#hey not every project works out. and that's okay yeah? yeah.

[squidyyy23]

gallacrafts: wearable crafts

nothing like an little 🍬edible jockstrap🍬 for a delayed @gallacrafts on a wednesday! 😂

this one really didn't turn out as expected. much harder to melt candies into underwear shape than youtube made it look? i made this on saturday and snapped some quick picks to laugh about with the pals. then when i went to pick them up later to get some nice photos, they broke! 😭 said okay okay, i'll repair them when i have some time on monday. and broke them even more!

so fuck it. here is my most half-assed gallacrafts yet. was still a good laugh though! 😂

[vanteguccir]

Thinking about boyfriend Matt that has a girlfriend that lives by herself and everytime she gests new forniture, she calls him like "Baby, can you come put this together for me? Thank you". I also think she would try to help and Matt would be tottally against it (not sure about this last part tho). Please write this.

── ୨୧ !　BLURB

matt sturniolo x reader

where Y/N loves to buy new furniture for her home, and Matt is the one she always goes to to ask to put it together <3

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N had a knack for making her little apartment feel like home. Every few weeks, she'd spot something online; a new bookshelf, a cozy chair, or a quirky table, and decide that it was exactly what her space needed. But there was one catch: she wasn’t exactly a pro at assembling furniture. That’s where Matt came in.

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains of Y/N’s living room as she admired the large box that had just been delivered. It was a new coffee table, one she’d been eyeing for weeks. Knowing full well that she wasn’t going to tackle it on her own, she reached for her phone.

"Hey, baby." Y/N's voice was warm and playful as Matt answered on the first ring.

"Hey, dove. What’s up?" Matt replied, his tone softening at the sound of her voice.

Y/N glanced at the box.

"I got a little something for the living room. Think you could come over and help me put it together?"

Matt chuckled, already grabbing his car keys.

"Let me guess, another piece of furniture?"

"You know me too well." She grinned. "But yes, please? I promise to make us dinner afterward."

"On my way." Matt said without hesitation, already heading out the door. The thought of seeing her, even if it was to assemble something as simple as a coffee table, was more than enough to make his day.

About twenty minutes later, Matt arrived at Y/N’s apartment, greeted by her bright smile and the unmistakable excitement in her eyes. She stood in the doorway, barefoot and wearing one of his oversized hoodies; something that made Matt’s heart do a little flip every time he saw her in it.

"Thanks for coming." Y/N said, stepping aside to let him in. She watched as Matt eyed the box in the middle of the living room.

"Another project, huh?" He teased, approaching the box.

"Yeah, but I promise this is the last one for a while." Y/N laughed, knowing full well she’d probably find something new soon enough. She kneeled beside him, ready to help.

Matt quickly shook his head, gently nudging her hand away from the box.

"Uh-uh, you just sit back and relax, okay? I’ve got this."

"But I want to help!" Y/N protested, though there was no real determination in her voice. She knew he loved doing things like this for her on his own.

"No way." Matt insisted, his tone gentle but firm. He gave her a playful look, then tapped her nose lightly. "I can handle it. Just sit on the couch and look pretty while keeping me company. That’s all I need from you."

Y/N sighed, feigning disappointment, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. She settled onto the couch, tucking her legs beneath her as she watched him. There was something incredibly comforting about the way Matt moved around her space, confidently taking charge of the task. His broad shoulders flexed beneath his shirt as he opened the box and started laying out the pieces.

"How do you even know what all these parts are?" Y/N asked, genuinely impressed as Matt made quick work of organizing the screws, panels, and tools.

Matt shrugged, flashing her a grin.

"Just good at following instructions, I guess. Plus, it’s kind of fun."

"Fun?" Y/N echoed with a laugh. "You’re putting together furniture, not playing a game."

"Maybe." He said, glancing over at her, his eyes full of warmth. "But it’s for you, so that makes it fun."

Her heart swelled at his words. Watching Matt carefully assemble the table, piece by piece, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. It wasn’t just about the furniture; it was about the way he cared for her, the way he was always there to help without a second thought. It was the little things, like how he’d insist on doing the heavy lifting, or how he’d make sure every screw was tightened perfectly so she wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

After a while, the coffee table began to take shape. Y/N couldn’t resist getting up and kneeling beside him again, pretending to inspect his work.

"Looks good." She remarked, trying to keep her tone serious.

"Of course it does." Matt said with a chuckle. "I’m a professional."

She leaned in closer, teasingly brushing her fingers against his biceps.

"Maybe I should double-check, you know, just in case."

Matt rolled his eyes, but his smile was wide.

"If you want, but I guarantee it’s perfect."

Y/N gave him a look of mock suspicion before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I trust you."

Matt’s hands paused for a moment, his eyes flickering to her with a mix of affection and pride. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You better."

With the table finally assembled, Matt stood up, stretching his arms above his head, his pink shirt riding up slightly, displaying his tummy to Y/N’s eyes.

"Done." He announced, stepping back to admire his work.

Y/N clapped her hands together, genuinely impressed.

"It looks amazing, baby. Thank you."

"Anything for you." Matt replied, his voice sincere. He watched as Y/N excitedly placed a few decorative items on the table, her eyes lighting up at how perfectly it fit into her living room.

"Okay, now that you’ve put that together…" Y/N began, trailing off as she looked at him with a playful smirk.

Matt raised an eyebrow, sensing where this was going.

"Oh no, what else did you order?"

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his chest.

"Nothing… yet."

Matt shook his head, smiling down at her.

"You’re lucky I love you."

"I know." Y/N murmured, looking up at him with pure adoration. "And I’m so lucky to have you."

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

[pomefioredove]

Hiii!!! May I order a Sugar cookie, #19 with candy cane & chocolate drizzle please? Thanks!

Happy Holidays!🎄

hi all,, sorry I haven't been writing much lately, I've been kept busy at home + working on person projects (˶˃⤙˂˶) hope this makes up for it

order #19, sugar with candy cane and chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a matching set

tropes: exes to friends to lovers characters: riddle additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is not specified to be yuu, not proofread, riddle is going to kill all of them except for reader after this dw

It wasn't really, actually, truly his fault.

You knew that, even though Riddle hadn't given you a definitive reason for breaking up; he hadn't really given you a reason at all. He was uncharacteristically anxious.

...Checking the time, avoiding your eyes, fidgeting with the sleeve of his dorm uniform, babbling something about his schedule and his studies and how irresponsible and careless it was for him to date...

He didn't say it was his mother, but you knew.

Since then, you had been trying and failing to get him to talk about it.

Or talk to you at all.

It had been two months already, and you hadn't seen him even once. He'd blocked your number, unofficially banned you from Heartslabyul, and kept hiding behind Trey or Ace or whoever was taller (which, for him, is most people) when you walked by.

You had almost lost hope.

"Hurry up!" Ace shouts, "What part of emergency don't you get?!"

"I'm coming!" you wheeze. You'd been dragged all the way across campus to Heartslabyul by the plucky first year.

"Wh-what's wrong, again?"

Ace scoffs. "It's just an emergency, okay? And if we don't fix it, we're gonna be in ankle-deep sh-"

"There you are!"

Without a word of warning, Deuce grabs your other wrist and drags you inside the dorm with Ace.

"We've been waiting!"

Waiting? you think, and then there's a hand on your shoulder.

"Good, you found them," Trey says to the first years. "Cater's waiting in the kitchen."

The kitchen? "What's going-"

"Hey, hun!" there's that familiar smile and a hand on your lower back.

You're surrounded now, hands all over you, almost as if you're being restrained or something-

"Quickly, he is not happy!" Cater chimes, dragging you into the kitchen with the other three.

You look between them. "He. He? Oh, no-"

And, suddenly, you're alone again. The pantry door slams shut behind you, and something clicks.

You try the doorknob. It's locked. "Guys?"

"This is for everyone's good!" Ace shouts. You can't see his face, but you know the exact look on it.

"He's been a royal pain ever since you broke up!"

He. You turn from the door, and there, simmering in the corner with his arms crossed and brow knotted, is your ex-boyfriend.

"Hello," Riddle says. "This was not my idea."

You blink. "...Yeah, thought so. What's going on?"

"We're not letting either of you out until you work through your drama," Cater says from behind the door.

You grimace.

"My thoughts exactly," Riddle murmurs. "Don't ask me to take down the door. Damaging school property is abhorrent, and this would violate rule number 234-"

"-In argument with a wife, or spouse, one must take to the law, stand on his head, or somersault to a door," Trey finishes. "We took some liberties with that one. Ace's idea."

"I've taught them too well," Riddle sighs.

You sit beside him in the corner.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm no good at somersaults,"

Riddle is quiet. In the dark of the pantry, you could swear something like guilt passes over his face, but then he's looking ahead, towards the door.

The chatter of the four on the other side become whispers, and then nothing at all. The door remains locked and blocked by something heavy, but the people are gone.

You sigh. "Should we-"

"There's nothing to talk about,"

You stare. You wait.

"Is it about your-"

"I said," he interrupts, holding a finger to shush you. "Nothing"

And so, you wait.

And wait.

And wait...

He checks the time every so often. Thirty minutes, an hour, two hours, three.

No one comes. The silence is deafening, the dark is suffocating. This is the least fun you've had, ever.

Finally, you stand.

Riddle scoffs. "Don't tell me you intend to break down the door,"

"No," you say. "I'm sorting."

And you do. You begin to dust and sort the pantry in the way he taught you to, some time ago.

Riddle raises an eyebrow, and stands, to watch. He cradles his chin in his palm.

He says nothing.

After a few minutes, he begins doing the same, sorting the jars of tea leaves and baskets of fruit, checking for spoiled food, mumbling to himself.

"I count eight hundred and twelve sugar cubes, which is thirty-eight less than there should be at minimum capacity,"

"There's a surplus of flour,"

"Too much flour," he nods. "I'll have Trey do bake over the weekend, so it goes to good use."

"Ask him for something with cherries, there are lots of jars,"

"Good thinking,"

You smile, a little. "White tea would pair nicely with a cherry tart,"

He smiles back. "Yes, it would,"

The silence feels a little softer.

By the time the door opens, dusting you with moonlight from the forgotten outside, the entire pantry has been sorted to perfection.

"Seriously? Five hours in here and you clean?" Ace says.

Riddle scoffs as he leaves the dark confines of the pantry. "There was hardly anything else to do,"

He offers his hand to you, and you take it, letting him pull you into the moonlight.

"Did you at least talk things through?"

You and Riddle share a look.

"...Somewhat," he admits. "We... mostly spoke of the next unbirthday party."

Cater snaps a picture of the aesthetically pleasing pantry, and Ace rolls his eyes.

"You two are really a matching set, huh?"

Riddle looks at you, a small, almost mischievous smile on his lips.

It's a strange look on him, but a good one. You smile back.

"I suppose we are,"

[cinnoasch]

Charmed [1] (March x Reader)

A/N: I do plan on making a part 2, but still let me know if you want to see it! This was soo much fun to write.

Charmed [2] Here

Word Count: 2173

“March! Look, Y/N drew a picture of me!” Olric grins as he walks into the blacksmith’s shop. 

March turns around from his desk, taking the paper from Olric. “...why do you have bunny ears?”

“Oh, that was from when we helped Juniper out with something! Apparently, whatever she gave me made bunny ears appear on my head. Man, I was running laps around the town that day, I wonder, would she give me another one if I asked?”

Olric continues talking as March stares at the drawing. He didn’t know much about drawing, or art in general, but he had to admit it was good. Somehow he could almost picture Olric smiling and running around, just like he was in your drawing. 

“They’re really good right? I heard from Ryis they’ve been helping him with some blueprints too. Maybe Y/N could help with some blacksmithing blueprints in the future!”

“Don’t need it.” March grumbles, handing the paper back to Olric. “If anything, we have that under control already.” He sighs, standing up as he starts walking to the door. “Watch the till for me, I’m going to go work on some orders.”

“You got it, bro! Let me know if you need me!” Olric replies.

As March steps outside and sets off to work, he thinks about what Olric had said. He had a point. With the way the town rank was rising, more and more orders came in each day. Not to mention, along with orders came more complicated requests. Of course, it wasn’t a problem, he could handle it easily. Though, extra help couldn’t hurt sometimes. 

March shakes his head as he swings his hammer. Nope, not thinking about that. He pushes those thoughts away. If he needed help, he could just ask Olric. But, there was that one time where he and Olric were backed up and you had pitched into help… He sighs heavily. You were on his mind more than he’d like at the moment and you hadn’t even shown up yet. Not that he wanted you to or anything. 

He furrows his brow, setting the hammer down. He couldn’t concentrate on work at all. In fact, these past few days whenever you stopped by to say hi, March would always have trouble continuing work afterwards. But now, you haven’t even visited and he was having trouble concentrating. Was something wrong with him? He always felt oddly fuzzy and disgustingly warm whenever you came by. Was he getting sick? No…it was summer, there’s no way that was the case.

March pops his head into the shop, letting Olric know he was going for a walk. He needed to clear his mind and a walk around town would be perfect for that. As long as he didn’t see you or hear about you, he could take a break and get back to work easily… is what he initially thought.

Every place he went, March somehow can’t escape the topic of you. Not only that but no matter who he talked to, they just had to show him the portrait you gave them. And not only that, the stupid fuzzy, warm feeling only overstayed its welcome.

“Ryis? Are you here? I got those nails you needed.” March calls out as he walks into the carpenter’s shop.

“Upstairs!” 

He walks upstairs and into Ryis’ room. “Hey, here’s the nails.”

“Thanks. I’m surprised you came to deliver them. I was going to pick them up a little later today.”

“Yeah, I needed a walk. Working on blueprints?” March asks, looking at the papers scattered across the desk. Then his gaze falls on a paper to the side of the desk.

“Oh, that was from Y/N.” Ryis explains, following his gaze. “They helped me out with a project and in return ended up drawing me. It’s nice isn’t it?”

“Nice is one way to put it…” March mumbles. “I’ve been seeing their drawings everywhere. They probably gave one to everyone in town.”

“Except you?”

He scoffs, “Not like I care. They can do whatever they want.”

Ryis only chuckles, grinning slightly, “It’s okay to say you feel left out. If I were you, I’d probably be a bit upset that the person I like-”

“I do not like them.” March says, crossing his arms.

“Uh-huh...anyways, if you really want them to draw you, why not invite them to join in on drawing club this Friday? And you can volunteer to be the model.”

