#jo goes outside

[blacktofade]

She wandered out on the path and didn't seem to mind sharing her space with me

[thestarrynightslover]

Okay, so PD s11 finale theories:

Route A: they work real hard get to the killer and Voight but it's too late and he's dead/dying/dies en route to Med/at Med

Though I'm not so sure abt this cause we haven't heard about Jason's leaving (no, I am not up to date with who's already been confirmed to stay, sorry)

And if this happens, I think Hailey, or someone else on the team (prob Hailey), will kill the offender and it won't be the best of shoots so she'll be forced out of the department, or it'll take a toll on her and she'll take Petrovic's advice and make a change in her life (leaving cpd, and what I'm gonna say now is another discussion entirely but: she might not even wanna continue to be a cop and let's remember she has a college degree!).

OR

She'll just be really shaken by Voight's d3ath (which will be her losing another one she loved/who was her family) and will leave bc of that, she'll think that job is taking more than giving.

Route B (a happier and therefore less likely one, lol): everything will work out and Voight will be okay but Upton's good work as a team leader will be so praised that she'll get some sort of promotion and will have the opportunity (and accept, again, following Petrovic's advice) to lead another team.

OR

Even saving Voight, she'll kill the guy (or he will!! And she'll want to take the heat) and be asked to leave the pd/leave bc she can't leave like that anymore.

In summary, I think the episode, despite being a finale (which are usually more team-coded), will be Upton centric and will highlight those conversations abt mental health and change between her and Petrovic and that's gonna have everything to do with her leaving.

Another conclusion I'm reaching after e12 is that (total shocker, yes I know 🤡) there will be no upstead reunion/closure whatsoever, bc Hailey's departure is not gonna have anything to do with that. And even though I will most likely be over the moon if we get at least a phone call with Jay, I don't think that should happen bc as much as they did the upstead break up really dirty and bad and fucked up with all those unanswered phone calls and stuff, I think it wouldn't make any sense to bring him back or even up at all again, for obvious reasons: we haven't heard about Jay/upstead in forever now. Literally no mentions that either even happened on the show ever since Jo's first episode where she points out that Hailey just got a divorce. And even though Hailey's not healed at all after all she went through (not just Jay's leaving!!), it's like she has gotten some sense of closure on that part of her life and to bring that all up again would just be straight up cruel with her/them (cause whatever happens, I don't see them getting back together, so...). But this is a drama (read character-hater) show, so who knows, right?

Well, that's it, thank you for coming to my ted talk if you made it to the end of this rant. Bye, see ya next week!

[newtness532]

2 more episodes to finish the season and 10 more rows to finish the body 👍

[that-one-p00k1e]

─────〃★ lover ೃ⁀➷˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚

✧ summary: random headcanons of them w/you ft. Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Jo Togame, Ren Kaji, Mitsuki Kiryu, & Hayato Suo

✧ content: fluff, sfw, gn!reader, established!relationship

✦ a/n: Currently and devastatingly struggling with writing hrhrgherghegrghrgrhg

— Haruka Sakura often denies it, but he craves for your touch. When he felt how warm it was to be embraced by you, how good it felt when you rubbed his head – he couldn't help but long for more. He's never good with physical touch and didn't know the comfort of receiving it, given how no one ever provided him such privilege in the past. Until you came to his life and started sprinkling him with such blessings, he considered allowing himself to indulge and let his guard down for once.

— Hajime Umemiya is soft spoken almost no matter the situation. He'd talk to you in the gentlest tone that leaves your heart swooning and melting, his voice alone able to bring you a sense of reassurance and ease. Even if he was experiencing negative emotions, never will he raise his voice at you. Instead choosing to convey his discomfort and issues through patience and a slow approach, making sure not to scare you and start an argument. And thankfully in the end, all disagreements in your relationship end in harmony and full understanding <3

— Jo Togame very much enjoys the idea of lazy dates. Sleeping in and just cuddling with you in bed are enough ways for him to spend time with you. It's ten times better if it was raining and the atmosphere became chilly– his urge to snuggle up under the sheets with you reaching its peak point. You both would order takeout instead of going through the hassle of cooking, and he'd occasionally ask you to feed him as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder from behind. Especially after a rough fight prior, resting in your embrace made him feel like he was healing and recharging faster.

— Ren Kaji cares more than he shows himself to be. Despite the nonchalant and aloof exterior he puts on, he's willing to go through the effort especially when it comes to you. He pays attention to your likes and dislikes, going out of his way to satisfy your wants and needs. Once, you rambled on about how badly you wanted to attend an upcoming festival but couldn't due to school work. That afternoon, you came home to a group of Furin boys standing outside your door along with Kaji, claiming to help you finish whatever homework you had to free your time for the festival.

— Mitsuki Kiryu goes through a healthcare routine to take good care of himself. And what better way to do that routine if not with someone you love and adore? He'd often bring you to his house to do his skincare with you as well as his haircare; introducing you to products that are more suitable for you and teaching you ways to take care of both your skin and hair. If you're already familiar with all of it, you'd trade products and try each other's healthcare routine while playing video games together.

— Hayato Suo always keeps his consumption at bay, considering his undergoing diet. Therefore, he'd often be in the giving end when it comes to sharing food with you. He'll give you his chicken skin when eating fast food, he'll hand you his bread that was given by the bakery. But his only exception– is if the food was made by you. He may restrict the amount of calories he consumes, but whenever you give him a homemade goodie– either baked or heavy meals in general –he wouldn't ever give it away. He knows the effort and love you put into making it, he knows the hard work you went through in preparing such delicacies. For that, he'll always eat whatever you made, no matter the amount of calories it contained.

[4law]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃-𝟏 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 — togame jo x f!reader.

your boyfriend can’t help but feel jealous despite being the one to help you win your favorite XL plushie at round one.

1.1K WC. sfw / fluff, arcade, photo booth, harmless jealousy, you wear his jacket, kisses n hugs <3 , reader characterized as wearing lip gloss, being shorter than him, & addressed w she/her, pet names: ‘doll,’ ‘pretty girl,’ ‘his girl,’ etc

“everything okay, jo?”

you miss the small huff from your boyfriend when you plop beside him, arms stretched as far as possible in a futile attempt to hold your XXL plushie above the arcade grounds.

togame’s eyes shift your direction, silently taking in the adorable sight of you— figure swallowed up whole by his old shishitoren jacket, your hands barely able to peek through the sleeves as you cling onto your newest obsession. this image of you would look so cute in these photo strips, he thinks, if not for the large mass of a cat blocking the view of his pretty girl.

“‘m fine, doll,” togame slows, “but…you’re not gonna leave that thing out there?” he gestures towards the curtain.

it’s silly. only five minutes ago, you were clinging onto his biceps, pouty lips jutting out as you whined about the claw machines being rigged. so of course, he did what every good boyfriend would have done and won the damned thing for you— on his first try, he notes, but that’s beside the point.

“you’re the best,” you had cooed into his ear, balancing your hands on his chest as you went on your toes to place a gentle peck on his cheek as thanks. he can practically feel it all over again— the way the heat rushed straight to the tips of his ears and the way his lips couldn’t resist curling into the faintest little grin from the affection.

of course, it was no problem for him, he thought. never a problem— anything for his girl. he likes to see that happy smile of yours 24/7.

but ever since that thing has been introduced into your life, your attention has been elsewhere.

not on him anymore.

how to get rid of it, he ponders.

“no way i’d put him outside” you retort with a dramatic gasp, “you won this for me after all. i’ve been wanting this one for so long.. and it would suck to have him get all dirty.”

you missed the disappointed click of his tongue as you whip out your pocket mirror, puckering your lips to check if you needed more gloss. usually for photos, more is better— and you want to make doubly sure you’re cute in these because you’re confident he’s going to be carrying them around.

you think the cherry one you have in your bag would be best suited with the lighting, and togame had said you look pretty in that one too. the wide variety of glosses piled up in your little purse was a habit you’ve developed since meeting togame— because boys (or at least this one) just seem to eat it off coincidentally every time you reapply it.

“mm…okay,” you hum to yourself, glittery applicator gliding slowly over your bottom lip. “you ready jo? you picked the one that lets us take two pictures, right?”

with a mildly sulky noise of agreement, a long arm comes to wrap around your shoulder, pulling you into his side in one movement. “ready when you are.”

the camera lights up, and he perks up a bit when you lean into his touch, breathing in the comforting smell of his shampoo. to his relief, you seem to have momentarily forgotten about your plush, the monstrosity of a cat just barely hidden under the photo’s frame as you check your hair in the camera in front.

“ooh, we only have three seconds!” you grin, “smile, jo!”

and he does. as much as a jealous rottweiler could muster anyways— because the moment the flash goes off, you’re already moving off of him to grab your cat, rambling about how to include the thing in the next snap. “wouldn’t it be cute if i rest my chin on it? or would it be cuter if i hug it super tightly?”

he frowns. in a perfect world, you would be clinging onto him instead, repeating the words you told him earlier— you know, when you said he was the best.

he really wants that kind of attention again.

“doll…..” his eyes narrow at the cat as you set it on your lap now, arms squeezed tightly around the thing. you didn’t hear him.

so he repeats the pet name, leaning forward as his fingers come to tuck a stray bit of hair behind your ears. it catches your attention, finally, and his breath gets caught in this throat when you look at him once again.

“hm? you okay, jo?”

“tired…..” he mutters, not sure exactly how just one glance from you has his heart beating this much faster.

“tired? there’s just one more photo! it’s gonna take it soon, actually. are you ready?”

he really doesn’t want that cat in it, he thinks. togame has been wanting keep a photo of you in his pocket, a physical reminder of just how gorgeous his girl is, or you know, something that would make him feel as if you were beside him at all times.

it was his idea to visit the photo booth in the first place, and he refuses to miss this opportunity.

“hold on,” he grunts as he reaches out to suddenly grab you underneath your shoulders, cat accidentally bouncing off your lap and onto the floor as you gasp. “ah-what are you doing?” you mull, hands instinctively grabbing onto his strong shoulders as he seats you onto his lap, “the cat’s gonna be all dirty.”

“‘m tired of hearing ‘bout the damned cat.”

and before you can protest, there’s the beep of the photo countdown, and you’re being pulled into a suffocating hug, barely able to gasp out a “oof— t-too tight jo!” before the flash goes off.

the booth plays a short melody as the sound of the printer starts up. “ah, it’s done,” he muses, relaxed eyes now gazing ahead at the screen— perfect.

your eyes narrow at the sudden change in behavior, your mopey boyfriend suddenly perking up just seconds after he had practically tossed your plushie onto the dusty floor himself.

a gear in your mind shifts, and it suddenly clicks.

“jo…were you jealous of my cat?”

his eyes widen a bit before his glance shifts away from you, eyebrows furrowing a bit.

“wasn’t jealous or anything like that, doll” he mumbles.

there’s a short pause.

“just thought it woulda been unnecessary to bring that thing here—” his frown deepens, “when you have me here.”

[aceyalonso]

F1 drivers if they were on the r/AITAH subreddit

drivers : oscar piastri, lando norris, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, max verstappen, george russell, franco colapinto

warnings/notes : jos verstappen 🤮

a/n : i know i said i was on hiatus but c'mon this was such a fun idea

main masterlist | taglist form

So this might sound weird, but here goes. My girlfriend and I (both 23) love visiting new places, and she’s a big animal lover. She found this adorable cat café nearby and has been talking about going for weeks. I wasn’t as excited but figured it’d be fun to surprise her, so I booked us a spot and thought I’d try to make it extra special.

Here’s the thing: I wanted to be "that guy" who shows up with a bag of cat treats so all the cats would flock to us. It sounds ridiculous, but my goal was to make her day. When we got there, I pulled out the treats and instantly had a few cats’ attention. My girlfriend laughed, but within a few minutes, an employee came over, looking annoyed, and told me I couldn't give the cats treats from outside.

Apparently, they have specific diets or something, and I was "interfering." I apologized, put the treats away, and thought that was the end of it. But soon after, another employee came up, saying we were being "disruptive" because all the cats were lingering around us, and they even hinted we might need to leave if it didn’t stop. I hadn’t meant to cause a scene and told them it wasn’t a big deal—we’d stop and just hang out like everyone else. But by this point, my girlfriend was pretty embarrassed, and it killed the vibe of our day.

We left a bit earlier than planned, and now my girlfriend thinks it was a bit of a jerk move, even though she appreciated the effort. I didn’t mean to upset anyone or break the rules, just thought it’d be fun to make the cats a bit more social. But now I’m wondering if I messed up by not sticking to the café’s way of doing things.

So, AITAH?

Edit: I’ve learned my lesson. I will never underestimate the dietary regulations of a cat café ever again.

So, I (24M) have this bad habit of forgetting what’s in my fridge. A while ago, I bought some chicken, but I totally forgot about it, and it just sat there for months. I was cleaning out my fridge the other day and found the chicken at the back, and it still looked fine to me—didn’t smell bad, didn’t look weird—so I thought, "Why not? It’s still good."

I cooked it up, had a nice meal, and didn’t think much of it. But then, later that night, I told my mom about it (thinking she'd just laugh), and she completely freaked out. She went on this whole rant about food safety, salmonella, and how I could’ve poisoned myself. I was just like, "It tasted fine, mom, calm down."

She kept texting me all night asking if I felt okay, if I was getting any stomach pains, and even called a few of my friends to check in on me. Honestly, I’m fine—nothing happened, and I feel perfectly normal.

But now she’s upset with me, saying I’m being careless and that I should never eat food that old, even if it seems fine. I just didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. I mean, people eat leftovers all the time, right? It wasn’t even that old.

So, AITAH for eating chicken that’s been in my fridge for 9 months and making my mom worry unnecessarily?

Edit: Just to clarify, I didn’t intentionally keep it for 9 months. I honestly just forgot about it in the back of the fridge. And no, I’m not sick. Everything’s fine. I promise I won’t be eating anything old again anytime soon!

I (27M) have a dog, Leo, who’s basically my best friend. He’s super friendly and well-behaved, and honestly, I just feel better when he’s around. I bring him everywhere I go – to cafes, parks, and friend gatherings. You name it, Leo’s there. Most people are fine with it because he’s adorable and loves everyone.

Recently, though, my friends have started making comments about it. Last weekend, we met up at this small, cozy café for brunch, and I brought Leo along. He just curled up next to my chair and didn’t bother anyone. But my friend Paul pulled me aside afterward and said it was kind of annoying that I kept bringing Leo without asking. He said not everyone wants a dog around all the time, and it’s “getting old.”

I don’t understand where this is coming from, especially since Leo’s never caused any problems. I figured since no one had said anything before, they were fine with it. Plus, I’m always careful to keep him out of people’s way, and he’s honestly better behaved than most dogs I know. I feel like they’re making a big deal out of nothing, but now I’m wondering if maybe I should have checked with everyone first.

So, AITAH for always bringing my dog? Should I have asked before assuming everyone was okay with it?

Edit: Just for context, Leo’s a small dog – not the type to jump on people or bark a lot. He just sits quietly and naps most of the time. Also, I’ve always cleaned up after him when necessary, so he hasn’t left any “souvenirs” for anyone to deal with.

So, I (39M) have this friend, Nico (also 39M), and we’ve been friends since we were kids. We’re both super competitive by nature, and we tend to push each other a lot. Whether it’s video games, sports, or even something like mini-golf, everything somehow turns into a competition between us. It’s mostly just for fun… until recently.

A few weeks ago, we were at a friend’s birthday party, and they had one of those racing setups in the living room. Of course, Nico and I immediately challenged each other, and we both got really into it. I mean, I might’ve been trash-talking a bit (okay, maybe a lot), but we were both laughing, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.

Well, I ended up beating him by a fraction of a second, and I might’ve celebrated a bit too enthusiastically—think victory lap around the living room, calling him out in front of everyone, the whole deal. After that, Nico got pretty quiet and didn’t talk to me much for the rest of the night. Later, a mutual friend told me that Nico felt like I was “rubbing it in,” and it embarrassed him.

