddie was smoking a joint. 

"Hey, where the hell is Steve?" She asks after a brief pause, watching as Eddie shrugs his shoulders. "I haven't seen him in like, twenty minutes, I think?".

"Probably fixing his hair or managing to get his dick wet" He scoffed. 

Both of you looked at him in disbelief, he was just trying to mock. "Ew, Munson. I know he used to be like that, but he wouldn't do this. Not at my house at least" You respond, but he doesn't agree. 

"Eh, could be. But let's be honest. The guy is charming, pretty, and has a good talk. Any girl would jump on him like that" He snaps his fingers. 

"I'm gonna look for him around here. You can go upstairs" You tell her before leaving him alone, who mumbles something about Steve "needing a babysitter" or something. 

You had no idea where the guy could've gone. He just didn't say anything before ghosting, and it's not like there was a way of communicating to him, unless he had a walkie. But this wasn't one of his gatherings with the kids. 

You looked behind the curtains, because, you never know right? Under the table, behind the couch, in the guest restroom and even behind any door, but still nothing. Robin said she didn't see him upstairs.

She went to the backyard and asked the others about him. Until you realized you didn't look for him in one spot that anyone could fit in: the closet under your stairs. 

He was sitting there with a different look on his face. Maybe tired? You didn't know. He had his back resting against the wall, fidgeting his fingers. A cup with some drink was also resting on the floor. 

"Care to explain why you're hiding at my party without saying anything?" You ask, but he doesn't bother to look at you. 

He shrugs his shoulders, pouting. "I'm sorry it's your birthday party. I just didn't feel like being around". 

You wanted to ask, but you weren't sure he would answer you. Still holding the doorknob, you reach out your hands, so he can lift himself up, but he doesn't. 

"C'mon Steve, let's try and cheer up, yeah? You want me to change the music? Is it boring?" He shakes his head. "You want something else to drink? Food?". Nothing. 

As soon as he gets up, he closes the door behind you, before you protest. What he doesn't know is that If you close the door, it locks from the inside. He just locked you both in there. 

"Steve-" You try to tell him, but he cuts you off.

"Can you not tell this to Robin just yet? It's going to sound really stupid" He asks, his tone was low and pretty hurtful. 

"Steve, you can't close this door from the inside. We're locked in here". 

He snaps his eyes and raises both eyebrows. He tries to open the door but nothing happens.

"You're fucking kidding me. I just locked the party host in the closet" He groans, yanking his head against the door. 

"Yeah, thank you. Now Robin is going to think we're either missing or messing around". 

Steve still has his head resting against the door, banging it carefully. 

"Could this night be any shittier?" You don't get why he seems stressed, but you try to ask him anyway. 

"What happened, sailor?" He chuckles lightly, almost like in a bittersweet way. 

"If you make fun of me I'll get your gift back" He threatens. "Just this girl I was talking to earlier in the backyard.. I asked her for her number and she said I was a 'stupid momma's boy and that my reputation is wrecked'" He mourns.

"You know you're not like that anymore, right?" You try to ease him and reassure you don't think of him that way. 

He still laughs sarcastically. "Seems like I still am". He sighs. "That's the problem. People still see me like that, and I hate it". 

"Just because some random girl said that to you, it doesn't mean it's true". 

Steve tries to take in your words as he crosses his arms on his chest and ponders. He hasn't been like that in ages, why would he still make it a big deal anyway? Seems like he needed to work out his self-esteem. 

"Maybe you're right. How's the party?" He still sounds like he's offended, maybe he just needs a hug.

"Well, it's been pretty good until you locked us in" You joke, watching him slightly chuckle.

"You look really good as Elvira" Steve gives you a gentle side smile and you grab his hand. 

"You look the same as always, sailor" Snorting, he gives you a death glance. Like, it's not the first time you see in that outfit. 

"Just think you missed the boobs". Oh, that was a burn. 

Walking towards him, you make sure you're pressing your sides to show a little more cleavage, and he gulps. "What, you don't think this cleavage isn't enough?" Your voice was smooth and low. 

As you reach to both his arms, he tries to not stare at you for too long or he breaks. Your pleading eyes actually hold something different and it makes his boxer feel uncomfortable already. You've always thought he was good looking, even with the stupid outfit.

"I.. uh- No, it's great" He nervously laughs, his hands never meet your body out of respect for you. 

You tease him as you lean against his body, and Steve is looking confused at you. "Eddie was right when he said every guy would get a boner with my costume".

He tries to hold a nervous chuckle and fails. "I don't have a boner, what do you mean?"

"Then what are you hiding in there, an ice cream scoop?" The taunting was terrible, but it makes him laugh as his cheeks flush. 

"You're a terrible person" This time he holds his gaze directly at your eyes and leans closer until your noses bump. "You're incredibly sexy and terrible".

"And yet you're the one dressed as a sailor with your uniform" You retort, wrapping your hands around his neck. He feels your chest pressed against his, as well as his growing crotch. 

He doesn't give you an answer, but instead he just crashes his lips against yours, holding your chin in a light grip. He tastes like beer, he smells like Calvin Klein and you don't regret this little show you're having. 

It doesn't have to be something serious right now, so you just enjoy it when he slides his tongue against yours, letting out a groan to your surprise. One of his hands slides down your body, holding your waist as he tries to bring you closer to him.

You feel his hard cock rub against your cunt under the dress and it burns your skin. Grasping his lower lip against your teeth, you let out a teasing gasp, learning Steve is just about to throw you against the wall and fuck you there. 

But before he even tries anything, you start kissing him again, feeling his hot tongue swirling around yours in a battle for dominance. It makes your brain twist and your stomach sink. It makes your entire body shiver. 

He pulls back only to breathe, his haired chest is heavily panting and his lips are swollen. "This is what they're missing. So, fuck them" You praise. 

His big squared hand grabs your cheek carefully as he uses his thumb to rub his digit against your skin. "Thank you" That's all he says. 

Watching him from that position, it makes you realize he's everything Eddie said before. He is charming, pretty, and has a good talk. He's also caring, smart and gentle. If you could, you would put him in a bubble and take care of him. 

You pull him by the collar only to give him a peck before sliding both hands down his stomach until your hands reach the elastic of his shorts.

He looks at you, confused and sort of lost with the action. "Here's a Halloween treat, sailor". You kneel in front of him.

The tone of your voice is barely above a whisper and it carries luxury, filling the air of the small closet. His throat is now dry as he gulps harshly. You pull down his piece of clothing before glancing carefully at his hardened cunt under the fabric.

It pulses when you softly touch his base and Steve almost collapses under your hands. He helps you get rid of his boxer, muffling his grunt when you hold it in your right hand. Your best hand, the one you know you can give a nice handjob. 

But this time you catch him off guard when your mouth gives him a soft open mouthed kiss on the glistening tip of his cock. He's kinda big, and thick, and it makes your mouth water with desperation. You glide your tongue until it reaches his balls and he flinches, hissing. 

"Jesus fuck" He cries. It makes you grin through his cock. 

Slowly, you swallow him until it reaches the back of your throat and you try not to gag. His reflection is to pull a handful of your hair and he slowly loses it.

Working along with your tongue, you start bobbing your head up and down, careful to not choke on his cunt. You cup his balls with your free hand and softly rub them against your soft fingers. 

Steve almost starts sliding down the wall, trying to hold himself up. He feels himself completely at your mercy, not knowing why it feels so good, considering you were good friends.

You hum while tasting every inch of him, feeling his dick twitch inside your mouth, dripping with precum.

He uses one hand to hold himself while the other one still pulls your hair. The sound of your throat against his dick is echoing inside the closet, while his breathing makes the air become stuffy. Your mouth sucks him so perfectly, your throat tightens around him.

"I'm not gonna las- Fuck-" He sttuters when you hollow your cheeks and suck him hard, the loud gasp coming off his mouth makes you feel so horny you almost give up on this. 

The way you concentrate on your movements, always switching so it doesn't give you cheek cramps, makes him want to thrust against your mouth. But he knows his limits and he doesn't want you to choke on him either.

He watches with bliss on his eyes the way your head bobs towards him and it makes him dizzy at your sight. You look at him with lust and awe, savoring his salty liquid, feeling how his fat cock stretches your mouth so it can fit in.

Your hand falls from his balls to his hairy and thick thighs, digging your nails into his skin, listening to every moan he spills against the thin air. 

"I'mgonnacum" He slurs and you feel his hips shuddering as he finally reaches his peak, washing over your throat. You swallow him entirely, his warm cum suddenly makes you feel too blissed from the moment. 

Steve can barely breathe, you watch him almost gasp for air. His chest is heavily panting and sweating, just like his flushed face.

You noticed how messy his hair is. After swallowing it all, you give him a quick peck on his sensitive tip and he pulls back from the sensation. 

He helps you get up from your knees, still staring at you amused. You quickly clean the corner of your mouth, licking the same spot. "God, you are fascinating". 

When he leans forward to give you another kiss, not giving a shit you taste like him, the door finally opens and Robin stares at both of you in shock. 

"What the fuck happened here?".

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons that have no rhyme or reason

So I said in this post that I think Ambrosius is an incredible cook

And Nimona is too (she’s just too lazy to cook half the time)

But something in my spirit tells me Bal can’t cook to save his life 

He was homeless before he joined the institute and once he was in the institute he never had access to the kitchen after he was knighted he was on the run

So he never really had a chance to teach himself 

And because of that every single thing this man touches in the kitchen is a disaster

Bless his heart he really tries but he’s also succeeded in setting water on fire and giving Ambrosius food poisoning so potent that he had to call out of work for a week

Nimona swears to this day that they saw one of Bal’s meals move on its own

He’s also like a newborn giraffe in the kitchen

There have been multiple times when he’s knocked ingredients over or dropped finished meals 

And sometimes he gets so caught up in his head that he forgets both of his arms aren't metal which resulted in him almost grabbing trays from the oven without a mitt

Ambrosius says every time he steps into the kitchen to do more than pour water or grab a snack years are taken off his lifespan 

Most of the time Ambrosius and Nimona can’t be in the kitchen when the other is cooking 

They both get unreasonably angry when people stand in the kitchen while they’re cooking 

There are some small exceptions like sometimes they’ll ask the other to be the taste tester

They also don’t get angry when they bake for some reason

It astonishes Bal and sometimes he just watches them in awe because whenever he enters the kitchen Nimona threatens to bite his head off

I have like no knowledge of fashion but I know enough about these characters to fucking hate their clothes 

Like I get it they were cogs in the machine so their clothes should reflect that but you would think would at least try and change them after the wall fell

Be advised these headcanons aren’t going to be groundbreaking and will probably exit canon because I’m delusional 

Bal is a dark academia dork

This man would live in comfy sweaters and button-ups and nice slacks 

I think looking put-together and professional would calm him down and have an obvious difference in his mood 

Ambrosius would hate the idea that clothes are gendered 

If he wants to wear a skirt or a dress he’s wearing a skirt or a dress

There are multiple times when people have tried to get him to change into pants and every single time he tells them no

I feel like he would also wear brighter colors but he would stray from gold gray or white 

He would also wear makeup prove me wrong 

Nimona would dress like a punk obviously 

But something tells me that he would have loud ass accessories 

His jewelry is big and will clack together 

He’s got a million pins on his clothes and bags and they all hit each other and the jewelry 

Even things like their keychain are loud and cluttered 

Everything about them from their personality and voice to their outfit and accessories is loud and announces their presence and they wouldn’t have it any other way

[shady-scripter]

Time Gets to be a Dork Today :D

Originally made to be a treat for @hero-dualies-pog but it’s here now :)

What a nice day of the year. It was the only day Time could go around, scaring the shit out of kids, without it being seen as disgusting or even weird.

It was safe to say, he was going to overdo it.

It wasn’t his house decor that he overdid. No. It was his costume.

He made his finishing touches in his bedroom, Malon making something that smelled so inviting, but no. He must commit to the craft. He was going to give a kid nightmares tonight, even if it killed him.

The sun was close to being under the horizon when he finished the last touches. He smiled at his work. Now it was time for the makeup.

Aw yes, Time was a great makeup artist. I mean, he was a face painter for his first job. He was an artist at heart.

He tied his hair up before he began. Then he went for the deep black eye shadow around his eyes first, as it was the easiest part. He placed the single red contact lense in his left eye and a black sclera lense in his right eye.

Now was for the rest of his face. He was grateful that he was smart enough to practice this part a few times.

He painted pale white paint around his face. Then painted an upside down heart on his nose. Mimicking a skull isn’t too hard once you’ve done it a few times.

It took a few shading lines and lines above his lips for him to be finished. He stepped back and fully looked at himself in the mirror. He smiled. He. Looked. Perfect.

He let out a triumphant laugh. Soon after, the bathroom door opened and there stood his wife, Malon.

She stared for a few seconds before smiling. “You really are committed, aren’t you?”

Time nodded, a dorky smile still on his face.

“Well, you know what? I bet that I, Malon Lon, the one with a dress and a mask, can scare more kids than a fallen, decayed, knight.”

Time’s eyebrows raised. When his initial shock went down, he slowly leaned down to Malon’s height. “Like. Hell.”

They ate dinner and got dressed.

Most of Time’s armor was made of styrofoam, but some parts needed wire to hold together. But all and all, it was surprisingly light. And he could move around in it. The chainmail underneath, however, did compromise some things. He knew that he would have to Micheal Myers speed walk or actually growl to scare kids, but he’s not going to act like he hasn’t done that before.

Malon, like she had said, wore a colorful mask the shape of a horse’s head with a mane attached to it and a dress with long, flailing, tassels of several different colors. Her outfit clearly had enough space to chase kids. Time was at a disadvantage.

The night breeze hit Time’s exposed skin under the, already cool, chainmail.

“Rules are,” Time began, “kids are one point, teens are three, adults are five.” Malon nodded.

“Can we get charged for this?”

“Only the goddesses know. I’ve been doing this for years, darling.”

Malon nodded again. Time smirked and nudged his wife. “Feeling a little…anxious?”

Malon faced him and stared into his one, blood red, eye. “Like. Hell.”

Then they split up.

[easypeasylindyvesey]

I Think it’s Strange We Never Knew: Jimmy Vesey x fem!OC

Summary: After the unforeseen death of Abby’s boyfriend, one of the NHL’s star defenseman and her teammate, she severely struggles with managing her grief. She confides in Jimmy Vesey, who is not only another teammate of hers, but is one of the very few people she has a strong friendship with. That is until that night and the days that followed. Does this life-altering news change the trajectory of their personal perceptions of each other? Or does it entail a chance of crossing boundaries for the risk of moving on?

Word Count (excluding title and heading): 10,205

*(General) Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door description), eventual confession of feelings, grief, panic attack(s), angst, eventual sexual implications but no smut, age gap

*Note: This story takes place in the future. Abby is 24-25 and Jimmy is 33-35.

JUNE 2027 (Warnings: (foul) language, mention/discussions of death)

They say life will throw you one curveball after another, without warning, without any time to prepare, without anticipation and any chance to adjust. I guess you could say this is what losing Ryan has felt like: the death, then the wake, then the funeral, then the isolation, then the arguments, even more isolation, then the hospital, and now, my first day attending grief counseling.

I spend forever in my room figuring out what to wear. What type of clothes do you put together in these types of circumstances? I’ll think one outfit is inappropriate, yet the other is not appropriate enough. Do I wear jewelry? Curl my hair? Layer my hormonal face in makeup? Wear heels? All this for a 45 minute session? Someone needs to give me an answer.

Settling with a white and blue striped tank top, white jeans, and my one and only pair of sandals that I rarely ever wear, I keep my hair down and put on a minimal amount of jewelry. I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself. I look around my room before grabbing my purse that was hanging off the back of the door and make my way out into the living room.

Jimmy’s finished loading the dishwasher and turns around to clean the counter. He looks at me, trying to give a supportive smile. “You ready?”

I sway from side to side. “I’m nervous.”

“It’s normal to be nervous.”

Yeah, let’s see, have you ever tried therapy?

“I don’t wanna pour my heart out to a stranger.”

He drops the cleaning rag on the counter. “Don’t think of it like that. No one said you had to. You’re not obligated to tell them everything. Just try to be honest when they ask you those questions. It’s fairly recent. I’m sure they’ll understand if you can’t respond to everything.”

I nod. “Yeah, I hope so.”

“You want any advice?”

“If it’ll ease the pounding in my chest, then yeah, go for it.”

“Remember that they’re only asking you certain things because they need to figure out what approach will work best. It’s only to be beneficial, not harmful.”

Okay, so he’s totally not wrong.

“Thanks.” I reply.

“Yeah, always,” he concludes. “You gotta get going or you’ll be late. You know the address and who you’re seeing, right? I know that I made the appointment for you, but I wasn’t sure if you’d need a refresher.”

I shake my head. “No, I got it.” I start walking to the door to exit the apartment. “Enjoy your alone time.”

He sends me a peace sign from across the room. Such a dork. “Can’t wait to hear about it.”

I can only manage a grimace before I open the door and shut it behind me. I don’t lock it because I know he’ll do it anyway. I make a left and stop at the inverted area where the elevator is. It’s the same routine: press the down button, get in, press the 1 button, doors close, look around in silence and fear the worst case scenario of getting trapped (this time, I don’t), doors open, and out I walk into the lobby, out the main doors, and into the parking lot to find my car. Once I flag it down, I get in, start the engine, and take a moment to exhale a dramatic sigh. Okay, moment’s over. I can’t waste any more time. I move into drive and exit out of my parking spot and out onto the main road in no time.

Since this action itself could not be denied in any way, and I considered it his act of service to advocate for me (I’m currently avoiding the world help because just the thought of it makes me feel dragged down), the one thing I asked of him is to not attend any of these sessions, and that includes driving me there. I’m currently scheduled for one 45 minute session every week. I wanted to do half an hour, but Jimmy thought I’d benefit more with just the slightest bit of extra time, and definitely not an hour because it’s too much. He said that he would pay for them until I get in the hang of it, and then I’ll take responsibility for it. It feels like numerous lifetimes since we’ve agreed on something.

I have reason to believe he’s still holding the tiniest of grudges since the hospital. It really did not occur to me how scared shitless he was. He’s always been one to be honest with his words while metaphorically slapping you across the face, telling you to get your shit together because he can’t bear to see you in any other mental state than not being happy and thriving. He’s helped me with cleaning my cuts and applying new bandages to them every day. We’ve started watching TV together and watching baseball, even though I think it is an absolute snoozefest. The conversation is not as awkward or restricted. I feel there’s a little more breathing room. It doesn’t take away from the fact that I’m convinced he still hates me. From what I can concur, he’s holding on by a thread until I do something even more catastrophic. I wish that I could take a pair of scissors and just let him break from its grip so he can free himself from the incessant worrying. I still don’t think that it’s doing him any good.

Speaking of the cuts, the swelling and redness have significantly gone down, but I still have to wear my bandages at least until the end of the week, and then I can liberate my wrists from them. The only time they’re not worn is when I wash my hands or take a shower. I can already tell they’re going to scar, but if anything, they’ll be light ones. Another way that Ryan can remain with me. After all, I did get to see him again, this time in better shape.

I finally arrive at the counseling center. I take a minute to sit and observe my surroundings before I go in. Staring until I zone out, I take a sip of the water bottle in my cup holder that has totally not been sitting there since I made the trip to Greenburgh. It’s warm, but it doesn’t expire. I’m playing on the risky edge again.

Without giving myself a second thought, I open up the door and step out into the parking lot, shutting the door behind me and walking to the other side in order to grab my purse. I shut the door again, lock the car, and slowly, yet surely, approach the front doors. Talking is easy, so, it should be easy, right?

I make it through the front doors, up to reception, check in, and sit down the furthest away from everyone else. There’s a tiny wooden table with decorative plants and magazines and personalized business cards. I feel like everyone’s looking at my wrists. Why are they covered up? What secrets does she have lying underneath them?

Something that I will not be able to successfully do is intentionally miss a session, not only because Jimmy’s got my future appointments written on a Post-It and held up by a magnet on the fridge, but because they’ll literally call the apartment and leave a message saying that I didn’t show up, and because they’re so fancy-shmancy, an absence fee will be charged, and he sure won’t be happy about that. I’ve taken a break from pissing him off and will use this time to hopefully make him feel more relaxed and in hopes that he can start to trust me again. He did say if I pulled that “thing” off, in which case I did, it would take him a long time for me to earn that back. I don’t think I’m even on my way yet. This is a good first step.

I’m startled by the sound of a woman emerging from the doorway in the corner and calling out my name. I take a quick look at her. She’s got blonde hair and glasses, wearing a lavender pantsuit with matching heels. And yet I was afraid of feeling like I would overdress.

I follow behind her and into what I assume is her office. Surprisingly, it’s very big. It’s got a long desk, spinny chair, a couch, a large ass window that oversees the back parking lot, separate chairs across from her desk, and lots of certificates. So she’s smart and going to pick my brain apart? Sounds fab!

The woman takes a seat behind her desk and gives me a little smile. “I’m Dr. Meadows,” she begins. “It’s nice to meet you, Abby. Take a seat wherever you’d like.”

I choose to sit in front of her because if I pick the couch, I’m not gonna make the effort to maintain eye contact. I have to force myself to do this. That starts with the hard conversation.

Dr. Meadows reaches for a file on her desk. In all certainty, I would guess that it’s mine. I don’t know what would even be in it. Maybe the death certificate of my heart?