“No way… that’s a stupid idea…”

“Maybe, but it’s an idea. Or, you know, you could just ask them to draw you.”

“Okay, this conversation is over. I’m going home.” March says, walking downstairs.

Ryis chuckles, shaking his head as he returns to working on his blueprints. 

On his way back home, March couldn’t help but think of what Ryis said. There was no way in hell he would ever directly ask you to draw him. Wouldn’t that make him seem… weird? Or at least make it seem like he liked you when he definitely did not. March sighs as his thoughts continue to swim around in his head. He was definitely about to regret the decision he just made.

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

The rest of the week passes by and you find yourself entering the inn that Friday night after a long day of running around on the farm.

“Hey, Y/N over here!” Olric waves at you from the back of the inn. 

You wave back, and walk up to the table, seeing Valen, Elise, Landen, Hayden and March present as well. “Evening, everyone.” 

“Oh, dearie you’re just in time! Would you like to join tonight’s drawing club session?” Elise asks. “March here has graciously volunteered to be our model for tonight.”

March stands in front of the table, arms crossed. He looks at you expectedly, almost if he wants you to join.

“Sure, I’ll join.” You say with a smile. You take a seat next to Olric and he passes you a piece of paper and a pencil.

“Perfect!” Elise smiles, she clasps her hands together and gestures to March. “Now, strike a pose, March!”

“Uh, like what?”

“Oh, how about you flex? Show off your muscles!” Olric suggests. 

“Flex? Can’t I just stand like this?”

“Oh, that’s a perfect pose!” Elise replies.

Valen nods in agreement. “Yes, it does quite fit the image of a blacksmith.”

March sighs, mumbling. “Fine.” He was seriously beginning to regret this. Still, he places one hand on his hip and very begrudgingly lifts his other arm to flex. “You guys better burn this pose into your brains, I’m not going to stand like this the whole time.”

The group chuckles and you all set off to drawing. The lively chatter of the Drama and Dragon’s group behind you fills the air as well as conversations from the bar. After a few minutes Hayden speaks up, asking a question.

“Say Y/N, have you been drawing for a long time?”

“For a while, I guess?” You reply, as you glance up at March for a second before returning your gaze back to the paper in front of you. “I used to draw a lot of things I saw on my adventures.”

“Really? See any cool animals?”

“What about rocks?” Olric adds.

You laugh slightly, “I can bring some drawings next week to show, if you guys want.”

“Oh, yes please!” Elise chimes in. “You know, your drawings have a sort of romantic charm to them. That portrait you drew of me really brought back old memories.”

“I’ll say!” Landen grins. “That portrait you drew of Errol and I reminded me of the good ol’ days.”

Small conversations between you continue as March finally relaxes his arm. Everyone was practically singing praises about your portraits. He couldn’t quite understand what charm they were talking about though. He had seen your portraits of other people…but maybe he couldn’t understand because he never got one from you? 

March slowly steps closer to the table. He was curious. He had heard from Balor once that you mentioned you drew people based on what you thought of them. What exactly did you think of him?

“Are you… moving closer to the table, March?” Valen asks with a slight smirk. “You know the rules. You’ll get to see everyone’s drawings when we’re done. Y/N’s included.”

He freezes in place, his face heating up. “I was just…pacing.”

“Mm, well I’m sure we’re almost done, so be patient.”

“March, can you lift your arm up again?” Olric asks.

He sighs, flexing his arm again, mumbling underneath his breath. “No way am I doing this ever again.”

About ten minutes later, everyone finishes drawing and Elise smiles, waving March over to sit down. “I think everyone’s finished! Would anyone like to go first, or shall I start us off?”

“You can start us off, Elise.” Valen replies. “And… we’ll let Y/N go last since they’re the new recruit.” She glances at March as he frowns slightly at that statement. “Unless… March would like to choose who goes first?”

“Whatever is fine.” He mumbles, resting his chin in his hand.

And so, everyone showcases their drawings. You couldn’t help but smile as they explained certain details they added. It was pretty amusing to see that everyone had drawn March frowning.

“Am I seriously frowning in all of these?” March asks as he looks through the current drawings strewn across the table.

“Well, we did tell you to smile some.” Landen says with a chuckle. “But it looked like you were lost in your own little world this whole time.”

“We still have Y/N’s drawing to look at.” Valen adds. She smiles lightly at you and everyone turns their attention towards you. “If you would, Y/N.”

You nod as you slide your paper to the middle of the table.

“Oh!” Elise exclaims. “You drew him with a smile!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen March smile like this.” Valen muses. “What made you draw him with one?”

“Ah,” You rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “It just felt right, I guess. March…does a lot for Mistria, we all do. I can’t quite explain it… but a smile fits him better, don’t you think?”

“Hm, how thoughtful.” Valen says with a small grin. “What do you think about it, March?”

March stays silent as he stares at your drawing. An unexplainable feeling wells up inside of him as he looks at it. The feeling was similar to what he usually felt when you were around but… it was more clear in a way. There was something soft about it. Something…warm. It was different than when he saw your portraits of other people. March himself wasn’t even sure if he had ever smiled like that. But he was certain of one thing, he liked this feeling.

“Is he…smiling?” Hayden asks.

“I think he is.” Landen replies. “Huh, you don’t see that often.”

Then March lifts his head, the small smile from before disappears quickly as he stares at the group. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Oh, nothing.” Valen says. “Well, I guess we can wrap it up then. Actually, Y/N, why don’t you be the model for next week, you wouldn’t mind would you?”

You shake your head, “If anything I’d be honored.”

“Perfect. See you all next week then.”

With that, everyone cleans up the table and says their goodbyes. Some stick around at the inn, while you leave, seeing March had left in a hurry.

You spot him walking back toward his shop and you call out to him. “March!”

He turns around, hands stuffed into his apron pockets. “Oh, Y/N. Thought you'd be heading back to the farm.”

“I wanted you to have this.” You say, handing him the drawing. 

“...why?”

“I um…” you laugh slightly. “If I'm being honest, this is the only drawing that I felt confident with giving you.”

“Confident? …you mean you’ve drawn me before?”

“Yeah, actually… I was just never sure if you wanted them or not… but you seemed to really like this one, so I thought you might want it.”

March takes the drawing out of your hands, staring at it again for a few seconds before looking at you. “Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it. I’ve never gotten something like this before.”

You nod smiling, “No problem, I’m just glad you like it! I’m expecting your drawing in return next week then.”

“Even if it’s bad?”

“If it’s from you, then it doesn’t matter to me.” You say a bit softly. Then you clear your throat. “Anyways, night March, see you later!”

You turn on your heel and wave as you head back to the farm. March waves back and starts walking back to the blacksmith’s, staring at your drawing once more. Maybe he should ask to see those other drawings you did. He smiles slightly, that feeling from before creeping up on him. He was looking forward to next week.

[daisymbin]

warm hues! - xu minghao

warnings: none

pairings: xu minghao x reader

genre: tipsy minghao? friends to lovers!

wc: 1.3k

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist! // hao's m.list

the sun has already set by the time you decide to call minghao. he’d been in his art studio all day, working on his latest project—a piece he’d been tight-lipped about, only dropping vague hints whenever you tried to pry. knowing him, he was probably lost in his own world, forgetting to eat, drink, or even take a break. the thought makes you frown as you wait for him to pick up.

after a few rings, you hear his voice, soft and slightly breathy, like he’d been completely engrossed in his art before your call interrupted him. “hey,” minghao says, a smile evident in his tone. “what’s up?”

“hao, are you still at the studio?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

there’s a pause, then a light chuckle. “yeah, why? missing me already?” he teased.

you roll your eyes, though your lips curve into a smile. “i just wanted to bring you dinner. you’ve probably forgotten to eat again.”

“i didn’t forget,” he argues, though you can hear the lie in his voice. “i just... haven’t had time.”

“exactly my point,” you say, grabbing the packed meal you prepared with him in mind. “i’m on my way. don’t even think about touching another paintbrush until you’ve eaten.”

he hums in response, and you can picture the way he’s probably smiling to himself, eyes crinkling at the corners. “okay, okay. i’ll wait for you.”

–

when you arrive at minghao’s studio, you’re met with the faint scent of paint and the warm, earthy aroma of wine. his art studio is a familiar place, filled with canvases leaning against the walls, paint splatters on every surface, and brushes scattered across the tables. minghao himself is standing in front of a large canvas, wine glass in hand, his cheeks flushed a soft pink.

“you actually listened to me,” you say, surprised to see him waiting by the canvas, paintbrush set aside.

he turns to you, a smile breaking across his face. “of course i did. how could i not when you asked so nicely?” his voice has tipsy lilt to it, and you realize he’s more than just a little buzzed.

you raise an eyebrow, holding up the bag of food. “you’ve been drinking?”

“just a little,” he admits, holding up the almosy empty bottle of wine. “it pairs well with painting.”

you sigh, setting the food down on a nearby table. “come on, you need to eat something. wine on an empty stomach isn’t a good idea.”

minghao laughs, setting his glass down and obediently following you to the table. he sits across from you, and you can’t help but notice the way his gaze lingers on your face, his eyes soft and warm.

“thank you,” he says quietly as you unpack the meal, his voice carrying a sincerity that makes your heart flutter.

“hmm,” you reply simply, avoiding his gaze. “just eat, okay?”

he does as he’s told, taking bites of the food you brought while occasionally sipping his wine. it isn’t long before he starts talking, his usual calm and collected demeanor slipping as he grows more relaxed.

“you know,” he starts, swirling the wine in his glass, “i’ve been working on this piece for a while.”

“yeah?” you prompt, curious. “what’s it about?”

minghao hesitates, his eyes drifting to the canvas he’d been working on. it’s partially finished, splashes of colors blending together in a way that’s both chaotic and beautiful. there are hints of a figure in the center, but it’s not fully defined yet. he seems lost in thought for a moment, then turns back to you.

“it’s... inspired by you,” he admits, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. “or, well, because of you.”

your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, you can’t find the words. silence hangs between you, and minghao’s smile falters, a nervous, almost panicked look crossing his face.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he rushes out, his voice strained. “i know that probably sounds weird, or maybe you think it’s stupid, but i couldn’t help it. you inspire me, and i... i’m in love with you. god, i shouldn’t have said that. i’m sorry- i just-”

“hao,” you finally interrupt, your voice soft but firm. he stops rambling, his wide, anxious eyes meeting yours.

“why do you think i remind you to eat and bring you food all the time?” you ask, your cheeks burning. “why do you think i worry about you spending all day in here, forgetting to take care of yourself?”

minghao’s mouth opens slightly, his panic giving way to confusion. “why…?”

you let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling your heart race. “it’s because i care about you, too. a lot.”

minghao’s expression softens, but there’s still a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “you do? you do…,” he answers himself, “but..like as a friend..or…?” he whispers subconsciously, trying to mask his nervousness, his voice barely audible.

you nod as your fingers start brushing against his where they rest on the table. “I would like to bring you food all the time, every day actually. without needing to care or worry if I sound overbearing. if thats..what you want too?”

his lips part, and for a second, he looks like he’s still processing your words. then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face; one that’s full of relief and disbelief all at once. he laughs, a sound that’s almost giddy, and he reaches out to gently cup your face.

“are you sure? will you really do that? you know I love the food you make me.” he asks, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“yeah,” you whisper, your voice steady despite your racing heart. “i’ve never been more sure of anything.”

minghao's eyes search yours, and you can feel the way his fingers tremble slightly against your skin. His smile doesn’t waver, but there’s something soft and unguarded in the way he looks at you, as if he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.

“then,” he says, voice hushed and tender, “i want that. i want everything you’re willing to give me.” his forehead leans against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath mixing with yours, a silent, shared exhale that says everything neither of you can quite put into words.

you close your eyes, your hands moving to rest over his, anchoring the moment in your memory. the world outside his studio feels distant, almost nonexistent, as if the only things that matter are his touch, his smile, and the way your heart beats in time with his.

“hao,” you whisper, opening your eyes to find him already watching you. there’s a playful glint there, even amidst the sincerity, and it makes you smile despite yourself.

“yes?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“finish your food before it gets cold,” you tease, breaking the moment with a light laugh. “you promised, remember?”

he lets out a laugh, one that’s full and genuine, and the tension between you both dissipates like mist. “right,” he agrees, finally pulling away, though his gaze never strays far from your face. “but only if you sit here with me while i eat.”

“of course, always.” you reply, settling in beside him and feeling his shoulder brush against yours. it’s a simple question & a simple answer, but the meaning behind both of them, so much deeper.

minghao picks up his fork, taking another bite of the meal you prepared, and you sit together in the comfort of his art-filled sanctuary, a newfound understanding shimmering in the air between you.

“thank you,” he whispers, his voice full of awe. “for being here. for always taking care of me.”

“thank you too, for always listening so well & letting me take care of you.” you murmur, your heart swelling.

“only because it's you.”

minghao pulls you into a kiss, he hopes you know that this kiss is an unspoken agreement he promises never to break.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Goods 2

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You go through checkout in autopilot. You pay, not paying mind to the total, and a bag boy helps get the bags in your cart. You’re still trembling from the encounter at the bread shelf. You’re starting to think you imagined it. Can pregnancy hormones make you delusional? 

As you push your cart out to the lot, you feel a chafing against your thighs. Your panties are still askew. You slow as you near the car and peek around to fix them. A shiver rolls over you at the brush of fabric across your pelvis. 

What are you doing? You should march back in there and demand the surveillance footage. You should call the police and file a report. It’s not about them believing you, they’ll have to see it on the cameras, right? 

You’re kept from your moment of clarity by the buzz of your phone. Shoot. You answer as Jake’s name flashes over the screen.  

“Hey,” you wisp you as you keep hold of the cart, hovering just next to the trunk of the car, “did I forget to put something on the list?” 

“Checking in. Been there a while,” he says. You can hear him typing as he speaks. He’s always so busy, even when he’s at home. If he isn’t logged into work, he’s up to some coding of his own. You suppose he’s trying to get as much in before the baby comes. “So, you almost done?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you try not to let your voice quaver, “just packing up the bags now. How’d your meeting with Harold go?” 

“Usual. That big project we’ve been working at? Got scrapped. Starting over,” he scoffs. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jake,” you pout as you reach into your purse and fish out the car keys. You pop the trunk and angle the cart so it won’t roll away. “I think I might get that promotion though.” You lift a bag and puff out as you balance the cell between cheek and shoulder, dropping it in the trunk, “Terra’s leaving so...” 