Now I feel bad. I honestly thought we were just having fun and didn’t realize he’d take it so personally. I tried to apologize, but he just brushed it off and hasn’t really been himself around me since.

So… AITAH for taking things a bit too far with my friend, or was it all just part of the usual friendly rivalry?

Edit: We’ve always had this kind of back-and-forth, so I’m not sure why this time it got to him. Just thought I’d get some outside perspective before I bring it up with him again.

Okay, I know this sounds insane, but hear me out. I (30M) love making pancakes, and I’m pretty proud of my recipe. It’s become sort of a tradition to make them for my family when I visit my parents. They’re always really nice about it and say they love them, but... I’m starting to think they’ve just been too polite.

A few weeks ago, I was at my parents’ house and decided to whip up a big batch of pancakes for breakfast. My mom and dad both had seconds, and I thought it was a win. But later that night, my mom started having really bad stomach pains. We took her to the hospital, and she ended up needing surgery for appendicitis. It was a scary experience, but thankfully, she’s okay now.

Here’s where it gets weirder. Just a few days after my mom came home from the hospital, my dad started having the same symptoms. At first, we joked that it was sympathy pains, but he ended up in the ER too, with the exact same issue—appendicitis.

Now my whole family is convinced it was my pancakes. I know logically that my cooking can’t cause appendicitis, but I can’t help but feel responsible because they both got sick right after eating my breakfast. My parents keep joking that they’re never eating my pancakes again, and my siblings have been giving me a hard time about it, saying I’m banned from the kitchen.

So, AITAH for giving both my parents appendicitis with my cooking, or am I just an unlucky chef?

Edit: Just to clarify, I don’t actually think I gave them appendicitis, but the timing is very suspicious, and now my parents are scared of my pancakes. I might need a new family recipe...

So, I (27M) have two cats (Jimmy & Sassy), and they’re pretty much my babies. They’re super affectionate with me but can be a bit picky about who they like. My dad (52M), on the other hand, isn’t exactly a "cat person." He’s more of the “why do you have pets that don’t do anything useful?” type, but he still visits often and tolerates them because he knows they’re important to me.

The other day, my dad came over, and as usual, my cats were lounging on the couch. He decided to sit down and give them a little nudge to move over, but instead of just shuffling away, one of my cats (Jimmy) swiped at his face. It wasn’t a deep scratch, but it was enough to leave a red mark and get my dad pretty annoyed. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit because he was acting all grumpy about it, muttering something about "those spoiled cats."

He got even more annoyed when he saw me laughing and said I should discipline my cats better and not let them scratch people. I tried explaining that cats are territorial and react like that when they’re suddenly pushed, especially by someone they’re not used to. I offered him a band-aid, but he refused and ended up leaving earlier than planned.

Now my mom is telling me I should’ve been more sympathetic and that I should’ve scolded my cat instead of laughing. But honestly, I feel like it was just a normal cat reaction, and my dad knows how they can be. So now I’m wondering, AITAH for laughing when my cat scratched my dad’s face instead of taking it more seriously?

Edit: Just to clarify, my cats don’t usually attack people. They’re very cuddly with me and my friends, but my dad’s not around them enough for them to be comfortable. I’ll definitely make sure he approaches them differently next time... if he ever wants to come back!

So, this might sound a bit weird, but hear me out. I (26M) work at this company, and my boss, "Toto" (52M), and I have a really good relationship. We get along great, share a lot of common interests, and he’s been a bit of a mentor to me. We hang out outside of work sometimes, and every now and then, I’ll stay over at his place after we have dinner or watch a game, just because it’s more convenient.

Recently, my friends found out about this and started making fun of me, calling it “sleepovers” with my boss. I laughed it off at first, but they’ve started saying it’s kind of weird and unprofessional to be that close with your boss. They’re acting like I’m trying to suck up or get some kind of special treatment, but that’s honestly not the case. I just enjoy his company, and we have a good time hanging out.

The thing is, I never really mentioned it to my friends before because it just didn’t seem like a big deal. I figured if I told them, they’d blow it out of proportion (which is exactly what’s happening now). But now they’re saying it’s odd that I didn’t bring it up sooner and that it’s kind of strange to be having “sleepovers” with someone who’s technically in charge of me at work.

So, AITAH for not telling my friends that I sometimes crash at my boss’s place, or are they just overreacting?

Edit: For context, it’s not like I’m staying there every weekend or anything. It’s maybe once a month if we’re having a late night and it’s easier than going all the way back to my place. Plus, he’s got a massive guest room, so it’s not like I’m sleeping on the couch or something. It’s just a practical arrangement

Okay, so I (21M) have a bit of a problem, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s even a problem or just something I can’t control. I’ve noticed lately that whenever I’m doing interviews or talking to reporters, I end up coming off as flirting with them, even though I’m not trying to at all.

I’m naturally a friendly person, and I like to joke around and be engaging. But I’ve had a few reporters (and even some photographers) tell me after interviews that I’ve been “charming” or “too smooth” with them. Some of them even hinted that I was “leading them on.” The thing is, I don’t even notice it happening. I just talk to them like I would anyone else, but apparently, I’m making it seem like I’m flirting—without even trying!

One reporter even gave me her number after an interview, and when I asked if she was just being friendly, she said, “You were a little more than friendly.” I was totally confused because I thought we were just having a good conversation about racing. Now I’m worried that I’m giving the wrong impression to people without meaning to, and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or make things uncomfortable.

So, AITAH for accidentally flirting with reporters and leading them on when I really don’t mean to? Should I tone down my "natural charm"?

Edit: Just to clarify, I’m not trying to flirt with anyone, reporter or not. I’m just being myself, but it seems like it’s coming off differently than I intended. It’s a bit awkward now, and I’m wondering if I should change how I interact in interviews.

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@nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore @nitiii

@livsturnioloo @lilorose25 @si1ver06 @zestytimbit @morgrinha

@callsignwidow

[muniimyg]

7: the yes or no // series m.list

note: most patient reader award goes to u !!! 🥹 literally from my car accident to my month long trip to these past adjustments weeks ,, it’s been an absolute pleasure for me to write and conclude this couple (they have 1 drabble left before full completion) otherwise thank u all for ur love n support w this fic ,, mwah 🤍

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

"J-Jungkook? Wha—”

“Sorry,” Hobi rushes from his car to Jungkook’s side, steadying his poor balance and looking at you with pleading eyes. “I texted and called you, but you didn’t answer—I had no choice.”

“It’s 2AM,” you point out, opening your arms for Jungkook, who crashes into you quickly. You wrap your arms around him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His cheeks are warm against your skin. He breathes you in, completely immersed in your scent. He murmurs your name, and you hush him, “I’m here. You okay, Jungkook?”

Jungkook hums in response.

In disbelief, you feel a bit stressed with this whole situation. Here you are: standing outside your apartment in pajamas and bunny slippers, holding a very drunk Jungkook. It’s a starless night, with only the lamp posts and your bedroom window light on. Despite the dim light, you see Jungkook as if he were daylight.

Before you can get more context, Jungkook suddenly coughs. You pat his back to ease it. When his coughing fit settles, you turn to Hobi. “What happened?”

Hobi gives you an ‘are-you-kidding-me’ look. Hurriedly, he takes out his keys and locks his car, turning back to you with a rather pissed-off expression. “Hmmm… I’m not too sure… Let’s ask your boyfriend-not-boyfriend, shall we?”

“Hobi…”

“He was trying to leave,” Hobi sighs, running a hand through his hair. He recalls what happened perfectly, having sobered up a while ago. “I told him to stay, but he wanted to go home and sleep so he could come over first thing in the morning. He said you two were going to work things out and end the yes-or-no bullshit. So, we celebrated, and… he was really happy, ___. I didn’t want to ruin that for him. I mean, how could I?”

“Yeah, okay... But Hobi, he can barely stand up—”

“What was I supposed to do?” Hobi cries, frustrated. “He refused to go home unless we came to you first. Trust me, I drove him home and did three rounds around your neighbourhood to get him to fall asleep or throw up—he didn’t care. The minute he saw your apartment, he got out of the car. He wants you, and he’s so stubborn—seriously, ___… What was I supposed to do?”

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry,” you apologize gently. Hobi takes it as a sign to take a breath. He does so, and you watch his expression relax. “It’s been a long night for you. You did everything just fine; this wasn’t in your control. I’m sorry you got roped into this.”

Hobi shakes his head. “N-no, sorry about that. I just… God, he’s so in love with you it pisses me off. He’s already just as annoying as they come, but now it’s like triple when he’s lovesick like this… And you… You’re one of my favourites in this life. I wasn’t stuck in the middle or anything, but I also hate watching things fall apart between you two—”

“Nothing is falling apart,” you console him. “Only felt like it ‘cause he’s dramatic.”

For the first time throughout this stressful night, Hobi cracks a smile and lets out a tired laugh.

“You two are gonna end up together, right?”

His question catches you off guard.

As you hold Jungkook, you search for words but are at a loss. There aren’t enough words to make an excuse. There aren’t enough words to confess either. So, you stand there and hold Jungkook tighter. Hobi notices and smiles softly.

“Good.” … Is all he says.

It’s all he has to say.

This time, a light laugh escapes your lips as you realize how ridiculous all of this is at 2AM. Hobi doesn’t know why, but he joins your laughter.

With that, a moment passes, and it feels light between you two. Not that it was ever heavy or tense, but it finally felt okay. Over the past few days of you avoiding Jungkook, Hobi tried to understand you and Jungkook’s lifeless mannerisms. It confused Hobi. You’re a great person—one of the best—but he had never seen love captivate Jungkook like this. Ultimately, Hobi was torn… But he did his best and supported you both.

At the end of the day, he wasn’t responsible for your relationship with Jungkook. He wanted you two to be together (which is why he brought up the fact that he had a crush on you in the first place), but he wanted it to happen naturally. He roots for you two, and despite all the shenanigans, he was glad to be here.

“You okay with that parking spot?"

Hobi nods, snapping out of his thoughts. “Yeah. I mean, maybe we should get going… It’s late, and he got what he wanted. We’ll head home—”

“Sleep here,” you command. There’s no way you’re letting Hobi drive tipsy and emotionally exhausted. He genuinely looks like he’s been through it, and Jungkook is in no state to walk more than the last three steps he took towards you. “I’ll set up a bed for you and Jungkook in the living room.”

Hobi accepts, surrendering to his exhaustion.

“Can you—”

“Yeah, I got it,” Hobi reaches out as you pull away from Jungkook. Thankfully, Jungkook doesn’t stumble or put up a fight. As you part from his body, you take a good look at him. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes flutter closed. They’re a little puffy, making you wonder if he cried along the way. You hate that he probably did. Then, you notice his slumpy posture. He can’t even stand up straight, and something about him practically collapsing into your arms tugs at your heartstrings more than you could have ever imagined.

Hobi remembers he has extra clothes in his car. He usually keeps them there for party nights when he doesn’t make it home. Quickly excusing himself, he leaves Jungkook to fall asleep on your couch. When he comes back up, he asks if he can use your shower and changes.

As Hobi does that, you rush to set up his bed on the floor. When you finish, you lift Jungkook’s head to place a pillow underneath. As he stirs in his sleep, you adjust his body so he lies on his side in case he throws up. His body follows but feels a little too warm for your liking.

“Jungkook?” you attempt to wake him up. “Can you lift your arms? You’re sweating too much.”

“Hmmm?” he coos. “___?”

You push his hair back and watch as his eyes flicker open. “Y-yeah. It’s me. Come on, bebu. Let’s take your shirt off—”

Jungkook giggles.

“Ohh,” he smirks sleepily, “you want me so bad, huh?”

You gulp. “Mhmm.. Come on, bebu. Lift your arms for me—”

“Say it first.”

You freeze.

Jungkook groans, hating the pause. “I t-thought we were done fighting? Come on, bebu. Say it. Say it, please. Say—”

“Want you so bad, Jungkook,” you interrupt him. “I want you.”

Jungkook chuckles, unable to hide how his heart skips a beat.

“So bad?”

“So bad.”

With that, he happily obliges. He lifts his arms (lazily) and you take off his shirt. His chest is exposed, and his skin glows. For some reason, your throat goes dry and—what the fuck.

Your eyes trail to his bare arm. Written and smudged, it reads; if piss drunk please return to ___ (my girlfriend) <3

You stare in disbelief. Your head feels light and for some odd reason, you’re embarrassed. He walked around the party like this? He’s literally such a weirdo.

“Disgusting,” Hobi whines, standing with wet hair and a towel around his neck. You turn to him, gulping at the state he caught you and Jungkook in. “Do I have to stay with him? Like what if you two have morning sex? Aren’t you a virgin? Pretty sure he has condoms in his wallet like a pathetic high schooler—”

“Oh my god!” you throw a pillow at him. He dodges it and laughs at you. Completely ignoring his claims, he rolls his eyes at you.

“Can’t I just sleep in your room—”

You huff, “Fine. Go! You did your part anyway.”

Hobi waves his hand, mumbling goodnight to you two. He mutters some other things you can’t make out but it doesn’t matter.

Turning back to Jungkook, you realize he’s asleep again. You pick up from where you left off. Reaching for the blanket, you tuck him in and set his shirt aside. Then, you get up, lock your door, and turn off the lights. As you make your way back to the floor, you take a deep breath and try to process everything.

It’s been a hectic hour or so… You fear the morning might be worse.

How is everything going to unfold? Should you talk things over breakfast? Do you pretend like nothing happened and see what he initiates? You have no idea.

Truth be told, the ‘break’ was unintentional. The avoiding wasn’t meant to be this big of a deal… It’s only been a few days too! But then again… Maybe you simply underestimated Jungkook’s feelings for you. He’s always been confident and sly, so you never thought he’d be this sensitive and clingy over you. It’s surprising in a nice way… It feels like you know him better.

That’s what you’ve been wanting from him anyway… Honesty. Yet, with this state… Exactly how much more of it could you bear? Him as this mess is the reality of how much you impact his life. It’s crazy, isn’t it? Like, wasn’t this… Just a crush? Wasn’t this just a simple nonchalant confession? How did we get here? How did love bloom amid something so childlike and lighthearted?

Is that what it is?

The feeling of your stomach turning and twisting at the sight of him? The feeling of frustration and embarrassment when it feels like you want more of him and you’re too shy to ask for it? And it’s stupid, isn’t it? Because if we’re being honest; he would give you anything.

As you make yourself comfortable, you’re taken by surprise as Jungkook shuffles and gets off the couch. He joins you on the floor, wrapping his arms and legs around your body. Just like earlier, he buries himself in the crook of your neck. Although you’re taken aback, you don’t hesitate to hold him.

Your fingers find their way to his hair while your other hand rubs circles on his bare back. Jungkook can’t help but feel electricity run throughout his body with every touch.

“Sorry I drank so much,” he croaks, trying his best to get his words out. “Sorry I smell like shit.”

“It’s okay,” you comfort him. “Do you want me to get you some water—”

“Don’t move,” he cries. “Please...”

“Okay,” You relax your body. He does the same. “I’m here.”

A moment passes.

“I’m sorry I kept bothering you. Texting and calling… Coming over like this…”

“Jungkook—”

Sniffing, he mumbles, “and sorry I took your spot and kissed you.”

“Seriously, don’t—”

Yet, ever so clearly he apologizes: “Sorry almond pocky is better than strawberry.”

His apology earns a soft laugh from you. It escapes your lips and Jungkook swears he hears angels singing.

“The only time strawberry was better than almond was when I kissed you. You tasted like strawberries. I liked it. Best kiss of my fucking—”

“Oh my god!” You pull away and cover his mouth with your hand. “I know. You told Mingyu the same thing, right?”

He stays still, boba eyes focused on you.

When you take your hand off his mouth, he blinks at you. “Fuck Mingyu.”

“Shhh,” you hush him.

Then, he continues. “Sorry for lying and tricking you before.”

You shrug. “Hey, it worked. I caught feelings for you.”