“I want to spend this first session discussing why you’re here, how you think this counseling would benefit you, perhaps open you up to future options you’d like to pursue. Why don’t we start with the purpose of this visit? Have you ever been involved in grief counseling before?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“And what is the reason for being referred? It says in your file that you had a visit to New York Presbyterian on May 26th, where a Dr. Sanderson distributed several brochures on behalf of enrolling in grief counseling.”

I clear my throat. “Yes. Uh, my boyfriend passed away in March.”

She gives me a genuine look of sadness. “I’m so sorry for your loss. If you don’t mind me asking, what was the nature of his death?”

“Car accident. Guy that hit him was DUI. Got released on bail, no jail time. Still mad about that.”

“I can see why,” Dr. Meadows sympathizes. “You have every right to be. What was your boyfriend’s name?”

I sigh. “Ryan.”

“And what was Ryan like?”

Oh, boy, we could be here awhile.

“I can’t even give you a full description or we’d be here past 45 minutes,” I attempt to joke. “But he was great. Great friend, great man, great person, an even better boyfriend. We were friends for not even a full 6 months before we went out on our first date. He had the tough exterior, soft interior aspect. Out of all the people he knew, I was put first pretty much all the time, even though I’d always tell him to put me second so that he can be first, but I don’t think he wanted to follow that script. No, if any, rarely ever arguments or fights, had some trouble communicating his feelings but never took it out on me, made sure I always had what I needed. He made me feel proud to be his girlfriend, feel seen, actually feel wanted. I never felt like I had to worry about coming up short.”

She listens intently. “And how long were you two together?”

“One year and 10 months. Our two year anniversary would’ve been last month.”

“And how have you been dealing with this loss?”

What a unique question.

“Well, you tell me, since it’s all in my file.”

She leans forward in her chair, not in an intimidating way, but more of a sign to fully concentrate. “The only thing I know that’s in your file is that you attempted suicide the morning of May 26th and were rushed to the emergency room.”

Okay, never mind. Guess I’ll just tell her!

I sigh, tapping my fingers on my purse. “I moved in with one of my friends immediately after I got the news.”

“And what is this friend’s name?”

The wall clock ticks obnoxiously loud in my ear. “Jimmy.”

“And how does Jimmy treat you?”

He went behind my back and told the team about my panic attack. He pointed a knife at me. He likes to pick arguments just to rile me up. He thinks I’m a weight holding him down. He doesn’t trust me at all.

“He treats me just fine.”

It’s not a wholehearted lie. I’m tired of lying, anyway.

“Has he been there since Ryan’s death?”

“Yes.” Sometimes a little too much.

“How is he handling everything?”

“Well, he didn’t end up attempting to kill himself, so I’d say better than me.”

Dr. Meadows just stares at me before asking another question. “Has he been trying to assist you in easing everything that’s going on?”

“I keep telling him I don’t need it.”

“Why is that?”

“Because he’s trying to fix something that he can’t.”

“I see. And by the ‘something,’ you mean the relationship you had with Ryan?”

“Yes.”

“Are you afraid he wants to replicate it with you?”

I scoff. “Absolutely not. It’s never crossed my mind.”

“Are you afraid he’s trying to throw it away?”

“No, that’s what I’m doing.”

She taps the pen on her notepad. I see there’s nothing written down. “Why are you trying to throw it away?”

“Because I don’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too tiring.”

“What exactly are you tired of?”

“I’m tired of everyone thinking they can do something to make sure the pain goes away when I know they’re just making it worse.”

“Do you think Jimmy’s at fault for that?”

Since when did this become a discussion about him? It’s supposed to be about me. I guess she’s asking in order to understand the current situation.

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“He’s always checking up on me, asking me if I’m okay, infiltrating my space, all of it. He was literally handcuffed to me at the wake and funeral, we shared a room in the hotel, shared an Uber back to the airport, and now we share an apartment. It’s like he can’t take the hint.”

“Have you been providing him with any?”

“Yeah, I’ve explicitly told him to stay away from me and give me that space that I’m asking for, and he still won’t do it.”

She nods. “Do you think he’s doing it in order to keep an eye on you, make sure he doesn’t end up feeling responsible for your actions?”

“He already feels responsible for the hospital. I bet he’s wishing that it did follow through.”

Now, she shakes her head. “I don’t think that. From what you’re telling me, he seems to care quite a lot. Could it be that you’re resistant to accepting what he’s willing to offer?”

I shrug my shoulders, focusing on the framed certificates behind her on the wall. “I guess so.”

“You need to change that thinking, and that starts with not worrying about what could go wrong, but rather what could go right when you listen to him, take his advice, whatever it is. You can’t deny that he wants to be there for you. And you’re right about him not being able to fix what your previous relationship had, but I think he wants to remind you about how much there is to look forward to, even with its absence.”

I open my mouth. “We’ll see how far that gets me.”

She looks at me, a combination of serious and sincere, just like Jimmy does on occasion. She reaches into her drawer and pulls out a pharmaceutical bag with a label on it. “I think we’ll start with an antidepressant, once a day for 30 days, and then by that session, we can evaluate and see if we’ll need to increase the dose, decrease it, maybe try something new. Along with that, I would begin communicating with Jimmy and keep it as a conversation rather than turning it into an argument. It’s not healthy for your relationship.”

Frenemies is a better word. 

I don’t have the energy to continue rebutting her points, so I spend the rest of the time listening to the approaches we’ll take moving forward, consisting of what we’ll discuss in our sessions and what we’ll pinpoint our focus on. She tells me to start the medication today and to try my best to take it at the same time each day. Of course, she’s heavy on how missing one day can affect the departure or remainder of some symptoms. She probably thinks of it as a tiny, microscopic pill that’s intended to be re-energizing, but I’m probably going to end up feeling like a deflated balloon.

When the session ends, as I walk out the doors I came through and back to the car, holding the bag in my hand, I feel like dropping it in the parking lot and abandoning it, maybe running it over just for fun. However, I don’t think he’d be convinced that I would come home without any medication. People that aren’t depressed don’t try to escape by razor blades.

I lightly drop it on the floor in front of the passenger seat and drive away. The experience wasn’t bad, but I just feel like it’s a little forced. I think it’s too soon. There’s not going to be a better time to talk to someone that isn’t him, but it’s still kinda new. I’ve been in “therapy” before, even though I wouldn’t categorize it as that. I wouldn’t say it positively contributed to my routine. There are just some instances where I won’t feel like talking and need my space. Unfortunately, this is not an instance that counts.

Back at the apartment, I sit in the parking lot for 15 minutes. I’m debating on how to start the conversation once I enter the door. I hope he knows it isn’t going to be filled with groundbreaking revelations. I also hope he doesn’t talk my ear off. Luckily, he’s been doing that less. Go, Jim, go!

With my surprising yet slight increase in courage, I find myself taking the elevator ride up to the 4th floor and get my keys out of my purse to unlock the door. If we aren’t in the apartment at the same time, we’ll just lock the bottom knob instead of securing the latch above. Obviously, it’s an easier way for us to get in. It’s also less raucous when one of us is banging on the door to be let in while the other’s gotta get up from where they were just to unsecure the latch. It can become annoying if you forget more than once.

The door opens and I quietly walk in, surveying the scene, if you will. Something’s already off.

I don’t see him.

Which is weird because almost 9 times out of 10, every time I’ve re-emerged through the door, he’s either been in the kitchen or on the couch. Today, he’s not. Unless he went out, and then I see his keys sitting on the counter, so definitely not. Where is he?

I hope he’s not lying on the floor in the bathroom, returning the favor.

The bathroom door is open, and the lights are off, so that’s a clear indicator no one has entered. Although, it doesn’t mean that anyone has exited.

But you know what other door is open? The one that leads to his room.

Bingo.

I walk past the island and strut toward my room, and then I hear a “Hey” that halts any further movement. I look into his room and see him with his laundry basket on the bed. It looks like he just went to get it because the basket is literally filled to the brim.

“Hi.”

He keeps his recently washed shirt in his right hand. “How was it?”

I shift my balance between both feet. “Fine.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Sure. I’ll just go change.”

If I’m strongly encouraged to listen to Dr. Meadow’s advice, I need to get into the habit of doing it now.

I change back into my pajamas and notice my full laundry basket sitting on the floor next to the nightstand. Nice that he thought of me, too. I’ll check to see if he’s “accidentally” mixed anything up later.

Walking my way back into his room, I want to make myself useful and help him fold and put away his laundry, but he pushes me away from it. “I got it, you just talk.”

I let out a large puff of air. “Uhh, okay, we talked about Ryan, obviously, and the changes that have happened and how I’m adjusting to them, and then we talked about you for a bit.”

Jimmy stops pairing his socks together and looks straight past my eyes and perhaps somewhere deeper. “Why were you, uh, why were you talking about me?”

“Because Dr. Meadows wanted to know a little more about the living situation; you know, if you’re treating me well, how you’re coping with everything, how I could improve myself around you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Improve yourself around me? What does that mean?”

“I told her that I’ve kinda been pushing you away and how I don’t need you to be my constant shadow. I admitted that I haven’t been giving myself the chance to listen to what you have to say and explain yourself, and she thinks that I need start to communicating better by not willing to turn every time we talk into a screaming fest. Oh, and I gotta take a happy pill everyday for the next month.”

He resumes putting away his laundry, walking over to the closet to retrieve a hanger. “Hey, whatever prevents us from another hospital trip.”

“Ha ha.”

I know it’s not funny, but I can’t help it. Nice to finally get to tease him again.

“So,” he continues, “am I gonna have to micromanage you taking those pills?”

I shake my head, even though his back is turned toward me. “Nope.”

He turns around. “You purposefully miss one day and you’re absolutely done for.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I mean it, Abb.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

He points at me. “Don’t fuck with me.” 

“Already did that.”

“Or I will call your parents and tell them to drive on down here so they can talk to you themselves.”

I scoff. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He shrugs. “I’ve got all the power with one press of a button.”

I’m starting to realize that from now on, if I do decide to go against his wishes, he won’t think twice about following through on what he says, let alone give me a second chance.

I lift up my hand and extend my pinky. “I promise.”

He quickly walks over and joins his own pinky with mine. “I promise.”

We leave our pinkies interlocked for a few moments. This time, neither of us can go back on our word. It’ll be a breach of trust. Then again, we’ve already breached it on more than one occasion. No outs.

By the time the contact ends, my pinky is left burning, and I know it’s from his body heat, but figuratively, it’s a symbol for this to be ingrained in my conversations with him moving forward.

Over the next week, I’ve fallen into I guess you could say a new routine. I wake up, do my skincare, have breakfast, and then take the pill. It’s easier to get it done at the beginning of the day and have it over with. Of course, I’m not able to ingest it without Jimmy tentatively watching me. So much for not micromanaging. Again, I’ve gotta earn his trust back. He’s not gonna hand it to me because he feels bad. I’m not sure what his feelings are right now. It’s probably a mix of anger and caution. I know once the pill is swallowed, he’ll either tell me I did a good job or do a quick nod and walk away. Other than that, nothing much has changed via our methods of communication.

I’ve started to go out a little bit more, whether taking a brisk walk around Downtown or picking up dinner. Whatever the task may be, I am for certain that I will return back to the apartment in one piece. In all seriousness, I hope he’s not worried about me going out and then intently running in front of a car. It’s not the first thing I think about while crossing the busy street. Although, if I do manage to notice any sort of pickup truck, the only thing I wish is that he’s actually driving around in one. Now that I mentioned it, what happened to his car? Was it so badly damaged that they had to tow it or even toss it in a junk yard? No one ever informed me about that. It’s been almost three months already. If someone had an answer, I probably would’ve known by now.

I mailed the Country Fest tickets back to his parents. I called them and said that it would be a shame if they didn’t go to use. Besides, I’m not in any mood to travel outside of New York right now. I know I have to get back in the habit once preseason starts in September, but I don’t think I’m fully ready yet. It’d be nice to take one summer trip. It doesn’t have to be extravagant; heck, it can be a drive upstate for literally just the weekend and I’d be okay with it. I’m a simplistic woman. You don’t have to go all out, but don’t just do the bare minimum. A combination of effort and spontaneity can go quite a long way with the right person. He excelled in both. But for anyone competing to match that combo, it’s going to be impossible.

The antidepressant does have noticeable side effects, of course, like mood swings, feeling more tired, once a day headaches that feel somewhat close to migraines, and a hindered ability to concentrate. I could literally be folding laundry and then get distracted by a bird passing through the trees, and then I’ll drop my shirt, leaving it to hang on the basket, walking out onto the balcony to see that the bird is long gone, so in order to distract myself, I focus on looking straight ahead instead of looking down. It’s not easy to just walk through the railing and fall literally 5, maybe 6 stories and plummet on the concrete, but it is easy to find a single gazing point and focus on that. It’s only until you realize that your laundry basket is still full of unfolded clothes that’s not gonna empty on its own. There have been times where Jimmy’s been talking to me about God-knows what and I fixate on any inanimate object in my vicinity, and when I don’t realize that I’m zoned out, he’ll touch my shoulder to check on me, and then I get startled and yell at him, only to apologize immediately after. He says it’s okay, but I think that’s just a new lie he’s come up with.

Grief counseling has been fine. I finished my second session, where Dr. Meadows and I talked more about how to sit with the uncomfortable feelings and to be aware of why we’re feeling them. I noted that there hasn’t been any “noticeable progress” with Jimmy, more that it’s stayed the same. There’s tension that’s invisible to the naked eye, but visible to those involved in it. I’ll leave it up to interpretation. I’ve been given the same two assignments: continue talking with him instead of at him, and keep popping the happy pill daily. She said the side effects will drift off with continued use, but at this point, I’m sure they’ll stay to inhibit any potential progress.

I came back from the session a couple hours ago, and we’re both lounging on opposite ends of the couch, watching a preview of the Yankees/Red Sox game tonight. He enjoys baseball for whatever reason, so I’ll happily waste my time with him, if that’s what he truly wants. It’s already late afternoon, so close to thinking about what we’ll do for dinner. I’m not going to intrude and ask him yet. I’ll just enjoy the silence that’s filtered out by the TV. If there’s one thing I feel relieved about, it’s that there’s no pressure to talk if we don’t want to. We can just enjoy what we’re doing, and if we feel the need to verbalize something, then we will. I know Harry Styles wouldn’t agree with the following point I’m about to make, but comfortable silence, in fact, is not overrated.

We order CAVA for dinner and watch the entirety of the game. There’s casual remarks made about certain calls and certain plays, but neither of us get completely distracted by the other. Once it’s over, I take care of the dishes and fill up my water bottle before walking into my room. That is until he stops me.

“Can we just talk real quick?” he says, leaning his left hand on the counter.

I turn around, my water bottle dangling from my hand. “Yeah.”

“I’m here if you need to talk. I don’t care if it’s noon or 3:00am and I’m fully asleep. Wake me up. I don’t want you to feel from now on that you can’t confide in anybody.”

I move my gaze to the floor.

“I know this entire situation is confusing and it’s scary, and you feel like nothing good is ever going to happen again, but getting back to where you were starts with the tiniest of steps, even if it’s just talking about it. Got it?”

I squeak it out. “Yeah.”

“I appreciate you talking to me about how everything’s going,” he continues. “It sounds like I’m being controlling, and maybe I am, but it’s for your own good, Abb. You can hate me all you want right now. That’s fine by me. I just want to make sure you’re going in the right direction. I’m always going to advocate for you, no matter the circumstance. Even if it’s incredibly dire, like this one. I will literally remind you 100 times if I need to until you start to believe it. You understand?”

I sigh quietly. “I do.” I turn around and walk toward my room. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” I hear him say as he motions to his room, both of us shutting our doors at the same time. The room is dark as I blindly make my way to the bed, tossing the pillows and almost knocking the lamp off the nightstand, but with my luck, it stayed standing. Crawling under the covers, I trick my brain into thinking about being back home on Long Island in my own space, with the LED lights on my walls, the familiar sound of the fan tuning out the noise throughout the house, the radio on my nightstand playing for an hour to help me drift off to sleep. I can’t do any of that here. The setting is just not right. When I’m at home, I’m barely awoken by anything in the middle of the night, with the exception of hearing my dad leave the house between 3 and 4 in the morning to go to work. I know one of the side effects included increased drowsiness, but for me, it’s the opposite. I’m constantly awake, either because of the outside traffic (yes, even in the early morning hours when normal people are trying to sleep) or my brain torturing me with the incessant torment of intrusive thoughts. If I go to bed immediately, maybe it’ll work.

But not tonight.

I sleep for a good 5 and a half hours while I zone out on the ceiling fan. It’s spinning, and I start thinking that it could easily fall on me and kill me that way. It’s a current representation of my mind. It just never seems to stop. It’s not fair that he’s sleeping, completely dead to the world in the next room. How is he not affected by this? It’s alarming. Maybe I’m not the only who needs counseling.

The sound of the fan irritates me to the point where I rush out of bed and open my door as quiet as I can, and I walk into the main area of the apartment and lie down on the couch. I turn on my side and look at the coffee table, the remote, the TV, the carpet, the windows covered by the curtains, and finally, the ceiling, where this time, I will not be disrupted by a fan.

It’s on the verge of 4:00, and it’s still pitch black outside. I lift the pillow down onto the couch and rest my head on it, grabbing the throw blanket and spreading it across my entire frame. Jimmy insists we keep the thermostat at 65 degrees during the night so that neither of us wake up sweating, but it’s different when you’re stuck inside. Outside, it’s gorgeous weather and you wish the temperature could stay like that all year long. When you’re trapped in a 2 bed 1 bath apartment, you’re in the North Pole.

I do my best to get comfortable and shut my eyes, but my brain just won’t shut up. It’s literally thinking about the past, the present, and the future all at once. How is that even possible? It better be lucky I have no plans for the day ahead because I’m sure as hell going to be grouchy.

After what feels like an entire lifetime, I finally fall into a rhythm of decent sleep.

That is until a car alarm goes off for 5 minutes straight, and I silently groan into the pillow. Now I’m wide awake again. At this rate, I should just start my day off at this moment. Breakfast close to 5, lunch at 10, dinner at 3. Perfect.

I’m startled as I hear the opening of a door, although, at first, I’m unsure of which one. My eyes widely gaze at the front door, but the latch is still up, so I know someone’s not trying to break in. That’s the last thing both of us need.

Footsteps approach the counter and I continue to move my gaze over. I think he’s looking at me, but since it’s dark in here, I really can’t tell.

“What are you doing out here?” he says languidly.

“Can’t sleep,” I answer back, my voice having no energy given how early it is.

He walks over to the couch, staring down at me. “Scoot over,” he says.

I sluggishly adjust my posture and put the pillow back in the corner, dragging the blanket with me for support and moving all the way to the end of the couch. He turns the lights on, dimming them on their lowest setting so that it’s not too bright, but we can still see each other. Then he sits down, crossing his legs and looking at me. “Why can’t you sleep?” The Boston accent is dragged out. That’s when you know he is absolutely exhausted.

I shrug, avoiding his contact. “I don’t know. Brain just won’t settle down.”

“What’s it thinking about?”

“I don’t know. Everything.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Have you had trouble sleeping since?”

“Sort of. I’ve never come out here before, though.”

“Seems like your brain wants to filter all the bad stuff out.”

I yawn, then breathe a quick sigh. “But why right now? Why during the time when I should be sleeping?”

“Beats me. You want me to make us some tea?”

I shake my head. “No thanks. Way too early for that.”

He pushes it aside and continues what I believe to be an interrogation. “Is there anything you need to talk about?”

I sigh again. There’s no need to continue avoiding asking him.

“I just don’t know why you’re handling all of this better than me.”

He lets out a long sigh. “It’s like I’ve already said. We’re just managing it differently.”

“I don’t really believe that.”

“Well, you have to start. It’s gonna take time.”

“It’s already taken up too much of it.”

He repositions himself on the couch, his entire body facing me, his left leg dangling on the carpet. “And 6 months later, it won’t. He won’t be the first thing you think about, and you won’t be wondering what could’ve been. It’ll hurt less. You gotta sit with the hurt and the anger and the uncertainty, just let it infiltrate and linger for as long as you need to. Eventually, all of it will work its way out. Could it stick around for a little while longer? Sure. But it’s not going to be how it was two, three months ago. And it definitely won’t reflect that moment. It’s all an opportunity to start the healing journey.”

I slide my head onto the arm of the couch and tuck the blanket up to my chin. “How do you articulate thoughts like these, no matter the time of day?”

Jimmy scoffs sleepily. “It’s just how I feel, that’s all.”

“And what about you?” I question, not looking at him. “How are you feeling?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Everything.”

“Well, as for Ryan, it’s not really affecting me on a daily basis anymore, but sometimes I startle myself with how much I subconsciously think about it. I miss him. I’m always going to.”

All I can manage to do is blink.

“But,” he continues, “I was not prepared for the abrupt rate at which it happened. It’s not like I heard about it. I only found out when you called me. Hell, if you never did, I would’ve slept that whole night under the assumption that he was still alive and that he got home. Yeah, the coming day would’ve thrown me for a loop, but at least I was fortunate enough to get a heads-up, so seriously, Abb, I mean it when I say thank you for calling me first. That’s all it took for me to realize it was an actual emergency.”

“Yeah, I still feel bad about waking you. It sounded like you were sleeping so peacefully and then were awoken without warning.”