“Babe, I told you to wait until I finished work,” he sniffs, “you okay?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t get anything too heavy. Jake, it’s fine.” 

“Mm, I feel like... like you don’t let me do enough,” he whines. 

Your lips slant. You won’t let the hormones loosen your tongue. He has every opportunity to help. He could do the shopping himself but he says he needs you to make sure he gets the right things. He could cook dinner but he burns everything. He could clean the dishes but he breaks at least one thing each time. 

“You can rub my back?” You suggest, “or my feet.” 

“Mm, yeah,” he agrees noncommittally. Right, he’ll only do that if he gets a bit of fun after. 

“Anyway, we’ll talk when I get there. I don’t want the ice cream to melt,” you lean on the cart and hold back a sigh, “love ya.” 

“Mm, huh, yeah, you too. Gareth’s calling.” 

He hangs up and leaves you listening to dead air. You drop your shoulders and shove the phone back in your purse. You shake your head and move around the basket to grab another bag. A pair of thick arms beat you to it and you step back as a man in a yellow polo smirks down at you. 

“What’s a lady like you doing all the heavy lifting for?” The man asks. 

His timbre hits you like a train off its tracks. Your pregnancy brain unfogs and you remember what you’d meant to do before the phone call. You feel the scene back in the store, the creep of his hand under your dress. That voice. It’s definitely him. 

You gape at him as he steps close, hugging a bag to his stomach, and you back away in horror. His hair is combed back on top, his sides shaved close, and his lip is trimmed with a thick mustache. Despite his clean shave, a shadow already darkens his jawline.

Your heart hammers wildly and your whole body tingles. He steps around the cart and places the bag in the trunk. You touch your stomach as you try to calm yourself.

“Get away from me,” you murmur. 

“I’m just being helpful, sweet cheeks. You should know, I’m not really the type to help an old lady cross the street or whatever shit,” he snorts and faces you. 

“Go,” you rasp hotly as your eyes tinge. “Get away!” 

“Now, don’t go shrieking like a banshee. I’m really not into the whole...” he makes a motion in front of his stomach, “baby thing, but you’re convincing me.” 

“I said--” 

“I’m not done,” he points at you, “so keep your ears open, sugar tits.” He gives a leer at your chest, “now those... that’s amazing. You gone up a cup size or were they always honkers?” 

“Ew, you--” you try to accuse him and he taps your lips, stunning you to silence. 

As he comes closer, his size is even more obvious. Everyone’s big compared to you, he’s probably about the same height as your fiance, but he seems broader. Maybe because he’s older? 

“I’m just being a good Samaritan,” he looms over you, “helping you get your shopping all away.” He grins down at you and brings up two fingers, giving them a sniff, “getting you off--” 

“You--” 

"...your feet," he finishes.

He’s quicker than you. Your voice dissolves as he has you by the neck in and instant, your keys and purse falling to the tarmac. Your top-heavy stature has you off-balance without much of a struggle and you barely keep your side from hitting the open edge of the trunk. He bends and scoops up your leg, pushing you to roll onto the groceries and land uncomfortably against the emergency kit. 

“Hey!” You cry out and he snaps the lid shut. He slaps it and gives a cackle loud enough for you can hear. You hold your stomach, terrified that you landed too hard on your side.

“I only came for milk, imagine that.” 

[stranger-stevieee]

Risk

Summary: You have a bad habit of falling in love too quickly, but is it really that bad if a certain someone happens to feel the same way? Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: use of y/n, fluff, angst? (maybe), cliche writing, first kiss

Look at me now Said I wouldn't do it, but I hunted you down Know you had a girl, but it didn't work out

Steve Harrington was very sought after. Every girl wanted him and every guy wanted to be him. You tried very hard to not fit into that stereotype but you failed miserably.

There was just something about him that drew you in. You told yourself that you wouldn't fall at his feet like every other girl at Hawkins High but you couldn't help it.

Now, Steve wasn't really known as a relationship guy. He was more of a "let's go out once or twice, have sex, then onto the next girl" type of guy (he was called "King Steve" for a reason after all) so it was a shock to everyone when he started dating Nancy Wheeler.

You were sad, just like every other girl, that you had lost your chance with him but when you heard about their breakup after a year of being together, you couldn't help but feel like you actually had a chance.

I'm not proud Guess I'm just scared of you shootin' it down You can just talk, and I'll stare at your mouth You could be bad, but I wanna find out,

Giving in to him wasn't your proudest moment but it was inevitable. You had decided that if you wanted him, you would have to go get him.

See that's what all these girls were doing wrong. They would wait for him to come to them and ask them out, when in reality if they wanted a chance they would have to take it. So that's exactly what you did.

You were in your history class that you happened to share with Steve and the teacher had just announced a research project that would take all month to complete.

Picking a partner would've been easy had your only friend in the class been there that day, but sadly she had stayed home for whatever reason. The bright side was, now you could take a chance.

You got up out of your seat and walked straight over to his. You were a bit nervous but decided it was now or never.

"Hey, Steve!" You spoke loudly due to your nerves but luckily he found it funny.

"Hey..." he paused

"Oh, it's Y/n," you said embarrassed that you had been fawning over this man that didn't even know your name.

"Right! That's right, I- I knew that"

"Yeah," you laughed it off, "So do you have a partner yet? For the project, I mean?" You stuttered over your words a bit, albeit scared of the potential recegection coming your way.

"No, actually, I don't"

"Okay, cool... do you wanna work on it together? Maybe?"

'Here it comes' You thought 'He's gonna say no, laugh in your face and...'

"Sure."

'Oh. Well, that was easy.'

And I wake up in the middle of the night With the light on, and I feel like I could die 'Cause you're not here, and it don't feel right

It's 4:28am and you can't stop thinking about him. You woke up from your dream almost 30 minutes ago and haven't been able to get back to sleep.

This dream just messed everything up because now you've come to the conclusion that you're in love with Steve Harrington.

This wouldn't be your first time loving someone but it is your first time being in love. There's a difference. You tend to love rather quickly and when you love, you love hard.

It takes a while for you to stop loving someone. But you have a feeling things will be different this time.

You think about what it would feel like if he were with you in that moment. But he's not, and it sucks.

God, I'm actually invested Haven't even met him Watch this be the wrong thing, classic God, I'm jumpin' in the deep end It's more fun to swim in Heard the risk is drowning, but I'm gonna take it

A couple weeks into working on the project and you still barely knew anything about him. The only thing you both talked about was the project and how it's coming along. You were getting nowhere.

"Hey, what do you think about coming to my place today?"

You had been digging through your locker looking for a specific book for your next class when Steve came up to you and it's safe to say that his words shocked you.

"What?" you asked

"Do you want to come work on the project at my place today?" Although he didn't sound like it, he was nervous asking you to come over.

"Sure!"

'Maybe she is interested in me' he thought

His heart fluttered at the sight of your excited smile.

Isn't it fun thinkin' I'm right when I'm probably wrong? Holding my breath like I met someone Knowing damn well that I haven't been touched by you In my head, you're in the car, and you're comin' to me And you get to my door, and you can't even speak But I think that it's sweet, yeah, I think that you're sweet

You knew Steve was rich, but you didn't know he was this rich. Standing in front of his house you were a bit worried about what was to come.

Once you finally worked up the nerve, you lifted your fist to knock on his front door. Inside Steve had seen your car pull up and stood by the door waiting for you to knock.

When he finally heard it, he waited a few seconds, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

"Welcome..." he sighed "Sorry I don't know why I said that, that was weird, let me start over... hey."

You had a small smile on your face trying not to laugh. "Hi... can I come in?"

"Oh, yeah of course."

"Thanks," you let out a little giggle

You walked in and looked around in awe. His house was 2x the size of yours. "Your house is amazing," you whispered.

"Yeah, it's great I guess. It does get lonely sometimes but... anyways we should probably finish the project."

He walked you over to the dining room where he already had his textbook laid out. You both sat down, took out everything you needed, and got to work.

After an hour of working you had finally finished the project and it had only taken you about 3 weeks. Even though you were finished, Steve didn't want you to leave yet so he suggested having an early dinner.

"I wouldn't have pinned you as a cook, Harrington," you said with a small smirk on your face.

"Yeah, well when there's no one around to cook for you, there's only two options. I can cook for myself or get takeout, and I obviously have to stay healthy so takeout's not ideal. Gotta stay in shape for the ladies, you know?"

'Maybe he isn't interested in me' you thought

"The ladies. Right." you let out a nervous laugh.

Too soon to tell you "I love you" Too soon to tell you "I love you" Too soon to tell you "I love you"

Steve could tell you were nervous to tell him something. You were standing in front of him on his front porch unsure if you were ready to say what you wanted to say. But you knew you couldn't keep it in any longer.

It had been months since you both finished the project and you had become even closer than before.

Ever since that day at his house, you've fallen for him more and more each day. And even though it might be too soon, you have to tell him.

"Umm... can I talk to you?"

"Sure, come in." He said stepping out of the doorway to let you in. "So, what's up?"

"Uh, so, I just wanted to say that... you've been an amazing friend."

Steve let out the breath he was holding and sighed with disappointment. That is definitely not what he wanted to hear. The exact opposite actually, but he let you continue anyway.

"But I can't just pretend that that's all I want to be. I love you and I know it's probably too soon to be saying this but—"

Steve suddenly stepped forward and brought his hand up to cup your face which shut you up quickly.

“Is it ok if I kiss you?” he whispered

“I would like that very much.”

He leaned in and connected his lips with yours and, if it was even possible, you fell in love with him even more. The kiss was soft and tender, way different than what you thought it would be.

It was the first time your lips were meeting, but you immediately knew that it wouldn’t be the last.

Steve was the first to pull away and as much as he didn't want to he knew he had to.

"I love you too, by the way"

"Good"

You're the risk, I'm gonna take it

[inksoakedparchment]

I Wanna Be Yours

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: fluff

trope: strangers to friends to lovers

word cunt: 888

tw: swearing

a/n: maybe my life gives me inspo

You’ve been hanging around with Mattheo and his friend group for a few weeks now because of a project. A documentary about astronomy. Last week Mattheo invited Theodore Nott too - who’s the cameraman - and both of you started to open up to each other. Something feels strange around him but you can’t figure it out. He’s sweet, kind and clearly a nerd. At least you think he’s a nerd. His tattoos are gorgeous, but his look is not your type. Skinny, light brown hair with blue eyes. You think Theo is too skinny for you because you’re a little bit plus size. You texted him on Instagram on one of the team meetings which was at Mattheo’s place but he only replied the next morning. You two started chatting about every topic, surprisingly deep topics. Like what do you want to do when you’ve finished high school? They’re all older than you, so yeah. Mattheo and Enzo - they’re in the same school as you - are nineteen years old, Theo - he’s working as a cameraman and photographer - is twenty-two, Blaise - same school - is eighteen and Draco - your classmate - is the same age as you. Sixteen.

Mattheo called you this morning, “forcing” you to do a sleepover because of the project - Enzo, Theo and you are writing the script - but Blaise and Draco can’t come over. Of course, you agreed, also you can only stay til midnight. He said it’s okay, maybe another time you can sleep over. The sweet Enzo picked you up. Then you arrived and went to Mattheo’s living room, who’s not home yet so you’re gonna be alone with Theo and Enzo for an hour. And he was there. Lying on the couch, scrolling social media platforms.

“Hey, wassup?” Theo gets up and hugs you quickly.

“Nothing special. Just tired, as always,” you smile at him. “What about you?”

“Everything’s alright, thanks,” he smiles.

Then you sit down on the armchair and pack your things out of your bag. Laptop, chargers and the colouring book with markers - which Enzo asked you to bring over. Theo notices them and he immediately gets excited. He tried the colours while smiling like a kid. So damn adorable. He shows you his Funko pop collection.

“So there’s my Marvel collection,” he zooms on them. “Loki with Sylvie obviously, Tony, Natasha,” he would continue but you cut him off.

“Bucky? Wanda? Where are the best characters?” you sigh dramatically.

“I don’t have them,” he grins. “But I have to admit Joe Locke in Agatha all along is hot. Have you seen it?”

“I started it, but I haven’t finished it yet,” you smile. He’s gay? Or what? Bisexual? You can’t decide, he has many signs of being fruity. You’ll see so never mind.

“So cool series, you should continue,” he smiles.

After that three of you talk about relationships where you find out that he had two one-year-long relationships with girls. Still suspicious but you have to admit it’s a green flag. He’s not a player. His last date was one year ago. And you realize. You like him, so damn much. His mind is working really well, he’s intelligent and sweet too. Also, he’s fine. But the skinny body is something you want too. You can’t wear his hoodies, can’t sit on his lap because you’re scared of breaking his bones with your weight. But oh man, how you would like to do all of this with him.

“Can I try it?” you point at his camera.

“Of course, come here I’ll show you how to use it,” he smiles widely and starts to explain the buttons. Then you take some behind-the-scenes photos of Enzo and Theo. You take photos of Theo’s hands, his side profile and his smile. He’s mesmerizing.

“Damn, these are good. Y/N you’re doing this really well,” he pets your head with a grin.

“Thanks, I guess,” you shrug.

At midnight you’re about to call a taxi to take you home when Theo grabs your hand.

“I’ll take you home, okay? It’s not a big deal,” he smiles softly and you nod.

“I would be thankful.”

“Come,” he picks up his car keys while you hug both Enzo and Mattheo as a goodbye.

You and Theo sit in the car and he starts driving.

“So,” he clears his throat “Did you enjoy the meeting?”

“Of course. I liked the photographer me the best,” you laugh softly.

“Me too,” he bites his lower lip. “I wondered about that would you like to go on a date with me? I thought about we could go out for a coffee and take photos with my camera,” he shrugs nonchalantly, but his red face tells everything.

“I’m in,” a big smile spreads on your face.

“Glad to hear,” he parks down in front of your home. Theo leans closer then gently kisses you and you smile in the kiss.

“See you on the date. Text me the details,” you say with shining eyes and then you get out of his car. “Good night, Theo”

“Good night, Y/N,” he says quietly and then the radio starts playing ‘I Wanna Be Yours’ by Arctic Monkeys. He giggles because goddamn it fits perfectly. This is what he feels right now.

✨if you wanna be on my taglist, comment<3

taglist: @sunkissedscribbles @kandis-mom @idkkkkkkk123lgb @nottslvttt

[ch-4-eri]

Different — Abby Anderson.