“Real ones?”

“Real ones.”

“... Like you want me so bad?”

“Mhmm,” you play along. “Like super real bad.”

Then, Jungkook’s goofy grin twitches.

“Sorry I’m so stupid about all of this.”

“Me too,” you hurry to say. “I’ve been stupid about it too. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook mumbles, acting like it’s no big deal. “Hot chicks are never wrong.”

“Jungkook!” you laugh, hitting his chest. He catches your hand and holds it still. Then, he intertwines your fingers together.

“I’m so drunk,” he confesses with a tired tone. “… ___? Are you gonna break up with me in the morning?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Should I? Did you flirt with a pretty girl at the party?”

“Fuck no.”

You giggle at his harshness. Poking his cheek, you prop up on your elbows. “That’s a relief… But did you really have to make things so hard for Hobi?”

Jungkook huffs.

“I’m not stubborn,” he claims. “I j-just… I miss y-you, ___.”

Your heart sinks.

“I miss you too.”

“Good.”

“Good…” you yawn, “... Night. Go to sleep, bebu. We can talk more in the morning—”

Jungkook cups your jaw and kisses you. It’s not needy, but it’s gentle and deep. He means it. He kisses you and you kiss him back. How could you not? Being so close to him again makes your heart flutter. Just as he’s about to get carried away, he pulls away.

“Sorry for kissing you.”

You touch your lips. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t break up with me tomorrow, o-okay?”

You snicker at him as he wraps himself around you again.

“Okay,” you fold. “I won’t.”

When you wake up, Hobi is cooking pancakes. 

“Good morning,” he yawns, dancing a little as he flips the pancakes.

Half awake, you ask, “Where’s Jungkook?”

You can only assume he left to get ready and be more presentable before your talk. That or he’s running away from you… But you doubt that. 

Hobi glares at you, frying pan in hand and all. 

“I’m literally cooking you breakfast and you’re asking where your boyfriend-not-boyfriend is?”

You stretch and get up. Folding and tidying the makeshift bed up, you casually ask if Jungkook ate before he left.

Hobi sighs, flipping pancakes. “You’re literally obsessed with him…”

Sneaking up behind him, you poke his sides. He flinches and scolds you not to do that while he’s cooking. You laugh and steal a pancake from the pile. 

“He’s said you’d know where he is. Meet him there at 12PM.” Hobi then passes you a plate with another pancake but this time there’s cut up fruit and syrup on top. Happily, you grab the plate and take a sit at your table to eat. Hobi turns the stove off and joins you. 

Hobi takes a bite and lets his curiosity get the best of him. “Any idea of what he’s talking about?”

“I can only really think of one place.”

Jungkook struggled immensely during those few days when you two weren’t talking. Every text he sent you was met with a cold seenzone, and every call went unanswered. If he was lucky, they were declined. He made intentional visits to the library and your spot under that stupid tree daily, hoping to see you. Yet, the only time he did, you avoided him, and his heart sank lower than any ship.

If he were crazier, he would’ve confronted you and closed the space between you two as early as possible. But he wasn’t here to play; he was here to win. He was in it for the long run and thought to himself that if there was ever a time to prove he could wait and respect your boundaries—it would be now. However, it proved difficult, and although Jungkook is a strong man, his knees always go weak at the mention of your name.

He was done for.

In the waiting, he repeatedly convinced himself to love fully and pour every ounce of faith into dreams of a life with you. He couldn’t deny this felt strange. Of course, it was difficult! Being out of sync with you felt absolutely painful. All he did was toss and turn at night. When he ate, he wondered if you were eating too and who you were eating with. He hoped you were eating well.

God, he was dramatic.

He felt like he was falling apart. Why couldn’t he just figure this out? Was he supposed to apologize? For what? What happened between you two was a mere conversation. Suddenly, after you got your little confession off your chest, you hurried Jungkook out of your place and turned off your phone. He stood outside, confused and completely smitten.

You truly were the most surprising thing to have ever happened to him.

On the other hand, you couldn’t believe how much of your heart you had laid out to him. You’d never admitted any of those things out loud, and to do so for the first time—in front of him—oh my god. You had lost your mind.

You were done for.

Yet, maybe that’s what it takes to find love. To get so lost in it and then to suddenly find it in his presence—it’s indescribable.

When the clock struck 12, the library doors opened, and Jungkook held his breath.

He heard your footsteps getting closer and closer, and his heart raced faster and faster. He had showered for 30 minutes to make sure he was the exact opposite of last night… Yet at this rate, his sweaty palms made him think he needed another 30 minutes… But this couldn’t wait. This was happening now.

Finally.

When you walk in, Jungkook’s gaze softens.

His heart lightens and feels so much relief. You look like an absolute angel walking towards him. He’s in heaven, isn’t he?

Or maybe you are.

The table is covered in sunset colour schemed flowers, each in different vases and spread out. There are twinkling fairy lights in between the spaces. It’s beautiful and romantic—you might cry. Not to mention, he’s also holding a bouquet for you.

It’s perfect.

He’s perfect.

Your hair is perfectly curled, and you’re wearing a white corset dress that made him feel things he shouldn’t focus on. Truth be told, he looks just as good. He’s wearing a linen white button-up short sleeve and slacks that looked so good on him. His hair was even freshly cut (God bless)! Maybe it was your delusion, but you swear you see butterflies flying around him.

“W-wow,” he stutters, taking a step towards you. He looks at you in awe. Your lips curve into a smile, and Jungkook put his hand on top of his heart. “__, I have no words. You’re divine.”

“You got a haircut?” you tease him, extending your hand to ruffle his hair. “Handsome as always.”

He smiles shyly, putting the bouquet down. “Had to. Gotta look irresistible so you don’t dump me.”

You laugh, suddenly feeling nervous about everything. This was all so real… What were you even supposed to do? You couldn’t even differentiate if it felt awkward or if this was just new.

“H-hey,” you clear your throat. “Why is the library empty?”

He gulps. “I kinda… Told everyone at the party I was gonna make this grand gesture here… Pulled some strings with some people and was able to reserve the library privately for us. I mean, at least for an hour—”

“Y-you did what?”

“It’s not that big of a deal—d-don’t think about it too much. Here,” Jungkook offers you his hand. “Come here. I wanna show you something.”

You take his hand and follow him. He walks you two to the corner of the table and kneels. You did the same. He smiles and pats the edge of the table.

“What is this?” you ask.

Jungkook sighs, pretending to be disappointed in you. “You don’t remember?”

You shake your head. “Am I supposed to?”

Jungkook holds your hands and squeezes them. “This was our first moment.”

Your eyebrows furrow together, not knowing what he meant by that. Then, he smiles and explains it to you.

“You dropped your phone because you were surprised at how close I was to you. You bumped your head first, and it was the first time I looked at you the way I do now. I know it because it was the first time I felt what I feel for you now. Then, I bumped my head, and you rubbed my head, leaned in towards me, and that was it.”

“Oh,” you say softly, trying to recall that day. Your eyes lit up when you did. “Oh yeah! Wow, that was ages ago.”

“It was…”

A silence falls upon you two. It wasn’t heavy or awkward. It set the tone. It was perfect.

“Have you liked me for that long?” You ask him rather shy.

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers confidently. “___?”

“Yes?”

He then leans forward and tilts his head. “I’ve been ruining myself… Thinking of ways to give you the grand gesture you deserve. Something good enough to sum up how life-changing and utterly perfect you are to me… How to make you feel like you’re my whole world and for you to—I d-don’t know… I can’t—I can’t think straight. I’ve written drafts for this and I’ve rehearsed every possible line. I couldn’t get anything right, and it took me so long to realize something… To give you what you deserve is to give you my heart. To let you have it and be the man that’s good enough for you to want it… I think I did it, right? I’ve given it to you. Over and over again, and I’d do it over and over again because I can’t fathom that you’ve accepted it. Like you’ve fallen for me like I wished for you to… All you wanted was honesty, and so I need you to know that beneath all the deceit and this confidence is my heart, waiting and loving you this entire time. It’s been honest even when I’m not… And I… I’m changing. I’m an honest man, ___… And as an honest man, I need to confess one thing…”

“Jungkook—”

A beat.

“I am honestly so in love with you.”

You hold your breath.

“So, please don’t dump me,” he chuckles. “Can I please be your boyfriend? I want more time with you. I want you to love me too—”

“I already do,” you can’t help but to interrupt him. “I know I haven’t done everything perfectly either and as much as I appreciate you wanting to do better—I also need to do better. So count me in, bebu. Let’s get it right… Let’s fall in love so deeply I have no choice but to fight for it, to be brave for it, and to accept it… For you, I will.”

Jungkook leans in and cups your cheeks. He kisses you for the first time as your boyfriend. You kiss him just as sweet and deep—nothing is better than this.

epilogue

Though there were still things you two continue to work on and discuss over time, that moment was perfect. It aches, really. To remember how young and confusing love is… But to also laugh with the love of your life and feel butterflies for the first time is something you wish for everyone.

Now these 7 moments are mere fleeting memories. Yet, they still feel so warm and familiar to you. They bring you so much joy and nostalgia. They remind you of the goodness of each other’s company and hearts are (which was important and useful for every couch-sleeping fight that came your way).

It’s so special to see how it all unfolded… How oblivious love can be sometimes. How it gets cold and caught in lies just to please.. How truth reveals itself and has layers of jealousy and forgiveness that await to be embraced. How beautiful love blooms in the midst of friendship, how being with the right person changes you, and lastly; how much more life there is to live when you love all at once.

[sukirichi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 (𝐔𝐍)𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐉𝐎

+ contains fluff, banters, choji kinda chokes sakura, and cursing. fluff !! fem reader. shy! togame (divider from @/enchanthings)

+ wc. 1.5k

Togame sat in the bustling café with Sakura and Choji on his sides. They’d gathered around the small, circular table cluttered with coffee cups and dessert plates. Outside, the early evening lights of the city flickered to life, highlighting their faces as they all sat – hunched, heads nearly bumping into each other and speaking with hushed voices. They were talking about an issue of most importance, after all. Extremely confidential, according to Sakura, but more like extremely impossible, according to Togame.

“So, Togame,” Choji started, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “We’ve been talking, and we think YN likes you.”

Togame, who had been sipping his latte, nearly choked. He coughed, setting the cup down hastily. “What? No way,” he said, shaking his head with a nervous chuckle. “She doesn’t like me like that.”

Sure, you looked at him often, and even rewarded him with the prettiest smiles, but Togame wasn’t stupid. You were just nice like that – smiling and waving at everyone.

He wasn’t special… right?

Sakura rolled his eyes, exasperated. Choji had been the one insisting that you liked him back, but Sakura had been the greatest ‘witness.’ Said he would dye his hair completely black if Togame remained blind to the way you stumbled over your words whenever Togame was involved. “Come on, Togame. She’s always laughing at your jokes, even the terrible ones. And she goes out of her way to spend time with you. It’s pretty obvious. Plus, you’re not that fucking funny, y’know?”

“Right,” Choji nods his agreement. “You don’t laugh at someone’s shitty jokes unless you like them.”

Togame felt a blush creeping up his neck, thankful that the collar of his jacket hid it. “That doesn’t mean anything,” he protested. “She’s just nice to everyone. Besides, I’m sure she’s not interested in me that way.”

Unbeknownst to Togame, you had just entered the café with the plans to join them. Choji had sent you a quick text half an hour ago that he needed your help with something, but never specified with. Still, you came as fast as you could. It wasn’t every day that Choji requested for anything, and honestly, after introducing you to Togame – your crush – you kind of owed him a favor.

Until you heard bits and pieces of their conversation, your name thrown in, and you stopped short in your tracks. You quickly stepped back and hid behind a nearby plant. Your heart raced as you listened it, uncaring of the ache in your thighs at the uncomfortable squatting position. There was just no way you’d miss a word of what they said.

“Togame, you’re clueless,” Choji laughed. “She’s always finding excuses to be near you. Remember that time she showed up at the park, ‘coincidentally’ when you were there? And the countless study sessions she insists on having, even though she’s a total genius and doesn’t need help? Hell, she’s smarter than you. The hell does she need you to tutor her on?”

Togame scratched the back of his head, feeling increasingly embarrassed. He did remember that. There were times you came up to him, a pout on your pretty face as you told him your struggles on math problems. Not that Jo could count for shit, but he didn’t want to turn you down. Or worse, to appear stupid in front of you. “I thought she just wanted to hang out. We’re friends, that’s all.”

Sakura sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. “You’re so dense, Togame. It’s obvious to everyone but you. She’s into you, trust me.”

Still hidden behind the plant, you felt your heart swell. You bite your lip to suppress your smile, a whirlwind of happiness and nervous swirling in your belly. You’d liked Togame for a long time, but you’d always been too shy to say anything. He was the Togame Jo, second of Shishitoren. Talks of his strength and greatness were shared across the streets. Compared to him, you weren’t particularly special. You had always assumed he only treated you kindly because you were Choji’s friend, and whoever Choji liked, Togame did, too.

It just never would’ve occurred in your wildest dreams that he liked you like that. So hearing his friends insist that Togame was so oblivious to your feelings were both amusing and endearing.

Togame shook his head, trying to stay composed. “Even if that were true, which I doubt, why would she like me? I’m just... me.”

“Exactly,” Choji said, as if that explained everything. “You’re funny, kind, and you’ve got that whole devil-may-care attitude going on. Girls dig that. I know she does.”

Sakura hums in agreement. “Plus, you’re always there for her. You care about her, and she knows it. Maybe she’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

Togame felt his face grow hot, his mind racing with the implications of what they were saying. Could it be true? Did you actually like him? He shook his head again, more to clear his thoughts than to disagree. As much as he fancied (he dreamt of it happening everyday) the idea of having his feelings reciprocated, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Besides, you had a great friendship with one another. He couldn’t – didn’t  want – to ruin that.

“I just... I don’t see it. I mean, she’s amazing, but I’m not sure she feels the same way.”

Hearing the hesitance and self-doubt in his voice made your heart ache.

You couldn’t stay hidden any longer. With your heart pounding in your chest, you stepped out from behind the plant, your eyes fixed on Togame’s fresh undercut. Sakura and Choji were the ones to find you, the former’s eyes widening, while Choji’s face lit up in a mischievous smirk.

“Oh shit–” Sakura exclaimed, nudging Togame in what was a failed attempt of being discreet.

Togame turned to see you standing there, looking both nervous and determined. He felt his stomach drop, a mixture of panic and anticipation swirling within him. You didn’t hear what they were talking about, did you? At least he hoped you didn’t, because he could barely muster a genuine smile right now.

“Oh... hey,” he stammered, his voice betraying his surprise. Underneath the table, Togame kicked Choji in the shin when the shorter man giggled.

You took a deep breath, your gaze. “I heard what you were talking about,” you begin, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. “And I just wanted to say... your friends are right, Togame.”

Togame blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. “What?”

You smiled softly, stepping closer. “I like you, Togame. I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t know if you felt the same way. I was too scared to tell you.”

The café seemed to fall silent around the two of you, the moment stretching into eternity. Togame’s face flushed a deep red, his heart racing as your words sank in. Sakura and Choji watched with bated breath, their eyes wide with anticipation. They’d made a bet before arriving at the café on who would confess first – a bet Sakura was losing miserably. With a low groan, he fisted his five hundred yen and shoved it to Choji’s waiting hands.

“You... you like me? Is that right?” Togame repeated, hardly daring to believe it.

You nodded, you smile widening. “Yes, I do. A lot.”

Togame’s mind raced, replaying every interaction you’d ever had, seeing them in a new light. The times you laughed at his jokes, the study sessions, the ‘coincidental’ meetings – all of it made sense now. He felt a rush of emotions – relief, joy, disbelief – overwhelm him.

“I’ll be damned,” he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really thought these two–” he gestured to his friends, “–were messing with me.”

Your smile brightened. “Well, now you know,” you said softly.