“Nah, I was just drifting off. I had just gotten out of the shower. I don’t tend to doze off quickly unless I’m close to running into a wall because I can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Guess me calling you was a catalyst for what was yet to come,” I remark.

“I guess it was.”

The early morning silence starts to creep in.

My body jolts when he lightly kicks my foot. Technically, he’s kicking the blanket, but it’s close enough. “I’m happy that you’re here, you know that?”

“No,” I reply groggily.

“See, I knew you’d say that. Here’s a reminder.”

“You actually mean that? After all the shit you’ve had to deal with?”

“Yes.” I see he still hasn’t gone back on his word when it comes to being honest.

He pipes up again. “Are you happy about being here?”

“God, Jimmy, I don’t know,” I annoyingly respond. “I mean, I guess I gotta be, otherwise, I never would’ve packed my things. This would’ve been a one night only type of thing and we could’ve both moved on with our lives. I wouldn’t have to see you every day and you wouldn’t have to even think about the possibility of seeing me lie motionless on your bathroom floor.”

“We don’t have to talk about that,” he says quietly.

“No, I think we should,” I rebut, “because it’s an irreversible choice that I made and an experience you will never be able to erase from your head. Do you walk into the bathroom and think of that day once your feet hit the tiles?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” he admits.

“You didn’t deserve that,” I continue. “And you were right about that being a selfish act.”

“No, Abb, it wasn’t selfish.” Oh, so now he chooses to contradict himself. “It didn’t occur to me how badly you were hurting, but how could I have known if you chose to shut me out?”

I don’t say anything.

“Are you afraid of me? Like, are you afraid that if you blurt out everything that you’ve been feeling, I’m not gonna take it seriously, or that I’ll neglect it?”

I sit up now, keeping the blanket close by, adjusting myself to look at him across the way. His eyes look warm like honey, even with the appearance of the eyebags.

“You seriously think I’m afraid of someone that’s never gone through puberty?”

It’s quiet for a couple seconds before we both let out a snarky laugh. I still gotta roast him every chance I get.

I finish laughing as he watches me, that soft smile dancing across his lips. “See? I simultaneously provide the trauma and theatrics.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” he says.

“But in all seriousness, no, I am not. Never have been. I mean, I think the one time I will be is when you return the favor by screaming and yelling in my face.”

His face turns from soft-gazed to heightened alertness. “You really think I’d do something like that?”

“Hey, when you’re threatened with a metal blade, anything is possible.”

He rubs his hand on his face. “God, you know that was just an impulse, right?”

“Was it really?”

He reaches across to touch my leg that’s covered by the blanket. Suddenly, the 65 degrees feels like 100. “The last resort that I ever want to take is inflicting pain on you, especially with anything incorporating blades. I know Ryan would’ve done anything possible to keep you happy, even if it meant he had to sacrifice something that was important to him. I’m not remotely close to resembling him as a person, but you were literally his entire world that he proudly held in his hands. Now that you’re the one doing it, I am not willing to interfere with that. What you two had was irreplaceable. Always will be.”

I nod. “Yeah,” I mutter.

“And by the way, if you ever catch me raising my voice at you, and you start to feel scared, you’ll be responsible for letting me know. You’ve already taken too much of a verbal beating from this mouth.”

“It was deserved.”

“No, it was not. I continued putting you down when the one thing you needed was guidance. That’s what I’m here for, along with being your friend. We’re always going to have each other’s backs. It’s non-negotiable.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Abby, I promise you will never have to worry about me taking that knife and stabbing it in your back.”

“And you don’t need to worry about me slitting your heart open with a razor.”

The silence falls over the room again. He removes his hand from the blanket and stands up. “I’m gonna try and go back to bed. You think you can sleep in your own now?”

I look at the indentation he made on the couch. “Not really, but thanks for talking to me.”

“No, thank you,” he says. “You want me to keep the light on?”

“You can turn it off.”

He gives me another stare before the room goes dark again. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Yep.”

When I hear him walk away and back into his room, I lie down on the couch again, feeling the warmth of his body heat from where he sat. I curl my legs up into my chest and cover myself in the blanket like a straightjacket and close my eyes again, hoping the second round of sleep will do me some wonders.

Surprisingly, it does do me the wonders. The next time I open my eyes, the clock underneath the TV tells me it’s close to 9:30. I’m still facing the coffee table. The early morning sun is peaking beneath the curtains. The only sound I hear is the traffic from outside. Guess he needed the extra sleep, too.

I pay the ultimate sacrifice and emerge from the blanket, tossing it to the side and lifting myself off the couch, using the bathroom and completing my skincare/hygiene routine before standing between the counter and the fridge, wondering what to make for breakfast. I open the fridge, peaking around on each shelf. We’ve got bread, eggs, fruit, milk, my Chobani yogurt, orange juice (ew), and on the side, nothing else than Jimmy’s emotional support beer. He’s only drank 2 of the 24 pack, and he bought it two months ago. He’s not addicted to it or anything. It’s only consumed on occasion. I’ll make a bold prediction and say he downed one on his birthday, probably when I was asleep after the day from hell, and another before then. I’m starting to think he won’t be able to have all of those himself. Fourth of July is a couple weeks away, so I’m thinking he might invite people over and have them join in on the fun. You’ll never see me drink a beer, or any type of alcohol really. The only drink I’m willing to try is champagne. I’ll go buy a bottle when we have something more momentous to celebrate.

There’s nothing that appeals to me, so I shut the door and make strides to my room, looking through my closet to change. I’ve decided to go out and get breakfast. If he wakes up in time, maybe we can go together. I leave the door cracked open and undress behind it, hoping I’m fast enough and he won’t walk in on me. You’d think after the three months we’ve been living together, I’ve seen him without a shirt, but I have not, and I don’t think I’ll ever get to, which is fine, because the last thing I want him to notice me wearing is a bra and underwear, let alone a bikini. He definitely has a type, and looking through a platonic lens, I’m sure that I’m not exactly fitting up to his standards; that’s if he has any. But since he hasn’t dated in literally years, I could be entirely wrong. Long story short, we’ll never get that close. Ever.

Throwing on an oversized T-shirt and cotton shorts, I resort to my sandals and grab my phone off the nightstand. Reaching for my purse hanging off the back of the door, I open it wide and walk back into the kitchen to hear him exiting the bathroom behind me.

“Where you headed to?” he asks. His voice is not as tired as it was 5 hours ago. I stop in my tracks and turn around. He’s changed into a new duo of a solid color shirt and black shorts. He’s got socks on, and I notice his keys are on the counter.

“I was gonna go out for breakfast,” I reply. “I’m not really in the mood for putting something together. You wanna come with?”

“Depends,” he challenges. “What are you in the mood for?”

I scrunch my face up, thinking long and hard about this decision. I love bagels, but I don’t think it’ll satisfy my craving. I want something more extravagant.

“How do you feel about french toast?”

His face immediately lights up. “Sign me the fuck up. Let me go grab my phone. You want me to drive?”

I shake my head. “No, I’ll do it. Have you even been in my car yet?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he says. “Probably not recently, but yeah, I can refamiliarize myself with it.”

“Perfect.” I give him a smug smile. “Go put some shoes on. I’ll grab my keys.”

Once both of us have completed our respective tasks, we lock the apartment door behind us and take our trip in the elevator before walking out through the front of the complex, maneuvering our way through the parking lot until we reach my car. I leased this car when I was 21, and decided to purchase it a year and a half later when I found out I’d be relocating. There was no reason for me to look for a new one and have this car sit in front of my parent’s house and not be used. It’s a quiet ride, good on gas, and it’s blue with a sporty exterior. It can’t get much better than that.

Only until I had to remove a 3x5 picture of Ryan and I from the dashboard, and I ended up crumpling it and threw it into a sewer drain, which I somewhat regretted in that moment, but then reminded myself that I didn’t have any idea where else I would put it. Besides, I’ve already got plenty of printed pictures. They’re all in my box. I don’t feel like taking it out right now. Best to keep it where it is.

Jimmy and I agree on Toast Cafe Brasserie as I enter it into the GPS and back out of my parking spot. I settle on playing Spotify’s personalized ‘daylist’ that usually has some odd yet unfortunately relatable playlist title. The music plays lightly through the speaker with the infiltration of the early morning summer air. I’ll cherish cracking the windows open before having to put the air conditioner on the highest setting.

I side-eye him through my sunglasses. He’s staring straight ahead, watching the other vehicles pass by and come to a stop in front of us. “If you think Manhattan’s traffic is bad,” he starts, “you’ve never been to Boston during concert season at Fenway Park. You’ll be sitting in the car waiting to get out literally an hour and a half after it’s ended.”

“That doesn’t seem enjoyable,” I respond.

“Had that happen to me once in high school. A couple of my friends and I went to a concert series for a day and it was great, but it ended at 9:30 and we didn’t get out of the lot until a little after 11. It was absolutely ridiculous.”

“Are you planning on going back to Boston this summer?” I cautiously ask.

He doesn’t respond right away. “I don’t know,” he admits. “My family’s aware of why I’m still here.”

I roll my eyes as the light in front of us turns green. “You do know that you have free will to go wherever you want whenever you want, right? I don’t want you to think you can’t leave your apartment for a week just because I’m staying in it.”

“But we—”

“Yeah, yeah, we shouldn’t be alone, blah, blah, blah, we’re supposed to stick together, blah, blah, blah. Fine, I guess you got me there.”

It’s his turn to question me. “Would you wanna take a trip somewhere? You know, get out of New York for a bit?”

I turn on my blinker, looking at the rows of cars that I have to wait to pass me before I can even attempt making a right. “It’s not really on my mind right now. If it’s the dying days of vacation and we still haven’t done something, then yeah, maybe.”

Completing my turn successfully, I continue down the road for a few more moments before engaging in one of the most unnecessarily hard tasks the world will ever have to offer: parallel parking. Luckily, there’s plenty of space in front of one car, so I pull over in between the white line and the curb, putting the car in park and turning off the engine before looking out the car door to see if it’s safe to get out and not have it get ripped off by a deranged city idiot.

I make my way out of the driver’s side and shut the door, locking the car before walking behind it and onto the sidewalk, Jimmy’s hand holding my purse. I take it from him and flash a cheeky smile, my quiet way of thanking him before we walk inside the cafe.

Service is quick and the setting is not too crowded, so I’ll be okay. We both order french toast with a side of hash browns for the table, and of course he goes crazy with his orange juice, but I go even crazier with apple juice, and we have a quick debate on which one is better. Spoiler alert: it’s apple.

As we wait for our breakfast, I look around where I’m sitting. All of the tables have 2-4 chairs, there’s a salad bar, employees packaging up to-go orders, and light pop music sounds off from the ceiling. It gives off chill and relaxed vibes, which is what I immediately felt when I walked through the door, listening to the bell jingle above my head.

“Did you guys ever come here?” he says, taking a sip of his God-forsaken orange juice.

I nod. “Yeah, only a couple times, though. It was usually on the weekends if there wasn’t a game. He went absolutely crazy for their omelets, constantly raving, telling me to try one, and when I did, I understood why he liked them so much. They seriously sprinkle some magic in everything they make.”

“So it was just a constant back-and-forth between here and CAVA?”

I playfully punch his wrist. “Yeah, pretty much. Wouldn’t have traded it for anything else.”

“Can I ask you something?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is it gonna make me lose my cool in public?”

“I hope not.”

I sigh. “Go ahead.”

“Was he a better cook than me?”

I laugh. “You don’t even cook,” I say to call him out. “I mean, he wasn’t that great, but he put in the effort. That’s all that mattered. I’ll say the same for you. Put in the time and motivation, and it will quickly show its benefits.”

“He never almost burned his place down?”

I shake my head. “Nope. He cooked breakfast up at his lake house, and you could’ve sworn he burnt everything, but it actually smelled really good. I thought it was funny, but I told him that if we did end up getting married, I wasn’t doing all the cooking. We’d split up pretty much everything.”

“Did you actually talk about marriage?”

“We never talked about it like we were serious. It was always more of a joke. I know the 5 year gap made him think he had to get married in his late 20s, but I told him I wouldn’t want to do so until I was in my late 20s. It’s not like we sat down and had a heart-to-heart. We were just enjoying where we were then. I just didn’t want him to feel pressured, and I told him I was nowhere near ready, so it was a one-and-done kind of thing.”

He clears his throat. “Do you ever think about what could’ve been?”

I swallow the immediately formed lump in my throat. “All the time.” I look straight in his eyes. “I’ve always worried about how lots of things in my life could be short-term, and never did I think we’d be one of those things. Dr. Meadows is telling me to not worry about what could’ve happened and appreciate what we had. She tells me that while this entire thing feels like a loss, those moments I shared and spent with him are more of a gain. We’re currently talking about my favorite memories and how I can look at them positively.”

“That’s good to hear, Abb. How are you liking her, that’s even if you are?”

“No, I am. She’s kind, yet straightforward. She lets me talk about whatever comes to mind, even if it doesn’t totally make sense, but I think it’s just her way of making sure she understands my perspective before providing what she thinks.”

“Have you talked about me again?” He gives me that sly smirk.

I return one back to him. “No, actually. Don’t worry, though. I’ll be sure to bring you up when I go on Thursday.”

“Yeah, okay,” he sarcastically retorts, eliciting a quick laugh. “Just wanna make sure you’re not tarnishing my reputation.”

“I think I already did that,” I smile. “But guess what? It can’t stop you from enjoying french toast,” subtly pointing over his shoulder as I notice our plates making the way toward our table.

Once they’re set down, along with the hash browns, we thank the server and pick up our forks and knives. The blade is less sharp. He can’t hurt me with that one even if he tried.

“Does it feel nice to finally get out and enjoy yourself?” Jimmy says between bites.

“Yeah,” I agree, spinning the fork in my hand. “I forgot how much I missed going out and catching up with people.”

“It just occurred to me that we rarely ever hung out one-on-one since you got here. It’d always be a group thing, and this was before Ryan, too.”

Suddenly, I feel this huge wave of guilt. I’ve got really great relationships with everyone on the team, and I know that I don’t need to talk to them every day to know the connection is still there. Ever since, I’ve continued my pattern of limited communication with pretty much everyone, except for the obvious. It’s the time of year where everyone goes home to catch up with family and friends while simultaneously enjoying their free time. It’s meant to be relaxing. So far for the two of us, it most definitely hasn’t been.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” I say quietly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He exhales a puff of air. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested. I didn’t want to interfere with what you had.”

I take a deep breath. “Why are you always so worried about how I perceive things? You’re not doing anything wrong by asking me to hang out. He knew that no one else saw me more as a friend. He was never jealous. We could go out with other people and not be obligated to go together. I could tell him I’d have plans with you to go walk around Midtown and he would’ve just told me to have fun and let him know when I got home. That’s it. You literally had nothing to fret about.”

I’m met with his blank stare. “Yeah, I, uh, I guess I didn’t.”

“You do know he never felt you were a threat, right? And you know I don’t view you as one, either?”

His mouth turns into the tiniest of a lopsided yet microscopic smile. “You sure? After-”

“Yeah,” I bring my voice down to a hushed whisper, “even though you pointed this,” gesturing to the stainless piece of silverware, “at me, that wound already ran deep before then, and it sure as hell was not your fault. You may have added to it, but at least you didn’t twist it right in front of my eyes.”

“Why does every conversation we ever have come back to this?” He jokes. “It’s been happening a lot recently. I find it unsettling.”

I chuckle. “Perhaps it’s a reminder to not resort to inanimate objects during arguments.”

His face turns the tiniest shade of red. “I won’t do it again. I don’t wanna add to what you’ve already been through, even though you claimed that I already have. I still feel bad about it. I really, really do.”

I take a sip of my apple juice. “I know you do,” I say sincerely. “I think from this point forward, we need to start helping each other. At this point, it’s really the only way we’ll be able to keep moving on. We’ve only done things that have hurt each other. It can’t continue. And how blindsided am I to realize that now?”

“Can that be incorporated into the pinky promise?” His eyes look like they’re going to explode out of their sockets.

“I guess so. Damn, you’re really big on loyalty, huh?”

He confidently shrugs. “It’s a family thing.”

I give him a tight smile. “Better downgrade that to a duo.”

“Noted.”

With the conclusion of that conversation, we continue enjoying our overpriced breakfast foods before I pay (yes, I had to convince him. I can’t even remember the last time I paid for someone else. I’m taking a page out of his book and becoming more selfless) and we drive back to the apartment.

For the first time in these last three months, I’m not dreading a conversation with him or being in the same space. I know it will take more time to become more comfortable with that feeling, but for now, I have to refrain from doing anything that will set him off. We haven’t fought or held an attitude toward each other since his birthday. It feels like summer’s only beginning, which I guess you could say it is. But if you look a little more closely, I think it’s the beginning of us developing a new outlook on life, future interactions, and each other.

[alexging]

dating sean diaz hcs pt 3

sassy man apocalypse is real

- does that thing where he lights ur cig/joint/whatever like he did w lyla at the beginning w u ALL THE TIME. in fact he will purposely offer u one just so he can do it. he absolutely loves it and he has no idea why

- if ur not a smoker at all he thinks u coughing up a lung is cute in a weirdly endearing way! he pats ur back while laughing and urges u to try again bc he can be a bad influence at times LMAO

- whenever u guys sit together in class sean has a natural tendency to start doodling on ur arm. some days he just does one or two cute little drawings and other days hes a whole fucking tattoo artist. u walk around school with whole arm sleeves for the rest of the day

- “don’t move (y/n) im drawing the tentacles”

- “sean u said u were gonna draw a little rose…”

- he will look up rlly quick at u and goes back to drawing the kraken LMAO

- u draw like one little dot on his paper and u guys start fighting over it 😭 by the end of it theres 50 micopenises on his paper and u have a HUGE detailed penis on urs bc sean is extra asf

- sean loves messing with ur hair. after a while of dating he will just walk by u and ruffle ur hair at school. honestly, a part of him likes doing it and just fast walking away bc he can hear u complain in the distance LMAO

- hes weirdly into the unkempt look...

- bf air is real with him. if u wear makeup, u always leave his house with smeared lipstick and smudged eye makeup. not even bc u guys were getting down (sometimes) but just bc u guys are constantly play fighting

- u almost always text sean later saying how embarrassing that was and get mad at him for not telling u the whole time

- daniel, being a blunt kid, tries to say something abt u looking like a mess when ur about to leave and sean just slaps his hand over his mouth. daniel makes indistinguishable whining under his palm while sean ushers u out the door 😭 he chooses not to tell u bc he loves when u look like a mess, stray hairs and everything.

- despite u not liking it AT ALL he draws it in his journal later while kicking his feet LMAO

- sean is very prone to accidents. it doesnt help he loves risky activities (ex. skating) which causes lots of scrapes and bloody noses

- he likes when u wipe his nose with a tissue with a concerned face it has him feeling pampered asf.

- when u get close to his face with a swab and nag under ur breath abt him doing stupid shit he just goes “ur right it wont happen again” while trying to suppress a cheeky lil smile. he loves it when u care for him and act bossy/motherly in general 😭 does this imply the void karen left is very big and wide? maybe! he lacks self-awareness in this department tho.

- all he knows is gf take care of him = feeling like a snug bug in a rug

- hes a dork but also a gentleman so hell do backflips to hold the door for u and make sure u walk on the inner part of the sidewalk. when u refuse to listen he gets mad and forcefully drags/shoves u 😭

- i feel like u guys are such a night couple. sean just enjoys places better when its dark tbh. plus u guys are always up to weird antics so… u guys get to be as loud as u want and nobody is out to hear—and boy r u guys loud

- VOLUME UPP on ur guys favorite songs in some desolate area and screaming the lyrics in sean’s car is ur guys' THING. u guys start acting out the lyrics and dancing bc both of u feel so comfortable with each other

- the thing is u guys r always doing separate dance interpretations. chronic engagement in parallel play 😭

- except sean stops like a deer in headlights when he hears a crunch. sean is a scaredy cat tbh he def snapped his neck to look at where the noise came from. both of u guys slowly turn ur heads to each other and sean immediately starts the car. u call him a party pooper and hell just keep shaking his head instead of responding LMAOO

- "we're not staying here that's some white people shit (y/n)"

- considering sean grafittis, i feel its an almost given for him to know all the local abandoned places in seattle

- at first u were totally creeped out by the dark corners but sean made it a point to keep u safe and comfortable! sean was acting like a lil ninja and kept peeping around corners. the whole way there he awkwardly semi-rotated around u like a shield bc u couldnt decide whether being behind or in front of him was scarier LMAO

- he was also a lil smug bc he finally gets to the be the one whos not scared. he does the MOST to look cool in front of u

- “squatters better not snatch my girl around the corner…” u just look at sean in disgust 😭

- sean used to HATE the phrase “my girl” and thought it was so corny. he started using it ironically bc both of u guys thought it was funny and now he cant stop 😭

- when u guys got to his spot u were smacked in the face with all his VIBRANT beautiful work. u walked up to each of them like a museum exhibit and sean stood behind u rubbing the back of his neck all embarrassed

- sean does a little one dedicated to u! u watch his concentrated face; his furrowed eyebrows and occasional lip lick before he turns to u with a shy smile!!!! he gives u the spray can and guides ur hand to put a little smiley face + ur initial next to it

- since then, u guys always made it a small thing to leave ur marking everywhere. u guys r the couple that etch their initials into trees, benches, etc 😭😭😭 im sick.