Abby X female!reader.

Warnings: comphet, anger issues, owen jumpscare (sorry) shouting, arguing, angst.

Word count: 1.2k

This fic is lowkey trauma dumping, self projection as it’s finest but hey we’ve all been there, also excuse how short it is I’m still learning how to write all over again after leaving it for a hot minute, but please do enjoy this.

You miss her. You really do, you had no other idea as to what made you and Abby’s friendship seem like it was something you’d made in the back of your mind.

Which is stupid considering everything, you knew the source of the problem, how deep he rooted his claws into her, Owen fucking Moore.

He was a senior at some point before he met Abby at a game you both went to. Soon enough he graduated which meant you’d never see Abby after school and or even the entire day as they got together. It dragged on until you noticed how moody she got, more angry than usual and you always knew Abby had temper problems.

You’d see them right outside of school, and he’d just leave her there, and you couldn’t interfere at all— you thought Abby wouldn’t like that, wouldn’t accept help in such situations.. and you were rather drifting, you’d let her figure it out on her own.

You just wondered if she misses you as well? And was Owen really worth it? Forget friendship… Abby was doing horribly in almost everything she used to like to do, her quarterback duties? Yeah, she was often arguing with her team, constantly throwing tantrums after or before games when there’s crowds watching it and the scene’s too awkward. People leave earlier than usual and it’s always intense if the argument is before the game. Even argues with the cheerleaders and their choreography as it’s not something she can pick, only the cheer coach. Abby was disturbed in many aspects, and all you could do was blame Owen.

You also wondered if it’s also Owen or something else? Was he treating her right? You doubt it, putting in mind how much she seems so temper ridden towards everything.

It was a random night you so badly wanted to check up on her, maybe hang out with her like you used to, it was all so awkward and you had no idea how else to resolve such already fucked up friendship.

You pulled up to her door with your bike, the sound of her and Owen arguing was loud enough you could hear what they were arguing about, Abby’s voice too familiar to just get over.

As you made your way out of your bike and to the front door, it slammed open with a very angry Owen stomping out, making you glare at him as he matched your glare and walked away.

Your eyes rolled and walked inside, finding Abby leaning against the counter. Still heaving in anger as she saw you; not even saying anything as you closed the door he almost broke.

“What was that?” You first said, forget the i miss yous and the corny bullshit that used to be okay between you two.

“What was what?” Abby responded, her tone cold and just as pissed off as if she’s still talking to Owen.

“Why was he yelling at you? That’s not okay.” You added, crossing your arms, keeping your voice steady. You’re not here to fight, that was Abby. Your Abby.

Abby narrowed her eyes as she’s surprised to find you there, her disturbance erupts from many things and not being able to talk to you was one of them.

She knew she fucked up when she picked Owen over you, it wasn’t even a decision she made; she just woke up one day without you around, and just him there.

She didn’t like it.

She hated it in fact.

Abby knew Owen was not a soulmate.

But the realisation of losing you for him, that stung more, made her more angry and defensive.

She was too prideful to admit what she did was wrong, be with such a guy and then lose you slowly.

Every time she recalls how good you’d treat her over stuff Owen made her feel bad about it was a damn list she had in the back of her mind every time he said something she didn’t like in which you’d be so sweet about.

Like her working out habits and how she looks, you’d encourage her and ask to come with her to the gym, Owen would just make fun of her for not looking feminine enough.

You’d take care of her when she’s sick never leaving her side enough you’d also get sick and Abby would take care of you when she’s better, Owen would just ignore her texts all day because she’s too sick in bed apparently and she’s ’too big of a girl’ she can ‘handle’ it on her own.

How you made her feel good about herself for having a ‘strong best friend’ and how proud you were of her, while Owen was too insecure to ever say something kind about it, insecure how a girl looks like she could ‘toss him away with a flick’.

The minute she had to compare the two of you, it made her feel more agony than she liked to admit even between her and herself.

As you stood in front of her after such a long time she still knew that she should be sorry, hug you and act like nothing happened.

But she couldn’t; so much had happened, she knew she shouldn’t have let you go, not for Owen or anyone because knowing he was not her soulmate, you were.

You were just right, Abby was always so certain of that, no matter who she lost or who she had, you’d be there and she let go of that like it’s nothing and she can’t mend that now, she felt too unworthy of your friendship.

It can’t be fixed.

“So what? I was yelling at him too, stop with that feminist bullshit.” Abby cursed, rolling her eyes at your defence, she loved you for it; she needed it, but she had to push you away for how wrong she did you.

“It’s not feminist bullshit, Abby, he's treating you like dirt!” You argued, showing her what’s right in hopes she’d see it.

“It’s none of your business! You don’t even have a boyfriend, you don’t get it!”

“Oh low blow! The whole ‘I don’t have a boyfriend’ bullshit just so you don’t admit he sucks and he doesn’t treat you well and he’s too fucking old for you, I don’t know what the fuck is going on Abby but this isn’t you! Hanging out with jerks like him, we used to make fun of guys like him!” You argued, eyebrows furrowed that made Abby wanna go on her knees for your forgiveness, you were right.

She wanted to cry about how wrong she’d been, she wants you back, she wants to just end this and apologise but she did you too wrong to act like this is okay.

“Shut up, get out of here!” Was all Abby managed, she wanted to save you for any more insults that could leave her mouth right at this second, there’s so much she needed to fix but you had to leave right now.

You blinked a few times at her request, Abby never raised her voice at you and maybe she didn’t mean it, but it hurt so much, she could see it as well.

“Don’t come crying to me when he’s left you, and let’s be real he will. And he will find a girl his age or maybe a girl that wears stupid bow ties in her hair because let’s face it he’s a fucking weirdo and you fell for it.” You said as a tear sheds down your cheek. “He wants to change you, and he can’t, I don’t even recognize you anymore… you won’t find me there when he does.” Was all you muttered before breaking down completely at the loss you just have to endure, leaving her house and leaving her there.

[savingcrxws]

EYES ON FIRE | maybe someday

[ prev chap ] [ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen just keep bumping into each other.

word count. 4.3k (gah damn)

warnings. language, hardly proofread again i'm sorry its an addiction

authors note. thank u guys so much for the support in these previous chapters! it’s really amazing to me that u guys enjoyed it so much! i would recommend listening to maybe someday by the cure for this chapter!

“Yeah, Sugar. The appointment is booked for Thursday, the reps will probably be coming in at like…three o’clock,” you mutter, flipping through the manila folder absolutely stuffed with documents and sticky notes. 

You pursue your lips at all you had to get done within this week alone–sign installation permit, permit to replace the hot water heater, permit to fix the ventilation systems, reapply for occupancy capacity signs because of the restaurants lack of other permits, and holy shit…

You completely forgot to schedule the follow-up appointment with the BACP consultant. 

You groan, slamming the thick folder into your forehead, the papers thwacking against your skull. Natalie sounds startled on the other end of the phone, no doubt hearing the sound on her end of the call. She questions if you’re okay, and you only respond with a gentle hum before tossing the folder back down on the office table. 

“Hey, Suge, do you think I can call you back later? I need to schedule a follow-up consultation with Raquel before another rep hops on my ass about the boiler replacement.” 

“Of course, hun, call me back whenever you can,” Sugar starts and you can hear some papers flicking in her side of the call as well.

You had managed to convince her to work from home more often, worried that all the stress from the demolition inside would affect her pregnancy and her overall wellbeing. After some back and forth, she had begrudgingly agreed to spend two days working on the project from the comfort of her own couch. 

And even though she complains still, you know she appreciates she has a little bit more time off of her feet. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard, okay, Bug?” 

You nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “Same for you, Bear.” Sugar hums once again before you both give your goodbyes and end the call. 

You expel all of the air out of your chest in a large puff as you slide down the office chair.

After signing onto Team Bear, your new home-away-from-home had been this tiny office in the back of the restaurant. For the most part, no one came in and disrupted your work, which allowed you to have your head shoved into piles of paperwork, be stuck on phone calls, and be forced to reread legal jargon for hours on end with little interruption. 

Well, as little interruption as there could be with the restaurant quite literally falling apart around you. 

Thankfully, everyone was very respectful of your work in helping the developing business. You were practically putting every ounce of knowledge that you learned from both college and the real-world experience (including connections within the industry) to help push the restaurant closer to the deadline. All the while still dealing with your other commitments to other businesses that you had prior to signing on to this project.

Staying at The Bear for eight hours a day had its benefits, though.

For example, there was always something entertaining going on in the background. Like last Tuesday, when Fak had decided to send a sledgehammer directly into the only remaining wall of the office–sending bits and pieces of drywall onto your clothes.

Another benefit of being stuck in that office chair is that you had an excuse to ignore everyone around you. And by everyone, you really mean Carmen.

After the awkward office run-in last week, the two of you hardly spoke to each other. Sure, there was the ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that you threw to each other and the words you exchanged when you caught him up on the status of licensing, but you two had yet to have an actual conversation.

It was clear that the both of you were still walking on eggshells around each other—and everyone could see it. But you had an inkling feeling that Carmen had been wanting to say something, judging by the short glances you sometimes catch him throwing in your direction.

Kinda similar to the one that he’s giving you right now.

You feel the heat of his stare on your face before you see it. He’d been staring at you for a couple moments now, long enough for you to no longer consider it an inquisitive glance.

You peek up from the folder and make solid eye contact with Carmen through the hole in the wall. The man flushes almost immediately, the red color sinking past his collar. You purse your lips and give a small nod of acknowledgment and he stutters in his spot.

And then he’s turning away.

Like he wasn’t the one just staring at you a moment ago.

You roll your eyes and turn back to your original position in the seat. Picking the folder up again, you flick to the papers listing the requirements for the next fire suppression test.

“Men,” you mutter, before picking up your phone and making a phone call.

Three days later, the office is completely demolished and your work revolving around The Bear has been moved to a family-owned coffee shop two blocks over.

In the short span of time, all of the walls in the store had been busted down and the restaurant had practically turned into a hazardous wasteland. And since construction was too far out of your pay grade, you decided to leave the heavy lifting up to everyone else.

“Alright, permit done!” You throw your hands up in the air, your theatrics catching the attention of a couple next to you. You could hardly care for the stares, though, you had been working on getting that permit for the past four days straight. Slamming your laptop shut, you pack up your bags and head off to the cash register to buy another coffee before you go.

While you wait for your drink, you decide to scroll aimlessly through your phone to kill some time.

“Oh shit,” you hear a voice utter behind you, and you barely have time to process the word before something ice cold is running down your back. “Fuck, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t even see you—“

You gasp on reflex, taking a step forward and shivering. The person who spilled their drink on you is stuttering out apologies. The liquid seeps into the jacket you were wearing and you pull it off immediately.

“Yo, what the fuck, dude,” you curse, watching the large stain of coffee spread even farther across your jacket. “Watch where the hell you’re walking—”

In the middle of trying to give the perpetrator a piece of your mind, you failed to recognize the familiar sound of the voice that was spewing apology out of apology. But in a second, your eyes met a recognizable set of blue and you halted your words.

In front of you stands Carmen Berzatto. In his signature colored sweater and a half-spilled cup of coffee in his hand.

And he looks petrified.

It seems he didn’t realize just who was the unlucky victim to his americano attack either until you turned around. His mouth agape, he utters out a jumbled apology, glancing back at you, your stained jacket, and the cup in his hand like his brain was still trying to understand what just happened.

“Uh-uh, fuck, sorry, I swear this wasn’t on purpose,” he rambles, placing his cup on the counter behind you and grabbing some napkins right after. He steps back towards you and shoves his hand of napkins to you. “Here, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, taking the napkins from him, noting the slight tremor that persisted in his hands as you did so. Taking in a slow breath, you close your eyes and count to ten before responding. “It’s okay, Carmen. Don’t worry about it.”

And even though you tried to maintain your peace, you can hear the annoyance seeping out of your words. Carmen glances around the counter before looking back at you and your soaked jacket. You know he probably wants to apologize some more, but honestly, one more apology might land him with a punch to the gut. 

Just as he opens his mouth, you raise your free hand, silencing him immediately. You shake your head in dismissal before taking the napkins offered to you and blotting the coffee out of the fabric of your jacket. Carmen simply stood in his place, watching you, seeing if he could do anything to redeem himself in this situation. 

However, after they called your name for your drink order, you dumped the used napkins in the trash, took your drink and hightailed it out of the café without one more word to the man. 

After the coffee shop incident, you swear that you started to see Carmen everywhere. 

You needed a quiet place to plan outside of your house so you went to one of the local libraries. Guess who’s walking outside the building?

You need a late night snack and decide to hit up the corner store. Guess who’s in the refrigerated section?

Hell, you decide to stay late at The Bear for some last minute checkups? Guess who forgot to grab a few things before leaving that night?

You swear that before you hopped on The Bear train, you never even saw a glimpse of the man. Sure, you lived relatively near the restaurant, but Chicago is fucking huge, there’s no way you would run into one of the few people that you’re trying to avoid. 

Absolutely not, apparently. 

Finally finishing up the weekly budget report and estimate for the following weeks till open, you decide to take a step away from work for a second and give your brain some time to breath. 

“Hey, Syd, if anyone needs me, I’m outside taking a smoke break, ‘kay,” you yell across the restaurant, receiving a thumbs up from her from the other side of the room. “Be back in 15!”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pack of cigs and a lighter before heading to the back entrance of the restaurant. You place the cigarette between your lips and head to the backdoor. Stepping out and around the alley to the designated smoke corner, you fiddle with the lighter switch, hearing the light sizzle but seeing no flames emerge. 

You groan, flicking the lighter again and again and still no lig–

“Umm, uh, you need a light?”

You scream, your heart almost skipping a beat and falling out on the concrete below you. In your alarm, both your cigarette and the lighter drop on to the ground. "Shit," you mutter and throw a glance over at whoever had scared the living shit out of you and, surprise suprise . . .

There was Carmen, standing in the alley a few feet away from the door. One leg was kicked up to rest his foot against the wall behind him and a cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. His eyes trailed across you for a second, then he glanced at the cigarette on the ground before taking another draw from his own and staring out the wall in front of him.

If you had half of the energy, you would tell him off for scaring the shit out of you and book it out of the enclosed space.

Lucky for Carmen, however, you really needed that cigarette.