Before they could say more, Choji erupted into cheers, breaking the spell. He nearly knocked over Sakura when he slung an arm around his neck, dragging him down to mockingly point a finger in Togame’s direction. “We told you!” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “Finally, you both admit it! I thought my hair would turn grey before either of you said a thing!”

Sakura sighed, and fought against Choji’s choking hold. “Yes, yes, we get it. They’re perfect for each other. Now stop lying and admit you’re just happy because you won the bet.”

“Of course I would,” Choji scoffed, “I’ve known Togame a long time. You really think that cool bravado of his means he actually has the balls to confess? Nah, it’s all for show. I knew YN had more guts than him.”

You and Togame were both flustered, but you couldn’t stop smiling. The café buzzed with excitement as the four of you celebrated the not-so unexpected confessions. And Togame? A sense of warmth settled over him, knowing that the person he’d secretly admired for so long felt the same way about him.

As Choji and Sakura bantered back and forth, Togame dared to reach out and slip his hands into yours under the table. The first contact made you jolt, heat creeping up your neck. It takes a few moments, and Togame’s equally shy smile, before you squeezed his hand in return. And for the first time in a long while, Togame felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

[winteringdream]

&team reacting to you being scared of thunder

kei

“ah, it’s raining.” k notices, pulling out the clear umbrella out of his bag. you sigh of relief, happy he didn’t see you flinch. k pulls you in, the umbrella shielding both of you from the rain.

once again, thunder sounds from the sky, and this time it’s louder. k turns to you, a little confused. but, when he sees you, with your hands covering your ears, his look immediately softens.

“hey, are you okay?” you can only nod to reply. his arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you even closer. quickly bringing you back home.

fuma

”are you okay?” fuma shouts from the kitchen. “i heard you yell.”

“come here please, fuma. i’m scared.” within seconds he is next to you, totally abandoning the snacks he was about to get.

he takes the blankets off of the couch and puts them on you. he then envelopes you in a hug, his arms around you making you feel safe.

ej

“it’s getting darker, we should head back to the dorms.” ej says as he closes his laptop. “we can finish this another time.”

you agree with him, packing your stuff into your bag. worriedly, you look outside, seeing the rain fall.

“are you ready?” ej asks, standing at the door, ready to leave. when he pushes the door open, thunder claps loudly, making you take a step back.

“what’s the matter?”

“i’m scared of thunder.” you can see ej’s mouth form an “o”. all the gears in his head turning. “you want my headphones? i’ll shield you from the rain while we run back.”

nicholas

it wasn’t the first time you saw nicholas at the bus stop, but the two of you never really exchanged more than 20 words to eachother.

“looks like it’s going to storm.” nicholas comments, looking up at the sky.

“yeah.” you gulp, hoping your fear wasn’t too obvious. nicholas, sensing something is off, turns to you. your hands are fiddling with the hanger on your bag, and your leg is shaking up and down.

“something wrong?”

“just a little scared.” just as you finish your sentence thunder strikes, making you yelp all of the sudden.

“here.” nicholas approaches you, and holds out his hand. “hold my hand.”

he gently squeezes your hand when you flinch, and makes sure to look out for you.

yuma

yuma has been searching for you ever since he came home. he calls out your name but he cant seem to find you.

he pulls open the closet, not expecting to find you in there. but, to his surprise, you are curled up in the closet, shivering and crying.

“what’s the matter? what happened? did someone break in?”

you shake your head and tell him it’s the thunder.

“you scared me.” yuma pouts, lifting you out of the closet. “let’s go to bed and close the windows. do you need something else? stuffed animal? hug? earplugs?”

jo

“jo, i know it’s late but if you hear this, please can you come over?” you speak into your phone when the call goes to voicemail. your hands tremble when you put down the phone and you pull the blanket over your head to shield you from the sound.

you don’t expect him to reply, but he does. within a few minutes he texts that he is on the way.

you fall into his arms when you open the door, heart beating loudly in your chest.

“are you alright?” he whispers, patting your head. “i brought earplugs and we can watch the movie you like.”

”i’d like that.”

harua

“are you okay?” harua frantically exclaims as he runs around his bedroom. he hadn’t prepared anything to help you with your fear of thunder.

harua mentally scolds himself, wishing he had thought about it. but he didn’t really expect it to storm today.

“i’m alright, harua.”

“you’re clearly not! i’m such a bad boyfriend i should’ve looked at the weather app.” he continues to ramble on.

“harua.” you say, snapping him out of his thoughts. “just come and lay with me.”

“are you sure you don’t need anything else?”

“i only need you.”

taki

the moment you have been dreading arrived. school just ended and it was storming. your classmates storm out of the building in the hopes of getting home as soon as possible.

“are you not leaving?” taki questions, walking to your table. “weatherforecast says it’s only going to get worse.”

“i’m scared of-“ before you get to finish your sentence, thunder strikes, causing you to flinch and hide under the table with your hands covering your ears.

taki squats down to help you. he holds out his hand, and you take it.

“if you want to go with me, i’d be happy to walk home with you. would that help?” he suggests, as he shows you his umbrella.

“that’d be nice, yeah.” you mumble, cautious about thunder striking again.

“let’s go then. i’ll cover your ears for you.”

maki

your best friend since birth has teased you about your fear of thunder as long as you can remember.

you had expected today to be no different. the two of you are at an amusement park, in the line for some kind of scary ride.

“it’s going to storm, we should head inside after this.” you tell maki, who nods in agreement. he can tell that you’re getting anxious, but the wait shouldn’t take that long, right?

to both of your surprise, it starts thundering. your eyes widen and hold onto maki’s arm. he’d definitely would tease you about this.

“hey, you want to go inside?” he whispers in your ear. it catches you by surprise. he wasn’t teasing you about it.

instead, he takes out his airpods, handing one over to you. as he hits play, a familiar tune sounds in your ear.

you smile at him, and he smiles back. the dimples that you like so much appear on his face.

[blacktofade]

Saw an owl while out walking

[the-bofurin-digest]

Jo Togame Casual Headcanons

Casual Headcanons

~ His legs are hairy in the sexiest way possible. ~ another one I like to toss into the "raised by his grandparents" basket. Probably had a terrible relationship with his father, who was ultra hard on him growing up. timid mother. ~ jeans are a sensory no no for him. they are tight, constricting, and too heavy on his body ~ attracts stray cats like the old lady in your neighborhood who feeds them. But he does it on accident. Doesn't know how he has become the local cat dad. ~ master at sudoku ~ would also probably own a few pair of Crocs for "fancy nights" ~ collects little keychain of cute characters he's won at festivals, which he's a master at doing naturally. ~isn't a big movie guy, but likes old 1950s America westerns (reminds him of his grandpa) ~He loves early spring, especially when the flowers bloom and the birds are chirping around town. ~ Loves the smell of Eucalyptus, cherry wood, and peppermint. ~ afraid of mice. I like to think he squeals like a little girl and jumps on a chair while Choji saves him by capturing the little friend and taking it outside.

Dating Headcanons

~oh sweet baby boy picks you up while he's working a booth at a festival, no doubt about it. He promises you a free snack or something every hour if you come by. And at the end of the night gives you his number. He is completely smitten and playing it cool on the outside, but on the inside he is screaming like a little girl in excitement when he gets that first text from you. -likes to keep the relationship between his partner and Shishitoren separate for awhile. He's tending to your relationship like a kindling flame and when that line gets crossed where the two worlds collide (you and his group) that flame is either going to turn into a burning love, or fizzle out into smoke and he's just not ready to face that just yet. ~ love language when receiving: physical touch. Please, run your fingers through his hair, pinch his nose when you tease him, hug him from behind when you spot him waiting for you in a crowd, hold his hand when walking, ANYTHING. He's touch starved and needs the seratonin. ~ Love language when giving: quality time. He enjoys doing anything and everything with you. Will always be there to walk you home after class or work with an extra ramune in hand for you, ready to hear about your day as you ramble on in an animated manner. He could spend every moment with you and it wouldn't be enough. ~ you aren't allowed to push the shopping cart or carry the basket when grocery shopping. That is his job thank you very much. He will also kindly remind you multiple times that he will get the heavy/ high things off the shelf. You shouldn't even be lifting a finger. Actually you know what just sit in the cart. ~ Starts using your soap or body wash sporadically. Will also leave a slightly worn but clean sweater out for you to wear because it smells like him and he knows you like that. ~ A favorite date night of his is just a quiet evening at home with some music in the background while the two of you just cook and talk about your day. He loves just doing simple domestic things with you, and standing over the stove together while you laugh and tell him the latest silly gossip is when he is happiest. ~ knows some of the best places in town to watch fireworks where no one else goes. He pulls you close, and watches you while you watch the bursts of colors in the sky.

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x fem! reader

master list

summary: Christmas time is here, eddie + you dance around the fact you’re both in love, corroded coffin performs.

w/c: 15k

warnings: NO MINORS —18+ only- mentions of Chad and his awfulness, thoughts of sex

a/n: s/o to my lovely coven for helping me tweak parts of this story, beta reading + letting me insert them through out the story @jo-harrington @blueywrites @newlips @pastel-pillows @loveshotzz @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse @br0ck-eddie @courtingchaos @fracturedarkness @word-wytch @hellfirehottie420 @chestylarouxx @big-ope-vibes 💋 @agentmarvel @hxllfired ♥️♥️

“Don’t peek!”

“I’m not!”

“I mean it, you’ll ruin it if you peek!”

Large hands cover your already shut tight eyes as you walk forward blindly through the crunch of ice and heavy snow. The soles of your chunky boots leave behind inch deep footprints in the parking lot of Boom’s Auto shop.

“Eddie! oh fu— your hands are freezing!”

A deep husky chuckle hums in your ear, skating across the air and landing warmly on your cheek. A flushed heat accompanying the welcomed tickle of his laugh.

“Just a little further,” Eddie says with a laugh, still walking behind you, big hands blind folding your eyes. Maybe you should have mentioned that you don’t like surprises. The last surprise you had trusted was from your parents. And that resulted in them moving across the country to be closer to Kevin, cutting you out and leaving you behind.

Practically stamping your foot and stopping altogether you let out his name in a small whine.

“So impatient, Tooty,” he whispered like a ghost into your ear, sending a flock of goosebumps down your neck. His calloused hands itched at your soft skin. Your eyelashes tickling his palms. “I promise it’s worth the wait, just a little bit further.”

Sighing with hmmpfed pout, you trudge on, squishing snow beneath your feet.

“Okay, are you ready?” Eddie gleams, hinted delight in his voice like a child showing his parents his cubby at school.

“No,” you tease, eyes still closed, “I think I’ll just turn around and go home.”

Eddie breathes out a groan and tickles his cold fingers into your neck, giggling as you squeal, “see you brought your infamous attitude, sweetheart.”

Gasping for breath from the cold and trying to get away from Eddie’s frigid digits you quip, “ah, you know me, I don’t leave home without it.”

“Brat,” Eddie jokes, moving your shoulders into the perfect position he sees fit. “Alright b—Tooty, open your eyes.”

The sun shines blinding against the frosted white ground, stinging your eyes as you open them from the darkness of your eyelids and Eddie’s sheltered hands. Nestled in the back corner of the parking lot next to a pile of snow sits your car, sitting on 4 brand new tires.

Stunned beyond believe, heart full and ready to burst you are at a loss for words.

“Uh—, sorry it took so long, I fixed it up a little bit more than what was initially wrong with it, replaced the tires—they were pretty bad, fixed the headlights, completely flus— ”

Eddie’s mechanical explanation of what was wrong with your car and how he fixed it goes dead with a grunt and a gasp as you throw yourself into his arms, forgetting his healing ribs you fully wrap your legs around his waist. Ignoring the way the snow on your boots is soaking through his shirt making his back wet, his leather jacket riding up from your sudden jump into his arms. He is completely consumed in this moment. He doesn’t care. The whole world is in his hands, and he doesn’t want the warmth of your body to escape him. Soul on fire and the barricade around his heart completely down, grass growing where they lay now, he is enamored by you. The smell of your hair, how tight you are squeezing him around the back of his neck. Your thighs clutching him. He’s a mess. Melting more than Frosty did on the warmest day of the year.

Welling tears spill from your eyes, you whisper shyly, “thank you,” Floored by your own emotions, you are speechless. Outside of the Wheeler’s, you haven’t had someone care for you on such a personal level before. Eddie made you feel safe, he gave you a sense of calm that filled you with hope, filled you with joy. Not being able to fathom how your life has changed so much since he moved in, the anxiety of everyday life washing away with his smile. His goofiness rinsing the doubt out of the air. The bruise around his eye is fading, color returning back to its original beautiful paled complexion. Emotions running high, you can’t convey with words how grateful you are, instead you pull your head from his shoulder and turn it slightly. Pressing delicate mauve painted lips to his cheek. It’s sweeter than sugar. A dainty quick kiss as sudden as the first drop of rain hitting your cheek in the summer.

Wiggling down his body with one last squeeze around him, he doesn’t register that you are sliding away from him on purpose until he releases his hands on the back of your legs. Thankful for his long hair more than ever today, his ears are tinged red much like his cheeks, one colored with a mauve set of lips he never wanted to wash away. Keeping you with him forever.

Looking into Eddie’s eyes you notice how big they are, a smirk is dancing across his lips. Not wanting to ruin the sentiment, but anxious all the same, you push his chest lightly, a coy smile on your lips, “hungry?”

Oh he was hungry. Starved for you. Your touch, your lips, your smile, the way the sunlight caught your hair. He’s never been so hungry for affection in his entire life, and you were feeding him crumbs. Couldn’t you see he was on his knees begging, pleading for more?

“Always,” he finally sputters out, desperately hoping you didn’t see the tiny hearts floating around his head like a cartoon character in love, “but you’re driving,” he says tossing you your key ring, “time to be my chauffeur, babe.”

It feels weird to be behind the wheel of a car again, considering you haven’t driven in months. The same yellowed tree scent hung from your rearview mirror, no longer full of aroma, fake blue and green Mardi Gras beads jingle together as you bump along the neglected roads of Hawkins. Polaroids of you and Nancy smile back at you from beneath the dash. Various materials of scrunchies litter the gear shift. Loose change fills one of the cup holders.

The sound of a window rolling down and the smell of burnt tobacco has you looking over at Eddie. He looks like he’s in a clown car. Bent bare knees from the holes in his jeans are cramped against the dash. His long arms lighting two cigarettes, a brown filtered end for himself, and a white one for you. He inhales deeply, pushing the smoke out of his lungs and looking out the window, arm bent lazily, palm up to hand you yours. Shamelessly flirting, you carefully place your mouth around the cigarette, your lips grazing his knuckles as you look up at him, with a wink you retreat from him, your lipstick leaving another mark on his skin. Burning into him, inking his skin better than any tattoo he had gotten so far. The bob of his throat is more than noticeable as he gulps deeply. He trails his eyes from your devilish lips to your innocent eyes. Wide enough that Bambi would cry at the sight of them.

Eddie shakes his head with a sigh, choking on smoke as you smile to yourself. You don’t notice the way he readjusts himself in the seat, desperately trying to cross his legs, a heat in his cheeks that he would blame on himself getting a cold if you were to ask.

He’s like a child at a fair, touching every single thing in his line of vision, jokingly grabbing the oh shit handle with every turn you take. Flicking his lighter, moving the visor up and down and to the side, pulling this way and that. Adjusting his seat all the way backwards and then all the way forward when you stop at a stop sign, hand still on the lever, a laugh stuck in his throat as he’s practically folded like an accordion in the front seat.

Blondie’s “Call Me” plays and Eddie grabs the hairbrush he found in the glovebox as a microphone. He’s moving his shoulders in a way that suggests he’s a seductive lounge singer, throwing his hair behind him, then in front of him. His eyes dipped in alluring sex appeal, throwing his head back and showing the expanse of his neck. He laughs a maniacs giggle and so do you. Relishing the time spent with him.

“Thought metalheads didn’t dig Blondie,” you question, inhaling the last of your cigarette and discarding it out of the window.