- sean keeps a sharpie in his pocket just so u guys can do an impromptu grafitti sesh

- on nights where sean doesnt feel like seeing daniel u guys go to empty parking lots. he does little skate tricks while u sit there in his hoodie complaining about something and he exclusively replies in "right" and "mhm”

- u get annoyed thinking hes not listening and then he responds word for word what u said PLUS his interpretation 😭 shuts u right up

- sean acts like he doesnt love girl gossip but hes a closet chismoso. theres this little curious glint in his eyes whenever u start talking more passionately and he stops skating just to sit next to u on the sidewalk w u and tune in

- ud be dropping hot gossip and sean would do dramatic ass facial expressions. his eyes would bulge out his head and his mouth would drop LMAO. he hollers “what??” after u drop big details too

- he doesnt like anyone u dont like and he supports u blindly ALL THE TIME. even when u backtrack and think u did something wrong he reassures u that ur right with a deadpanned face

- he lowkey a little instigator bc he always feeds ur delusions

- sean and u have like two screws in ur heads combined so when u guys call u just sit in silence and try the filters. literally all u can hear for half an hour is nose huffs from sean and screenshot clicks when u change to another filter

- u guys will start talking with ugly filters over ur face and sean's eyepatch and parrot filter starts glitching when he turns to tell daniel to get out of his room LMAOOO

- both of u guys are weird as hell bc the call will be going on for another five hours and sean will be in the kitchen with a horse head eating cereal. neither of u guys are questioning it at this point

- tbh u both can be kind of tmi with one another 😭 u guys say “eww” to each other so often but it doesnt stop either of u LMAO

- best friends who are also lovers is a must

also i associate steve lacy with sean sm like infrunami, SOME, bad habit, and Uuuu is what i envision when i write these hcs. when steve lacy was trending it was such a good era 😭😭 oh and also i associate los retros with sean heavy

[writingdumpster]

a winter’s ball

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings: language

word count: 2,000

summary: Bob gets a commendation at the naval anniversary ball. I did not just write this because i was listening to hamilton.

navigation

The entire Dagger Squad had been invited to the Naval Anniversary Ball. They were all being given commendations as well. You were excited because you’d never gone to an event that required evening gowns. You begged Bob to go shopping with you, but he refused. He told you he wanted to be surprised when he saw you in your dress.

“It’s not a wedding,” you told him.

“I know,” he said. “But I want to be surprised. You’re going to look so pretty.”

The memory made your heart flutter, even though you thought he was being ridiculous. Bob had taken refuge in the hotel bathroom as soon as you’d started getting ready. He had brought everything he needed to get ready into the bathroom that morning so that he could hide there while you got ready in the rest of the room. You had finished your hair and makeup. All that was left to do was put on your dress. You pulled it over your head and then reached behind you to pull up the zipper, but you could only make it halfway up your back.

“Bobby?” You called towards the bathroom.

“Are you ready?” His voice was filled with excitement.

“I can’t get the zipper up.” You were walking through the room towards the bathroom. Bob was quiet for a second.

“Okay, I’ll close my eyes and you can come in and put my hands on the zipper,” he said.

“Everything else is ready, what difference does it make?” You opened the door.

“Ah!” Bob exclaimed as he shut his eyes tightly. “You didn’t say you were coming in!”

“Can you just get the zipper, Bobby?” You requested. He held out his hands towards you, keeping his eyes closed. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I know you’re rolling your eyes at me,” he said.

“Good, I was worried you couldn’t feel it,” you replied snappily. Bob chuckled.

“Just come here,” he called. You crossed the room and turned around. You grabbed his hands and guided them to the back of the dress. He carefully pulled the zipper up, feeling for the hook and eye at the top of the dress and linking it together with his eyes closed as well. He covered his eyes with his hands once he’d gotten your dress fixed. You moved away and stood in front of him, straightening out the dress.

“Okay, dork, you can open your eyes,” you said.

“Swear you’re not lying?” Bob asked.

“Really, Bobby?” Your exasperation was clear.

“Fine, fine. Just checking,” he said. He pulled his hands away from his eyes. He grinned widely the moment he saw you.

“Oh, honey,” Bob murmured under his breath. “You look exquisite.” His southern drawl was heavy and his voice had a softness to it that you adored. Your dress was made of a lightweight fabric that moved like shimmering water as you walked. The straps hung off the side of your arms, leaving your shoulders and collarbones bare above the dipping neckline. The color of the fabric contrasted with your skin perfectly. The dress wasn’t overly tight, but it highlighted your figure and the skirt had a slit up the left leg. Bob looked you up and down, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. Your cheeks heated as you glanced down at the floor bashfully. You moved your hands behind your back and linked them together nervously. He smiled when he noticed.

“You’ve gotta get used to being stared at tonight, sweetheart,” Bob said. “You’re gonna be the prettiest girl at the ball.”

“You’re the only one who will think that,” you said.

“We’ll see,” he said with a smirk. Bob grabbed his hat from his desk and then stood in front of you. “Does everything look alright?” He asked, gesturing to his uniform. You stepped towards him and straightened out his wings, pinned to the clean white fabric of his uniform.

“Perfect,” you said. He smiled and leaned down to give you a quick peck. He leaned away, holding his hand out to you as he walked towards the door.

“Come on, sweetheart. I want everyone to see how pretty my girl is,” he flirted. You smiled bashfully and took his hand.

The beginning of the ball was a whirlwind. Arriving at the opulent building into downtown Washington, D.C. hand in hand with Bob as he spoke to many different Admirals, all of them congratulating him on the Dagger Squad mission was almost overwhelming. You could tell even your level headed Bob was nervous. His posture would tighten up and his grip on your hand would stiffen. You would lean into him a bit more and give his hand a gentle squeeze each time and his body would relax.

The commendation ceremony happened before dinner and watching Cyclone pinning the medal to Bob’s chest made you more proud than you had ever been in your life. He looked at you sitting at the table, empty as everyone else assigned to the table was on stage receiving the medal. Bob gave you a smile and a wink. You blushed and blew him a kiss.

When the ceremony was over the Dagger squad returned to the table and dinner began. As he finished his food, Hangman leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest.

“How is Bob the only one of us with a hot date?” Hangman asked with a grin on his face. Bob’s eyes shot up to him.

“Hangman—” Bob started.

“Because he’s not a jackass,” Phoenix piped up.

“I do appreciate that about you,” you joked, reaching out to caress Bob’s cheek delicately. He caught your hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Will you dance with me, sweetheart?” Bob asked you. You gave him a sweet smile.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you replied happily. Bob rose from the table and pulled your chair out for you. He pulled you against his body when you reached the dance floor

“I’m so proud of you, Robby,” you said as you ran your fingers over his new medal on his chest, your other hand linked with Bob’s. He smiled and kissed your temple.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your head. You hummed happily.

“I love you too, Robby,” you said as you leaned your head against his shoulder. You swayed to the music, Bob twirling you about in his arms every now and then. Neither of you knew much about dancing, but you loved each other. After a few dances you and Bob headed to the balcony for some air and to take in the view. Before you could even begin to appreciate the moment, Cyclone was walking up to you and Bob.

“Lieutenant Floyd, Admiral McCarthy and I would like a word if you have a moment,” Cyclone said. Bob glanced at you. McCarthy was the Admiral at his base and you could tell that he was starting to panic. You smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Go on, Robby,” you encouraged him. “I’ll be here.” Bob nodded, swallowing his nerves.

“Yes, sir,” he agreed. He kissed your cheek chastely before he walked away with Cyclone. You stood on the balcony in the cool night air. The city lights of downtown Washington, D.C. shone beneath you and you were able to make out a few of D.C.’s landmarks in the distance, even from the top of the high rise building. You leaned against the railing of the balcony, taking in the view.

Your thoughts turned to Bob, as they always did when you didn’t have a task to complete, and sometimes even when you did. You were so proud of him. You were beyond glad that you had found him and endlessly grateful that he loved you the way you loved him. There wasn’t a thing about him that you didn’t love or a part of him you wanted to change. You adored him in every way imaginable. Every moment you spent with him felt like you had won the lottery. You were completely and utterly whipped, but it didn’t matter because somehow he was even more devoted to you.

“What are you thinking about?” Bob’s voice came from behind you. You turned to see him approaching you. You reached your arms out, beckoning him to come close to you.

“You,” you admitted with a smile. His eyes lit up when he heard your words. His arms slid around your waist. His hand settled at the dip of your back, pulling your body close to his. “Was your conversation classified?” You asked with a smirk. Bob chuckled.

“No,” he said. He didn’t continue.

“Gonna make me beg, Bobby?” You joked. He smiled.

“That’ll come when we get back to the hotel,” he said. You giggled and blushed. Bob’s eyes sparkled with love as he watched you laugh.

“So?” You prompted again when your laughter had subsided. He took a deep breath.

“Cyclone wants me as a Top Gun instructor,” Bob admitted.

“Bobby, that’s great!” You exclaimed.

“Yeah?” He asked you.

“What? You don’t want the job?” You asked.

“Well, we’d have to move,” he said.

“So?” You asked.

“Your whole family is in Lemoore,” he replied.

“Honey, North Island isn’t even far enough away from Lemoore to take a plane,” you said flatly.

“Yeah, but…”

“‘But’ what?” You asked. “This is a great job, Bobby,” you said sweetly. “Why don’t you want to go?”

“You’re from Lemoore,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“What’s so special about Lemoore, Robby?” You pressed. He sighed and dropped his shoulders.

“It’s where I met you,” he said. “It’s where I fell in love with you. All of my best memories are there.” You gave him a sweet smile.

“We can make more memories in North Island,” you told him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, though you could still tell he was holding back.

“If you don’t want the job, you don’t have to take it, right?” You said.

“No, I want the job, it’s just…” He trailed off.

“Robby, just tell me,” you called.

“I have a surprise planned for our anniversary,” he admitted.

“You have a surprise planned?” You asked with a smile. “What is it?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?” Bob teased you.

“Well, it’s already ruined, isn’t it? What’s the difference?” You asked. He smiled at you.

“I had a house picked out for us,” he told you. You smiled widely. “I was going to get us a place off base. It had rooms for when we have kids and a room that I was going to turn into an office for you.” He sounded so disappointed that his plans had been ruined. You leaned forward and gave him a soft peck.

“You know when you move to a new city, you usually get a new house,” you said, squeezing him lightly. Bob smiled at you softly.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just feel bad making you leave your hometown,” he said.

“My home is wherever you are, Robby. If you’re in North Island, that’s where I want to be,” you assured him. Bob smiled softly.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” He told you with a smile. You smiled back and leaned into Bob’s arms, taking his hand and resting your head against his chest so you could sway back and forth slowly to the music that was drifting through the doors to the balcony. Bob’s heart fluttered as he held you in his arms. “I love you, honey,” he said out of nowhere. You leaned away so you could kiss him. When you pulled away he kept his eyes closed for a moment, savoring your affections.

“I love you too,” you said as he opened his eyes. “Sorry your surprise got ruined.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “Now we can pick out a home together. Everything I do with you always turns out better.”

[polksaladbutler]

NASTY

s. kydd x reader

positions masterlist.

warnings: alcohol mention, switch (both), teeny blood mention, mediocre smut (i rushed this sry!), clickable links

it was a halloween party, your first halloween party, your first adult halloween party with alcohol and things that weren’t legal to you yet when you were invited to high school parties, you were invited by none other than sebastian kydd. the talk of the campus.

it wasn’t an odd gesture from him to tell you about his halloween party, of course he called you, to rope you into the party only to rub some new fling in your face. he always had that tactic to make you jealous, one of them being inviting you to parties.

despite all of that, here you were getting ready to go to one of his parties, putting on his favorite makeup look that he used to ruin all the time.

you were cher from ‘75, sebastians favorite female artist and his favorite era of her. your aunt had made the carbon copy of it. she even made the elton costume for your roommate kimberly. she wasn’t invited however, she suggested if you get wasted— which in-fact you weren’t going to drink at all— you couldn’t make it back home without her.

“how do i look?” kimberly walked out of the bathroom, giving you a three-sixty view of her costume, covered in gold. a gold jumpsuit, a sparkly gold coat, a gold medal and to top it off, white boots. “you know what, you look like a rocket man.” you winked at her, handing her the diy bedazzled glasses you made.

whereas you were placing on your sparkly lipgloss that would be gone by the end of the night leaving you with nothing but glittery lips, your breast were squished into the top, practically trying to jump out at anybody, the rest of your torso was exposed to the cold air.

“daaaamn, cher is now eliminated from the competition. you are sexy as hell! so! be honest, could i possibly, get in your pants looking like this?” kimberly laughed, popping her collar she immediately put back down. “you’re such a dork.” you giggled rolling your eyes as you placed the last line of lipgloss you needed on.

“ready to go?” kimberly questioned as she walked over to the mirror you were looking in. “think so.” you tightened the top to your lipgloss and placed it on the vanity. you got out of the chair, fixing up any last minute mishaps you found then left the dorm room, following behind kimberly

it wasn’t long trip to the party, the music was bursting out of the open windows of the rented home, people were walking towards the noisy attraction in costumes, some boys shotgunning beers, and big clouds of smoke being puffed into the air.

“i sure as hell feel overdressed.” kimberly laughed as she parked next to the sidewalk. “i feel… underdressed.” you chuckled as you unbuckled your seatbelt and removed it from across your bare torso.

you waved to a few people you knew that were partaking in the shotgunning and smoking. you got closer to the rented residence you noticed that the door was wide open, you saw so many people, you wondered how in the hell you would fit in there, compared to a can of sardines, the party would win first place for the most claustrophobic place in history. luckily, you and kim managed to get inside the place, finding a very open section at the island, covered in red solo cups and cigarette buds.

“do all the drinking you want yn! this is your night.” kimberly smiled as she handed you an empty cup. “you don’t think i’m actually gonna… drink?” you spoke loudly with a chuckle to follow. “then, what the hell are you here for?” she laughed, grabbing herself a random beer that sat on the countertop. “i didn’t wanna let sebastian down and— don’t drink that you don’t know where it’s been kim.” you snatched the cold drink out of her hand placing it on the other side, far away from her.

“it’s not like he would care or even remember that he invited you. ‘fess up yn, you want to get in his pants by the end of the night!” she shrugged, snapping you into reality. it seems as if you were just another person to him— when you knew you weren’t, there was no point in even showing up. “okay okay, he invited me to make me jealous! i know it, so of course he would remember inviting me.” “so you wanna get in his pants?” you turned your head in shame, placing your hand over your mouth. “you’re sick! look, we’ll meet back here at eleven forty-five. that gives us time to get something to eat, bye!” kimberly walked away from you before you could even possibly disagree with her.

as for you, you sat alone. the one thing you weren’t going to do is be like a puppy and search for sebastian— god knows where he is. instead, you sat in the white bar chair all by yourself, playing with ring of the cup.

“i didn’t think you’d come.” a voice rang loudly behind you. you turned around in the bar chair looking at the tall, blonde, undeniably handsome guy that spoke to you. “you invited me no?” you snapped back trying to match his volume until he got closer to you. “still the same yn i know.”

“so, my costume, what do you think?” you hopped out of the seat and spun around for him. “cher from seventy-five.” he bit his lip, slowly wrapping him around your finger.

“don’t bite your lip off, you know christina wants to suck face with you.” you pointed to the blonde girl in a ‘bunny costume’. “that’s not the only thing she’ll suck—“ you cut him off, flicking him on the forehead.

“so how’ve you been?” sebastian gave into fighting the volume, hoping that you could read lips. “i’ve been doing a lot of studying lately.” sitting back down on the chair, you laid your head on your hand, your elbow rested up on the counter. “stepping my game up.” you smiled, still examining the fresh cup.

“you want a drink?” he got off the bar chair that sat before your own. “no, i don’t intend to drink tonight.” you placed the red solo cup on the counter, leaving it alone finally. you looked up at sebastian’s puzzled face. “no drinking?” he laughed a little. “— well, ms. cher. i don’t want you to have a boring time.” he smirked, sitting back down in front of you.

it’s not that you really don’t want to drink, you loved a little long island iced tea. the problem was, when you become intoxicated, you get a little sexual. that’s not why you came to the party, so you were avoiding drinks at all cost. nevertheless, with sebastian in a semi-tight grey graphic tee and acid washed jeans, you didn’t need the alcohol to be slightly intimate.

taking a swig, a shot, even a few sips was risky.

“just dance with me then if you’re not going to drink.” he suggested. “i am not gonna be on the floor, dancing around you and whatever girl you’re gonna fuck before the party is over!” you gave him a snarky remark. “you’ve got the clothes for it anyway! let’s go.” he sat up once again, grabbing one of your hands.

“i don’t even dance.” that was a big lie, you made sebastian drive you to dance practice when you were sleeping together. you loved dancing, you weren’t that bad at it either. you weren’t gonna show it though. “don’t lie to me. i remember you dancing the morning after we-.” “alright enough of that.” he pulled you out of your seat, he spun you around twice, trying to catch the groove of the music.

just your luck, it was grover washington jr’s ‘just the two of us’ a smooth song, where the feelings couldn’t be denied. you told yourself it was just platonic swaying. although, the intertwined fingers and your back on his chest speak otherwise.

you swayed a little too close to him, your outfit was a thin material, it wasn’t difficult to feel his erection growing. you didn’t know if you should stop, mention it, keep dancing, you decided to continue dancing.

“good things might come to those who wait, not for those who wait too late. we got to go for all we know.” you sang to the lyrics, sebastian wrapped his hands that are locked with yours around your waist. “sebastian…” you spun yourself around, connecting your body back to his once again.

“yeah?” he looked down at you. “you doin’ alright?” you hummed. he did the same in response. “‘cause you know, i can feel it.” you whispered with a laugh added. you shouldn’t have spoken, that was your first mistake, but let’s face it, you’ve made more than one mistake tonight.

“see what you do to me?” he smirked, looking down at you with his beautiful eyes. “that’s all you…” he spoke under his breath, you still managed to hear him.

“gonna let me do something about it?” you bit your bottom lip to hold back your excitement. “yeah.” he grabbed your hand and led you to the upstairs bedroom. you both run upstairs like two little kids.

you ran into the bedroom after sebastian, kicking the door shut, pushing you up against the door, hands roaming up and down yours side. your hand went up under his tee-shirt, just getting a feel of what you hadn’t felt in ages.

“this little costume will be the death of me.” he groaned moving you both on the bed, making you straddle him. “i’ve missed this.” you shut him up with a kiss. he kissed you back with more passion as he wrapped his hands around your waist.

his eyes became full of desire, pupils dilated, lips red and swole. he catches his breath before he deepened the kiss, he cupped the side of your face. you grind roughly against his clothed member. sebastian’s mouth hovered over yours, holding it open. “you like that?” you teased, rubbing the side of his face with the back of your fingers.

you did it again only deeper and more forcefully. he restrained his moans, creating a thin line with his lips. “what do you want? i need to hear you say it.” you lowered your head to connect eyes with him. “i… i want you.” you smiled to his request. “i’ll try to do the best i can.” you mumbled before placing one more kiss on his lips, removing your body from his.

you slowly pulled his pants down “seems like you really did miss me.” he breathlessly laughed as you cupped your hand over his briefs. “no kidding.”

you pulled his cock out of the fabric, springing back on to his stomach. “this never gets old.” you gave him a few strokes, paying attention to his breaths every time you do so. you placed your lips on his neck, keeping your hand on his shaft. whimpers and small moans left his mouth, trying to hold them back but continuously failing. “let me hear you, nobody else can.” you muttered against his skin.

you removed your mouth from his neck after leaving multiple hickeys on his neck, you took all of him in your mouth, he threw his head back, placing his forearm over his eyes. your tongue swirled around his tip as your cheeks hollowed. you hummed against his length, which sent him to cloud nine.

your saliva rolled it’s way down to the base of his cock, you caressed his abs with your unoccupied hand. you listened to the exhales of pleasure he produced, studying what felt good and what felt breathtaking to him.

you had in him in the palm of your hands, he was so cute when he was vulnerable. you used your hands plus your mouth to finish him off. he bucked his hips causing you to gag, your eyes watered slightly as you removed your lips from him. “‘m sorry.” you shook your head, indirectly telling him it’s okay.

you got off the bed and you removed your sequined pants from your body, shimmying them all the way down. “look so beautiful.” he breathed. “you say that every time.” you sighed as you climbed back on the bed.

“cause my girl is always beautiful.” he toyed with his lips. “lay on your back f’me” walking back to the bed, you did as told, you laid down as he slowly removed your panties. “damn you still get this wet because of me huh?” he chuckled. “shut up.” you rolled your eyes, covering the grin painted on your face.

he ran his pointer and middle finger lightly up and down your slit, leaving his mouth open as he focused on your heat. he slowly placed his middle finger inside you, your lips making an ‘o’ as a low moan erupted from you.

he pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling them up every time to hit that spot. “sebas…tian.” you uttered, breaking up the words that you could barely reveal.

“god, i haven’t even been doing this for a few minutes and you’re already shaking.” he chuckled, leaning down to place kisses down your neck. “mm feels s’good.” you scrunched his hair in your hands. “yeah?” “mhm…” you sighed out.

he removed his hand from inside you and moved his back to the headboard. “come here.” he spoke softly. you rolled over slowly and straddled him once again, realizing you were the one wrapped around his finger.