Reaching back into your bag once more, you pull out another cig and walk slowly over to the man. Your steps gain his attention once again and when your eyes met you gestured to the lighter hanging out of his cooking apron.

He grabs the lighter and hands it to you. As you reach out to grab it, your fingers brush against his knuckles. Some quick thought in the back of your head wishes that that physical interaction lasted a little longer, but you're quick to shoo that away into the deep recesses of your mind.

Lighting your cigarette, you hand the lighter back to him before taking a drag. Blowing the smoke out, you slid down the wall until you could lean back into a squat against it.

The two of you just stand there, in complete silence aside from the occasional cough from an improper pull. This quiet isn't nearly as awkward as the first run-in the two of you had. Maybe it's because of the nicotine or maybe it's because continuously running into Carmen over these past days had subconsciously made you a little more comfortable with his presence.

. . .

Nah, it definitely had to be the nicotine.

You glance up at Carmen, who continues to smoke even though his stick had turned into a bud a while ago. You make note of the new tattoos that run down his arms and hands, eyes stopping at the rose flower tattoo on his left hand.

You remember when he got that one done with you at the parlor for his eighteenth birthday.

Subconsciously, you rub at the matching rose on your thigh before sighing and focusing back on your cigarette. Young, dumb decisions, you think.

Above you, Carmen watches your focus retreat back and purses his lips. In all honesty, Carmen usually never finishes a whole cigarette, but he really needed an excuse to stay out here longer with you.

These past couple of days had been tormenting him just as much as it had been you, albeit for different reasons. Everytime Carmen ran into you, whether it be in that cafe or that random grocery store that one early morning, he was plagued with memories of everything that he had fucked up.

Not just the relationship that he had fucked, but the happiness that he had stolen from the both of you.

And he had so desperately been trying to apologize, but every time you saw his face, you would get that look on your own. That dread, the anxiousness, that annoyance. That anger.

Whenever he saw that expression on your face, he would get too choked up to say anything of significance. A simple 'hey" would be all that would leave his mouth. Either that or he would stutter like he was a fucking kid again and embarrass himself in front of you like he seems to be doing constantly lately.

Carmen sighs, taking a final hit from his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. By all previous experience, Carmen would book it out of the area by now, but something in his gut was telling him to stay this time.

Glancing down at you once more, he sees that you have taken to scrolling through your phone to kill the time. He bites the corner of his lip and decides to sit against the wall like you.

Instinctively, you toss him a questioning glance but when he didn't make any move to speak or gesture towards you, you shook your head and went back to whatever video had popped up on your feed.

Fuck it, he thought.

"I'm sorry."

You halt in the middle of your smoke, nearly coughing on the fumes but managing to swallow it. You look over at Carmen inquisitively, wondering where the hell that apology came from. The dirty blonde was wringing his hands, mouth opening and shutting as if he was trying to get the words out.

"Sorry for the, uh," he mutters, casting a quick glance in your direction to assure himself that you were listening. "Sorry for the, for uh-You know I didn't-I don't know how-"

"Yo, Carmen," you interrupt the world vomit that he was spewing, tossing your cigarette down before snuffing out the light with your shoe. You center your focus back on the man next to you, who seemed to only have you in his attention. "Just say what you want to say. No bullshit."

Your blunt words seem to ground Carmen long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He nods his head rapidly in that way he does when he's clearly overwhelmed before he clears his throat. He takes in a large inhale and clears his throat, ready to speak again.

"I want to apologize. For everything. For how much of an jackoff I was back then, and for how much I am right now," Carmen stars, eyes staring solidly into yours to show just how serious he is. "I didn't deserve you, and you did nothing to deserve the way that we ended."

You feel something burn the back of your throat at the mention of the end of your relationship. The total radio silence from him for the days prior, and just when you had managed to gather the courage to ask the question of just what the hell are we doing, Carmy, you were cast aside like nothing.

He was right, you didn’t deserve that.

Pushing back the feelings bubbling up in your chest, you nod your head to signal that you were listening.

"I-I, it's no excuse, but I was really going through some serious shit. And I really felt that if I cut everyone out of my life, I could actually get a second to breathe you know," Carmen pauses and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. "I-I just know you deserved-you deserve better. But seeing you in this restaurant day-in and day-out, working away to help my sister, my crew--help me? I just felt even more like a piece of shit."

He turns fully towards you now and you can see his eyes turning red from the emotion he was clearly holding behind his words. "You didn't deserve what I did, and you definitely don't deserve to be cleaning up my messes now."

"You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

His last words send a sharp pang into your chest. Here you two sat, sitting next to each other, the distance between you two seemed to be filled with words unsaid. You stare into his eyes a little longer, at a loss for what to say completely.

On one hand, you wanted to reject his apology, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone in this alleyway. He would deserve it after everything.

But he has that familiar kicked puppy-dog look in his eyes and he's chewed his lip red, and he's actually sorry.

You sigh, leaning your head back to rest against the wall behind you. Staring up at the sky, you trace the shapes of the clouds above as you collect your thoughts.

"Yeah," you start, nodding your head to yourself. Carmen tenses up at the ambiguity behind both your words and your tone. He would have to have his own head shoved up his ass if he didn't realize that you had every right to refuse his plea for forgiveness. Frankly, that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.

"Yeah, okay. I can forgive you, Berzatto."

Carmen's heart sinks into his guts, mouth slightly agape in pure shock. "You-you can?"

You give a small smile, turning your head to face the man. "Yeah, Carmen, I accept your apology."

The dirty blonde opens his mouth again but you put a hand up in the space between you, effectively shutting him up for a second.

"But," you trail, "I'm gonna forward you that dry cleaning bill from that cafe, asshat. I've been trying to get that shit out for days now."

Carmen flushes a bright red at the mention of the coffee shop run-in you two had, a broken chuckle leaving his mouth at the obvious teasing tone in your voice. You were joking with him, for the first time in years, you two had managed to glimpse at the level of comfortability that you once shared.

Carmen chuckles again, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well, can I raincheck that until after the restaurant starts making money? I'm kinda flat fucking broke right now."

You giggle at the honesty behind his words. "Yeah, I ran those calculations by the way. Have fun being flat broke for at least three months after The Bear opens."

"Shit," Carmen mutters, a grin still on his face.

"Yeah, shit." You nod in his direction before pushing yourself off your crouched position on the ground. "Anyway, I'm gonna head inside to get back on that shit. Fak's fucking electric guy keeps flaking on us."

Carmen's eyes follow your form as you stand, holding eye contact with you when you glance back down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I should probably meet up with Syd for the chaos menu anyway."

He hurriedly stands up, wiping his hands on his work pants. After he finishes, he looks at you once again, noting the small smile on your face. For a second, he swears his heart skips a beat.

"For the record, Carmy," you play with the nickname on your tongue, having not said it in quite some time. Carmen flushes before nodding for you to continue. The small on your face falls for a second as you look at him. "You pull that shit with me again, I'm sicking the dogs on your ass. Seriously."

Carmen clears his throat, straightening up at the more serious tone of your voice. Although you were not nearly as angry looking at him as before, he knew that you were serious. There were no more apologies after this, no more fuckups.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

He nods. "Yes, chef."

After the conversation outside The Bear, you and Carmen seemed to flow together much easier than before. Granted there was the occasional stray glance casted in your direction from the man, but overall, the two of you were on much more agreeable terms.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice the absence of uncertain tension between the two of you. You explained to Tina, Richie, and Sugar that you two had simply talked it out and were no longer on "spiteful ex" terms.

Richie, being the annoying man that he is, insisted that something else must've happened--to which you responded with a firm shoulder check and yet another middle finger.

Overall, the two of you seemed to only talk about business stuff, which made it easier for conversations to flow. Less personal, more concrete talks.

"Alright, Carmy, we got that certificate of occupancy, right?" You question, running down the legal checklist once again. When you heard no response, you asked again, only to be ignored again. Finally looking up from your screen, you glance up at the man, trying to figure out what could have possibly distracted him this time.

He's glancing, moreso glaring, down at his phone, watching it ring but making no moves to pick it up. He's spaced out almost, like he's lost in his thoughts.

You clear your throat and decide to try his name again. "Carmen!"

He shoots up a little and looks at you, muttering an apology out as he clicks his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. "What were you asking?"

"Umm, I was trying to see if you got that certificate of occupancy from Cicero mailed in," you raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, the one we need to get that other big, shiny certificate that shows that we can legal conduct business in the state of Illinois? That certificate?"

"Uhh, yeah, yeah. Mailed it in the other day, yeah."

You squint at his weird responses before shaking your head and diving back into your work. "Well, on another note, I've been speaking with a liason down at the office and he said we can have our second fire suppression test in two weeks instead of the project four."

Carmen walks up to the foldable chair you were sitting in, peering over your shoulder to look at your screen. He rests his hand against the back of your chair unconsciously and you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You clear your throat and lean forward a little to get some distance between the two of you.

"Who's that going to?" The man points to an email that you are in the middle of drafting. Your eyes follow and land on the email you were writing to one of your school buddies. "Oh that? I'm just messaging one of my old classmates from college about an idea I had about our issues with that retail food license thing."

Carmen humms, peeking down at you as you explained the process you were thinking of going through. Though your eyes were stuck on the screen, clicking through different documents as you continued your explanation, Carmen's eyes were glued to your face.

To him, this all felt like some weird dream that he was having. His former high school sweetheart, sitting in his restaurant, talking all kinds of smart talk that he could barely understand, practically pressed against him. Although he didn't move over to your chair with the intent to press against you, he definitely noticed the proximity that you two shared.

Life had been a whirlwind these past weeks, but he felt that when he was near you that a lot of those anxieties he often has screaming in his head quieted down a little. He tried to chalk it up to the confidence that he had in your skills, but even though you are incredibly talented in your work, he knew that it was something more than that.

Something that he had to swallow down.

"Carmy, you motherfucker, are you even listening to me?" You call out, turning more in your chair and fixing him with an annoyed glare. Carmen swallows before nodding his head. "Ye-yeah, you have a plan to get that retail food license and alcohol seller's license at once right?"

You hum, giving him a once over again before turning in your seat. "Exactly. I think that my buddy Stephen can help us with that fire suppression test, he knows a thing or two--"

Carmen's eyes trace down your eyes, nose, and lips, noting the signature bite marks you left on your bottom one. He runs a tongue across his own before carding a hand through his hair to collect himself.

He was so fucked.

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[paperclip-skz]

The Good Idea.

fem*Reader x Han Jisung

*WARNING*

contains oral (f receiving), over-clothes stimulation, teasing, unprotected sex, Jisung finishes quickly, cream pie, and lingerie; I'm sure I missed something. This one was slightly rushed, but let me know what I missed in the comments!

WC: 3.9k

********

“So we had an idea.”

Felix strides into your office along with Changbin, Chan, and Minho, all with a grin stretching across their faces. This is going to be good. 

“Every time you guys come into my office and open with that,… its usually a bad idea.”

“Oh, it certainly is.” Minho keeps his hands slumped in his pockets, keeping his calm composure. 

They all take a seat facing you and your desk. You're seated comfortably, your computer shining with your most recent emails. Chan keeps his head down, but his smile remains. They’ve been planning something. 

“Hey, buuug,” Felix chimes, his cute nickname for you rolling off his tongue like fresh wine. 

He knows you can’t resist when he uses that nickname. It has resulted in many broken rules and policies and maybe a few nights where you’ve let some of the members sneak out of their dorms. 

“Just get to the point, Lix,” Chan tips. 

“Yeah, I want to see her reaction to this.” Minho sits cross-armed and stares holes into you. 

“Okay, so here is the idea. You know how Jisung's birthday is coming up.” You nod your head, following along. “We were thinking about hiring someone…as a treat to him.” 

“What like an entertainer? Like a singer.” 

“Not exactly, more so entertainer.” Chan finishes your thought. 

“Yea, like adult…entertainer.” 

Your eyes pop out of your skull. “Lee Felix Yongbok, are you suggesting you want to hire a stripper for Jisungs birthday?” you say in the calmest tone you can muster, which isn’t really calm at the moment.

“Kind of.” Felix’s face scrunches up in a defense to hide himself from your deadly stare.

You pinch the bride of your nose, anticipating the major headache this could cause. “Guys, I know you want to do something special, but you are still celebrities, and I am still your publicity manager, and you cannot imagine the headache it will cause if something like that got released to the public.”

You’ve been handling Stray Kids’s publicity projects for over a year. Something like this wasn’t a surprise, and you couldn’t blame them; even though they were singers and all-round gentlemen…they were still men. 

You’ve handled drunken nights, exes, hook-ups, and some crazy girls who believed they were “the one,” all before a single word got out to the public. Needless to say, you were pretty good at your job. That still didn’t mean you wanted to deal with something that could potentially get out, and if this got out….it could be bad. 

“Well, we have a way around that.” Changbin raised his eyes at you, quickly snaking his eyes from your chest down to your black pumps. 

This time, it was Chan’s turn to continue with this shameless idea. “They want to hire you.” 

If your eyes weren’t out of your skull before, they certainly are now, and your jaw is slacked as far as your desk. A shaky and breathless laugh leaves you. “You must be joking.” 

****************************

What the hell is happening? How did they convince you to do this? 

You were at your desk one day, and the boys were telling you about their stupid idea. Yet somehow, they convinced you with a single promise: They promised you a night with Jisung.

They knew you had a sweet spot for Jisung; you couldn’t describe it even if you tried. He had a way of making you smile or laugh at anything he did, and you loved the way he worked. How he could get so focused on his work, it was like the whole world fell away. 

So somehow, someway, they convinced you to do this. Now you were in the dorms…in Jisungs room…wearing nothing but your favorite lingerie set and a small laced mask. 

“I want a mask.” The boys questioned you; you could tell by the looks on their faces. “To at least hide a part of me. If I do this, I need to at least try to hide my identity somehow.” They agreed, nonetheless, as long as they got to choose the mask. You thought it was the most brilliant idea you could ever think of…however, you didn’t think about the mask they would choose. 

The mask did hide your face, but it was laced, which matched the sensual theme, but it did hardly little to hide your identity. If Jisung had really paid attention, he could have probably mapped out your features, but you wouldn’t give him the chance. If you were going to do this, you were going to do what you always did, do a damn good job. 

“So let me get this straight.” You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves and whatever is boiling inside you. “You don’t want me to strip…just dance?”

“Yeah, kind of. We want you to tease him.”