Eddie chuckles, “Surprisingly enough, one of the regulars at the Hideout plays it on repeat while we’re clearing the stage. Every. Single. Night. Speaking of which, uhh—,” he wasn’t sure how to ask you, not even sure if you wanted to go— but it was worth a shot and what would it hurt— worse thing that could happen would be you saying ‘no’, “ya got plans the day after Christmas?”

Thinking for a while you didn’t want to let it on that you in fact had zero plans. It’s not as if your parents came home to celebrate with a dinner or take you to a movie, fuck they never even bothered to call.

“Merry X -mom dad & kev”

Barely a greeting. Just slanted, chicken scratch handwriting inked onto a blank 99 cent Christmas card. The cheapest of pens was used to write the five words, noted by the scribble at the bottom of the card, when the ink went dry. The card itself was very basic, crimson red with a cartoon Christmas tree on the front. More than likely purchased at a gas station with a carton of Marlboros and a microwaved bean burrito. Cold fingers wrap around the envelope, cotton gloves smoothing over the handwriting as if it were a cherished love letter from your husband lost at sea.

Without fail, the one time a year you heard from them, left you more hollowed than the previous one. And as bummed as you were, when Eddie saw the card in the trash can when he tied up the garbage for the curb, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t pry, didn’t ask. Just tied up the trash and didn’t say anymore about it.

“Hmm.. well the salon is closed so I won’t be working, why what’s up?”

Eddie leans over and turns the knob of the radio down, insinuating how serious he was, “well the band is throwing a gig at the Hideout, kinda like a party for everyone who needs to blow off some steam after the holidays… and I thought maybe you’d wanna go? I haven’t seen you at a Corroded Coffin concert since the 80’s.”

He was right, you hadn’t seen them perform outside of your own garage since high school. Busting his balls a little, your lips curl in a sweet tease, “would I make the fifth or the sixth drunk there?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and makes a face, “I’ll have you know, we actually have to sell tickets now, but you? I'm making you pay double for that mean comment.”

“Oh kiss my ass,” you laugh as he shove him lightly, “I guess I can make an appearance.”

Eddie grins ear to ear, he can’t wait to see you in the crowd smiling up at him. Since he’s moved in, he’s dreamt of the day you finally went to see him play again.

“Well I guess I’ll see you there, maybe even buy you a drink, if you’re lucky.”

He thumbs through your cassettes oooing and awing over your beloved tapes, plucking Stevie Nick’s Bella Donna tape and flipping it over to read the song list on the back.

Head spinning you imagine how sexy Eddie would look on stage. Imagining the sweet aroma of sweat dripping from his hair on his bare chest has you practically drooling, thankful that Eddie is pre occupied with your cassettes, you squeeze your thighs tight.

Eddie begins to hum dumbly along as the end of REO Speedwagon sings about taking it on the run, the mixed tape you’d had since high school plays the next song, Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car”. The beginning guitar melody rings into his ears, a song he hadn’t heard in years.

“You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal. Maybe together we can get somewhere. Any place is better. Starting from zero, got nothing to lose. Maybe we’ll make something. Me, myself, I got nothing to prove.”

The lyrics hit your soul, Tracy’s gentle voice singing calmly to you, roped tight with Eddie’s deep serenade, must be what the gates of heaven sound like when they’re opening. Like the two people in the song, you were both tortured by your pasts, aching for something real something new. You ached for him. Did he for you?

Looking over at him, the cords of his neck stretched tight, prominent muscles jutting out around a chain necklace he never took off. It’s impossibly thick, veins lining it perfectly, the best candidate for a vampire’s snack. Stopping yourself from wondering what your teeth would feel like against his skin there, you tear your eyes away from him. Would your tongue tickle from the bitter taste of his cologne? Would the slight drag of your teeth beneath his jaw drive him wild, feral like how you’re feeling? Heat blooming along your cheeks and flooding your belly. You can practically feel the silk of his skin on your lips, daydreaming about the noises he would make if you were to flick the tip of your pink tongue along his adam’s apple. Sucking sweetly, softly… you spend the rest of the drive to Benny’s lost and dazed, desperate for any sort of relief. Body, and soul.

-

The aroma of bacon grease hung thick in the air when you walked into Benny’s. The sagging, water stained wall paper and faded formica table tops were a staple for the dingy diner. Anyone not from Hawkins, would turn up their nose and leave, fanning their face like a woman in church in the south in the 30’s at the sight of the disheveled diner that somehow kept passing inspections. Benny kept the kitchen area spotless, but could not be bothered with the decor and upkeep of the simple things such as wallpaper and art that dated back to borderline colonial times.

Eddie licked his lips as he eyed the sticky and tattered menu. His stomach was an endless pit, a never ending gaping hole the size of the Grand Canyon. Two baskets of fries, a patty melt, a stack of pancake and a piece of cheesecake, “it’s for later,” he said with a smile, only to devour it in two forkfuls once it arrived in its “to-go” box.

“Thank you, by the way,” you murmur around a mouthful of peach cobbler, voice growing small. “For my car, and well everything you do— oh shit, what do I owe you guys?”

Eddie swallows hard, throat coated with the velvety cheesecake, “Nothing,” he answers as if it were an insult you even asked.

“C’mon Eddie,” you say rolling your eyes, “what do I owe you?”

He enunciates the word again, making syllables where they are otherwise not needed. Moving his head left and right as he gets closer and closer, moving over the booth’s table like a snake, the ends of his curls dancing over the tabletop, a smug look pressed on his lips as he licks his fork.

Pulling your eyebrows in and folding your arms across your chest, you narrow your eyes at him.

“It’s not gonna work,” Eddie says, leaning over to take the last bite of your peach cobbler, savoring the warm peach and sugar infused treat on his tongue, “your pouting games won’t work on me, no matter how fucking cute you look.”

The scowl set on your face would have impressed Medusa, before his smile broke you. He was good at that, breaking you out of your shell and opening your eyes to show you that life didn’t always have to be taken so seriously. Your smile matches his and he reaches for the bill, sliding out of the booth. Twisting your body to stand from the under stuffed cushion Eddie is standing in front of you, leaning with one hand on the table, bill curled in his grasp, the other on the back of the booth. He looks like he’s going to say something but it’s lost on his tongue. Defeat and uncertainty cloud his eyes, not here, not now. He hangs his head, shaking his curls lightly. Shaking the nervousness from himself. He reached a ringed hand out to you, eyes dripping with want and cheeks pinked in the prettiest blush on his cream colored skin, along with the mauve lipstick he never wiped off, wearing your lips proudly, a prize greater than gold burned into his skin.

Words fail him, he notices how when you’re around just how much you steal the breath from his lungs. Almost as if he is prepubescent, full of acne and a buzzed head all over again. Scared of girls, a gangly freak who people made fun of. A lost sheep. It had been years since anyone has made him feel that way, usually women were throwing panties at him, bras, themselves at times. It wasn’t hard for him to fulfill his temporary needs. One faceless broad at a time. You? You were nothing like that. He respected you, trusted you, wanted you to feel safe with him. Wanted to take you out and show you off as his girl, his Tooty. Would you want that? Would you want to be his?

“Ready?” He asks, voice low and his lips dripping with a teasing smile.

Nodding, he pulls you up to him, your smooth fingers wrapped in his rough calloused hands. His face tilted downward to yours, yours up to him. And all of his questions are answered by the look in your eyes. They’re warm, dreamy, sucking him in like a magnet to your soul, frantically yearning to connect yours with his. And he’s ready to give it all to you.

-

Standing at the faint remnants of color of the checkout counter, a waitress locks eyes with you first. Smiling warmly and making chit chat. Eddie slides the check around you onto the smooth surface, her bubble gum persona fleeting immediately at the sight of him, her brown eyes staring heavily through her bangs at the stained lipstick on his cheek. Giving you and Eddie a quickened glance, she makes a beeline for the back, knocking the stack of rolled silverware over as the door slammed home behind her.

It doesn’t take an expert to put two and two together. She was either an ex girlfriend or simply an ex lover. Either way, at one point in time they meant something to each other— and you weren’t sure how much or how little that something was.

It hits you then just how inexperienced you are. Eddie has probably slept with 100s of women; being the lead singer of a small town band gave him that privilege of doing so. Of course he has, he practically , if not not so practically told you himself. Wheels spin in your mind and you’re embarrassed at the way your nose tingles trying to push down the small inkling of jealousy brewing in your belly. What the hell would he want to do with you if there were so many other women, better looking, and definitely sexier— ready to be his flavor for the night? Being with Eddie was a joke and you were the punch line— why would a guy like him settle down with someone as vanilla as you?

Suspicion creeping it’s ugly face in your mind and making room for all its baggage as a large hand meets your lower back guiding you gently towards the door. He’s talking but it falls deafly around you. Not wanting to know, but finding difficulty in keeping your mind from wandering, you stretch into the unknown of just how many women Eddie has slept with.

The number didn’t matter.

Shouldn’t matter.

But it begged the question looming in your mind for weeks: would you be enough for him? Walking in jaded silence back to the car, the crunch of snow beneath your feet, wind whipping your hair in your face, Eddie’s warm hand on your back, rubbing slow circles as he joins your silence. Desperately looking through the clouds of your mind trying to find where you went.

Eddie might be a lot of things. He may not be that great at math, knowing the ins and outs of fractions to make his sales when he was a dealer for Rick didn’t exactly qualify him as a mathematician, he struggled with making friends when he was younger, learning that being an obnoxious kid didn’t win any gold stars in the popularity department. But he was profoundly excellent at recognizing people’s emotions, any tiny slip, slow shift— he could sense it immediately. So when you shut down, leaving only nods to his never ending questions, he knew you were hurting.

Fumbling with your keys from your pocket they are plucked from your grasp by thick ringed fingers,”Eddie what the h—”

“Just—,” he pauses then, unsure of what to say, how to explain how he feels about you, the words are thick on his tongue but he knows he needs to explain something first, “wait,”

He runs a hand through his hair and points back at the door to Benny’s, “I— I’ve never given a shit about any girl I’ve been with.” The line is not at all how he wanted it to sound, what was meant to be sincere came out as cocky and like he was almost bragging.

“Oh—kay?” you answer even more confused than you were already feeling. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

He huffs a breath and kicks around snow with the toe of his boot, “I’ve never w— fuck,” he takes a few steps backwards throwing his paled face to the now blackened charcoal sky, muttering to himself. This was not going well. He could feel you slipping from his fingers. What was meant to be a nice night was now being spoiled by his incoherent thoughts, mouth moving faster than his brain could think. He looks back at you, your eyebrows raised, weight shifted with your arms crossed. Whatever message he was trying to convey was spilling a capital ‘F’ of his blood all over the snow, crimson coloring the white ground.

Chewing his tongue, jaw tightening with aggressive anticipation that he’s just fucking everything up—he finally spits it out, his mind cooperating with his mouth and all in one heavy, heated breath he practically screams, “goddamnit, Tooty— I’ve never cared about someone like how I care about you.”

Stunned, you stand stone still, watching him with large eyes.

“You— you’re the— fuck.” He moves quick, wrapping his fingers around your cheeks tilting your head up to him, the breath stolen from your lungs as you watch his eager eyes swirl with browns and blacks, Dr. Pepper fountains of bliss. He hesitates, licking his lips. Looking from your lips to your eyes and back again. Deciding not to do what he so desperately craves. But it’s not the right time. Not here. Not now. Not before he asks. Not before you understand the multitude of his seriousness. Not before you make it known that you want it too. Taking a deep breath he finds the courage to press forward, voice strong and steady, no longer breaking, no longer unsure. Confident. “No other girl— no groupie, no ex girlfriend no past fling— no one means shit to me except you, okay?”

Heart exploding piñata candy allover your body, tootsie rolls flowing through your arteries, cotton candy dancing in your lungs, sugary mars bubblegum filled lollipops peak from your eyes as you fall hopelessly further in love with him. His fingers melt into your cheeks, burning and dissolving your candy coated insides into a liquid fire of a molten river filled with pinked sweet syrup. You want to swim in his chocolate eyes like August Gloop. Never full of him.

Would he taste sweet? Oh how your lips cried a sorrowful song not being able to lick the sweet words that drip from them.

Later that night your stomach flutters thinking of his lips on yours. That small kiss on his cheek meant more to both of you than could be imagined. Solidifying there in the parking lot of Boom’s Autoshop, just how much you meant to each other. A silent agreement. An understanding. The line was crossed. The only question now is: who would jump with both feet first?

-

The dusty overstuffed Christmas tree box slides across the kitchen linoleum with a drag as you shove all your weight into it from the basement steps.

“You’re a stubborn woman y’know that?” Eddie grumbles from the other side of the box, pulling it further into the kitchen, circling back and reaching his hand out to help you up the steps. “I told you I would get all of this up after I got off work.” His work coveralls coated with deep stains of motor oil and grease, snow melting slowly on his boots.

Huffing low and climbing the last step you explain, “yep, and I told you, mister,” a long nail poking him in the chest, “that I didn’t need any help.”

“Yeah yeah, just gonna do everything by yourself your whole life, never asking for help?” Eddie asks, matching your attitude, booping your nose with a dirty greased soaked finger, his toothy grin on full display, “always just a little shit aren’t ya?”

A heavy scoff leaves your mouth, fake shock from your lips as you place a hand to your chest, “me? Think you have me confused with someone else, Mr. Munson.”

Eddie’s face twists with gross turmoil at the name. “Christ, I haven’t been called that since high school in Higgins office,” he turns his nose up and scowls, “please sweetheart, consult a doctor you must be ill.”

Bantering back and forth for a few minutes Eddie agrees on taking a shower before starting to set up the tree. “.. and whatever other girly shit you have planned for us.” He says with a laugh as he shuts the bathroom door and turns the silver knob for the shower head.

It was Friday night and since Nancy had moved out starting her own Christmas traditions with Jonathan, you were left with her same traditions in the same house but with a new someone to make them special with.

Chili was simmering on the stove. Rich and spicy just the way Karen Wheeler had taught you to make it, the counter held her famous cinnamon roll recipe, rising gently on the counter. It was engraved in your mind after watching her make them every Sunday for years, and you had yet to make them for Eddie. The kitchen smelled savory yet sweet, the mixed concoction floating heavenly notes of hunger induced stomach pains to the bathroom as Eddie toweled off, pulling a pair of gray sweatpants low on his hips. His hair hung in wet lengthy ringlets, dripping down his back as he emerged into the dim lit kitchen, a hunger in his belly— but not holding a candle to the fiery burn of want in his stomach at the sight of you.

The flour dusted lightly on your cheek could be mistaken for pixie dust with how magical you looked to him, the sleeves of your baggy red velour knit sweater were bunched around your elbows, bringing a spoon to your plump lips as you made them into a small ‘O’ blowing gently on the contents of meat, tomatoes, peppers and kidney beans cradled in the the silver utensil close to your lips.

Eddie had never been jealous of silverware before but he would give his left nut and his guitar away to be that lucky heated spoon for just one minute. Slotting the metal into your mouth, you hum a sigh of satisfaction as you savor the delectable bite, chewing slowly and licking your lips, Eddie is gripping the counter tighter than an old woman gripping her life alert as she tumbles to the ground. Fuck, he’d break a hip— hell no, he’d break every bone in his body just to have you hum around him, any part of him, his earlobe, his fingers, his cock, he didn’t care. Reaching up and brushing his own cheek like a coy school girl, he still felt the way your lips touched his cheek— and that was weeks ago.

“Think Jonathan still does secret investigative pictures for Murray Bauman if you were looking to snap a few pictures you little perv.”

Head swiveling towards him at your last word, you can’t keep the act up anymore, your cheeks feel like they’re going to burst with how wide you’re smiling, your laugh echoes off his naked chest and hits the cabinets, pinballing around the room, striking him like lightning in a summer storm— bright first and the thunderous boom coming after.