“come on…” his eyes stayed on your wetness, waiting for you to lower yourself onto his length. you did so, immediately shivering your body onto his. you always felt filled when you were with sebastian, clenching around him, trying to get comfortable.

“you alright?” he huffed. “mhm— yeah.” you nodded repetitively. he cupped your ass, guiding your body. thrusting inside of you, setting a rhythm.

you slowly caught onto his tempo, only making it a tad bit faster and began rolling your hips, holding yourself up on his shoulders, leaving red scratch marks on his skin. sebastian’s hands went up to your waist, desperately trying to get you to slow down.

“i’m… i’m gonna finish too fast if you keep doing that.” he chuckled with a held back moan to come after. you placed your hands on his ankles as you slightly bended back, making a new technique of pleasure for the both of you.

“such a needy girl…” his once soothed breathy voice was now shattered, watching your facial expressions to the feeling.

you couldn’t take the slow pace any longer, it was true, you were needy, so you didn’t the only logical thing. you sped up. sebastian had no idea until you started jumping lightly up and down on his cock, becoming undone.

“fuuuck— baby…” he connected his hands with yours, helping you keep balance. “fill me up so well…” you mumbled. sebastian’s eyes fluttered shut as you clenched around him.

“gonna… come…” you head lowered, preparing to release. “nah uh… not yet…” he used a previously occupied hand to tip your head back up to make eye contact with him once again. “bu-“ “just— hold it okay?” he offered, grabbing your behind once again, controlling your body on his, the sound of skin slapping echoed all throughout the room. “sebastian please!” you cried out pleads. “go ‘head baby.” he jerked his hips up, emptying himself inside of you as you trembled against him. you tried to grasp on anything, his body, the headboard, the comforter, absolutely anything.

you both were lightheaded, trying to rejuvenate the blood back to your head. you rolled off of him, watching sebastian’s chest rise and lower rapidly. “damn…” you chuckled. “damn is right.”

[christowhore]

Making You Mine

pairing: chris evans x professor!fem!reader, chris evans x oc!female (brief)

summary: you and chris have your first date.

word count: 3.0k

warnings: !!! 18+ minors dni !!! slight smut, fluff, age gap (reader is 28, chris is 39) suggestive conversation, two dorks in love, alcohol consumption, heavy making out, dry humping, orgasms, rpf

notes: ngl to y’all i didn’t even mean to make it include some smut, but i ended up getting carried away. this is the second part of the ‘Pining for Professor’ series. i hope you all enjoy it and make sure to let me know what you think! *i do not give consent for this fic to be reposted or translated*

join my taglist !

MAIN MASTERLIST • SERIES MASTERLIST

The next few days that passed after your encounter seemed to fly by. You were busy working on your dissertation while Chris was attending ASP interviews.The two of you would text from time to time, just keeping the other updated about your life.

Chris had planned the evening out. Before considering what meal he wanted to make you, he made sure to ask you about any dietary concerns or allergies that you might have, and he was thankful that he did. You informed him that the only food allergy you had was apples. Part of him thought you were joking because he never heard of that being a restriction one could face, but after sending him a photo of one of your allergic reactions, he trashed every single apple he had stored in his fridge. A dramatic reaction, yes, but he wanted to make sure you were both completely safe and comfortable.

He decided on making a simple pasta dinner, something easy that he believed he couldn’t possibly mess up. It wasn’t until he was googling wine pairings when he remembered the woman he was supposed to have this same evening with just a few days ago; Lindsey.

Chris had been so preoccupied with you that he completely forgot about the woman. Looking at his phone and opening their messages, he saw that he had been accidentally ghosting her for the past three days. Not knowing how to deliver the news, he decided it would be best to break things off over the phone than through a text.

Clicking on her contact, he dialed her number and listened to the dial tone ring in his ear. He was pondering on what to say when he heard her voice through the phone. “Hey stranger, I was wondering when you were gonna call me back.”

“Hey Lindsey, sorry I got a little busy with life. Can we talk?”

For about the next five minutes, Chris tried his best to not give the cliche ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse, but in the end he had to explain to the woman how he met somebody else, you, and that he didn’t want to string her along any longer. The call ended with some harsh words from her which he expected. Even though he hated that he hurt her feelings, in the end all he kept thinking about was you.

A couple miles away from his home, you were at your house going through your entire wardrobe trying to find the perfect outfit to wear. Did you want to go the fancy route and wear a nice dress or something casual like jeans and a blouse? Even though Chris told you the plans he had scheduled for your rendezvous, you were still feeling nervous about the whole affair.

Thankfully with the help of your friends, they were able to ease your worries and help you out with your ensemble.

The night before the planned evening, the two of you lay awake, plagued with nerves. Worried about messing up and ruining the chance to be with the other.

With how his morning started the day of his previously planned affair, Chris made sure that nothing could stand in the way of tonight. He had his suit pressed, the ingredients needed for the meal prepped, and a bouquet of red roses bought fresh from the florist resting in a vase of water. Scott went with Dodger over to his sister Shanna’a house, leaving the home to himself.

The day proceeded quickly and soon enough it was time for the date. You agreed to drive over and meet him at his home, arriving there around eight in the evening.

Walking up to the home and knocking on the door, you kept cracking your knuckles, a nervous tick of yours whenever you got anxious. Once the entryway was opened and Chris stepped into your sight, all of those pesky jitters suddenly left your body.

Chris was clad in a tailored black suit that clung to his frame. The white button up he donned was crisp and clean, you could make out a few of his tattoos peeking through the material. Accessorizing his attire, he wore a black and silver watch, the silver in the band matching the Saint Christopher medallion clasped around his neck showing through the opening of his top. His hair was perfectly gelled, making him look fresh out of a photo shoot.

He looked absolutely delectable and part of you didn’t even care about the meal, you just wanted to know how the material of his clothes felt against your skin.

When Chris opened up his door he knew you’d be there, beautiful as ever but he didn’t expect the sight that he was met with.

Your regularly curly hair was straightened, cascading off your shoulders and perfectly framing your face. The makeup you applied made your features light up. He took notice of the lipgloss you put on and all he wanted to do was grab you and taste the substance that was lucky enough to touch your lips.

Looking your body up and down, he noticed your black silk dress, a tie in the middle cinching the material together. The material stopped at your mid thighs revealing your velvety smooth legs and high heeled shoes. Thoughts of him trailing his hands up the sides of your calves while he pinned you below him flashed in his mind. Quickly he shook the image out of his mind to put back all of his attention on you.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” he whispered in awe.

“You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

As you entered his home, he placed a hand on the small of your back tugging your frame into him so he could place a kiss on your cheek. The same butterflies you experienced when he pecked you that night in the parking lot reappeared by the dozens.

The smell of sautéing onions and garlic filled your senses, instantly making your stomach lurch around. “Whatever it is you're making smells amazing,” you commented to the brunette.

He bashfully smiled, “Thank you, I’m almost finished, though I should let you know I’m not the greatest cook.”

You laughed at his comment, unconsciously placing your palm against his upper arm. “It’s alright Chris, at least you have your looks right?”

It was his turn to laugh, your playful matter had him buzzing.

The two of you made your way through the kitchen, him to the front of the stove while you sat in the high chair behind the counter top. Before he returned to cooking the vegetables, he grabbed the bouquet of red roses he had ordered and handed them to you, a smile instantly appearing on your face.

You thanked him for his generosity and the two of you continued on in lively conversation while he focused back on finishing dinner.

Laughter filled the room while you two chatted in his living room. You two had finished dinner, Chris making a wonderful shrimp scampi that even he was surprised tasted good.

Even though you spent three hours talking that evening in your office, you two didn’t have any difficulty finding new topics to explore.

You spoke about your family and how life was growing up without siblings. How it felt being at an advanced academic level at such a young age, which allowed you the opportunity of being employed at the university at 21. Surprisingly, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around the man, something that you had never done before. It was something about his demeanor. His presence was inviting and captivating, and all you wanted to do was continue to be around the actor.

Chris was at a loss of words with how to describe how you made him feel. You had such a hypnotizing way to yourself. He would listen to your laugh and drink it in as if it were the last time his ears would be blessed with the sound. Your smile was so genuine, stretching from ear to ear and all he wanted to do was keep that look on your face till the end of his days. He didn’t know he was staring at you until you waved in front of his face, regaining his attention.

“Earth to Evans. Are you okay there?” Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed while you stared intently into his eyes, waiting for his response. He didn’t even think about the next words that came out of his mouth when he spoke.

“I know that we just met last week, and this is only our first date, but would you do me the honor of being able to call you my girlfriend?”

The statement that was rushed out of his mouth had you choke on your glass of wine. Regaining your composure, you set the drink down and looked up at Chris.

There wasn’t any humor in his eyes, just determination as well as a bit of trepidation.

You were about to speak when he started up again. “Usually when meeting someone, I go on about two to three dates with them. Get to know them and go through the ‘what if’s’ possibilities. But with you I realized I can’t wait that long. The only thing I care about is being able to see that smile on your face, and have the melodic sound of your laugh ingrained in my life. And I don’t want to waste another second trying to determine ‘what if’ we’re not a match when I already know that you’re the one for me.”

This time you were the one at a loss of words. Emotions wrangle throughout your body. You were nervous, but the nerves that stood on end were due to the fact of being scared of how quickly you were falling for him.

Without saying anything but donning a beaming grin, you nodded.

Chris immediately leant forward and molded his lips with yours. The kiss was soft and delicate. His right hand slightly cupped your cheek, and in that moment you felt safe, you felt at ease. There was no other place the two of you wanted to be than right there in each other’s embrace.

When you pulled away it felt like time was at a standstill, nothing else mattered but the two of you being together. Even though he wasn’t a photographic person, Chris felt this overwhelming need to document this moment.

He quickly pulled out his phone and asked you if it were okay to take a photo of the two of you, a personal keepsake so to speak. You nuzzled into his side, shoulders touching, breaths fanning across each other’s face. Chris extended his hand with the camera app open and aimed towards the two of you. Though you were looking at the screen, a beaming grin stretched across your features, he was only looking at you. Admiring you as if you were his entire world, which you were slowly but surely becoming. Snapping the photo, he locked his phone and tucked it away back into his slacks.

With the close proximity you two shared, he took advantage of the opportunity to kiss you again. He was desperate to feel you, touch you, taste you. The flavor of your strawberry lip gloss inviting him in.

You melted into him, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket pulling him closer into you. He leaned into your touch, causing the two of you to lay back against his couch.

His hips were slotted in between your legs, crotch rubbing against your warm core. The friction drawing out a low moan from your chest.

He continued to feverishly attack your mouth. This kiss was different from the first. This was pure hunger. You two were desperate to feel the other. His tongue slotted into your mouth, tasting the leftover remnants of the Pinot Grigio you consumed. Notes of grapes and honeysuckles on your tongue made him push deeper. The intoxicating taste and the effects of the alcohol had him unconsciously grinding into you, rubbing his cock against your covered mound.

You ran your hands across the expanse of his body. Rubbing his arms, slightly gripping his ass, tangling your hands into the brown tuffs of his hair, you couldn’t get enough. He felt amazing against you. The rubbing of his hips were drawing out moans that you didn’t even try to suppress due to the unwavering desire you felt towards him. You felt him lift your leg up, giving himself more room to rut against you. The movement caused your dress to hike up, showing the lace of your black thong to your now boyfriend.

The two of you continued with your actions. Tongue slapping against each other as you sloppily tasted the other. The movements of his hips against your cunt accelerated to a rigorous pace when he felt a wet patch growing on your panties.

You felt like honey teenagers, dry humping each other like a pair of desperate virgins, but in that moment it was perfect.

Drawing away from each other, Chris nestled his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shockwaves of arousal straight to your core.

You were both close to reaching your respective peak, your moans were getting wilder and his hips were becoming unruly.

It only took a few more bumps of his crotch against your covered clit for you to gush in your panties. An erotic moan left your lips and filled the room while your back arched, pushing your breasts against his chest.

Hearing the near pornographic sound that left your body, while feeling your peer nipples press against his front allowed him to reach his release as well. Biting down against the column of your neck, he came in his pants, filling his boxer briefs with his seed.

Chris collapsed on top of your panting body, the two of you trying to regain a steady breath. He lay there in your arms, your nails dragging along the nape of his neck.

When he finally regained composure, Chris raised up on his palms and looked down at you. And as if your minds were synced up, you both erupted in a fit of giggles.

After coming down for your laugh attacks, you excused yourself to the bathroom to freshen up.

You stood in front of the mirror, examining your reflection. There was still some adrenaline flowing through your bloodstream causing your hands to slightly shake. Your lips were red and swollen due to the attack on them moments prior. But what you couldn’t ignore was the dopey smile that seemed to take permanent residence on your face. You felt like a giddy schoolgirl, though you weren’t complaining.

Your recently ended relationship with your ex Justin was not great. The reason for the break up was due to the fact that he didn’t make you feel special. Looking back at it now you don’t even know why you agreed to start dating him in the first place. But you were thankful it concluded, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, with a man who looked at you like you hung the moon and placed every star in the sky yourself.

Back in the living room, Chris paced around the living room for your return. Happiness surged through him, making him pump his fist in the air like he was John Bender in The Breakfast Club.

He's been with plenty of women throughout his life, even getting engaged to one, but it was in this moment he realized he had never been so infatuated with someone until you entered his life. You made all of the hairs on his body stand up just by looking at him. It elated him but also scared him. It scared him due to how fast he was falling for you. But he didn’t care. Though this feeling was foreign, he had no problem welcoming it with open arms.

After a few moments consisting of composing yourself, you made your way out of the bathroom and back to Chris. You two stood there, just smiling at each other like idiots. It was him who finally piped up.

“So that was some first date.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment.

“Tell me about it,” you replied.

The two of you conversed some more before it got late and you decided to call it a night. Making sure you had all of your belongings, including your roses, he escorted you to your car.

Resting against the door, you couldn’t resist temptation so you pulled him into you, attaching your lips to his once more. This kiss wasn’t the apprehensive one you first shared, or the hungry and desperate one that came after. This kiss was full of passion. It was the type that made you breathe out a sigh of relief into the other's mouth, glad that your bodies were in union in such an intimate manner. Neither of you wanting it to end.

When you finally pulled apart, Chris rested his forehead against your own, trying to savor the moment a while longer.

“I’ll call you when I get home, alright?”

Repeating the actions yet again of your first meeting, he went to open your door, waiting for you to slide in before shutting in. After turning on the engine, you rolled the window down allowing Chris to rest against the frame on his forearms.

“See you later, girlfriend.”

“Right back at you, boyfriend.”

Giving you a fleeting kiss goodbye, he stood up and watched as you pulled out of his driveway and back to your home.

Chris stood there in his driveway for a while. He thought about how the date went twenty times better than any other one he’d ever been on. How you made him feel like the greatest man in the world. The way your lips met his and how it was like they were made to be caressed by his. The smile that crept on your face when he called you his girlfriend. And he thought about how now nothing else in this world mattered except for keeping you in his life and making sure that wonderful smile never left your features.

A/N: so the song True by Spandau Ballet is the song i envisioned when Chris opened the door. it’s that one slow 80s song they play in movies where it’s goes like ‘ah ah ah ahhh ahh’ it's all romantic and what not, y’all know the song i’m talking about, that one. cheesy i know, but i works.

anyway baby, i know there’s not a lot of dialogue, i’ve come to the realization that it’s one of my weakness but i’ll be working on it.

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* dividers credit: @firefly-graphics *

[bookwyrminspiration]

Kotlc human au prom outfits :)

Don't mind me Nonsie just going to use all of the totally legit prom knowledge I definitely have (I always skip school dances) to answer this one! I've talked about young Sophie once before, so this time I'll do older human Sophie. As for the others...I have ideas :)

Sophie: She's very shy about all this but definitely isn't wearing a dress. But I don't think she'd have the confidence for a suit yet either, so somewhere in-between. Perhaps a formal romper? Simple cut, suitable for a formal environment, she's still covered, and it's not a big fancy dress. It's got a bit of a looser fit, maybe with a sash around the waist, probably a darker color so she doesn't stand out. Not sure exactly which color though--maybe a dark blue or a muted green. She's got her everyday jewelry and her hair is clipped out of her face on one side, but she didn't do anything else. Her makeup is so simple its unnoticable, probably subtle brown liner and mascara, maybe a lip gloss. It's comfortable

Fitz: He's got a classic full-blown suit in a navy blue, complete with a pocket square. Tempted to say he also has a pocketwatch with a chain. He's got a subtly patterned shirt underneath, i'm thinking stripes. His tie is slightly lighter color than the suit, and is slightly off in terms of how it's tied. He tried his best but continues to fiddle with it, and it's the only part of his appearance that reminds you he's actually a dork on top of being so Wonderboy.

Keefe: Floral shirt. 100%. He's got the bright colors and the buttons aren't all closed, which shows off his necklace--a delicate gold. It's only partially tucked into his pants, which look fancy but he wears them so casually. Going for that roguishly unstyled look. He's probably wearing rings as well. Biana might've joked about doing his makeup and he let her do it for the fun of it, so he's got smoky colored shadow and glossed lips to match the shirt. he's got no right looking so good with the chaos he causes

Biana: Her outfit is the closest to a ballgown, she goes all out. Even has a corset style bodice studded with beads forming swirling designs. I'm thinking either a deep purple or a gold color for the dress, and her hair is all down and curled, a simple jeweled clip on one side. She's got a statement lip and stunning highlight, wearing strappy heels that would be a hazard for anyone but her. The sleeves are off the shoulder and sheer, draping over her arms before cinching at the wrist.

Dex: he is embarrassed yet excited to be there, so his outfit is hidden under a hoodie until someone can convince him to take it off. He's got a slightly worn button down with a bowtie slightly askew. He's rolled back the sleeves and it's tucked properly into his pants, which are somewhere between slacks and jeans. He's wearing a super intricate watch that he's been messing with, which stands out. I'm thinking he goes for a more muted color scheme, though I'm not sure which color. Green or bronze-ish maybe?

Marella: There's a two piece situation going on here. The top is lacey, see through on the top half with jewel-like details. The bottom half is like a skirt, plenty of ruffles giving it some volume while still being easy to move in. Torn between whether it's a white/ice blue color pairing or a deep red. Whatever color, it stands out. I'm thinking it's paired with a chunky platform heel and her hair is swept back into a braided ponytail or bun to show off her makeup--sweet colors but dramatic shapes.

Linh: She keeps it simple with a long, flowing dress, but it's in a slightly wrapped style that leaves a slit down the side that flares out as the fabric curves. It's a sage green, matching her eyeshadow. Her hair's pinned up in a half-up bun, and silver jewelry compliments the whole look. She's got strappy sandals with a slight heel in a light color, but doesn't want to overdo it. The sleeves might be a little sheer and flowy, matching the rest of the look

Tam: He's only here because Linh is here; he wasn't going to get dressed up, but Linh said he should have fun, so to appease her he's got on a black button down with floral print (the print is black so it's very subtle) tucked into black jeans. He's wearing complimentary silver jewelry, a chain and rings; it's passable as kinda fancy while still not drawing attention to himself

Stina: She's got a draping bodycon dress that reaches the floor, super regal in a statement maroon, flaring towards the end. She is that girl. It's not super tight, but it's still shapely. Her nails match the dress and so does her eyeshadow, complemented by a sharp winged liner. Her heels are short stilettos, black and secure. Her hair has been pinned up out of her face, but gathered in a way where the curls all flow down her back.

Maruca: She's got a short dress, about knee length, which falls in layers. I'm thinking a dusty pink color, all one piece with a dip down the middle. The back is slightly open and all the fabric is a solid, smooth color. The only texture is along the front of the bodice, which is studded with jewels and lace. it's simple yet stands out, complimenting her gold jewelry. Her makeup matches, and I think she might go for braids for the occasion, perhaps with gold hair cuffs throughout to stick to the theme.

Wylie: He's not a fan of social events so he keeps it simple, just an unbuttoned blazer over plain shirt and pants. The boldest thing he'd be willing to do is wear a brighter color, like a mustard yellow or rusty orange blazer, but he doesn't want to be noticed. No tie, no pocket square, nothing extra. Just formal enough that people don't come up to him and ask why he's not dressed up.

Those are some of my ideas for what they might wear in a human au to prom! I know many people are fond of the girls in suits and such, and I also love them and think they'd look great! I just don't think it matches their clothing choices from the series; they've shown an affection for dresses that I used as inspiration instead (except for Sophie). So that's why I didn't include those ideas :)

[storiesforallfandoms]

she’s a baddie ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1846

request?: yes!

“Hi! I have a request for mgk (if your requests are open still) but I was thinking maybe something like colson’s girlfriend is a total badass and like has a bunch of tattoos and maybe is a rapper herself and he is kind of just gushing over her and tells everyone he can about how cool she is? <3″

description: in which he loves to gush about his badass rapper girlfriend at every opportunity

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

The minute he walked into the studio and saw her, Colson was in love.

Dom had asked Colson to be on a song with him and a long time friend of his, a fellow rapper named (Y/N). Colson agreed - he always loved to work with Dom and he loved to meet new people to collaborate with.

He wasn’t sure what he expected of (Y/N), but it definitely was not what he actually got.

(Y/N) was in the booth recording her verse. Already, her rapping abilities were for beyond even Colson’s. He was extremely impressed with her lyrics. As for her appearance: she was wearing a pair of tight, ripped jeans, a white button up dress shirt that was completely open with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the sports bra she was wearing underneath.