“We want you to do anything you are comfortable with.” Chan and Felix bounce off each other, shooting ideas and ensuring they aren't scaring you away. Why aren’t you scared away? They just asked you to strip tease one of your clients. Why does this ‘idea’ make you excited? 

“So I can choose how far I let this thing go?” you nod your head, and they nod along with you. If he never sees my face…he’ll never know it's me. 

“But I don’t even know what to do.”

“Just let your body carry you doll. Your mind will tell you what to do.” Binnie smiles at you. 

You could hear the distant chatter behind the door. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and you keep swiping your palms across your thighs. You keep pacing the floor, back and forth, back and forth. You keep fiddling with the chair you so carefully placed in the center of the room, and your eyes keep darting from the chair to the nicely made bed. At least he keeps his bed nice. 

A slight knock makes you jump. “Can I come in?” You can’t tell who the voice belongs to, but it's soft and gentle. 

“Yes,” you respond, trying to sound sexy. 

Chan slowly peeks his head through and steps inside. “Jesus, Chan, you scared the crap out of me. Do you have any idea how nervous I am right now?” 

Chan’s face falls, and his demeanor changes from gentle to dominant in seconds as his eyes wander across your frame. His eyes are darker than the night sky outside the window, and his build suddenly stiffens. You’ve never been intimidated by Chan; you’ve only ever shown respect and admiration, but the way he stands tall and his chest heaves with every breath, you can’t deny that it makes your thighs clench. 

You are fairly covered. The hipster-style underwear you choose to wear hugs your hips but hides the most sensitive parts of your body. The matching stockings clip to the edge of the garments, and the whole outfit is complimented by the push-up bra-style top that does little to hide your breasts. You’ve left your hair down, and the mask brightens your eyes. 

“You look….breathtaking.” 

You can feel the warmth of the blush on your cheeks. You feel so exposed and bare that it makes you want to hide and be brave simultaneously. Chan notices your conflicted thoughts, and without warning, he walks up close to you. Now, his lips are only a few inches from yours. “You know, after this whole thing with Jisung, maybe you could pay me a visit on my birthday?” 

You both chuckle. “God, you are so beautiful,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours. You can feel his warmth, his scent, everything. You're consumed by it. It almost makes you forget why you're here. “And you smell so goddamn good…but today is Jisung’s day” Gently, he kisses your forehead, “Are you ready?” 

You step back, bashing your lashes up at him, and softly nod. Chan leaves the room to yourself, and you begin to get situated. You try to find a comfortable position in the room that makes you look cool and sexy, but it results in you panicking and pacing back and forth over the room, finding a new position every 10 seconds. 

The voices behind the door become louder, and then you hear a slight tap at the door. Quickly, you rush to sit on the bed, crossing your legs and leaning your arms on the bed. Your body is stretched out perfectly for display.

Jisung stumbles through the door, being pushed by his bandmates. You can hear them snicker and laugh until the door closes, leaving only you and Jisung in the room. You can see Jisung’s dazzling smile once he enters the room, but the second he makes eye contact with you, his smile falters, and his eyes grow darker. 

You try not to let your confidence waver as his eyes memorize your every feature. With the mask covering your face, your hair down, and the dim light in the room, there is no way Jisung can tell it's you. For all he knows, his friends have hired a random stranger to do a lap dance for his birthday. All you have to do is keep your confidence up, and he won’t notice a thing. Just keep this mask on, and you can do this. 

The second you lift your body to stand, you hear him curse under his breath. His body is completely frozen in place; he doesn’t make any move to step toward you or the chair in the room. “Hi Jisung,” you say. You’ve practiced how you would talk to him. You wanted your voice to sound husky, dark, and breathy…and you were doing just that.

His brows scrunch; he’s trying to place your voice somewhere. Your heart starts racing with adrenaline, shit he knows, “Hello, beautiful.” 

His face didn’t tell you much, so with that, you continue as if he doesn’t know a thing. You carry yourself to walk around the chair in the middle of the room, letting your hand seductively drag along the rim of the chair. Jisung picks up on your silent request and finally wills his feet to move. 

He sits quietly in the chair, his eyes never leaving your body as it walks around the room. 

“So what? I’m just supposed to dance?” 

“Yeah, just be sexy, you know.” 

Felix’s voice echoes through your mind. Just swing your body, should be easy enough…

Han

His knuckles turn white. His mind goes fuzzy. And his eyes can’t leave your hips. You’ve turned around, giving him a show of your ass swaying right in front of him. He wants to touch you, to squeeze that beautiful ass that you're teasing him with. He wants to pull you down onto his lap and grind himself on you. But most of all, he wants to hear your voice again. He swears he knows it, but he can’t place it anywhere. 

Maybe if you weren’t wearing that damn mask, I could pin you somewhere…or perhaps I could just pin you. 

You start to lower your body. Your hands prop yourself just above his lap. Inches, just inches away from his growing hard-on. 

You’ve done nothing but sway your body in a teasing matter; you haven’t made one move to touch him. “Did the boys tell you to tease me, or are you scared to touch me pretty?” 

You stand up slowly, only to turn around and prop yourself in front of him. Your ass is hanging in the air, and your face is right in front of him. He studies your eyes. Wait…He knows those eyes. He can’t ever forget those crystal eyes. How could he? Those eyes haunt his dreams and his nightmares. 

“They told me to tease you until you begged.” Your lashes fan at him, and Jisung swallows…hard. The way you're positioned right now gives Jisung a perfect view of how your tits practically spill out of your bra; he wills himself not to gawk at your exposed chest. 

“You want me to beg?” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Well, all you had to do was say so pretty.” Jisung shifts in the chair, suddenly acting like he’s getting comfortable. “Pretty please, miss… will you touch me?”

He sees your demeanor change, your breath caught in your throat, and your eyes widen with every word that leaves his lips. You didn’t think I’d actually beg.

Your hand glides up his chest carefully. It's like ice on burning skin, and you're not even touching his skin yet. The material of his shirt scrunches up into your hand, revealing a bit of his abs. Your eyes dart down, and your lower lip disappears between your teeth. “Want to see more pretty?” Your eyes snap back to him, his signature snarky smile taunting you. 

You lean back to stand up, and Jisung’s heart races again. Did he offend you in some way? Did he take his teasing too far? Did he talk too much?

Your body moves out of Jisung’s sight, walking behind him and the chair. Your hands are back on him, feeling out his shoulders and daring to venture to his biceps. His head rolls back as your touch sends him into a frenzy. 

A low hum leaves his throat. “Just focus on me baby.” His whole body shivers from the nickname, sending shockwaves down his spine. 

His eyes flutter closed, focusing on your hands moving around his body. All his other senses are on overdrive while your fingertips graze the outskirts of his shirt, daring to touch the little skin thats exposed. His body is filled with pent-up anticipation; he could burst and beg at any moment. Until your left hand expertly sneaks down the neckline of his shirt, touching his chest. 

Your touch is soft and gentle, but he can only imagine how sweet you smell. “Does that feel good, Ji”

The second that name falls from your lips, he knows who you are immediately. It might seem like a simple nickname, something one of his bandmates might use, but only one person on this earth says his name like that. Only one person who makes that nickname sound like a song, only one person who could send a warmth through his body with that nickname. “Y/N?” 

His eyes open when he no longer feels your hands on him. He’s afraid that you ran, disappeared, and all of this was just a dream. 

He stands up in a panic in front of the chair, staring at you. He sees your blown-out eyes and your shaky hands. He should’ve known. Now that he’s paying attention, he can see you clearly, even with the mask. How could he not have seen your perfect curves, shiny eyes, and even your lips—he’s studied those lips countless times. 

Your lips part, and your chest heaves, but Jisung interrupts you before any words escape. "Please, don't stop," he implores, locking eyes with you. His desperation is evident, and he's oblivious to how he sounds.

His look makes your stomach turn, and you match his eyes. “But- I-”

“Please,” Jisung whispers. 

Nothing but prayers cloud his mind, desperate for this moment to last. He knows he won’t do anything if you aren’t comfortable, but he is not above begging for what he wants. 

“Okay,” it doesn’t hold the confidence that you had, but it is confirmation—confirmation that Jisung needs. 

Seconds later, he’s back to sitting in the chair, his heart racing out of his chest. When he doesn’t feel your hand back to its original position, he comes up with an idea, “Would it help if my eyes were closed, like before?”

“Strangely, yes.” 

You

You should have known he would catch on quickly, but you didn't think he'd be that quick. When he said your name, you imagined the worst. You thought he would be disgusted, or worse, he would take advantage of the moment. But when he pleaded with you, pouting his lips, all you could think about was how those lips would feel on yours.

Once you could see Jisung’s eyes were closed, you placed your shaky hands back on his shoulders. The contact made him flinch, but as your hands ventured further down his torso, he melted into your touch. 

You could hear his chest hum as your fingertips felt every ridge and detail of his chest. You try to slip the confidence you once had back on, but it's different now. You're not some stranger to him anymore; he knows it's you, yet he didn’t tell you to stop. He begged for you to keep going. 

Something about that realization sets a fire in you. Your hands confidently slide down his torso. You can feel his abs flex under your palm when you press flatly on his stomach.

“You want me to touch you,” you whisper, ghosting his ear. The only response you get is a small whimper from him. Your flat palm snakes down to the already evident bulge thats tented his pants.

“Fuuuuuk,” Jisung breathes out. You can feel his length twitch in your hand, practically begging for attention. 

With more confidence inside you, your other hand sneaks its way to hold Jisung by the neck. You don't squeeze enough to block his breath but enough to have him whimpering in your grasp.

Before you knew it, your hands were sliding up and down Jisung’s clothed member, and Jisung was whimpering and wining with pleas. “Y/N, please” 

“Please, what Ji?” you breathe down his neck. 

“Please kiss me.” You didn’t notice that Jisung’s eyes were wide open now, his neck craned to look at you, staring down at your lips. 

Your shocked expression makes you suck in a breath, parting your lips only for Jisung to smash his lips in return. Jisung’s hand comes to the back of your head, deepening the kiss. 

He tastes like fresh water. A freshness you didn’t know you needed. You resisted falling for his large boba eyes, charming smile, and silly personality, but now you let those buried feelings pour into the kiss.

You can feel his free hand sneak its way to your waist, gently pulling on your skin. You break the kiss, blinking your lashes down at him. You can see his mind catching up to him, the gears ticking, and the worry that he took things too far. “Is- is this okay?” his voice is barely above a whisper. 

You don’t think to answer. Silently, you walk around the chair, coming face to face with him. You sit down on his lap, leaning into him, quickly, Jisung places his hands on your waist, tightening his fists on the delicate fabric that separates your bare core from him. 

“Is this a good enough answer for you?” 

******

If it weren't for your bleeding attraction for the man in front of you, your lips would be chapped and bruised from how much Jisung kept kissing and teasing them. 

Finally, you convinced Jisung to take your little make-out session to the bed, but not before he took his sweet time undoing the lingerie set you had on. Now you're naked on the bed, presented perfectly for a shirtless Jisung that stands before you, looking at you like your his last meal. 

He leans down to trail kisses from your lower stomach to the valley of your breasts, all the way where both of your lips meet. “Please, Ji.” You break the kiss enough to plead his name. 

“Please, what, Y/N?” You both let out a small chuckle. 

You bite your lip at your next words; you’ve gone this far, so why not farther? “Please fuck me”. 

His dazzling smile shines brighter than you’ve ever seen, “thought you’d never ask.” 

Before you know it, Jisung is pulling down his black sweats and boxers. His member springs free in the palm of his hand. You see the prominent veins and his red tip already dripping with a shine of precum. Impressive, you think to yourself, more than impressive, you're actually kind of nervous. With how nerdy and cocky he is, you didn’t think he be that big.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes shoot up to meet his expression. He must have read your thoughts like a projection board. You gulp, nod your head, and bring his shoulder closer to you. 

“Words sweets” 

“Yes, Ji. I’m sure. Please,” you beg. 

With one last kiss, Jisung is aligning his length with your core and slowly pushing in. Your walls stretch to take in the sheer girth of him. The both of you groan with pleasure, your folds slick with your wetness. 

Jisung doesn’t give you more than a second to relish in the feeling until he’s setting a steady pace. You can feel every fat inch expanding your gummy walls around every vein. You let every moan slip, your grip on his shoulders is unbearing, and you let your face fall in pure pleasure.

Jisung cannot get enough of you. The way you let yourself relish in this feeling, the way you let him see you like this, he knows it's too much. You're too much.  

“Y/N, I’m not gonna last long,” he doesn't have to tell you; you can already feel his hips quicken and his cock twitch inside you. 

You knew you could feel yourself getting closer, but you also knew you needed more. Nonetheless, even though you desired this as much as him, it's still his birthday. "It's okay, Ji, let go."

That was all he needed. Jisung whimpers your name as his climax rushes through him. Every nerve stands still on his body and his mind melts.

You try to chase your own high, but it runs faster than you can chase it. He continues with his uneven pace, pushing his white cum into you. 

A combination of apologies and praises leaves him like a breathy chant. “Ji, I told you it's okay. There's always next time,” you smirk. 

“No, no this isn't right.” like a flash Jisung is pushing you further onto the bed and pushing your thighs apart. He lines himself right in front of your dripping sex, he watches the remanence of his release slip out of you. 

You watch him with a shaky breath, until he meets your eyes, “Close your eyes, sweets, just let yourself go” and then you feel his warm muscles lick your folds. You close your eyes like you were told.

His tongue moves faster as he sucks on the small bundle of nerves, eager to pull more sounds from you. The pink muscle flicks and swirls around your clit, inching it further and further out from between your folds. His perfectly pouty lips wrap around the swollen bundle of nerves and sucks and pulls with a rhythm that sends your breath to hitch and freeze in your throat. 

Your walls are swollen, your clit is throbbing, and Jisung knows each and every button to push to get you so close. What sends you over the edge completely is the slender finger that Jisung pushes into you, angling it up to abuse your g-spot. You come crashing onto Jisungs hand with a loud moan. His lips shine as a victim of your release. 

“Now it's right.” 

Words dissolve on your tongue, but Jisung doesn’t expect you to speak. He climbs up the bed, swinging his arm around your middle and burring his head into the crook of your shoulder. Moments later, you're both asleep in each other's arms. 

I guess this was a good idea.   

[tvgals]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ IN EVERY UNIVERSE .