Snorting at your own joke and the way his cheeks heat with shame—caught with his hand in the cookie jar, drool practically falling from his lips as his mouth hangs open. He has never looked better. Your boldness stays long enough to send him a wink, and your stomach flutters when he returns it, rubbing his cheeks to will away the blush implemented on his skin.

“Are we going to eat or are you just going to keep making fun of me?” Eddie presses, a light shade of pink still tinged on his cheeks, his smile bright and cheerful.

Walking closer to him you let your body take control, mind not thinking. Useless in your head as you move with sure steps closer to him. Not wanting to know the repercussions of your actions, yet something about him has made you so sure that what you’re feeling was real. That he felt it too, reassuring you with his body language, his words. He wants this and so do you. Time to dive in. But the ache of rejection, fear of making a mistake, afraid to let yourself be loved when you aren’t worthy of it. Has your stomach in knots. Stopping short of your hands on his chest, the confidence is gone, buried beneath the savory smells of the kitchen and the heated stares between you both.

Uncertainty soaring, you place your hands on your waist, head hung in a cloud of anxiety, “tree first, then we can eat.”

Silently moving through the motions, you unbox the tree monotonously. Eddie’s raging war against himself. Begging the question of what happened to make you turn the flirting dial off. The tree is up, and you’re busy fluffing the branches after a year of being squashed in a box and stuffed into a basement. Overthinking what you said to Eddie, you can’t move past how he makes you feel.

It’s not as if you have had a boyfriend other than Chad, or even had anyone other than him kiss you, touch you, and none of that was enjoyable. Being with him was crippling, suffocating in a way that you weren’t ever sure you’d ever be able to breathe normally again. Living in a state of constant fear for years, waiting for the day he would return. And when he did—Eddie was there to comfort you, hold you while the panic attack riddled your body, collapsing in on itself. Eddie was there to pick up your broken pieces and mend them together with his silliness, his arms wrapped around your body shielding you from demons he couldn’t see. Taking the blame for something that wasn’t his fault. He was impossibly charming, good-looking and even though he could be a pain in the ass— you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

“Fuck, ow ow, shit, Tooty! I’m not a genius or anything, but there is no way this is right!” A quick jolt back to reality has you turning your head sharply to see Eddie tangled in emerald green ropes of colorful christmas lights. Entwined in his hair, around his thick fingers, and arms. Christmas clashing with his tattoos he’s all furrowed brows and huffed breaths. You desperately try to stifle a smile but fail miserably. “It’s not funny! It hurts!”

“Eddie,” you choke out in between laughs, reaching up with delicate fingers, and a laugh buried in your chest you begin to untangle his messy curls from the strings of lights. Adjusting his curls this way and that his brows lax at your pretty face so close to his. There they are again, the lips that kept him up the last few nights. The lips that could be full of vinegary insults, and sweet sultry compliments. The silky skin of them call out to him in his dreams, purring his name.

Feeling the need to explain himself for earlier, “for the record, sweetheart, I was staring at the spoon, n—not at you.”

Smooth. Jesus Christ.

“The spoon huh?” Giggling at his lie, untangling his rings and fingers from the lights, releasing him from the holiday handcuffs, “really? and what was so interesting about it, hmm?”

Eddie grabs your hand as it slips from his hair, leaning close enough that his chest is brushing yours, “I have a grudge against it.”

Confused, you pull your eyebrows inward, “what?”

His lips are licked and he holds your hand palm to palm your fingers between his, hugging his rings in your small grasp. His other hand travels up to your chin, laying lightly against your delicate skin. Small strokes of his thumb outline your top lip, and you suck in a quickened breath. Your knees are weak, and you lean into his touch, pushing yourself closer, skimming your fingers along the charcoal outlines on his chest.

The satiny pillows of your lips against his rough calloused skin send him to heaven on angel’s wings. His eyes are trained on your mouth, thumb lining your Cupid’s bow. He circles downward, studying your lips like a map, following the path of Magellan to the corner of your mouth. Face studied hard he doesn’t see the way your eyes have closed, and barely registers the nails on your hand scratching his chest in delight. If your lips were a test, he’d pass with flying colors. Every line is memorized, the color is painted more beautifully than that asshole on tv painting sceneries of birds and rivers. He’s not even breathing, and you aren’t sure if you’re awake or asleep. His fingers act like melatonin lulling you to sleep with each sweep across your lips. Pulling your bottom lip down, a noise escapes his throat as he watches it pop back up against your teeth with a soft thump.

“The spoon is lucky,” Eddie admits through broken breath. His words flow through you like the smoothest water against a creek bed, rippling and bubbling in your veins pooling in your core and heating your body with lust.

“Eddie,” you hum, sending a vibration through his fingers to his now throbbing cock. The oven beeps and you jump in his hands. Forced back to earth from the ethereal spin of Eddie’s warm fingers massaging your skin. Pulling away from him is harder than erasing a permanent marker, getting year old puke stains out of a carpet, harder than overcoming the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Padding into the kitchen you straighten your sweater, lungs burning with aching want to be filled with Eddie’s essence.

Placing the cinnamon rolls into the center of the warmed oven, you turn to find him behind you, silver Christmas ornament bulbs hanging from his nipple rings. “Think Walt would hire me to dance on stage for Christmas?”

This was routine for you and Eddie, intense moments followed by giggling laughs. An endless circle on repeat. If you weren’t ready to jump he wasn’t going to push you. He’d wait for you, however long it would take for you to be ready to admit that he loved you and you loved him back.

-

The tree was up and lit, beautiful colors of red, blue, yellow and green shone brightly against the dark evergreen. Sitting at the table eating chili and cinnamon rolls, Eddie looks like a kid in a candy shop. Eyes blown wide and sparkling. “Y’know I’ve never done that before.”

“Put Christmas bulbs in your nipple rings?”

After the light fiasco Eddie hung the decorations with care and slotted two silver Christmas bulbs in his nipple rings, shaking his chest around, a twang in his voice, “my stage name is Elejandro but honey you can call me big E.”

“Well that either,” Eddie laughs, wiping a rogue dribble of chili away from his chin, “but no, I’ve never decorated a Christmas tree.”

Swallowing the mouthful of cinnamon roll you mull over his confession, “did I just take your Christmas virginity?”

“Guess so,” he grins, shoveling another spoonful of the hearty chili into his mouth using his cinnamon roll to soak up the tomatoey broth. “Aren’t you lucky?” It was your turn to battle away your thoughts as he licked the back of his spoon then his lips. Oh his wicked tongue would be more than delicious on more than a few places on your body.

“Who’s the perv now, Tooty?” Eddie gleamed, his smile turning upwards in a satanic smile. The heat from your cheeks would fill a cold room with warmth. A wink from his eyes has you both smiling again. Teetering towards uncharted waters but not quiet dipping toes into the waters of giving in, not yet.

-

After cleaning up supper and listening to Eddie thumb through the medicine cabinet for the Tums, you whipped up the sugar cookies and pulled them out of the oven.

They were cooling on a wire rack on the counter. Icing, sprinkles, Christmas themed m&ms and twizzler pull apart licorice were filling the brim of small styrofoam bowls. Hot chocolate was bubbling in mismatched ceramic mugs in the microwave. Awaiting their marshmallow floaties to join the rich chocolate bath.

“Cookies too?” Eddie asks, a shit eating grin on his face as he’s coming back inside from his after supper cigarette, the chill of the frozen air following him on his heels, “baby, you’re spoiling me.”

Baby.

The sentiment falling to the deep pit of your stomach making you clench your thighs tight, a skipped heart beat sending heat through your body. It’s definitely not the first time you’ve heard him say it but the way his eyes sparkle and are half lidded have you liquified into a soupy puddle of goo.

Pushing down the heat building in your body, inhaling deep through your nose, you try to keep it together. It’s getting more and more difficult. The feelings you have for Eddie have been steadily growing fonder since Halloween. That stupid Jesus costume had you thinking the unholiest thoughts for weeks. And now he’s sweeter than ever before. Looking like heaven’s fallen angel, Satan's favorite son. A cherub face with a demonic mind, the perfect disguise. There wasn’t a single square inch of him you hadn’t thought about in ways that would make holy water simmer on your skin. Fuck.

“—Tooty?” fingers snap in your face as you’re pulled from the fiery depths of pure joyful sinful lust filled hell. Eddie as the devil and you sitting at his right hand, his hands.

“Christ, you look possessed,”

Oh how you were.

“S-sorry,” you stammer out, a nervous laugh pushes from your lungs as he smiles at you.

Eddie and you were just two misfits, throwing together a Christmas like it was normal for you both. A normal that you could very easily get accustomed to.

-

“You what?!” Nancy shrieks in the booth next to yours as she rolls another perm rod into her mother’s hair. Her thin eyebrows are hidden beneath her straight bangs a look of disbelief planted on her face, “holy fuck, you’re serious?”

Explaining to Mrs. Nancy Byers and Karen Wheeler about your developing feelings for your roommate, left one of the related women stunned, the other with ecstatic delight.

Karen claps her hands, a fuschia smile on her lips, eyes bright and fighting back tears, “oh sweetie I am so happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you say shyly, fiddling with the combs on your counter, “and yes Nance, I am serious.”

Fingers moving rapidly she rolls the rest of Karen’s hair before saying anything else. “I’m happy for you, too ya know,” Nancy finally admits, “I saw the way he stared at you on Halloween.”

“Saw who stare?!” Robin chirps as the bell above the front door dings, announcing her Kramer-esque arrival, spinning chaos in a denim jacket. She slots her wirey frame in your chair, snowy boots plopped on your counter.

Nancy spins Karen around and motions for her to sit under the dryers. “Seeing Eddie stare at Tooty on Halloween,” she explains to Robin.

Robin nods and flicks through your brushes and hairsprays on the counter. “Oh for sure, he’s in love with her, it's so obvious.”

A bloom in your chest erupts as heat floods your cheeks. Robin’s confirmed words spread open your chest with adoration and love. It’s one thing to think someone might like you, hope they will reciprocate the same feelings, but it’s quite another thing to have multiple other people notice the feelings growing between you and someone you're crazy about.

Robin, Nancy and yourself gossip for the rest of your shift. Robin leaving with fire engine red hair, matching the blood pooling around your heart, beating for Eddie, aching for his touch, his smile, his stupid jokes. All of him. You were ready to take the dive.

-

“Oil change on this thing already?” Eddie laughs as Steve jumps out of the midnight black G-Wagon, tossing the keys in the air to himself.

Steve chuckles and threads his fingers through his hair, “yeah, new job has me traveling most of the time, and whenever I don’t want to fly— they provide me with this bad boy,” a sparkly gold plastic credit card is pulled from his wallet.

He goes into detail about how he has been taking Leighanne with him on his trips and just got back from seeing the Christmas tree lighting at Rockefeller Center in New York, how he’s sure he’s in love with her. “I’m happy for you, man.” Eddie says, “she seemed like she really was into you.”

Steve smiles, a cigarette between his teeth, “how’s the whole situation with Tooty? Make a move yet?”

Eddie lights his own cigarette, mulling over his answer. The short of it was, things were going … steady? They weren’t moving forward but not necessarily moving backwards either. He thought you felt the same way he yearned for you, but what if he made his move and you recoiled? He would die if he made you feel uncomfortable in any sort of way. You were his main goal, his end game, his one in a million, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he screwed it up.

His stomach in knots he feels like he could puke all over the patent leather of Steve’s shoes.

“I think it’s good?” Eddie blurts, confusion in his tone and a nervous hint of dread. “I care about her a lot— and I’ve told her that, I— ” he swallows hard, unsure of his next sentence but needing some advice, “I just don’t know how to show her that she means more to me than just a friend or a roommate or my friends’ sister.”

Steve looks at him confused, “dude,” he asks in all seriousness, “are you a virgin?”

The choked out bellering laugh Eddie emits from his body scares away the birds resting their feet on the telephone line. “Steve, what part of me being in a band and a cocky asshole screams virgin?”

“Well, you’re acting like one! ‘I don’t know what to do!’ Fuck man, stop being so scared and just tell her how you feel!”

Eddie's laugh turns sour, “I’ve never had to do this before, I haven’t been in a relationship in six years, and even then, I never once felt how I do about Tooty. So yeah I am scared because I don’t wanna fuck it up or have her think I’m just some creep like that fuckwad Chad.”

Steve shakes his head, and grabs Eddie by the shoulders, “you’re overthinking this, like a fuck load—she likes you, I know she does because whenever I talk to her she’s always telling me about something you did that day, but if you want some guidance— I’ll help you out.”

The greatest heads of hair in Hawkins, Indiana work for the next half hour, developing a plan for Eddie to make his move before he lost you.

-

Soft, pillowy blankets of pure white snow cover the cramped poverty stricken Forest Hills Trailer Park. Illuminating the impoverished community in a mask of Christmas spirit. White, and pristine. An illusionists dream, one so great that someone might have mistaken the rotting trailers and the broken down vehicles as heaps of snow instead of the decrepitness that would show truth when the masking snow melts and brings forth the ugly harshness of muddy roads and sinking foundations.

Spending Christmas Day with Eddie and meeting his uncle had brought a sweetness to your insides, eating away the sourness that the holidays delivered most years, a steady reminder that you were passed down like a pair of jeans. It had been Eddie’s idea to bring dinner over to his uncle's place and you were more than excited to get another peek at his world. Having talked to Wayne on the phone about what he would like you to make for food, his voice was gruff but serene, calling you ma’am and answering your questions between puffs of his cigarette.

“Darlin’,” Wayne answered after the second time of you asking if he was sure that it didn’t matter what you brought over; he didn’t want you to fuss over him, “we could have Surfer Boys pizza for all I care, but if you do make something— you make damn sure that nephew of mine is helping ya, alright? I ain’t raised no man to sit and watch work bein’ done, no matter what he thinks.”

Giggling with a hand to your mouth, Eddie rolls his eyes, cheeks burning crimson, “Christ Wayne,” he breathes, “pipe down or I’ll take your Christmas present back.”

A hacking cough rumbles from the other end of the phone as the two Munson men bicker back and forth.

Settling on garlic mashed potatoes, swedish meatballs, green bean casserole, dinner rolls, and the second pumpkin pie since Eddie ate the first one with a fork and a container of cool whip on the couch after work yesterday; you and Eddie stand at the door of the sky blue trailer the morning of Christmas Day, arms full with casserole dishes and desserts.

The door opens and the waft of a bachelor-esque aroma hits your nose. Stale cigarettes, and laundry soap combine is a surprisingly comforting smell as Wayne Munson meets you at the door. Icy blue eyes crinkled at the edges take a look at all the food balanced between four arms and immediately grabs the containers from you, cigarette planted between his fingers as he slides the food into his own arms. “Lord,” he huffs, “you been cookin’ all morning?”

Eddie holds the door open with his foot and ushers you in, hot on your heels to get away from the bitter cold. “Hell yeah she has been,” Eddie said proudly, showing you off like a 4H blue ribbon, “she wouldn’t even let me taste test it.”

Shying away from his compliments you place the mashed potatoes on the counter, turning around to get a full look at the tiny trailer.

Mugs of various assortments, sizes, colors and shapes decorate the wall above the door. A row of dusty long forgotten hats, balances over the window above the brown couch. A small tv is set in the corner of the living room, a table that has seen better days is wedged into a tight corner across from the cabinets in the kitchen, two matching chairs and a third aluminum folding chair propped against it, the seat hard cracking plastic, stuffing spilling out. The fridge is small but functional, a brass magnet with a clamp holds a hand written note of dates, some crossed out in red ink, others upcoming left alone, next to a calendar. The home is well loved and portrays everything you expected from a bachelor pad. Simple, tidy, cramped.

Imagining Eddie in high school living here, you wonder if the brown couch held more than just dust and well grooved ass prints. Memories of Eddie’s previous lovers? One night stands? The thoughts make you shiver with jealousy and disgust as you take lids off of containers and place aluminum foil from the meatball tray on the side of the counter. Eddie and Wayne are on your right talking about a leaky shower head, the cost of replacement parts and how much it would cost to get a new one.