With all that skin exposed, Colson could see that she was nearly completely covered in tattoos. Her arms were covered in tattoo sleeves, all the way down to her hands and even fingers. There was an undercarriage tattoo poking out from under her sports bra, and another poking out from her waistband around her hip. She even had one on her neck!

She radiated badass energy, and Colson was drawn to her.

Dom looked up from where he was sat and got up to hug Colson. “Hey mate! Just in time, (Y/N) is finished her verse!”

(Y/N) had stopped rapping when she noticed the commotion outside. She was looking at Dom and Colson, as if waiting for them to tell her what to do.

“(Y/N), come meet Kells!” Dom called.

She walked out from the booth and smiled at Colson. “Nice to meet you. Dom talks so highly of you, and I’m a bit of a fan.”

Colson smiled and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, too. Dom’s talked you up to me a lot, too. You definitely live up to the hype.”

(Y/N) tried to hide her smile to keep her cool status, but Colson could see the corners of her mouth tilting upwards. She put her hands in her pockets and shrugged modestly. “I’m okay I guess. Thanks though.”

“Her verse is amazing,” Dom said, bringing the attention back to him. “Just wait till you hear it when it’s finished.”

Colson sat with Dom to go over the verse he had written. (Y/N) sat behind them, distracting herself on her phone while the men worked. Every so often he would glance over his shoulder at her, hoping to catch her attention for even just a moment.

“She’s single mate, go for it,” Dom said in a low voice, but certainly not low enough that (Y/N) didn’t hear it.

Colson’s eyes widened and he quickly looked over his shoulder at her again. Her attention was still on her phone, but there was a knowing smile on her face.

When the three had finished in the studio and were preparing to go, Colson finally decided to talk to (Y/N). She was heading out the door when Colson approached her, falling into step beside her.

“Your tattoos are cool,” he said, immediately cringing at how lame the compliment was.

(Y/N) smiled brightly at him. “Thanks! They better be for how long they took and how much they cost. Yours are pretty sick too.”

“Thanks. A few of them are kind of old and I regret a little but that happens.”

“When you have as many as we do, you eventually regret one or two.”

There was an awkward silence as the two continued into the parking lot. Colson tried to wrack his brain for some way to save the conversation, but everything he came up with felt dumb or lame. He felt his heart fall to his stomach when (Y/N) pulled keys from her pocket and unlocked a car in front of them. He knew he’d eventually see her again, but he didn’t want their time to end just yet.

Before getting into her car, (Y/N) turned to Colson and put her hand out. “Give me your phone.”

He was taken back by such a direct request that his mind couldn’t comprehend what she had asked at first. “What?”

“Phone, unlock, give.”

Colson took his phone from his pocket and did as she asked. (Y/N) opened the contacts app on his phone and added her name and number, and even took a selfie of herself to set as the contact photo. She sent herself a text so she could have Colson’s number before passing the phone back to him.

“Let’s get drinks some time,” she told him before climbing into her car and starting it up. The roaring of the engine made Colson realize that even her car was badass.

He never would’ve guessed that that one encounter would’ve led to such a strong relationship between the two of them. Colson took (Y/N) up on her offer to go get drinks and, next thing he knew, he was waking up the next morning with her in his bed after deciding to be in a real relationship.

When the news hit the media, both of their fanbases exploded with excitement, saying how (Y/N) and Colson were perfect for one another. Even the tabloids couldn’t find a bad thing to say about the relationship. In fact, they constantly praised the two and complimented them whenever they were saw out together. As much as Colson hated the vultures that were paparazzi, it was hard to be as angry when they were actually saying nice things about him and the woman he loved.

And Colson couldn’t get enough of hyping his girl up. Even when she wasn’t there, all he did was talk about how cool and badass she was. It eventually got to a point that his friends would have to tell Colson that every time he mentioned (Y/N)’s name when she wasn’t around, they were going to hit him.

On the night of Dom’s album release, which featured the song that had brought Colson and (Y/N) together, Dom decided to throw a massive party to celebrate. Colson showed up with his friends, fashionably late as always. It didn’t take him long to navigate the large crowd to find his stunning girlfriend, who was wearing a skin tight black dress that hugged her body and came down to her thighs, paired with a pair of black stiletto heels and her hair pulled back in a braid. Colson couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over her body as he walked up behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek, bringing her attention away from her conversation to him for just a moment.

“Sorry to steal her away,” Colson said to her conversation partner, “but I just had to tell my girlfriend how fucking stunning she looks tonight.”

A bright smile spread on (Y/N)’s face as the person she was talking to made a fake vomiting sound, but was smiling none the less.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, hot stuff,” she said with a wink. “Wanna grab a drink and I’ll be over in a minute?”

“Sounds good, baby.”

Colson kissed her head as his hand trailed from her waist to her ass, giving it a quick squeeze before walking away. (Y/N) turned and watched him go with wide eyes, but also with an amused smile on his face. He smirked to himself as he made his way to the bar.

Slim and Rook were already stood there, two empty glasses in hand but too distracted by their conversation to get refills. Colson ordered two drinks, one for himself and one for (Y/N), before looking back across the crowded room at her. An involuntary smile stretched across his face as he looked at the familiar tattoos that were peaking out from her dress.

“Bro, if you say one thing about (Y/N) I am going to punch you in the fact,” Slim said, snapping Colson out of his trance.

“What?” he said. “Dude I wasn’t going to say anything about her.”

“You have that look on your face man,” Rook pointed out. “The look that says the next thing out of your mouth is gonna be something about how badass (Y/N) is.”

The bartender passed Colson his drink and he immediately swallowed half of it. “I’m sorry for thinking my girlfriend is the coolest shit since sliced bread, but that’s how relationships are supposed to work.”

“That’s not how they’ve worked with you before,” Slim said.

“Yeah, before it was a lot of sex and PDA and eventual fighting,” Rook added.

“What I have with (Y/N) ain’t like that, guys,” Colson said. “I know I move way too fast in relationships and they all end the same way, but when I say that it was love at first sight for me with (Y/N), I mean it. I mean, look at her, how can you not love her? She’s not just another girl who wants to be all over me and gets jealous or upset when I’m gone for long because she actually understands that this is how my job works. And she likes to drink and smoke weed and party, so she’s actually fun to hang out with. On top of all that...well...just look at her! She’s smoking hot and badass as fuck. I’m sorry that I tend to talk too much about her and all, but I can’t help it. I’m really happy.”

During his speech, Colson hadn’t noticed that (Y/N) had finished with her conversation and approached the three of them. She joined the group just in time to hear how happy he was to be with her, which had managed to bring happy tears to her eyes. She tried to blink them away as to not ruin her makeup, but it was hard when Colson’s kind words were replaying in her head.

“You mean that?” she asked, causing the three men to jump and to look at her.

“Damn, you move quick girl,” Slim commented.

“How much did you hear?” Colson asked.

“Enough of it,” she responded.

Slim and Rook exchanged a glance before excusing themselves from the conversation. Colson held out (Y/N)’s drink to her and she gladly took it. She leaned into his side as he wrapped his arm around her again, fitting perfectly against him like two puzzle pieces.

“I meant every word I said,” he told her. “I think you’re the coolest chick I’ve ever met and then some. Way too good to be dating a dork like me.”

“You’re anything but a dork,” she said. “And even if you were, you’re my dork, and I can’t imagine having anyone else by my side.”

Colson smiled that adorable, goofy smile that (Y/N) loved so much. She mirrored it before leaning up to kiss his lips. His grip around her waist tightened as he held her close, never wanting to let her go.

[regentbison]

Things that happened today (October 6th) at Beetlejuice broadway:

For starters. The makeup. Alex’s makeup was pretty bad ngl, his face was completely bleach white while you could see his hands and they were skin white. Also his beard and his wig being different colors pisses me off

Leslie stuttered a tiny bit during a line but nothing really more worthy

There were lines here and there when Alex seemed like he was trying to remember what he was supposed to say. Maybe it was on purpose tho

Alex have so many thumbs up during the first act especially. He was throwing them around like one would think Beetlejuice would throw gang signs

Kerry seemed tired at the beginning of the show, it gave Barbara a more “oh my god I am so over this shit” fell and I was kind of there for it

I think something was wrong with the mixer or some of the mics? Kerry’s especially. There was a bit of an interference noise whenever she sang especially and all of the girls sounded a lot quieter than the boys for some reason

The book came down a little bit late, and the fire started up a little bit early. I think there were just some technical issues tonight

But the head worked! It didn’t jump out the second Alex opened the crate like it usually does but once Alex stomped his leg it came up. Very fitting.

There were some improve lines here and there by Alex (like usual)

When he threw the book into the fire (I don’t remember the words exactly) he said smth about the book being only fifteen and got getting to see life

“Dress like a baby” “what the shit Adam”

Elizabeth is as much on a dork on stage as she seems to be backstage. When she came down for the suffer party she struck a little ballet pose and then did a jump with her leg up like she was someone who knew nothing about ballet pretending to be a ballerina

During the part where Adam (Charles) throws “lettuce” out of the bowl during Day-O Elizabeth coauthor two pieces, seemed very proud of herself, looked around to see if anyone noticed, then played with them a little before dropping them again

Kerry laughed a couple of times when I don’t think she was supposed to XD it was adorable

During the bouquet toss in creepy old guy Kerry threw it so high it went right over everyone and Adam (Charles) fought it instead of Leslie

Alex ✨spit ✨

He spit one time right in Elizabeth’s face and I don’t think she even noticed

When burning the suicide note, Alex let go of it a little bit late and it nearly singed his wig

Also the book nearly fell in the trap door, it bounced a few times before landing near/under the little table

Leslie broke. It was during the part where Beetlejuice says it’s time for him to go. She laughed out loud then turned around for a full minute or two. Probably to compose herself

Alex made fun of Elizabeth here and there and used a British accent for some lines

Can’t forget to mention the bow. Fucking amazing

“Skeleton ballerina baby debut!”

That’s all for now I think. If I remember anything else I’ll update

[gucciwins]

The First Kiss

Harry and Y/N go on their first date...will they finally become something more?

Word count: 4814

A/N: I know how much you all love breakout room and the follow up it's your birthday. I love writing them and it's been a while but do know they are doing well. this is nothing but sweet fluff. I do mention the vaccine and wearing masks which I hope you all are doing. it's important to stay safe and truly wish nothing but the best for you all. I love you xxx

please reblog and let me know your thoughts

_____

“Are you feeling good? I sent over a goodie basket.”

Harry giggled, loving how concerned you were. “I’m doing good, baby.” He sees you tuck your head into your sweater smiling, when he notices it’s the one he sent you in a goodie basket after you got your second shot of the vaccine.

It’s spring break, and Harry can finally say he is officially vaccinated after letting the mandated two weeks pass. It’s perfect timing, honestly, as he has been itching to finally see you in person again.

Your university let you know that they would begin to have vaccine dates open to students through an email that you quickly forwarded to Harry. You had to register to get a date for your first vaccine, and slots were filling up fast. You shot Harry multiple texts telling him what day you got and time, but you went without an answer for an hour which is weird, seeing as Harry never liked to leave you waiting more than five minutes.

By the time he got back to you, he had to wait two weeks, unlike you, who would be getting in only three days. You asked why he didn’t answer, and he said he was in class. You frowned because even then, he always answered. He then confessed he lost his phone in his apartment and didn’t have time to search for it.

You laughed about it, but he was disappointed because he wanted to see you. To give you a hug. To hold your hand.

After spending his birthday together, you both decided against meeting in person for safety even though you both wanted to, more than anything. You postponed your date to the future. Instead, you completed the group assignment through zoom meetings that led to facetime calls. After submitting the project and learning that you aced the assignment, well, you both caved in.

Harry gushed on how he always got B’s on the professor’s assignments, and to celebrate, he sent you a dozen cupcakes from the bakery that you never stop raving about located only three blocks from where you live. Then proceeded to call him over to celebrate and who was he to say no. Harry was shocked at how rich and full of flavor they were because he wasn’t aware it was vegan. Yet, it tasted better than anything he ever had. Harry realized why it was your favorite, promising to take you there in person to have your pick of favorites and not only red velvet and carrot cake because they were safe choices.

You couldn’t say you’ve been on a proper date with Harry, but you’d like to count all the zoom calls and facetime calls as dates not that you let Harry know it would only inflate his ego. You’d start a call to ask a question on assignments, and it would lead to sharing stories back and forth of what their favorite book was to where they would visit if they could go that very second. You loved how insightful he was, also liked how he used pastel highlighters to mark his annotations. Harry was a fan of how you always had a pencil in your hair or behind your ear. How you always had a snack on hand because you didn’t want to listen to professors without something to eat or you’d lose focus.

You were glad you’d be able to get together safely but also taking all the needed precautions. Safety is hot, as Harry liked to say all the time when you sent him photos of you wearing your masks.

“Yeah, like the basket?”

Harry grins, but it’s not as bright due to the lacking pixels of your laptop. He holds it up, having placed it in his lap. “I did love the bath bombs.”

You smile back at him, “Going to change your life. Self-care is important, bub. Even in the smallest ways as a bath.”

Harry nods, “I know, baby. The reason I remember to take deep breaths each morning, no longer eager to reach for my phone.”

“Proud of you.”

“And I of you, baby.”

Harry shines his dimples at you when you turn your head away at the sweet name he started calling you a few weeks ago. You adored it, honestly, but it always left you feeling flustered.

“H, please.”

“Baby, I like seeing you flustered.”

“You’re a menace.”

He shrugs, still giggling.

“How are Mitch and Sarah?”

“Wonderful, sickly in love as always. Spend their time at Sarah’s like composing together.”

“That’s sweet.” You lean in, smiling at him, “you know we should all hang out together. I get to meet Mitch properly and see Sarah again, and you’ll get to meet Amy.” You grow excited at the thought.

“Not before I get to see you.”

“H, we got to coordinate a day that works for all of us. No need to get jealous.”

“Not jealous.”

“Sure,” you reply sarcastically.

“Got to learn to share me with Amy. I cook her lunch and dinner; otherwise, she’d be nothing but a walking cadaver.”

“I want you to make me lunch and dinner,” he pouts.

“I can now that you’ve vaxxed.”

“That I am, so you are.”

“Yes,” you’re waiting for him to go on.

“Will you go on a date with me? Think we waited long enough, and if my feelings weren’t obvious enough, I like you and really want to take you out.” he rambles on.

You interrupt him knowing fully well he could go on for days, “I’d love to, Harry.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Great. Friday then.”

“I’m free.”

“I know, know your schedule by heart.”

“Creep,” you gasp at the news.

“Shush, like you don’t have my classes added to your planner.” Your turn to pout.

“I like knowing your schedule, and they overlap.”

“I do too. Look forward to your messages every day between classes.”

“So Friday? What are you planning?”

“A picnic.”

You jump up in excitement, causing your laptop to fall back on your bed before you dive to save it. Harry yelling dramatically in the background as if you just dropped him.

“H, be quiet. You’re fine.”

“Dropped me, darling.”

“Dork.”

He mutters something in return, but you can’t hear him.

“So I’ll prepare lunch because you’ve told me once or twice that you’re hopeless in the kitchen.” Harry doesn’t even try to fight you because it’s true. “You’ll take care of drinks and desserts.”

“Seems like you’re planning the date,” he teases.

“I like picnics.”

“Well, I like you, so I’ll let you take over.”

Your smile turns soft, reaching your hand out as if you could reach in and caress him. “I like you, too. I can’t wait to give you a hug.”

“Counting down the hours.”

“Alright, you have class in ten, and you always struggle to log in.”

“Making me hang up. Not fair.” Harry frowns, debating skipping class for you.

“Don’t think about it, Styles.”

“Fine. Take care, baby.”

“Bye, H.”

A date.

You have a date with Harry.

Finally, it happened.

_____

You were nervous.

Why were you nervous? It was just Harry.

Harry, who wanted to date you from your first meeting, who emailed you asking you out, and who has not stopped talking to you since February. Constantly reminding you of his feelings for you. You hope he knew you felt the same, in texts and sending him little gifts even as small as writing him a letter.

You got up early today to prepare lunch. You decided on sandwiches, a non-messy meal, and Harry always said he wanted to try the bakery bread you use and not the basic store-bought. It was a bit pricey but not as much anymore because you had become a regular, meaning the sweet owner began giving you a discount, especially when finding out you're a student. Still, you always remember to leave a good tip. The turkey sandwiches were finished with cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Looked so good that Amy had one as you were making them. You made three and packed them up in your glass reusable containers.

Staring at the sandwiches, it felt like too little food when Harry had told you many times how much he enjoys eating, so you cleaned up and got to make a second meal. You decided on vegetable rice paper rolls. A favorite and easy meal to make that you enjoyed eating. It was packed with lettuce, avocado, cabbage, bell peppers, cucumbers, noodles, and fresh herbs. This was a meal your dad made you all the time as a child with the special slightly spicy peanut sauce that you could drizzle on top.

Harry was going to enjoy this, so you hoped. He promised to make strawberry lemonade. Assured you that it would not be store-bought, and you believed him. During one of your late conversations, he shared how his sister would make him some when she returned from uni. Reminds him of home, he would say.

After packing everything away in the fridge to keep it cool it was time to get ready. You stood in front of your closet for a good five minutes before you began to swipe through the hangers. You knew you wanted to wear a dress; it was warm weather and would only get hotter as the day went on.

You searched your entire closet, there were three options once you had decided on, but you called Amy in to make the final decison for you. She decided on the one sitting in the middle of your bed, which was exactly what you were thinking.

The dress was a white button-front high slit that fit you nicely. You hadn't used it in quite some time, seeing as when you left your apartment, it would be in leggings, sweats, and the first sweater you could slip on.

You couldn't stop looking in the mirror, loving how it flowed around you when you twirled. For accessories, you slipped on a gold ring that had a little heart on it and another that was a gift shaped like a small snake as it was going to scale down your finger. A simple heart locket gifted to you by your grandparents hung right above your cleavage. You decided to leave your hair natural, liking how it air-dried after the shower you had that morning.

There was no makeup on your face, just your favorite rosebud salve lip balm that left your lips soft. Amy insisted you put some on, but you stood firm in your decision, knowing you'd be wearing a mask and didn't want anything smudging.

You looked down at the time on your phone and knew it was time to head down, Harry said twelve, and you didn't want to make him come up to your apartment only to walk down the three levels again. You grabbed the picnic basket that was sitting in the back of yours and Amy's shared doorway closet and made sure to place everything neatly, leaving room for Harry's drink and stashing a bunch of napkins in for any accidents. Basket prepared, you slipped your sunglasses in your hair, placing your lavender tote bag with tiny embroidered daisies on your shoulder that contained sunscreen, your wallet, extra face masks, and a book Harry had told he had wanted to read.

Before opening your door, you put on the white mask that you embroidered sunflowers on. It was one of your favorites, and glad it complimented your look well. You walked down the stairs slowly, not wanting to drop the basket.

You walk out the front door and find Harry getting out of the yellow mask on his face. As you get closer, you can see it's the one you made him. It has bees on it, and embroidered on the left side is 'my honey.' Harry had turned quite pink when he opened the gift he got in the mail over facetime with her. You happily screenshot his reaction, happy to have it to look back on.

As soon as you reach him, it's as if all the nerves you had disappeared. Calm washes over you as he comes to stand in front of you. You can't see the smile he has, but the crinkles by his eyes prove he's just as happy to see you.

"Hi, Harry," you say, your eyes taking him all in.

Harry doesn't hide, he's checking you out, and you're thankful for the mask at the moment, able to hide how bashful you're feeling. "Hello, baby. You look gorgeous. I'm a lucky man."

"Yeah," you swayed side to side, "gave me a reason to dress up."

"Always beautiful, but I'm so glad to see more than just your shoulders." He laughs, and you join him.

"Look pretty, H. I had not seen this cardigan." You reach out, running a finger down over the pastel yellow cardigan that looks to be well-loved. He paired it with a plain white shirt that fits him loosely with Gucci denim trousers that he told you he found a few years ago when he was thrift shopping in London with his mother.

"No, brought it out just for you. Wanted it to match my favorite mask." Although he couldn't see it, you hoped your eyes were doing their job expressing your joy. "Let's put this basket in the trunk. Got a blanket and a few pillows as well as the lemonade."

"And the dessert?"

He chuckles, "and the dessert."

You place everything in the trunk, taking a step back for Harry to close it. He walks you over to your door, opening it for you, you offer a soft thank you, but before you get in, you turn to look at him.

"What is it, baby?"

You stare down at your ribbon-tied wedges before looking up into his piercing green eyes. "Can I have a hug? I just--I'm really happy to see you."

Harry falters for a second before answering, "of course, come here." He's quick to bring you in for a hug, and it feels like home. It's comfortable, and you can't believe you haven't hugged him since February, a good two months ago, when it has honestly felt like a lifetime. "I would have earlier, but when you came out, you truly shocked me with how amazing you looked."

You just hug him tighter, enjoying feeling his strong arms around you. He looks at you smiling. "That was nice." You nod because it was, and if he'd let you, you'd stay in his arms all day.

"Well, shall we go?"

"We shall."

And with that, you were off to your first date with Harry, which would hopefully lead to more.