— when traveling across multiple universes, miles learns the two of you are together in every single one .

e1610! miles morales x black! fem! reader .

miles pants as he’s in a universe that looks eerily similar to his own, but he knows it’s not his due to the sound of his own voice ringing from his bedroom. miles soundly walks through the house — going unnoticed due to his invisibility — and peeks through his bedroom door to see you and miles sitting on his bed, you placing stickers on his face.

“just stay still!” you giggled, placing a heart sticker on his tip of his nose. “what are we doing this for again?” miles asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could but not being able to hide the amusement in his voice. “gotta take pictures of you for our scrap book, plus i can’t let these stickers go to waste.” you tell him, snapping a picture on your phone and smiling when looking at the results. “see! isn’t it cute?” you questioned your miles, a love struck look in his brown eyes.

-

the next universe was by far his favorite. miles walked around looking at the pictures that hung on the walls or were placed carefully on a table or shelf, it was pictures of you and him — about 10 years older — with two little kids, one boy one girl. miles was taken out of his train of thought when he heard the giggles of a little girl. he waited to make sure no one else was in the way and he poked his head in through the crack in the door, watching you put the little girl’s afro into two puffs held together with pink ribbons.

“is daddy gonna like my hair?” the girl asks you, looking up at you with curious eyes. “well i dunno. let’s go find out, yeah?” miles instinctively moved out of the way and watched you and the little girl walk into the room where older miles was, watching your daughter jump on the bed and ask — “do you like my hair?” just for him to respond with picking her up and telling her how much he loves it.

-

the last universe miles was able to travel to was interesting. in this universe, it was just you and him inside an assumed shared apartment. miles tip-toes down the hall to hear you laughing at something he said.

“miles, just put the mask on!” you tell him, a goofy grin on your face. “i’m trying! the wand is too small.” miles complains, struggling to get the mask on his face. “here, lemme do it.” you say, taking the wand from his hand and applying it yourself, watching miles look down at you with love. “there.” you say, proud of your work. “now, let me do your nails!” you grin, watching miles’ eyes go wide.

“like paint them?” miles asks, following you with his eyes while you walk around the bathroom and gather the clippers and clear nail polish. “kinda. it’s a clear coat and it helps with breakage and stuff.” you tell him, coaxing him to sit on the toilet seat. “it won’t show?” miles asks, sadness in his voice. “well why are you sad about it?” you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “i just wanna show everyone what good of a nail artist my girlfriend is.” miles says, a dopey grin on your face. “we can do blue afterwards, i promise.” you say to him, smiling right back.

-

and this universe, miles was finally home. he knocks on your door, being let in by your mom.

“what brings you over here, miles?” your mom grinned, leaning against the door. “is it okay if i stay over? mom and dad are working late and i don’t wanna be alone.” miles says, twiddling his thumbs. “of course! rio and jeff know you’re here, right?” your mom asked, letting miles in. “of course. thank you.” miles says, practically racing up the stairs and into your room.

“miles!” you exclaimed, seeing him walk into your room. “hey, y/n!” he exclaimed back, catching you with a grin when you threw yourself into a hug. “where’ve you been?” you asked, checking his face to make sure he was okay. “had to stay over at school, just some project stuff.” miles shrugged. “oh, and i brought some face masks and a new notebook!” miles says, holding up the bag excitedly. “what’s the notebook for?” you ask, flipping thought the pages.

“i thought we could take up scrapbooking.” miles grins.

-

a/n this was based off of an idea i saw on my feed and i can’t find it 😞

TAGLIST ;— @looking4chanel @draculara-vonvamp @therealcees-blog @laylasbunbunny @lovelytayy @kisminarii @d7n3 @deadgirlkisses @darkknightpeanutbagel @thecoloredpages @xricly @princesslilisworld @mxspiderman2099 @marcelineormars @23victoria @ravereina @stevenknightmarc @laaailuh @diorsbrando @madz-rulez @planetspiderzz @chinieh @asensitivecookie

[tinytablepodcast]

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[sturnswrites]

guarded hearts - pt.5

fratboy!chris x fem!reader

⤳ you meet chris while working on a class project, your personalities are very different but chris is determined to get you out of your shell.

⤳angst, arguing

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

The bass of the music thumps through the house, vibrating beneath your feet as you maneuver through the crowded frat party. People laugh and shout, drinks sloshing in red solo cups, and somewhere in the kitchen, someone’s making a terrible attempt at singing along to a throwback song. Normally, this kind of chaos would make you roll your eyes, but tonight, you barely register it.

All you can think about is Chris.

He’s been distant again, barely texting, rarely making plans, and when you’re together, it feels like he’s only half there. You’ve told yourself a hundred times not to let it ruin your night, but it’s too late. You spot him across the room, laughing with a group of his frat brothers, and something inside you snaps.

You don’t want to ruin the night, but you can’t hold it in any longer. The weeks of him pulling away, the mixed signals, the growing ache in your chest—it’s all too much.

You need answers.

-

Chris’s POV

I see her before she sees me, and for a moment, my chest tightens. She looks incredible, like she always does, but there’s a look in her eyes that makes me uneasy—determined, maybe even a little hurt.

I know I’ve been pulling back. I hate myself for it. But every time I get close to her, all I can think about is how much I could mess this up. She’s been hurt before, and I promised myself I wouldn’t add to that.

Still, I can’t stop watching her as she moves through the room. When she spots me, her eyes lock on mine, and my stomach twists.

-

 You finally get yourself to move and you weave through the crowd until you’re standing right in front of him.

“Chris,” you say, louder than you mean to.

He looks down at you, his smile faltering when he sees my expression. “Hey,” he says cautiously. “Didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Yeah, well,” you reply, crossing your arms. “Didn’t know if you’d even care.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he steps closer, his voice quieter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You can feel the stares of people around you two, but you don’t care. “It means you’ve been distant. Again. And I don’t get it, Chris. What’s going on with you?”

-

Chris’s POV

My stomach drops. I knew this was coming. I’ve seen the frustration in her eyes, felt the tension in the spaces between our conversations. I tried to tell myself I was doing the right thing by pulling back, but seeing her like this—hurt, confused—it makes me want to kick myself.

“Y/N, can we not do this here?” I say, glancing around at the growing audience.

She crosses her arms tighter, her voice sharp. “Why not? You’ve been avoiding me, and I’m not going to just stand here and pretend like everything’s fine when it’s not.”

-

His jaw tightens, and he runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that,” he says, his voice low.

“Then what is it, Chris?” you demand, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Because I’m tired of trying to read your mind. One minute, I feel like we’re building something real, and the next, you’re pulling away like I don’t matter to you.”

“You do matter,” he says, his voice rising slightly. “You matter so much that it scares the hell out of me, okay?”

“Scares you?” you repeat, your frustration bubbling over. “What does that even mean? You’re scared, so you just—what? Shut me out?”

He looks at you, his eyes pained, and for a moment, you think he’s going to give you an answer that makes sense. But instead, he says those five little words you know all too well, “I can’t do this anymore.”

-

Chris’s POV

The words taste bitter the second they leave my mouth. Her face crumples, and I feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world. I want to tell her everything—that she means more to me than anyone ever has, that I’m in love with her, that I’m scared because I know I’m not good enough for her. She’s been hurt before, and I promised myself I wouldn’t be another guy who lets her down.

“You can’t do this?” she repeats, her voice trembling. “So that’s it? You just give up?”

“It’s not about giving up,” I say, trying to steady my voice. “It’s about knowing what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” she snaps, her voice thick with disbelief. “How the hell would you know what’s best for me, Chris? You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

-

Tears blur your vision, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. “You don’t get to come into my life, make me believe you’re different, and then pull this shit. Do you know how hard it was for me to let you in? To trust you?”

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking. “And that’s why I’m doing this. Because I don’t want to be the one who ruins everything for you.”

“You already are!” The words burst out of you, raw and unfiltered. “You’re hurting me right now, Chris. You’re doing exactly what you said you wouldn’t do.”

He looks at you like you’ve just slapped him. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he says softly. “But you deserve someone who—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice shaking. “Don’t stand there and tell me what I deserve like you’re some martyr. If you really cared, you’d fight for this. For us.”

“I can’t,” he says, his voice barely audible.

-

Chris’s POV

I can feel my chest tightening, the weight of her words crashing over me. She’s right—she deserves someone who will fight for her. But I’m terrified I’ll screw it up, and she’ll end up hating me even more than she does now.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Her laugh is bitter, and it cuts through me like a knife. “You’re just like every other guy,” she says, her voice hollow. “You just wanted me until it got hard. Until you got what you wanted.”

“That’s not true,” I say, my voice breaking.

“Then prove it,” she says, her eyes filled with tears. “Show me I’m not just another girl to you.”

I want to. God, I want to. But I can’t.

“I just can’t,” I say again, the words choking me. “I’m sorry.”

-

He walks away, and it feels like the ground has been ripped out from under you. The noise of the party fades into the background, replaced by the sound of your own heart shattering.

You thought he was different. You thought he cared. But in the end, he’s just like all the others.

And you were stupid to think you could ever be enough.

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

I love the idea of the different point of views and want to continue that in future writings!

⭒ margot

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

@mattsdillon @hesvoid3434 @admeliora94 

[merlucide]

The matchmaker has found a match……

@thebestsetter your match is….

ISAGI YOICHI!

x kindhearted, fun, exciting, attentive, vb player, fem!reader

RAAAAAAAAGGHHH

OKAY, NOW HEAR ME OUT BOO.

Yes, he’s basic, yes he’s bland

but

BUT, he’s caring, responsible, competitive and a silly lil guy!!

Idk what trope but either Mutual Feelings or Childhood friends :3

tbh I think you’d like be like his ideal type too??

anywho-

You’d be like doing your own thing and he’d just stare at you a think ‘She’s so pretty..’

and then he realized ‘oh no, I like her!!’

He would find every excuse to be around you, oh you need someone to help you carry for science project? Well what do you know! Isagi is already picking it up!

Need some one to spike? Isagi is literally Hinata wym (his spikes are awful, but you teach him how to do it and then becomes decently good actually!)

He confesses on accident lmao

He had finally, FINALLY, mustered the courage to ask you out!!! After literal YEARS of pining after you. 💀

He was supposed to tell you to meet him at the fair, because he had something he wanted to tell you (confess) but instead of

’Hey- We are still good for the fair right? I have something I wanna tell you there :-)”

he said..

”I’m gonna ask you out at the fair- you’re coming still right?”

sigh, Isagi, Isagi, Isagi

and you are just like ‘??? Did I hear that right??”

and it takes him a second to realize what the flip he just said

he just turns all red and is stuttering out incoherent nonsense

he wanted to die so bad

and you’re also like terribly flustered and caught off guard by the sudden confession

You had a feeling he liked you, but you weren’t sure if he really did feel the same!!

you just awkwardly-nervously tell him you feel the same and answer his original question with a soft ‘yes’

and he’s just like ?!?!??

i’m sensing a theme here..

He actually, genuinely, CANNOT believe YOU like him

like WHAT. This pretty, smart, funny, amazing, perfect, girl- actually likes me?!?

‘..so like …. Um … are we like… dating .. now ?’ is all he says

Real smooth Isagi, real smooth 😐

You then ask if this fair is a date now

which he’s like ‘I guess it is’

You both do the awkward goodbye and he goes straight to the boys bathroom and splash’s water on his face

He was genuinely tweaking

And that’s how you two became a couple! :3

The fair date was really fun, but super awkward bc, Isagi 🙂‍↕️

He tried winning you those big stuffed animals, and failed miserably 💀

He really wanted to get it for you too— then you ask if you can try it

You win on the first try.

hes just like ‘🧍‍♀️’

super embarrassed lmaooooo- but super impressed

Also he like… wants to hold you hand… but is like overthinking it so bad

‘Is it too soon??’ ‘Yeah it’s too soon’ ‘Would she even like holding my hand??’ ‘No she wouldn’t’ —-

Doesnt end up holding your hand 😔

You both end your first date on the ferris wheel

You both just chat about wtv, and that you didn’t think he’d like you

and he’s like ‘WHAT’

After he walks you home he immediately changes your contact name “Y/N-san” to “my girlfriend y/n💙”

Now! General HCs! :3

Isagi is such a good hype man ong, like you’re not feeling your best? Well Isagi is gonna make you feel like a thousand bucks!!

He thinks you’re the most perfect person to exist and cannot fathom you thinking you’re anything else but that

super sweet when comforting too, he’ll either hold your hand, hold your shoulders, or actually hold you when he comforts you.

Btw he gets super pumped up at your vb games, he’s like wearing your school/jersey colors and cheering for you in the bleachers

At first he didn’t really understand how the game worked, since the only sport that exists to him is soccer 💀

Really likes playing volleyball with you! He’s really good at digging and passing and so-so at spiking. He’s STUNNING at setting, because of yours truly 😚 like yes, I taught him that 🥹

hes got a mean serve though 😋

Now!

for the affectionate scale! Id say he’s about a 8/10 tbh

Hes like a clingy cat who always wants to lay on your lap lmao

always holding your hand, ALWAYS.

is a sucker for cheek kisses omg ><

He gets all blushy-n-gushy when you kiss his cheeks (anywhere really, but cheek kisses are his fav!!)

He gets soooo flustered when you give him affection or he gives you affection

eventually he gets used to it but he still blushes when you give him some love <33

He loves the simple hugs :) He loves squishing his cheek against you shoulder/neck and rub circles around you waist, while you massage his neck and blue locks (haha pun intended ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °) )

Loves laying on your thighs obviously 😌 loves anything with your thighs tbh

His ideal date is probably going to see a movie or just walking around wherever and getting dinner 🙃

He will literally do whatever you want — so just tell him whatchu wanna do and he’ll be on board!!

Really appreciates it when you come to his games <33 it makes him feel so loved and valued <33

also feeds his ego 💀 in his mind he’s like ‘haha yeah, my gf came to my game, these losers don’t even have a gf 😌’

super cheesy btw- but it’s like the best kind of cheesy

Brings you pretty roses :) and likes to buy you keychains whenever he finds one he thinks you’ll like

love any gift you wanna give him, but really melts at the heartfelt ones

help I really yapped on this one 😭

anywho I think you guys would be real cute :)

I ship fr fr😽

hope you like it! 😭💗

(also did see your inbox question but by the time I got it I was literally done with the HCs 😭😭 …. HOPE YOU STILL LIKE IT??)

runner ups!