“… agh,” Wayne argues, “it won’t take me long to take it all apart and figure it out, ain’t no need to go out and buy a new one.”

“Alright stubborn ass,” Eddie pokes, a toothy grin on his face, “just trying to make it easier on you.”

Wayne and him laugh, greeting each other with a hug. Eddie is a whole head taller than Wayne, their stark differences are completely night and day. Where Eddie is pale, Wayne’s skin is weathered and tan, the piercing blue eyes are ice against his tan complexion, meanwhile Eddie’s eyes are so dark they could be mistaken for black holes in the galaxy.

The Munson men pull away with slaps on the shoulders and jokes about frail bones and old age. When Eddie looks at you next Wayne’s eyes follow, his ruddy ringed hand gesture to you with a palm upwards, presenting you like a celebrity, “Wayne, this is Tooty, Tooty, this is my uncle Wayne.”

Smiling sweetly and stretching your hand forward for Wayne to shake you are enveloped with his warmth through his heavily calloused hands. “Pleasure to meet ya darlin’, Eddie ain’t ever brought a girl home for me to meet before.”

Never brought a girl home.

How could you be the first? Eddie dated Chrissy for an entire year, and you’re sure he’s had more than one girlfriend in the past. Including the waitress at Benny's. Why wouldn’t he have brought any of them to meet Wayne? Clearly his uncle means a lot to him, and you remember how Eddie was with Chrissy, how much he cared about her… why did she never come back to the Munson home?

Eddie interjects your thoughts, his cheeks pinked with embarrassment, “Wayne what the f—.”

“Ah hell, I forgot I bought some paper plates, let me go get ‘em from the truck.” Wayne tuts, walking quickly past you and Eddie, the cool rush of air fills the room and the snap of the screen door has Eddie shaking his head. Murmuring to himself about needing to keep his mouth shut as he busies himself with getting forks and knives from the wonky drawers.

-

Empty plates and full bellies coordinate into a sleepy haze between you all. Wayne’s contagious laugh fills the kitchen as Eddie groans when the small photo album is passed around the table. “Remember this one Ed? Damn you were madder’n a hornet that day when Mrs. Milford asked you to mow her yard.”

“Ya,” Eddie yelled, “that’s cause there is no yard she just made me pick up rocks, and most of it was dog shit from Rocko!”

Wayne’s bellering laugh brings tears to your eyes at Eddie’s misfortunes. A picture of a younger Eddie no older than ten years old, dirt and a scowl on his face, same big doe eyes and a bad haircut.

A smile finally breaks on his face seeing your smirk dance on your lips as you wipe the laughing tears from your eyes.

The three of you spend hours laughing, Eddie and Wayne clean up the table as you put food in Tupperware containers for Wayne, slotting them into the fridge and stacking them neatly.

The Christmas present Eddie had for Wayne was in the back of the van and was heavy. Wayne jumped in to help Eddie carry it in, tutting and making a fuss when you told him you could do it, “no ma’am, you sit down right there, I mean it!”

Once outside, the two Munson’s light up cigarettes, exhaling puffs of smoke into the chilled air, the crunch of snow beneath their boots.

“Sure was nice to meet your girlfriend Ed, I think she’s a keeper,”

Not missing a beat and rolling his eyes Eddie all but screams, “Wayne for fucks sake we are not dating, I told you this! Or did you turn senile since I moved out?”

“Well I just thought that if I’d tease ya enough about it you’d do somethin’ about it ‘stead of gawking at her all night like she’s gonna break.”

Eddie's ears burn, “I have a plan, it’s just not something I wanna ruin— I gotta do it right, she isn’t like anyone else— she— she means more to me than that.”

“I’m proud of ya son, finally grew up,” he claps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “you be good to her. Don’t know anyone of your other girly friends, or whatever you call ‘em, who'd dare step foot out in these parts.”

-

Eddie's gift to Wayne had been a bigger tv, one he could watch Gunsmoke on and be able to see it comfortably from the couch instead of squinting. Wayne smiled from ear to ear and kept on smiling when he stood at the door and waved goodbye to you both.

Cheeks sore from laughing, exhausted from the day you yawn behind a mittened palm. Watching the street lights bounce and sway as Eddie drives you both home.

“Can’t be tired already are you?” He asks, smoking a cigarette lazily, smoke billowing from his nostrils and around his curls.

You stretch your back, arching it against the cracked leather of his seats, a yawn slips from your mouth, “Just a little bit,” your voice is small and strained from the stretch, eyelids heavy.

He pleads with slight desperation in his tone, “don’t fall asleep on me yet,” his eyes are soft and tender, blinking slow and gazing into yours, “I still have to give you your present.”

“Present?”

Eddie and you hadn’t talked about getting each other presents even though you had one wrapped neatly in a small box in your bedroom at home.

His face lights up as your eyebrows pull into a quizzical ponder. “It’s nothing big,” Eddie shrugs nonchalantly even though his insides are fiery pools of gummy liquid, tangled knots of rope, “just something kinda silly.”

Heated cheeks and a delicate fluttering in your stomach keep you awake the rest of the way home, the fluttering increases anytime Eddie catches you looking at him, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Inside, you speak few words. Eddie tosses his keys on the table, a jingled clink as it skids and stops amongst the stack of mail. The creaking leather of his jacket is soft as it rubs with the flannel fabric of his shirt as his arms are pulled from it, tossing it on the back of the wooden chair. He sits to unlace his boots. The overhead light dances off of the silver of his chunky rings, highlighting his large veiny hands, working in a fluid movement of untying the laces from the eyelets. Those powerful hands. His talented fingers. Aching for them to be on your skin you are tantalized by them. Eyes never moving from the skin pulled taut on his knuckles, chapped and pink from the chilled air and the refusal to wear gloves.

Your own shoes are off, toes begging for warmth as you walk gingerly to your room and change into pajamas. What gift did Eddie have for you? Would he think your gift was weird? Pushing the negativity from your mind, you change into comfy pajamas.

Eddie was waiting in the living room with your gifts behind his back. His mind racing and heart thumping noisily in his chest. He had run this through his mind more times that he could count, obsessing over the fine minute details for days. He had calculated the perfect way to do this with the help of Steve. Tonight was the first part and tomorrow, after ‘A very Merry Corroded Christmas at the Hideout,’ he was going to ask you on a date, a real one. One that he borrowed fancy cologne from Harrington, cleaned his van out for, one that ended with him telling you how crazy he is about you, how he thinks you hung the moon, any and all cliches surmounting every horribly sad country song that Boom made them listen to at work, he’d sing them if you wanted that from him. He’s never felt more like a sap in all his life, but for you, he’d be everything and more. And if he was lucky— and you were ready—maybe he would steal a kiss.

His daydream is cut short when you shuffle from your room to the living room. Christmas tree lit behind him, makes him look fit to be an angel sitting atop the tree rather than standing in front of it, the same smirk he always wore skirting across his face.

The red flannel he’s wearing is rolled to his elbows, pushed up haphazardly. A silver chain hanging delicately around his neck and disappearing in the opening to his shirt. Heart nearly stopping at the sight of him, you walk the same way towards him that he’s standing, hands behind your back, fingers digging into the foiled Christmas wrapping.

“Okay,” Eddie says nervously licking his lips, “let’s countdown from 3 and we can exchange? Does that work?”

Nodding enthusiastically, your mind is screaming at you— your gift is too much, he’s gonna hate it, he’s gonna think it’s weird that you bought this for him. Stomach churning like butter, you hear Eddie’s low velvet voice counting down. At his voice dipping lower when he gets to one you slip the sweat slicked thin box from behind your back and lean hold it out in front of you.

Your chapstick smile is sweet and adoringly beautiful, Eddie nearly drops your present from behind his back at the sight, fingers clutching to the silky wrapped handles of the gift bag with Santa’s fat white ass climbing up into a chimney on the front. His arm swings forward and holds the bag by its handles on one thick finger, like a bomb ready to explode at any second.

Eyes wide and bright he places the gift bag in your hand and exchanges his present for yours. “Eddie you didn’t have to do this,” you gasp at the sight of the bag, “you already fixed my car and wouldn’t let me pay you.”

“Yeah well,” Eddie starts rubbing the back of his neck, “open it and we’ll decide if I should have or not.”

Placing the bag on the ground and taking the crinkly emerald green and sparkly gold tissue paper out one sheet at a time, Eddie’s eyes never leave your hands as you reach the bottom of the bag and they hesitate. His heart jumps to his throat, stomach falling out of his ass. It’s too much, you hate it. Of course you do, it was a stupid idea to begin with. Why the fuck did he ask Gareth for his help? His original idea would have been better than this, and now look! You’re about ready to rip his goddamn head off like a praying mantis or some shit. SON OF A B—

A shrill laugh erupts from your lungs as Eddie feels a tidal wave of relief wash over him. Tucked into the bag, folded as neatly as Eddie could, you pull out a black t-shirt, safety pins decorate the hem, a homemade ripped neckline. Corroded Coffin's sadistic logo is printed on the front and beneath it reads, ‘Eddie’s babysitter’ in bold white lettering. Fingers tracing the lettering you haven’t stopped laughing yet.

“I—I was deciding between ‘babysitter’ or ‘manager’ but went with th— I just figured you needed something to wear for tomorrow and I thought this would be c— do you hate it?”

“Hate it?!” you squeak between giggles, “Eddie this is the best gift I’ve ever received, I can’t wait to wear it.” You meant that, the thought that went into this, the personalization. The almost possession of being anything of Eddie’s made you weak in the knees.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes, finally able to take a breath and relax, “shit I have something else for you too, but uh.. close your eyes and turn around for me.”

His breath on your neck drives goosebumps and flutters all over your body. The cool feel of a necklace tightens on your neck as Eddie latches it closed, and goes slack once he’s finished. His hands trail down your back and land on your hips to turn you back around. His fingertips digging into your flesh ever so lightly.

The necklace is heavy, something weighing it down but you can’t be sure what it is, it’s not until you glance at his hands that you notice one of his rings is missing, the chunkiest of them all, the pig head is no longer on his middle finger, but around your neck instead.

His fingers skate along your neck as he adjusts it into place, tickling your collar bones with his finger tips, sending shivers across your skin, he keeps this up and you’ll be permanently goose pimpled for the rest of your life. You’d wear them proudly if it meant his hands never left you.

“There,” he announces in finality, his eyes dip to your lips, the necklace and back to your eyes, “aren’t you just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Core throbbing and pooling with molten hot lava at his complimentary words, his velvet, panty dropper voice. Fuck, he is so pretty it hurts.

“Better open your present before your mouth gets you into trouble,” you whisper, blinking long and slow as you stare back into the depths of his eyes, lost in the muddy galaxy.

He grins, his fingers walk up your neck and cup your chin, bringing you ever so slightly towards him, enough that you can feel his breath on your own lips, his tobacco voice pulling you in and wrapping you tight in a nicotine high that they’d make quit ads for in the upcoming future, “oh princess, I’d pay to be in that kind of trouble.”

and you’re floating, in this moment there is no sound, just two souls shedding the last layer of self doubt, the last inkling of the unknown as your toes dip in the warm pools of the burnt caramels of Eddie’s eyes. His lips are slick and you want to get a taste, want to feel the chapped crack in his bottom lip nestled against your tongue, busting the crack open and savoring his blood in your mouth.

The fervoring tension has never been this strong and you wonder if you’ll be able to pull away or if you’ll push yourself up on your tippy toes and close the inch gap between you, sealing your feelings with a kiss. But it’s Eddie who pulls away, taking a ragged breath and hitting himself lightly in the head with your carefully wrapped present.

He could feel the flames from your lips, the sweet venom of your tongue was sirening out to him, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t do it. He has a plan in place and no matter how hard all puns intended it was for him to pull away from you, he had to. Wanting to follow his plan, making sure his i’s were dotted and his t’s were crossed he’d never studied harder for anything in his life. He’d pass this test for sure, having obsessed and studied the material for months, staying up late most nights to tune out the fine details. He’d get this right.

Your eyes droop as he steps away from you tangled in his web of desire you can’t get unreleased from. His fingers slide along the taped edge of the wrapper and you’re certain you’re going to fold like a chair at the way the veins bulge in his hands. He’s looking at the gift you bought, a silence on his lips as you drool for the way he’s holding it. He’s stammering, suddenly an impediment in his vocal chords as his tongue twists thickly against his teeth.

“No way— No fucking way!” He’s screaming, pulling his hair and jumping around the room in a boyish giddiness.

“M-Metallica! Tooty!! No way, dude no way! These are fake right?!”

They weren’t.

Robin always had a craft for winning stupid shit and when the radio station out of Indianapolis announced they were giving away tickets to see Metallica in February to caller number 18, Robin just so happened to call the radio station requesting to do a shout out for Vicky and ended up winning the tickets. The night she came to you to color her hair, you exchanged the service for the tickets.

Before you can answer he grabs you up in his arms, spinning you around the room, holding you tighter than a safety belt on a rollercoaster. He spins and spins as you both laugh like kids.

“Merry Christmas Eddie,” you whisper in his ear when he stops spinning. He’s holding your waist, and you’re on the tips of your toes, his head buried into your neck.

“Why are you so good to me?” Eddie asks solemnly against your neck, his voice vibrating your skin in a heated pulse.

Not answering for a long time, you bathe in his musky scent, his hair tickling your face in silky curls. His strong arms holding you tight against him, your fingers playing with the opening of his flannel and the ends of his curls, your cheek right against his chest, moving with his breathing.

“Because I want to be,” you finally answer, pulling away and getting lost in his inky warm eyes, “you deserve it.”

He reels you back in, his chin atop your head. Minutes melt together and you aren’t sure how long you stand this way, hip bones fusing together as one with your hearts aligning, your eyes have been closed for a while and you feel cracked lips on your forehead, making you shiver as he whispers, softly into your hairline, “my angel.”

-

The next day is filled with chaos. The guys are in and out of the house at the ass crack of dawn bouncing speakers and other odds and ends you didn’t even know were in the house against each other into the back of Eddie’s van. Wearing Eddie’s necklace proudly close to your heart you make them all sit to eat breakfast burritos. They eat and leave with a flash, but not before Eddie comes back through the door. He grabs your hands, holding them softly in his calloused grip, “See you at the show?”

Smiling widely and trying to will the heat from your cheeks away, you answer, “wouldn’t be a proper babysitter if I wasn’t there to watch now would I?”

“Should have made you the janitor,” Eddie grins and as he sees you still wearing his ring around your neck, he tosses you a wink that could liquify smoke. His tall frame slinks out the door driving like a bat out of hell to go set up at the bar.

-

The jeans you’re wearing are so tight accentuating your ass to explicit levels, the worn docs you’ve had for years are perfectly broke in and comfy on your feet, the shirt Eddie made for you wrapped around your chest perfectly, the letters of bending the ‘C’ and the ‘N’ on either side.

Steve, Leighanne, Robin and Vicky pick you up around 6, Robin with her fire engine hair and fishnet stockings under holy jeans. Vicky in a plaid printed overalls and a beret. Steve and Leighanne are both wearing jet black, her in a sheer sleeved button up shirt and a long black skirt. Steve wore an old band shirt he borrowed from Eddie. Your nerves were frazzled but settled slightly when Leighanne and Robin cat called out the window as you paraded down the front steps.

The drive to the Hideout had you stifling a chunky vomit in your throat. Nervous beyond belief you couldn’t shake it. Eddie had asked you to come, made you your own shirt to wear just for tonight, he clearly wanted to see you, wanted to have you watch his band play. Breathing in and out in exaggerated breaths Steve parks the G Wagon and it’s time to go inside. Here goes nothing.

-

Eddie wasn’t kidding, the bar was busy and posters with the bands silhouette were sticking on every surface in the bar and outside of it. Outside the bar was a girl around your age, short in stature, her brown hair piled high on her head, brooding green eyes piercing your own as she smoked a cigarette, selling tickets.