_____

The drive to the park was short; you unloaded everything from the car once you got there. Harry offers to carry the basket, letting you lead to picking the spot. You walked ahead, glad he brought you to a park you recognized; it's one you liked to walk around during finals week when you were drowning in essays and exams. This was a nice break. On the other side of the park is a lake where you can rent pedal boats, but you were sure they hadn't opened up for business just yet, wanting more of the population to be vaccinated.

You led him to a secluded area laughing when he joked if you were leading him to his murder. Once you reached the clearing, one large tree with lots of shade and a few rose bushes surrounded it.

"It's beautiful here." Harry awed in amazement.

"Yeah, I found it my first year when I was trying to destress; I don't think many people know about it because it's not on the maps."

"Lucky us."

Harry grabs one end of the blanket, helping you spread it on the grass. You set your tote bag on one corner as well as setting down the pillows. As you make your way to sit down, Harry gently grabs your elbow, causing you to turn and look at him; he's holding a bouquet of tulips.

You felt your eyes well up with tears, not used to such a kind gesture; it's been a long time since you've been on a date with someone you really care about, "You got me tulips, H."

You reach forward and cradle them in your arms. "Course I did; I think you deserve all the beautiful things life has to offer."

You set the flowers on top of the basket before straightening up and pulling Harry into a hug. Your arms around his neck, his resting tightly around your waist, "including you," you whisper in his ear, causing him to squeeze you a bit tighter. Harry pulls back, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Let's eat, baby. Know you made something delicious for us to enjoy."

Harry set the food out, and you are sure to hand him the wet wipes to clean your hand before you could begin wanting to be clean and not wanting to venture out to find a restroom. He eyed the sandwiches first, then the veggie rice paper rolls.

"Couldn't decide?"

"Wasn't sure what you'd like. So I gave you two options."

"Too sweet angel." Harry leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Think we ought to take off the mask now." You giggle, sad you didn't get to feel his lips on your cheek.

"Yeah, so comfortable it doesn't really bother me wearing them. I am hungry."

You place your mask in your bag, and Harry puts his mask in his pocket. He opens up both containers and digs into the veggie rolls first. He hums after the first bite, chewing happily. "Delicious," he mutters between chews.

"Can add this peanut sauce to give it more flavor, just a tad bit spicy." He watches you as you pick up and spoon drizzle a bit on top, taking a bite. Harry follows your steps taking another bite, and his eyes go wide at the added flavor.

"Shocked, I've lived all my life without this food."

You laugh, "well, now you don't have to."

He chews happily at your response.

_____

Lunch is filled with little conversation, both praising each other for a well-planned meal. The strawberry lemonade complimenting the food perfectly. He brought a raspberry lemon loaf cake for dessert, and you happily admit you ate two pieces. It tasted so heavily, making Harry promise you to buy more in the future for you. He agreed, stating he'd do anything to make you happy.

"It's nice going out with someone, enjoying the sweet fresh air." Harry comments.

You hum in agreement, "I adore my alone time, but with the right company, it can feel just as perfect."

Harry's cheek turns rosy pink quickly, not at all trying to hide from you. You love that he loves to show how much you affect him.

"It feels normal like we've done this hundred of times already.”

You chuckle, nudging his shoulder. "It's cause we have. Just never called any of them dates."

"So you agree, we've been dating since February," he teases.

"Yeah, I think we can say that."

"When was our first zoom call?"

"Hmm...after class a week after your birthday. Think we worked for an hour and talked about nothing for another."

You look over at Harry loving how the sun reflects off his skin; it makes him look like a gift from the Gods. Harry feels your gaze on him, flashing you a big grin, his dimples on display just for you, because of you.

"We will call February eighth our anniversary," he declares.

You laugh, not a silent one but a full-out belly gripping laugh; you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Harry sits there confused, not sure where the joke was.

"You alright, baby?" He asks, just a bit concerned.

"That is what you were thinking so hard about; you couldn't figure out a week from your birthday quickly. Took you a good few minutes." You shake your head, trying to catch your breath, tiny giggles still escaping you.

"Oi, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, honey."

"Never claimed to be smart."

"The pretty ones never are," you tease.

"Alright, that's it. I've had enough."

Before you can stop him, he's on top of you, his fingers tickling you from your sides to your thighs. He knows your body getting all your secret spots that make you squirm away from. You almost succeeded in getting one of his hands over your head, but he surprises you by straddling you. You've stopped laughing, but Harry keeps going.

His curls are falling over his head, his eyes shining bright, a new lightness to them. At that moment, you realize how lucky you are, and before you know it, you reach your free hand up and place it on the back of his neck, bringing him down to your lips catching him by surprise.

Harry stays frozen for a second before sinking into the kiss, responding softly, wanting to explore you as he'd been thinking about this moment for months. You love the feel of his lips against yours; you'd happily give up breathing, never wanting to part. Harry tries to pull away, but you chase his mouth, not ready to stop kissing. He smiles against your lips, humming when he places a hand on your cheek, adding more pressure; you're not sure who lets out a moan letting it out into the universe wishing for more, hoping for forever.

You don't get butterflies or fireworks. Instead, you feel the ease of calmness wash over you like when you arrive home after a long day. That's what kissing Harry is like coming home.

You pull back, laying your head on the pillow Harry was wise to bring; you don't try to contain your smile as Harry stares down at you in a look of awe. You run your thumb over his bottom lip-loving how swollen they look thanks to you. His eyes never leave yours; you gasp as he places a kiss on your thumb before taking it in his mouth, sucking it gently; a moan escapes you, surprised at how hot the teasing is getting you.

"You're filthy, honey."

Harry smirks, "just for you, baby."

"Only our first date, H. We aren't going to move fast."

"A makeout isn't too fast for you," he teases.

"Felt just right." You smile, loving the feeling of his weight on top of you as he has not moved from his position, still straddling you.

"I agree."

"Sorry, I didn't ask if I could kiss you. Consent is sexy."

Harry's smile is soft, his eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes, "You hereby have permission to kiss me whenever you please, my love."

"You know all the right things to say to make me puny for you."

"Good to know. Got to keep a mental list."

"What's on there so far?"

Harry smirks, leaning down his mouth right over your mouth; you remember the taste of lemon you felt when you kissed him, and well, you don't try to stop yourself when you attach your lips against his. There's no sweeter feeling, you've decided.

He pulls back, keeping the kiss short, "Know you can't be close to me without giving me a kiss. Know your heart is racing like it might beat out of your chest, and I know you're dying to ask me to be your boyfriend."

"Guess you are smart," you whisper.

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours, humming as he places a kiss on the top of your nose.

"You know, I was right."

"Yeah, about what, H?" You reach your hand up to run your hand through his curls, brushing them back, giggling as they fall forward again.

"That your laugh sounds better in person. Know it's cheesy but truly music to my ears."

"You nutter!"

"Oi, picking up my slang, are you?"

"Got to, especially when you called that Evan kid a wanker for dismissing my response." You snicker, remembering the moment a few classes ago when you spoke up to give your opinion only for Evan trying to mansplain how women in politics were growing already especially having a female-run as a candidate a few years back. You would have cussed him out, but Harry did it for you. He packed up all your points with his own references. Safe to say, Evan has not spoken up since then.

"Cause he is one. You're the smartest person in the class, and that tosser should not even be in this class. Clearly, hasn't learned one bit since January."

"Settle down, honey. All in the past." You pat his chest a few times, getting his focus back on you. "Got that book you've wanted to read, want to give it a read now?"

"Course, baby. Happy you had it in your collection." He's gotten back into reading now that he seemed to have more time on his hands, and they had been bouncing recommendations off of each other. You had told him to stay off Book Tok because it was the same ten books being promoted by every page. His sister told him to read The Silent Patient, but he couldn't rationalize spending fifteen dollars, and he couldn't find the free pdf. He asked you and told him Amy bought it for you as a gift for feeding her.

"Let me get it out of my bag; you can lay in my lap easier to listen to."

Harry's eyes go wide; you're going to read him. He did not expect that, but he had to make sure. "Going to read to me, darling?"

"If you don't mind." you tuck your hand into your tote bag again, "brought my kindle in case you didn't want to. Won't be sad if you don't want to."

"No, I want you to. Yeah, more than anything. Got the prettiest voice." Harry pecks your lips, pulling back giddy because that's the first time he's kissed you, and well, he has to do it again. Your lips move in sync, the kisses feeling smoother but just as passionate. You break the kiss, playfully push him away, hands-off, letting you adjust yourself before he sets one of the smaller pillows in your lap and lays his head. Your hand is quick to find a place in his hair, thankful you've mastered the one hand reading and page-flipping due to always having a book in your hand growing up.

_____

After reading for a bit, Harry lifts his head from your lap, taking the time to admire you. You kept reading, letting him take you in from this new angle. You stopped brushing his hair instead, allowing yourself to get immersed in the book once again. You giggled, thinking back at Harry's reaction to the opening line of chapter one.

You had just flipped to a new page, ready to start chapter seven, when you saw how fidgety Harry had gotten. He clearly had something on his mind, so you wanted to give him his space; you had only read five words when he spoke, interrupting you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Harry blurts, shifting to sit in front of you.

You don't smile, but you know he can see the gleam in your eyes at his words, "Hmmm...will you give me a cute nickname?"

Harry doesn't know what you're doing but goes along with it. "Already do, so yes."

"Will you let me make you more masks?"

"Yes."

"Will you knit me a sweater?"

"I'll knit you hundreds."

You nod, "then yes, I'll be your girlfriend."

"Yeah, you want me to be your boyfriend," Harry teases.

"Dork," you shove his shoulder, causing him to fall back. He gasps in shock.

You laugh, and it's music to his ears; his dramatic response is swallowed as he takes you in. Harry isn't sure where he'd be without you. He takes in the happiness displayed on your face and knows if you could look in a mirror, he'd look just as happy if not more. You are a light in his life.

These last few months have changed everything about him. Harry hadn't really understood what it meant when people said that your partner should also be your best friend. He thought it was cheesy and something to give false hope to others, but with you, he knew it was true.

Starting off as friends built a strong foundation for you both to grow together, and he is forever thankful you took a chance on him.

Harry called it fate, but you well, you think it was all thanks to the zoom gods who set you up in a random break out room not once but twice.

_____

thank you for reading :) I adore you xx

[kjmsupremacist]

baby, you’re my angel (chan/felix)

Mildly popular TikTok songwriter Felix meets Chan, famous on TikTok for his music and music reviews. They bond over their common ground, friendship blossoming easy and sweet. There’s two problems. One: Felix thinks he likes Chan more than just as friends. Two: Chan is almost fifteen years his senior.

Chapter 5   |   prev   next   mlist

Characters: Felix, Chan, the rest of skz

Genre: college au, romance, fluff, smut, angst

Pairing: Chan/Felix

Warnings: swearing, age gap, smut, daddy kink, cockwarming, semi-public sex, anal plugs, deepthroating/throat-fucking

Rating: Explicit

Length: 6.5k

just a friendly reminder that i dont condone age gap in real life, this is just fiction, im just having fun, etc :)

The week passes slowly. Felix gets his essay done, turns it in, gets an A-minus. For the most part, things are the same. He does his work, he spends too much time procrastinating, he stays up too late fucking around with his friends. But in small, crucial ways, things are completely different. Felix mutes Chan’s texts, just in case. He rarely replies if he’s around people. He guards his words, fearful that he’ll let something slip if he doesn’t pay close enough attention. 

They can’t all fit in Chan’s car, so they take a bus across the city on Friday afternoon. Felix has his bag packed, since he and Chan are (truthfully, this time) planning to go to the studio tomorrow morning to work on new music. His friends accepted this explanation easily; it’s more convenient to go straight there instead of making Chan take a twenty-minute detour to campus, when his studio is only a five minute drive from his apartment. 

The good news is they both found time during the week to get tested, and both came back clean, so Felix is looking forward to this weekend a little extra. He packs one outfit only—he can’t afford to stay an extra night, especially not two weeks in a row—but he does pack a little silver plug. The flat end is shaped like a heart, which Felix hopes Chan finds cute.

“7pm release, right?” Seungmin asks, checking the time. 

“We’ll get there with plenty of time to spare,” Felix says, glancing at his phone, too. It’s only 5:30, and Chan said he already started cooking. They should be done with eating before they need to do a quick countdown live.

It is a Friday afternoon, so traffic isn’t great, but soon they’re standing in the lobby of Chan’s building, and Chan is walking out of the elevator with a smile.

“Hi everybody,” he says. “You’re right on time. I just finished cooking.”

Felix wondered if it might be odd to see him again after what happened last weekend. Chatting via text is one thing; being close enough to touch is quite another. But when Chan’s eyes land on him, Felix doesn’t feel strange or awkward. It’s close to relief, he thinks, to be near to him. He ends up on the opposite side of the elevator when they all pile in, and he tries his best not to stare the whole ride up.

Like Felix, Chan had a little bit of makeup on. It’s for the camera, strictly speaking, but Felix has a feeling it’s a little bit for him, too. At least, he chose his own makeup by thinking about what Chan might like. In any case, he looks beautiful as ever, in a crisp white button down tucked into royal blue dress pants, with his hair straightened and styled. They’d agreed on semi-formal attire, so Felix is in a similar shirt with grey pants. He even wore his black ankle boots that have a little heel—which probably won’t be seen by the camera, but will definitely be seen—and appreciated—by Chan. 

Chan’s apartment smells like food. He’s made fried chicken and japchae (“You made this yourself?” Jeongin gasps. “Like, all of it from scratch?”), and he also had a collection of banchan laid out on the table. 

“I always liked banchan,” he says quietly to Felix as he reaches past him to get the bowls. “Because it sounds like my name!”

“You’re a dork,” Felix says drily, but he knows Chan sees his smile. 

There’s something disorienting, yet nonetheless sweet, about seeing his friends in Chan’s kitchen. Though he flushes at the memory of what they did the last time he was here, Felix can’t help but fall into the fantasy just a little—him and Chan, hosting a dinner together. Chan pulls alcohol out of the fridge for them after double-checking that Jeongin is, in fact, an adult. Felix grabs utensils, Jisung gets napkins, Seungmin helps Chan carry bottles to the table, and Hyunjin uses his spectacular height to reach the nice water glasses with ease. 

Dinner is warm and easy. Chan sets Jisung up with their music accounts so he can drop the track while Chan and Felix are saying bye to the fans on live. Hyunjin offers to help with the livestream. 

“I’m a media arts major, after all,” he says, almost loftily. Jeongin snickers.

They leave the dishes for later—there’s no time now, and their fans are waiting. Felix positions himself just out of frame as Chan sets up his cameras and lights in his room. 

“Hey guys!” Chan waves, laughing softly at what Felix assumes must be a flood of comments. “I’ll wait for more people to join, but as I’m sure you all know, my first song with a very special someone is about to be released in, uh, sixteen minutes by my clock!” A pause. “Stop spamming him, guys, he’s not gonna join the live. At least… not like that.” He looks up and grins at Felix, jerking his head at him to come over. “Cuz he’s right here.”

Felix slides into frame on the other office chair, bumping into Chan as he slows to a stop. “Hey!” The chat is moving at the speed of light, and every single comment is in all caps. Felix grins to himself. “What, you thought we wouldn’t celebrate the release of our first song together? He lives like twenty minutes from me, that would be stupid.” 

“Okay, for those of you asking about the rice cake song, which seems to be all of you,” Chan says, squinting at the chat, “yes, we will release it; no, we’re not sure when yet; yes, it’s a full length track. We’ll probably announce something next week. Don’t worry!”

“Sticky, soft, ‘n’ spicy, p—“ Chan’s hand is over Felix’s mouth before he can even finish rapping the line. “HEY,” he adds as best he can from behind Chan’s palm. 

“No,” Chan says firmly. He tries to sound serious, but he’s fighting back laughter. “They’ll hear it soon enough. Don’t ruin the surprise.”

Felix does the only other logical thing. He licks Chan’s palm.

Surprisingly, though, Chan just turns and gives him a look. “He just licked me, in case anybody was wondering,” he adds offhand to the viewers. “I have two younger siblings, you know.”

Somehow, the image of a young Chan, wrestling with brothers and sisters, pierces Felix’s heart with a keen sort of longing, so sharp and so sudden that he stops struggling entirely. He often forgets that Chan is a big brother, that he has a family, that he was young once. Sometimes Felix can’t imagine it; in his mind Chan sprang into the world fully-formed, as he is now—a body like a god’s paired with fun, young dad energy, somehow complementary. But now, in this moment, Felix can see it as clear as his own memories: one frame, frozen, surrounded by a void of mystery. Chan has a whole history that Felix knows nothing about. The tug in his gut that wants to know more is almost like hunger. 

Chan releases him when he realizes he’s not fighting back and moves on. Felix shakes himself mentally, trying to look more mollified than—he isn’t even sure what it is he’s actually feeling. But whatever it is, its place is not here, on camera, in front of tens of thousands of viewers.

“Anyway, as for this song, I think you’re going to hear a new side of Felix for sure,” Chan says, raising an eyebrow at Felix. “Be sure to let us know what you think, yeah? Anything to add, Lix?”

“I think you’ll be really surprised,” Felix says, grinning slyly. “But if you like it, we’ll make more. I’m excited to share it.”

“I’d also just like to shoutout Felix’s friends,” Chan adds. “They’re here helping behind the scenes.” He smiles at the group of them clustered out of frame by the door. “Definitely making this run a lot smoother, and also making it feel a little more festive.”

“They’re asking about your friends, Chan,” Felix says, nodding at the comments. 

“My friends? Most of them are busy.” Chan gives an embarrassed laugh. “Or they just have normal Friday night plans. Or they’re back in Korea, so…” He shrugs, gesturing towards Felix’s friends. “They’re filling in for that, too, I guess.”

Jisung clutches his heart and collapses back on Seungmin, who shoves him aside onto the floor. Felix giggles. “They’re honored, I think,” he says. 

“Drop in two!” Jisung whisper-shouts from the floor, holding up a hand.

“That’s our cue to wrap up and release you guys so you can go listen to it. It’ll be on Spotify, Apple Music, and YouTube; we’re working on other apps, but I think that should cover almost everybody,” Chan says. “Thank you for all your anticipation, and we hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank you!” Felix echoes, waving. Chan wraps an arm around his shoulders, scooting as close as he can, and Felix finds himself laughing as Hyunjin cuts the live. 

Jisung is poised over three different devices, checking the phone Jeongin is holding up in front of his face. He bursts into action as Felix rolls away from the desk and retrieves his own phone from Seungmin. 

“Any trouble?” Chan asks him after a moment of silence. 

“I don’t think so.” Jisung sits back. “Will you check?”

Felix goes to his Spotify and refreshes the page. “It’s up on Spotify,” he says cheerily. 

“I see it on Apple Music,” Chan says. 

“It’s on YouTube as well,” Hyunjin confirms.

“Good job, team,” Chan says, standing. “Do we want champagne?”

“Yes, please!”

☼ ☼ ☼

Chan puts some music on and they drink and dance and laugh. Felix doesn’t really get all that drunk; he doesn’t want to get too sleepy too early.

He ends up getting a little too slutty with the dancing anyway. At one point, he’s nose to nose with Jisung, and though he’s not facing him, he can feel Chan’s gaze from across the room. It burns in him, stokes a fire that’s been building in his gut all day. 

Around eleven, his friends decide they should probably head back—likely worried about keeping Chan up too late, though they say it’s because they don’t want to take a later bus, despite the fact that they’ll be perfectly safe either way. 

“Text me when you get back,” Felix says anyway, watching them put their shoes on. 

“Thank you for your help tonight,” Chan says. “You’re welcome back anytime.”

“Thank you!” Felix’s friends chorus as they file out into the hall. Felix watches until they round the corner, then gently pushes the door shut, turning to find Chan’s eyes on him. 

The apartment feels incredibly quiet all of a sudden. A mixture of emotions surges in Felix’s chest: longing and affection and most of all, desire, turning his skin hot. There’s a sort of stillness between him and Chan, like the world right before a thunderstorm.

Felix’s fingers twitch at his side, and the stillness is broken. Chan steps into his space, crowding him against the door, reaching behind him to lock the door as his lips meet Felix’s. 

Felix moans into his mouth, his hands finding Chan’s jaw, his hair, the sturdiness of his arms. Something close to a growl rumbles up out of Chan’s chest; he presses impossibly closer, skimming his fingers across the length of Felix’s torso. “Missed you, baby,” he murmurs when he draws away for a breath. Felix’s knees tremble. 

“Daddy,” he whispers back, slack-jawed. Chan nips at his lips, pushing his tongue past Felix’s teeth. Felix lets him, too weak to try and maintain some semblance of control—not that he wants to. He gives himself over to Chan with ease; his mind, his body, all of it. Maybe even his heart.

“I like your friends,” Chan says, “but I’m glad they’re gone. Wanted to do so many things to you.”

Felix doesn’t know how to respond without sounding stupid. Wanted to let you, he thinks.

Chan pulls him away from the door, stepping back clumsily to make room. “You looked so hot when you were dancing,” he continues. He starts down the hall, walking backwards, guiding Felix with his hands and his lips. “I can’t deny that it made me a little jealous. But it was just because I could barely stand to keep my hands off you. Didn’t help that we had to spend a week apart.”

“You’re all I thought about,” Felix confesses in a rush of breath. They’re in the living room now; the shades are already drawn, so Chan doesn’t pause, not even to turn out the lights. He manhandles Felix to the couch, pushing him down into one of the plush seats and hovering over him.