Kuroo Tetsuro

Karasu Tabito

Bokuto Kotaro (HEAR ME OUT..)

[fuctacles]

"You said you weren't dating"

Happy New Year @stevesjockstrap <3 I'm sorry this is late, this is def not what you (or I) had in mind and I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, I will coontinue this soon :')

Also fill for my @fourormore bingo "Didn't know they were dating"

Ships: Corroded Coffin, Steve/Gareth | 2.6k | M | CC living together (AND THEY WERE ROOMMMATES), pre-relationship, Jealousy, Jealous and confused Eddie, confused Steve, some flavor of a/demi-sexuality happening

"Gaaaareeeeeth!"

"Eeeeedieeeeeeeee!"

Jeff sighs. Every day he questions his choice in friends. Did he really have to pick the ones that use echolocation to find each other? It's not like the apartment is that big anyway. 

Eddie jumps off the last few steps with a thud, and not for the first time, he worries one day he's going to break a leg doing so. And how a lead guitarist on a wheelchair will look in a metal band?

"Could you not jump like that?" he asks, knowing full well it will have no impact on Eddie's behaviour. But at least his conscience will be silent. 

"I could, but where's the fun in that?" Eddie grins at him as he passes, trying to pat his head but Jeff ducks out of the way. He just started growing it out. 

"Yeah, walking in a cast will be hella fun too," he mumbles, but gets completely ignored as Eddie has already entered the kitchen. 

"What is it that I'm hearing of you hogging the garage this Thursday?" he asks as soon as he sees Gareth.

His answer is a loud sniffle and a choked voice. 

"What's it to you? I just need it."

Eddie furrows his brows, suddenly worried.

"You okay, man?"

But as he steps closer he can see it's just the loads of onions Gareth's been trying to chop all by himself. He rolls his eyes. 

"Outta the way, nerd," he commands as he hip-checks his friend away from the counter. "Wash your hands and face, I don't want no snot in my food."

Gareth snorts softly, but goes to the sink to do as he was told. 

"You have at least three extra pairs of hands on deck, you should learn how to use them," Eddie half-heartedly scolds him.

"I know, I know," Gareth groans like an exasperated teenager, making Eddie smile. He was the youngest of the group and sometimes fell into that role way too easily.

"So, what do you need the garage for that doesn't involve your band? Working on a solo project already?" Eddie tries prying again. He can already feel the sting of his eyes, but keeps chopping. 

Gareth hums. 

"Yes and no," he says eventually. "It is a solo project, but I'm doing it with another person."

Eddie turns to him, blinking slowly while a singular tear rolls down his cheek. 

"What?"

His friend tears off a paper towel to dab at his face.

"I saw an ad that someone is looking for a musician to help with a personal project. And I answered it," he explains simply. 

Eddie leans away from his touch, his eyes wide in shock. 

"You're inviting a stranger into our metal haven to play their boring personal shit?" 

"Yes," Gareth deadpans. "Well, I haven't met him yet, so I don't know how boring it is. I just thought it would be fun to do something different."

"What's wrong with our thing?" Eddie bristles. 

"Nothing?" Gareth frowns. "I just wanted to try something else?"

"Traitor!" his guitarist slams the knife on the counter. "Betrayer of bands! Of sacred blood brother bond!" he seethes, escaping the kitchen. 

Gareth sighs. 

"You never did the blood pact," he murmurs to himself. He grabs the abandoned knife to drop it into the sink. At least all the onion has been chopped. 

"Hey, Gar?" Doug enters the kitchen with a confused frown. "Why is Eddie crying and telling me you're ditching us for some guy?"

===

It's Thursday and Eddie is seething. Faint sound of drums is coming from the garage, short, sharp, and unprofessional. Why is Gareth wasting his time on this guy? He didn't even come through the front door to properly introduce himself. What a jerk.

"Are you gonna just sit there like that?" Jeff asks him with a raised eyebrow, spotting him as he flies down the stairs. 

"He has to come up here at some point," Eddie roundaboutly answers that 'yes, absolutely'.

"And what then?" Jeff crosses his arms. "You're gonna give him a shovel talk? For paying our drummer for music lessons?"

Eddie's eyes widen.

"He's paying him?" 

"Obviously?" his friend scoffs.

"Gareth's a whore," Eddie gasps in mortified realization. 

Jeff shakes his head with a tired sigh, heading for the door.

"Honestly, you could follow his example, the rent isn't going to pay itself," he says, lacing up his boots.

"I am looking!" Eddie seethes.

"And I," Jeff stands back up and throws on his jacket. "Am off to work. Look harder." He salutes his friend before going out.

Eddie shakes his middle finger at the closed door. But then, he deflates. Jeff is right, he hasn't been very successful in finding a job, but he didn't want to do something that was completely meaningless and sucked the joy out of his soul. Nevertheless, he grabs the freshest issue of the local paper and flips it to the ad section.

At the very least it's a good pass-time for his stake-out mission.

His willing a pen to fly into his hand when the basement door opens to the sound of laughter.

"—all wrapped up in the shower curtain, yelling for me to kill a spider. He—Oh, hi Eddie! This is our lead guitar, Eddie. Eddie, this is Steve."

Eddie gapes at his friend and the stranger in his house. 

Well, not exactly a stranger. Everybody from his year, and his second year, and half of his third year, knew of Steve fucking Harrington. The one and the same now waggling his fingers at him with an awkward smile. 

"Hi," he says like he hasn't been tainting Eddie's drummer with his whole jock thing.

"You're telling him our story," he goes ignored so Eddie can seethe with accusations at his friend. 

"Yeah?" Gareth raises an eyebrow at him. "I have half the rights to it?" he points out. He motions to Steve. "Bathroom is right under the staircase."

"Thanks," Steve skitters away, relieved to be out of eyesight. 

Eddie is ready to tear Gareth a new one about telling a random guy the story he always tells, but he's beaten to it by his friend's furious glare.

"Why are you rude to him?" he grits out quietly so his voice doesn't carry all the way to the bathroom. "He's our guest."

"He's your guest," Eddie corrects. "I didn't invite him."

"Well, he's also paying me to come up with music for his songs, so you could at least not make him leave and find a friendlier place to do so."

Eddie scoffs. 

"And what are these songs about? Boobs and parties?"

Gareth takes a fleeting glance at the bathroom door, before hurrying to the couch to lean over it and get closer to Eddie.

"They are actually so depressing, dude," he whispers. "Like, I'm kind of worried about the guy."

"I'm kind of not believing you," Eddie pulls a skeptical face. 

"Remember the song Jeff wrote after Toffee died? They're all like that."

"Oh shit."

The bathroom doors open and they jump away from each other so they wouldn't look like they were whispering behind his back.

"Hi, uh," Eddie swallows his pride for the time being. "Sorry for being a dick, guess I just don't like when someone steals my favorite drummer." He shrugs with an awkward smile.

Steve, thank gods, laughs good-naturedly. 

"Ah no worries. I promise I'll give him back in perfect condition."

He smiles, but not at Eddie, at Gareth, who gives an awkward chuckle. Eddie looks between them, the interaction blasting alarm bells in his head. 

"Want something to drink?" Gareth ask his paying guest. 

"Oh I'm parched." The infuriating smile, no, a smirk, turns up a notch. 

Suddenly, Eddie loathes the idea of these two being out of public eye for even a second. 

===

"Okay, but like, why a drummer?"

Doug shrugs.

"Because it's a less popular, in demand instrument? It's easy to find a guitar," he pointedly motions to the three of them. 

"But why—"

"Eds!" Jeff interrupts him with annoyance in his voice. "Because Steve offered to pay and Gareth answered the ad? It's quite simple."

Eddie bites his lip. He's running out of reasonable arguments on why he doesn't like that his friend is hanging one on one behind closed doors with a former king of jocks. 

"So you guys are okay with that?" he asks, a bit petulantly. When only silence answers him, he looks around his friends. They're both crossing their arms with a sour expression. He raises his eyebrows. "Well?"

"Not really," admits Doug. 

"Yeah, no," agrees Jeff. 

Doug uncrosses his arms only to cross them the other way.

"I just don't— I'm not angry that he took an extra gig."

"I'm kind of proud, actually," Jeff pipes up. 

"Yeah," Doug nods. "But I don't trust Steve. He gives off this vibe like he's going to snatch Gareth from us at any moment, which is ridiculous," he snorts. "But it's how it feels."

"I can see that, yeah," Eddie nods eagerly, relieved that he's not the only one to feel weird about this thing. "I just don't like how he looks at Gareth, like he's just..."

"Like he's another person to bend to his will."

"Yeah, with this prince charming smile of his!"

"Yeah!" 

"What if he's an evil sorcerer—"

"—a wannabe bard with maxed out Charisma—"

"Oh yeah, yeah, totally—!"

They cut off suddenly when the garage door opens. 

"Hi, guys!"

Eddie squints with distrust at Steve's Prince Charming smile. 

"Hi, Steve."

"Mind if I..." He motions towards the bathroom."

"Not at all, be our guest. Want something to drink?" 

Both Eddie and Jeff glare at Doug after his offer. 

"Oh, if you have some tea, that would be nice." Steve rubs his neck in a very un-jock way. Probably to lower their defenses. "I didn't know singing dries your mouth this much," he chuckles awkwardly. 

"You sing?" Eddie raises his eyebrow in surprise. 

"Well, I'm trying to."

"And he's doing it really good," Gareth picks up, emerging from the basement as well. He pushes Steve gently towards the bathroom, and he goes with a small laugh.

Eddie doesn't like this familiarity between them. When he looks around, the others don't seem thrilled either. 

"Speaking of," Gareth slumps between his friends on the couch, seemingly unaware of the energy in the room. "I'd like him to use his voice properly, but he's hella self conscious you'll hear him, so could you leave for a bit next week?"

His friends gape at him.

"Just an hour," he adds.

"You want us..."

"...to leave our house..."

"...so Harrington can abduct you and steal our gear?"

Everyone turns to look at Eddie.

"Okay, man, I think you're exaggerating, just a little bit."

"I admit he makes me a bit paranoid," he crosses his arms, scrunching his nose in distaste. 

"Guys, don't be assholes," Gareth sighs. "He's a cool guy, I think we even could be friends."

Now everyone's eyes turn to him.

"We are your friends," Jeff points out. He's offended, aghast. Eddie nods vigorously to show he's also offended and aghast. 

"I can't have an extra friend outside of the band?" Gareth crosses his arms, his expression turning stormy. 

"You can," Doug hurries to placate him. "But you know how he's been in high school."

"High school was years ago," he points out. "He's chill now."

The door to the bathroom open and everyone go silent. Steve, caught under their stares, seems to shrink in on himself. 

"I'll wait in the garage," he points to the door before skittering off. 

Gareth turns back to his bandmates, arms falling at his sides with a sigh.

"You don't have to trust him, but you could trust me, at least."

They're silent for a beat, until Jeff sighs and nudges him in the arm. 

"You're right, sorry. We'll give you guys some space."

"For the vocal lessons," Doug adds, like there was anything else they could be talking about. "I'll go make that tea." He stands up to make a tactical escape to the kitchen.

Gareth turns to Eddie, the last one to say anything. 

"Fine!" he throws his hands in the air with a pained expression. "But only because you're using," he makes a vague gesture in Gareth's general direction. "Those eyes of yours."

"Eyes of mine?" his friend seems amused, for better or worse.

"Ugh, you know what I'm talking about!" Eddie stands up and storms off to his room, followed by confused stares.

"He'll come around," Jeff pats Gareth's knee. 

"I fucking hope so."

====

"He said an hour," Eddie points out for the fifth time, while fishing for his set of keys. 

"Pretty much he didn't mean one hour from the moment you leave."

"Yeah, more like an hour of their actual session."

"Well, he didn't specify, so that's on him," Eddie scoffs, before triumphantly pulling out the keys from the pocket he's already searched. 

They open the door and push each other inside to escape the chilly winter air as soon as possible. 

Eddie, being the first to stumble into the foyer slash corridor amalgamation opening into their living room, gasps. Someone else makes a startled sound, Jeff bumps into him, and they almost trip when the full picture in front of them gains clarity. 

Gareth leaning against Steve Harrington, lips bruised from kisses and hair sticking out at weird angles, the other's hand on his hip. He quickly pushes it off and backs away form Steve. 

"Why are you guys back so early?" he bristles at his friends. 

"Apparently to catch you cheating?!" Eddie yells out, scrambling out of his jacket because the sudden spike in anger made him feel like he was boiling from the inside. 

Steve's head snaps towards Gareth. 

"You said you weren't dating."

"We're not!" he groans, tired and exasperated. "Eddie is just being dramatic."

"I'm dramatic?!"

"Yes!"

"I think you should leave, Steve," Doug pipes up, falsely calm. His voice is unsteady, when he speaks, so Jeff sends him a cursory glance to find him just looking sad. Betrayed, even.

"Yeah. Leave, Steve," Eddie picks up happily.

Steve looks to Gareth, and he gives him a nod. 

"I've got this. I'll see you later."

"Okay," Steve gives him a nod and hesitates like he's about to give him a goodbye kiss, but thinks better of it. "See you," he simply says, disappearing into the garage. 

They wait in tense silence until the sound of closing garage doors is followed by the start of an engine outside. 

"What the fuck, Gareth?!" Jeff bursts out.

"Yeah, what the fuck?! Harrington?! Really?!"

"What the fuck you guys!" Gareth bristles back. "I can't even kiss a guy in my own home?!"

"It's our home," Doug corrects him.

"So? Do we have a no-boyfriends policy now?" 

"Boyfriend?" 

They all recoil at the word. Even Gareth seems surprised by using it himself. 

"I mean, he's not, but if he was," he fumbles. "You know what I mean!"

"What do you even need a boyfriend for?!" Eddie bristles, making more than one pair of eyes turn to him with confusion. 

"Sex? Kissing? Dates?" Gareth offers incredulously.

Eddie waves his hands.

"So? We're here! You should have just asked!"

"I should have asked," Gareth repeats at him slowly, so he understands what he has just said. "To have sex with you."

Eddie falters a little bit. 

"Yeah? We're friends, right?" he says, suddenly less sure of himself. "We trust each other. Right?"

"Right," Jeff parrots him, sounding a bit doubtful. "But like..."

"Okay," Doug pipes up suddenly. 

"Huh?" 

They all turn to him now. He shrugs.

"Let's have sex."

tags: @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @wheneverfeasible