“Yeah?” he says. “Good. You’re all I thought about, too.”

“Too far away,” Felix mutters, fingers trying to grab on to the slippery fabric of Chan’s shirt. Chan plants a knee between Felix’s thighs to help himself balance, batting Felix’s useless hands away.

He unbuttons his shirt quickly and with ease, leaning in once the last button is free. “There,” he says. “Is this close enough?” He presses his lips to Felix’s neck; Felix tips his head to the side, whimpering softly when Chan’s knee brushes up against his cock.

He presses his hand flat to Chan’s stomach, reveling at the feeling of his skin under his palm, the slight movement of the muscle underneath. He brings his other hand around to Chan’s back, hooking his fingers in the divot of his spine. Chan is so hot, and he’s all Felix’s. The thought is a nice one, but it does nothing to temper his consuming impatience. 

A week is not a long time to be apart. Actually, it’s been less than a week; it’s been five days since Felix has last seen Chan, six since he’s fucked him. But still, he wants it like nothing else. His body responds to Chan’s naturally, skin breaking out in goosebumps wherever he’s touched, crawling with his anticipation, his lust. The unfairness of it all makes him want to scream. He shouldn’t have to feel this way. He should be able to have Chan all the time. 

He’s distracted by Chan’s hands on his waist. He scoots Felix down a little, so that he has no choice but to spread his legs wider, so that he’s open and vulnerable beneath him. Some of Chan’s hair has escaped his careful styling; it’s shrinking back to its natural curl at the tips. Somehow, this makes it better—Felix gets all of Chan, not just the bits and pieces he polishes up for the camera. Chan’s eyeshadow seems to make his eyes gleam as he looks down at Felix, holding him there against the couch with his gaze.

“Gonna fuck me here?” he asks him softly. “Like this?”

“We’re gross, and I don’t want to change my sheets,” Chan replies. “I don’t want to wait, either. Why, is here not okay?”

Felix sucks in a breath. “No,” he says quickly. “Here is good.” Anywhere, anywhere you want; anything, you can do anything. 

“Good,” Chan says. He reaches down to undo the buttons of Felix’s shirt, gaze hot as he tugs the fabric out of the way. “You hide such a nice body behind that cute face,” he murmurs, running a hand over Felix’s stomach before moving on to the clasp of his pants.

“What about lube?” Felix asks suddenly, only just realizing.

Chan grins, almost conspiratorially. “I hid some in the coffee table,” he says, tapping one of the drawers. “Just in case.”

Felix goes wide-eyed at him. “You planned this,” he accuses, trying and failing to come off as scandalized. 

“Maybe,” Chan says lightly, tapping Felix’s hip to get him to lift up so he can pull his pants down for him. “Maybe I just knew I would be impatient, knew this would happen the instant your friends were gone.”

Felix lets himself relax into the plush comfort of the couch, smiling. “Good job proving yourself right, then,” he giggles.

Chan’s grin grows; he stands so he can retrieve the hidden lube, handing it to Felix so he can undress quickly. “Don’t want to do it later when my hands are covered in lube,” he explains, even though Felix didn’t ask.

“I could always do it for you,” Felix points out, and Chan laughs. 

“I suppose that’s true,” he says, stepping out of his pants. “Nothing for it now.” He takes one of Felix’s calves in a big hand, moving it to the side as he sinks his knee back into the couch cushion so he can fit a hand between his thighs as well. He plucks the lube bottle out of Felix’s hands, opening it and squeezing a little dollop out onto his fingertip without looking. He sets the bottle to the side and leans in close, feeling around for Felix’s entrance as he captures his lips in another kiss. Felix gasps into his mouth when he pushes his finger in.

Chan’s hands, his fingers, are so huge compared to his own. Felix had forgotten—or maybe everything feels like more now, with the anticipation. He kisses Chan back, clings to him when he starts to move, unable to suppress a smile. It feels so good, and he’s so lucky to have this. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles against Chan’s lips when he adds a second finger. “Chan, Chan, I missed you.”

Chan’s laughter is low and satisfied. “Don’t have to miss me anymore,” he says. “I’m right here.”

For all his talk of impatience, Chan does take his time opening him up. He keeps Felix distracted with kisses, and Felix breathes in Chan’s cologne, earthy and sweet, hoping it might ground him a little before he lets his mind slip away from him completely. It’s hard, especially when Chan starts to stroke over his prostate, especially when he adds a third finger.

Soon, though perhaps not soon enough, Chan is withdrawing his fingers from Felix’s body, giving him one final peck on the lips. Felix is weak and boneless from this treatment, and can barely find a complaint. Besides, he’s not so far gone that he can’t remember what comes next. Chan slicks up his cock, spreads Felix’s ass with one hand, and catches Felix’s eye. “Relax for me, okay?” he says softly.

Felix nods, blinking up at him. Chan leans forward, supporting himself by taking a fistful of the back cushion of the couch, right by Felix’s head, and pushes into him. Felix’s jaw locks open in a silent moan, eyes wide as Chan keeps going until he bottoms out. Felix wonders faintly if he’ll ever get over it, the feeling of Chan inside of him, the weight of his cock, the way it stretches him open. He kind of doubts it.

He hooks his ankles around the back of Chan’s waist, trapping him in the circle of his legs, holding him close. Chan rolls his hips with ease, bending down so he can mouth at Felix’s neck, his chest. He brings his hand up to Felix’s cheek, cupping his jaw.

The reality of it sort of hits Felix suddenly—it’s almost ridiculous. His friends probably aren’t even home yet, and here he is getting fucked stupid into Chan’s couch. And they have no idea. Their fans, too—they’ve been leaving them comments and messages all night, and they have no idea. It’s definitely because he knows he shouldn’t, but that makes it better. There’s a distinct pleasure that comes from thinking about how scandalized everyone would be if they found out the truth. The fear that accompanies it is far from his mind in this moment. He can worry about that part later. 

“God, you feel so good, baby,” Chan says. “Good thing I didn’t know what I was missing this whole time, or I’d just never get anything done. I was so distracted all this week, thinking of you.”

“Chan,” Felix whimpers, breath hiccuping out of his lungs as Chan speeds up. He thinks about Chan shifting around in his desk chair, desperately trying to finish his work, but struggling to keep his mind off of him. He feels the warmth of the flush that covers his body, embarrassed and pleased at the same time.

Chan raises his head, brings his lips close to Felix’s ear. “No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough. I needed you.” He runs his thumb over Felix’s open lips, pressing his nose into his neck, licking over his pulse point. Felix’s flicks his tongue out, swiping it over the tip of Chan’s thumb. Chan groans against his skin, pushing his thumb into Felix’s mouth. Felix closes his lips around it, hollowing his cheeks instinctually, letting out a pleased little hum.

“Jesus, baby,” Chan murmurs. “Bet you’re good at sucking cock.” Felix preens, nodding gently so he doesn’t hurt Chan. “Yeah? How about sometime tomorrow?” Felix nods again, whining a little to let Chan know how much he wants it. He’s been wanting to get his mouth on Chan’s cock, it’s just that so far he’s been more interested in getting fucked. Sometime tomorrow sounds good to him. “Tomorrow, then,” Chan continues, kissing his jaw. “I’ll fuck your throat, angel, if you want.”

“Want it,” Felix demands, muffled and garbled by Chan’s thumb. 

Chan presses the pad of his finger against Felix’s tongue. “Okay,” he soothes. “Don’t want to do it before we record, though. Can’t go messing up your instrument.”

That’s fine with Felix, too. He sucks on Chan’s thumb insistently, letting soft little moans out through his nose with every one of his thrusts. Chan’s grip on his jaw tightens; he rocks in, out, in, out, rough and dizzying and deep. Felix unhooks his ankles so he can let his legs drop open wider. He feels so dirty, letting Chan fuck him open like this, lying limp beneath him and letting him take and take. His thoughts run slow and lethargic through his mind, dulled by a haze of pleasure.

He’s surprised to hear Chan laughing. “I feel like a fuckin’ teenager,” he says. “I’m already close, baby. Hope you don’t hold it against me. It’s your fault, anyway, it’s what you do to me.”

Felix moans shakily, enthralled and enticed by the idea that he affects Chan just as bad as Chan affects him. Chan slips his thumb out of Felix’s mouth, giving Felix the space to reply. “It’s okay,” Felix says breathlessly. “I’m close, too.”

And he is, closer now when Chan wraps his hand around Felix’s cock and starts stroking him in time with his thrusts. He hadn’t realized how much precome had been dribbling out of his cock until Chan’s fist is instantly slick with it. Wet sounds fill the air, loud and obscene and hot. Felix feels sweat forming on his forehead as he pants, bucking his hips up into Chan’s hand, chasing the friction, whining for more. 

He can feel it when Chan’s about to come, can feel the way he twitches inside him, the way his hips falter and lose their rhythm, and then all he feels is heat, filling him up like he’s been wanting all week. 

“Oh, fuck, daddy,” he whimpers, and Chan groans, speeding up his hand. 

Felix comes with a cry, Chan buried deep inside him, shooting come up his stomach as he falls apart in Chan’s hands. He finds himself waiting as overwhelming pleasure washes over him, so powerful it’s nearly suffocating. Chan strokes him, slowing when Felix settles back into the couch, still shaking. His skin feels like it’s on fire, he’s pretty sure his toes are numb, and he can’t stop letting out pathetic little moans, even after he stops coming, even after his release begins to cool on his skin. 

“You okay, baby?” Chan whispers after a moment.

Felix nods unsteadily, desperately trying to focus on Chan’s face. “Yeah,” he whispers, “yeah, I’m good. Really good. Fuck, Chan.”

Chan laughs weakly, pulling out clumsily and reaching down to stop Felix from dripping on the couch or the rug. Too late, Felix remembers the plug he brought, but, he supposes, it would be uncomfortable to wear to bed. That, too, can wait until tomorrow.

Chan kisses him gently, using his other hand to scoop him up off the couch, standing both of them up and cradling a still-trembling Felix into his chest. “Shower, then bed,” he says softly, kissing Felix’s cheek, his forehead, his temple. “We’ll deal with all the other cleanup in the morning. Sound good?”

Felix gives a sleepy hum, mouthing at Chan’s neck. “Sounds good to me,” he replies, not even bothering to open his eyes as Chan guides them out of the room and down the hall.

☼ ☼ ☼

Felix blinks awake to a dark room. He can just barely see a sliver of light, sneaking in through a crack in the curtains, but it’s not enough to illuminate much other than the floor upon which it falls. He feels fingers moving against his back, and realizes Chan is already awake. He shifts his head up, trying to peer at him through the darkness.

“Good morning,” Chan whispers, kissing his forehead.

“Morning,” Felix hums back. It’s hot under the blankets, pressed this close to Chan, but he doesn’t want to pull away. He stretches up so he can kiss Chan’s jaw. The movement makes him shift his hips, and that’s when he realizes why he feels so warm. He’s hard against Chan’s thigh; he whines softly without meaning to.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Chan says softly, his tone just barely touched by amusement. “We take care of that, get some breakfast, and then head into the studio. As long as we don’t drag our feet, we should be able to get in around eleven, which will give us plenty of time to get some work done. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good,” Felix murmurs.

“Roll over on your other side for me, then,” Chan says, stretching his arm back behind him to get the lube. 

“Wait, I packed a surprise.” Felix has to hand it to his half-awake, lust-clouded mind. Somehow, he remembers the little butt plug stashed away at the bottom of his bag. He drags himself from the bed, stumbling across the room in the dark to find it, returning triumphant with the metal warming in his palm. He presents it to Chan, who groans softly. 

“You want to wear it today when we’re recording?” he asks, taking it and opening his arms so Felix can get settled on the bed. “That’s so naughty, angel.”

“Want your come, daddy,” Felix says simply.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” Chan replies, reaching between their bodies to prep him. 

Chan fucks him slow and deep and dirty, murmuring praise into his ear, one strong arm wrapped tight around his body to keep him close.  Felix arches back against him, resting his head on Chan’s shoulders while Chan grinds into him. He comes in his own hand, moaning weakly when Chan fills him up only moments later. 

Chan pulls out and slips the plug in swiftly and cleanly, smoothing his palm over Felix’s ass when he’s done. “Alright,” he says, kissing Felix’s shoulder. “Will you take care of the sheets while I start breakfast?”

“Sure,” Felix mumbles, rolling onto his back so he can kiss Chan properly before relinquishing his grip on his wrists so they can both get up. 

Breakfast is quick and simple, just eggs and toast, and then they clean up the remnants of last night and change into outside clothes. Felix leaves his things—they’ll come home before Chan drives him back to his dorm—and follows Chan down the hall towards the elevators.

The plug was easier to ignore when he was just standing around, but in the car, every bump, every turn, has him squirming in his seat. Chan casts a knowing look at him at a red light. “What is it, baby?” he asks, faux sweetness and ignorance.

Felix pouts. “You know what,” he manages, focusing very hard on keeping his voice steady. 

Somehow, Felix survives the car ride, and by the time they reach Chan’s studio, his pants don’t even feel as tight. He shakes himself, and they set to work on creating a few new songs. Luckily, they already had some half-baked tracks and random pieces of lyrics from their previous sessions, so it isn’t too hard to pull something together. They spend a few hours writing and rewriting, and then after a break for lunch, they spend the next few recording. By the time Chan settles back to edit, and Felix settles back to watch, they’re well into the afternoon.

With little to distract him now that his work is done, Felix can’t ignore the plug as easily, or the gathering of heat in his stomach. He tries lounging on the couch, on the floor; he tries sitting next to Chan to watch him work, but nothing can pull his attention or ease the warm pleasure that spreads across his skin and makes his brain feel slow and gooey.

“I can hear you fidgeting,” Chan says softly. Felix looks up from where he’s lying on the couch and realizes, yes, he’s been shifting around every few seconds without even really noticing it himself. “This was your idea.”

“I know,” Felix says, somewhat hoarsely. For the sake of his own pride, he would like to believe that it’s because he just spent the last few hours singing his heart out. “It just feels so good, and I want—” But he doesn’t even really know what he wants. It’s not like he wants Chan to fuck him, and it’s not like he necessarily needs to get off right now. He just knows he’s restless, and that he wants to be touching Chan. 

“Come here,” Chan says. Felix pulls himself up from the couch, curious, and walks over to stand beside Chan’s chair. “If we take the plug out, it’ll be messy. Are you still interested in letting me fuck your throat?”

He says it so nonchalantly that Felix doesn’t process it at first. “Here?” he asks, dropping his voice to just above a whisper, even though the studios are pretty much completely soundproof.

“If that’s okay with you.” Chan looks up at him. “Go close the blinds and lock the door. If anyone comes by, we’ll just say we were in the middle of recording.”

It’s not like Felix is going to refuse. And Chan’s right—if they’re going to fuck somewhere that isn’t his apartment, this is the next-safest place. If they lock the door, no one’s going to be able to barge in, and if they take a second to answer, no one is going to think twice about that, either. “Yeah, okay,” he says breathlessly, hurrying to lock the door and draw the shades. 

Chan pushes away from the desk to give Felix some room. Felix gets on his knees eagerly, tucking his feet underneath his ass and tilting his chin back. There’s just enough space for him to sit up without hitting his head. 

“You still have a bit to get done, right?” he asks as Chan reaches for the button of his jeans. 

“Yeah,” Chan says, blinking. “At least another hour or so.”

“Okay,” Felix says. “Then I won’t move too much. I’ll just—keep it warm for you so you don’t get too distracted.”

“So dirty, baby.” But the look Chan is giving him is fond. He reaches down and touches his cheek. “Sounds good,” he says softly. 

Felix waits patiently for Chan to undo his jeans. He’s surprised to see that Chan is already half-hard. He must have been noisier earlier than he thought. 

Chan scoots to the edge of his seat so that Felix doesn’t have to put his neck at an awkward angle. Felix opens his mouth, letting his tongue cover his bottom teeth, using the top of it to push his lower lip out. Chan runs one hand through Felix’s hair, making a loose fist to help hold him steady, and uses the other hand to guide his cock into Felix’s mouth. Felix closes his lips around the tip, giving a satisfied little hum. 

“So good for me,” Chan says softly, petting through Felix’s hair a few more times before returning his attention to the music. 

Felix takes more and more of him into his mouth until his gag reflex threatens to ruin everything. It’s one thing to fight it for a few minutes of getting throat-fucked; it’s quite another to try to stay relaxed for the better part of an hour. He can prove himself to Chan later; right now his job is just to sit still and be quiet. He palms himself through his jeans almost absently, just to keep the edge off, and contents himself in swallowing weakly around Chan’s cock and clenching down around the plug. 

He gets messy quickly; it’s hard not to. Drool slips out from between his lips and drips down his chin. He wipes it away, but it hardly helps. It doesn’t deter him, though; he’ll happily drool all over Chan’s cock so long as Chan lets him. There’s something about all of this that makes Felix’s skin turn so hot he worries he might burst into flame. He feels little and slutty, on his knees between Chan’s thighs, plugged up with Chan’s come, pathetically humping his own palm while Chan uses his mouth as a sleeve for his cock. He feels thoroughly used, and he loves it. 

Long minutes pass. Chan is mostly silent, save for a few quiet moans here and there whenever he accidentally shifts in his seat or when Felix hollows his cheeks as he swallows. One of Chan’s hands sneaks back down to Felix’s hair; Felix tilts his head to the side so he can rest his cheek on Chan’s thigh.

It must be a half an hour before Chan starts really reacting. The hand in Felix’s hair tightens until his scalp burns, and all Felix can do is focus on his breath so that he doesn’t choke. 

And then there’s a sharp rapping on the studio door, and he nearly does choke. 

“Oh, shit,” Chan says, releasing Felix and tucking himself back into his pants. Felix scrambles to his feet, smacking the top of his head on the bottom of the desk while he tries to wipe drool off of his chin. He and Chan check each other over, smoothing down their clothes, wide-eyed and silent, and then Chan points Felix towards the door of the actual booth while he goes to the studio door. 

Felix grabs the headset and stands in the threshold, making it look like they got interrupted mid-take as Chan pulls the door open. 

“Minho!” he says, his voice betraying nothing. “Why’re you here today?”

“Finishing some projects. Heard you were in with your new friend, thought I’d drop by and say hi.” Chan steps to the side to reveal a slightly taller man. He seems to be around Chan’s age, though he looks it a little more than Chan does. His features are clean and sharp, almost catlike; there’s a sort of elegance that pairs nicely with his air of cutting intelligence.

“Ah, yes,” Chan says brightly. “Felix, this is Minho, a friend from my college days. He’s the head of the board of directors of a record label, but his background is in producing, so he rents a studio here, too. Minho, Felix. I was wondering when we might run into each other, but Felix is only free on the weekends, and you’re usually not around then, so…” He shrugs. “But I guess today’s the day.”

Felix bows quickly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Minho adds somewhat belatedly. “It’s good to interrupt this one sometimes, though. He forgets to stop for rest.”

“Well, having Felix around helps,” Chan says with a grin. “I’m always worried about overworking him, so I end up taking better care of myself in the process.”

“I see. I like your work, by the way. You have a very unique voice,” Minho says with a smile, nodding at Felix.. “Anyway, I won’t keep you. I’m sure we’ll see each other around again.”

“Thank you,” Felix stammers.

“You still owe me dinner,” Minho adds, pointing an accusing finger at Chan. “See you two around!”

And with a wave, he’s gone. 

Chan shuts the door firmly, locking it again and turns to look at Felix. They stare at each other for a couple of seconds, and then they both burst out laughing. 

“Oh my god,” Chan says. “The one day we decide to—the one time we misbehave—it’s not funny, it could’ve been so bad—”

“It so is funny,” Felix chokes out through his laughter. “It’s fine. He didn’t suspect a thing.” He sets the headphones down and skips over to Chan, kissing him on the cheek. “But maybe we should pack up and head back to yours before we try anything else.”

Chan laughs weakly. “Yeah, that would probably be for the best. Let me just get to a good stopping place, okay?”

It only takes another half an hour before Chan calls it quits and Felix finds himself back in the car. He doesn’t try to stifle his noises this time around—they’re going home to fuck, after all—and by the time they get back, he’s leaking precome in his underwear.

They waste no time once they’re inside; Chan pulls Felix to his room so they both have a soft place to sit. Felix settles onto his knees, though he doesn’t sit back this time. Chan grabs his hair with both hands this time, leading him down onto his cock, waiting for him to take him as deep as he can (which, Felix notes proudly, is nearly all the way down) before rocking his hips forward experimentally.

When it’s clear Felix can take it, Chan gets bolder, rougher. Felix drools spit, and eventually the treatment brings tears to his eyes, but he doesn’t gag, doesn’t complain, just keeps his wide eyes on Chan’s, blinking prettily, even when the tip of Chan’s cock hits the back of his throat, even when he gets dizzy. 

“Close,” Chan hisses out. “You okay to swallow?”

Felix nods as vigorously as he can, trembling. He’s long forgotten his own pleasure, too focused on Chan; he can take it if it’s what Chan wants. Chan comes with a sweet, low moan, and Felix doesn’t even cough, pulling off slowly as Chan’s breathing slows.

Chan blinks his eyes open, giving Felix a lazy grin. He holds out a hand to help Felix to his feet, then immediately pulls him into his lap. “Now you, angel,” he murmurs into Felix’s skin. “A reward for being perfect.”

Pure joy sings through Felix’s whole body, electrifying and sugary sweet.