Eyeing your shirt she rolls her eyes, “you must be Eddie’s special guests,” she spits, eyeing you up and down, a jealous pitch in her voice, “guest of honor my ass,” she mumbles to herself as she lets you in free of charge. The Hideout was exactly how you remembered it to be. Pungent smells of spilt liquor and cheap keg beer fill your nose, the smoky haze filling the bar is a welcomed reminder that this place was a legendary spot in Hawkins.

Eddie and the boys were on stage setting up amps and speakers. His long curls catch the light and showering the room with amber swirls of caramel and chocolate. He’s wearing a cut mid drift shirt that looks like it would fit a toddler, his tattoos and fine definitions of his hips and slight abs are on display. Every vein in his arms are protruding and river lined. He’s the single sexiest man on the planet and your body was running over with want.

“Let’s get a drink, yeah?” Steve motions to the sticky counter of the bar. A dark curly haired woman with enormous boobs and red lipstick wearing a t- shirt reading “daddy’s girl” is behind the bar. She’s familiar to you but only in passing, the more you think the more you recognize her as Max's older brother’s girlfriend. Her long red nails clack on the sticky counter as she waits impatiently for you to make a decision.

Steve orders for him and Leighanne and orders Robin a water with a straw, never living down her behavior on his birthday. Vicky and you both order beers that probably should have been cold but with the daggering stare the bartender drove into your skull you didn’t dare ask.

Pocketing the cash Steve slapped into the counter in her bra, she made her way over to the extremely intoxicated drunk girls there for a bachelorette party.

“You’re so fucking pretty, you’re like my bestfriend,” a girl with wavy brown hair and glasses slurs to her friend, her voice up an octave as they power slam fruity drinks that resemble melted skittles.

“I hope Greg realizes what you’re giving up to be with him,” the girl with pinked red hair shouts above the others her leopard print jumpsuit stretched tight across her heaving chest, fussing over her friend with cropped lavender hair’s appearance, holding her up like they’re re-enacting Weekend at Bernie’s.

The bride-to-be pouts and makes a face, “who said I’m giving up anything? This whole bar is free game and according to Jo’s guide for the night, we still have ‘make out with a mustache’ to cross off.”

Snickering as you pass them, Leighanne linked her arm through your left as you make your way to stage, sipping the lukewarm beer in the barely clean glass, its hop tickling your throat with each travel in your mouth. Corroded Coffin has gone backstage and are waiting to be announced. The bar is flooded with people young and old. Reliving their glory days one sparse balding mullet at a time.

“I had no idea Eddie was in a band,” Leighanne whispered loudly into your ear, “he was in such a bad mood when I met him I didn’t really get to know him.”

The memory of Steve’s birthday still stung but the moments after and the day after that were still singing sweetly in your soul. “He’s come around quite a bit,” you explain.

“Yeah,” she agrees, “Steve told me about the two guys he fought at work, said they were mouthing off about you and he just snapped.”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

The bruises on his face, the broken ribs, his cracked and bleeding mouth. That was for you? He fought two guys off because of you?

Mind spinning on its own axis you can’t grasp why he would do that for you. Why he would get himself severely hurt just because some douchebags said some shit about you. It wasn’t worth it. Your eyebrows pull inward and your heart aches even more for Eddie. He was hands down the sweetest man you’ve ever come across. Putting himself in harm’s way just to prove a point. He could have lost his job, could have gotten even more hurt than what he was. It was stupid, reckless and dangerous— but somehow you couldn’t think of anything other than your heart hammering into your chest.

A booming voice fills the speakers and coaxes your attention to the center stage. “Please welcome, all the way from Forest Hills Trailer Park, our own, Corroded Coffin!”

Eddie and the boys trot on stage, Gareth takes his seat behind his drum set, followed by Jeff picking up his bass guitar and Big D picking up his instrument, you notice him winking towards a girl beside you, the blush on her pale cheeks could be seen from another planet.

Eddie is the last out, strutting forward with his runt red warlock guitar slung around his neck and a bullet belt hanging on his slender waist. His smile radiates across his face as he approaches the mic. He looks through the crowd with twinkly eyes and when he catches your stare front and center he winks and bends down, voice low as he speaks only to you— as if no one else is in the room but the pair of you. “Prettiest girl in the world made it all the way from Cherry Lane to come and see me huh?”

“Well since you practically begged,” you quip, heat warming your cheeks as his smile spreads wider.

“Wait for me after?” Eddie asks, eyes dripping deeply into yours, cartoon hearts floating from each blink of his lashes.

His stare could heat a kettle it burned into your soul and cozied up with your heart, softening it to a beautiful graying ash. Nodding and smiling like a fool in love you can’t form words when he shoots you a wink and stands in a swift, fluid motion, grabbing the microphone and shouting, “Hawkins! Are you ready to get this party started?!” The lights beat down on the band as they begin their set for the night.

Thrashing on his guitar, Eddie starts the tinny opening to Metallica’s Wherever I May Roam, followed by Gareth beating into his drums. Having watched them play this song many times in the garage it never ceases to amaze you how deep Eddie’s voice can get in the beginning of the song, his liquid sultry tone curls around your skin and holds you tight. The cords in his neck are profound jutting out in delectable delight. A feast for the wicked. His fingers move deftly along the fretboard as he sings and plays. Hair already slicked with sweat and hanging in a curly wet curtain of onyx down his back and stuck to his face. He’s never looked better. Hardly recognizing anyone around you, you're completely enamored like a moth to a flame by his appearance, his sex appeal on fire, licking up your skin’s gasoline, orange hues in a smoldering fire.

The song finishes and Eddie yells into the mic, “I’m Eddie, and we are Corroded Coffin, if you don’t like metal or the 80’s…”

The crowd chants as Eddie holds the mic out to them, “THEN GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Screams, whoops and hollers are bouncing off every surface of the dingy blackened bar. The beginning bells of For Whom The Bell Tolls chime and the crowd goes wild. When Big D rifts the beginning of Love Bites, Eddie takes a giant swig of Jack Daniels and your tongue aches to lap up the drops coursing down his stomach and finding solace in the waistband of his jeans.

Does he need a chaser? If so, you know the perfect antidote. Hungry like a wolf for him you can feel the soaked panties between your legs, the friction of your jeans give little relief where it’s needed.

The band plays a few more songs, and you are surprised that Eddie’s voice never falters or cracks during the entire nine minutes of Freebird, he nails the guitar solo and his sweltering smooth voice hits your core with each belting ache of the sad song. Steve holds Leighanne from behind and they sway together through the lyrics, he’s whispering into her ear and she’s fighting back tears. Robin and Vicky are slow dancing in a drunken stupor of smoke, completely in their own world.

The drunken girls from the bachelorette party are each making out with men double their age, the bride is getting a piggyback ride from a balding man you recognize to be wait what? Wayne Munson, reliving his glory days and having the time of his life as her white veil is worn around his head, cigarette hung limply from his thin lips. It’s safe to say the entire bar is drunk and having one of the best nights. The bartender has a line of party go-ers to do body shots from her cleavage. It’s hot and humid in the bar but Corroded Coffin doesn’t take any breaks, they keep playing and you can tell exhaustion is evident in Eddie’s face as he sings his heart out.

Eddie’s voice booms as he grabs the mic with a maniacal laugh, he looks down at you and points to you with an outstretched palm, “this next one is for the biggest brat, pain in my ass, absolutely the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever known, we haven’t played this song in years, but I know it’s her favorite.”

Jeff starts thumbing on his bass guitar with Gareth hitting the drums, immediately you know the song. You can’t believe he remembered. It was months ago when you had mentioned it to him, asking shyly if they still played it. Eddie starts singing the first verse,

There’s a place just south of Witches Valley

Where they say the wind won’t blow

And they only speak in whispers of her name

There’s a lady they say that feeds the darkness

It eats right from her hand

With a crying shout, she’ll search you out

And freeze you where you stand

Lady Evil, evil

She’s a magical mystical woman

Lady evil, evil on my mind

She’s the queen of the night

Tears well in your eyes and you can’t help them from falling. Grabbing the necklace he had placed so delicately on you yesterday you rub the tarnished steel between your fingers. It’s not even a sappy song, but the fact he remembered from all those years ago when you were just a bratty sister to his best friend and he was an asshole teenager, made your heart soar. You were in love with him. More than just a little crush, more than just a one night fling, you wanted him as yours— yours and yours alone.

The bar is full of screaming fans, girls with their tops off, throwing their bras at the band, but Eddie’s eyes never leave yours. His soul reaches yours and tells you without words the same thing you are thinking.

The rest of the concert you stand in one spot still staring up at the beautiful man in front of you, utterly intoxicated on him. The valleys of his neck as it vibrates and stretches with his vocal chords, the veiny thick hands as they strum his guitar, his wet hair that would look so delicious wrapped around your fingers. You yearned for him, carnally desired to have those hands wrapped hotly around your skin, between your legs, on your neck. Fuck.

-

The gig ends and the boys slip backstage. “Fuck man! I haven’t seen that many people at one of your gigs ever, where the hell is Gareth?” Big D asks, squeezing a can of spray cheese into his mouth.

“Oh you know him,” Jeff chides, downing a warm beer, “he’s bumping’ uglies with his main, probably locked in the men’s bathroom again.”

They all chuckle and Eddie hurries to grab his stuff, anxious to meet you up front and buy you a drink, maybe take you out for midnight pancakes at Benny’s. Looking as beautiful as ever tonight he had a hard time keeping the gig going, all he wanted to do was jump off stage and kiss you so deeply your bones would sing from his fervor, and now that it was over, he moved into the final phase of his plan, making you his.

“Ash is waiting’ on me, you still riding with us Big D or is Em gettin’ lucky tonight?

Big D wipes his cheese filled lips, “ah I might give her the ol’ pickle tickle, hey man,” he says gesturing to Eddie, “a whole song dedicated to the most gorgeous girl huh?”

Eddie doesn’t miss a beat, “am I wrong? Tooty not pretty enough for you?”

Big D holds his hands up in surrender, “damn dude that’s not what I was getting at— I’m— we are happy for you. Don’t let her get away.”

Eddie smiled sheepishly, “that’s the plan my man,” he says slinging his worn duffel bag over his shoulder, “that’s the plan, gotta go.”

He makes his way down a narrow hallway back to the bar when he’s stopped by the twins. Arms crossed and looks of vengeance on their painted lips.

“Ladies,” Eddie greets, head down and making to pass them, but the stand stone still, blocking his way.

“Daddy,” Cece answers, “that wasn’t very nice the way you treated us the last time we played.” her lips pursed in a pretty pout, a tight faux leather mini skirt exentuating her curves.

Carol purrs as she walks towards him, her hip gripping leather pants and a denim vest adorned with band pins pushes her chest up and nearly to her eyeballs, soft Farrah curls surrounding her face and sway down her back. Her finger curled under his chin, “I think you owe us… a favor.”

“Ooh yes,” Cece agrees, “a big favor,” her hand wraps around the soft length outside his jeans. Lips pressing into his sweaty neck.

“I’m gonna pass,” Eddie says firmly, avoiding Carol’s needy fingers in his hair, “but Gareth might be up for another round, give him about a half hour or so.”

Carol grabs Eddie by his crotch and walks him back into the wall, pinning his shoulders with her arms, her lips tantalizingly close to his neck. “A song dedicated to that bitch roommate of yours?” she seethes, “how pathetic.”

Cece speaks now, her words laced with venom long slicked back pony tail cascading down her back, “bet she can’t fuck like us, word around town is her pussy was trashed by Chad Cunningham.”

Eddie instantly feels a fire in his belly; he's ready to tell them both off, ready to get to you and take you out for a meal. But when he looks up he sees you standing at the end of the hallway, eyes wide and a hand over your mouth. He calls your name but you ignore him, throwing a middle finger over your shoulder and swallowing the lump in your throat as turn on your heel and stomp away, down the hallway and through the loud chattering of drunks in the bar, passed the stage that you finally felt like you were getting somewhere with Eddie, and out the door.

The wind had picked up, blowing snow all around the parking lot. A white wall of opaque blindness, you don't have a jacket but you know the general way on how to get home. Crossing your arms across your chest you put your head down and began to trudge through the parking lot.

Not being able to fathom what you saw, you are pissed that you’re jealous. Pissed that your rockstar roommate, who was known for being a ladies man and a player, pulled one over on you. Made you think he loved you just for him to be sucking face with the twins who were at your house all those months ago. Tears sting and practically freeze to your lashes as you stomp further and further away from the hideout, heart frozen and rigid once again.

With the wind blowing hard you didn’t hear the door being flung open frantically or the loud music being sung by the drunks from the jukebox. Eddie barely catches a glimpse of your black shirt and barrels through the deepening snow to get to you. “Tooty!”

A warm hand wraps around your arm and pulls you around to face him, your eyes are like steel knives into his as he stares into them pleading with you to understand. “You gonna walk the whole way home?”

“What the fuck do you care?” you shout, trying to wiggle your arm away from him, “you must think I’m really fucking stupid huh?”

Eddie is perplexed, face twisted in confusion, “what the hell are y— Jesus Christ it’s freezing out here, let me take you home. We can argue and fight all you want without getting hypothermia.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you!” you cry, trying to shove him away but nearly falling in the snow. You didn’t want to be in his presence ever again. He hurt you, he made you feel like you were special, turns out you're just as common as a penny on the sidewalk, not even face up for luck.

“Tooty,” Eddie barks, voice angry, sharp and full of pain, “if I have to drag you by your goddamn hair into the van I will. I have no problem doing that. Let’s. Go.”

Shoulder checking him on your spin back through the parking lot, you stomp through the thick snow and climb into the passenger seat, shivering and pouting.

Eddie is close behind you, hands raw and red from the elements, trembling as he reaches for the knob to blast the heat. He doesn’t say anything as he pulls out of the parking lot, only looks your way to try and read your face, your peripherals catch him more than once— but you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your tears.

The ride home is full of slippery snow packed roads, at the stop sign before turning onto Cherry, Eddie looks your way, “are you mad at me?”

Are you mad at me? What a stupid fucking question.

“No Eddie I’m over the moon, jumping for joy, mother fucking delighted to see you with not one girl but two— groping you ready to feast on you like a snack.”

Eddie shakes his head, not wanting to argue but seeing no other way through it. “That’s all you saw huh? And where were my hands Tooty? Was I touching them?”

You think hard, unable to to process or give a shit what he was talking about. “I was too distracted to see what you were doing, sorry for leaving so soon and disrupting your rockstar ego in the act— I’m sure you’re into other people watching you fuck.”

Eddie lets out a taunting laugh that is anything but trying to be funny. He’s flabbergasted by how mean you’re being, 100% only seeing what you wanted to.

“You are seriously talking out of your ass right now, ya know that right?” Eddie sneers, pulling into the driveway, he’s hurt and like an animal, he’s lashing out, defending his pride, “Why do you even care if I am, which for the record— I’m not, with someone else? We aren’t dating, you’re not my girlfriend.”

The poisonous words sting worse than the first fight with him ever has. Not giving him a chance to explain, you throw open the door, not slamming it but leaving it wide open and stomp inside. Kicking off your boots you hear two doors slam and Eddie’s boots stomping behind you.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts, “do you ever finish a conversa—”

“Fuck you! You wanna be some rockstar prick with his dick in anything that walks? Be my guest— but keep me out of it!” Turning to your bedroom, Eddie jumps over the couch to block your path, arms stretched across the door frame.

“We,” Eddie yells again, “are going to talk about this, stop running away from me!”

“No,” you chastise, “we aren’t!”

Eddie hears you but presses on, “why are you mad at me because you think you saw me kissing or touching those other girls?”

“Uhh,” you groan, defeated, “leave me alone.”

“Tell me,” he continues.

“No.” You announce crossing your arms.

“Tooty, Jesus Chr— tell me,” he’s losing his calm, agitated by your bratty attitude and refusal to talk to him.

Fidgeting and stamping your foot you don’t want to give in to him, can’t tell him why you’re so upset. How embarrassing to tell someone you’re jealous.

“Eddie— get the fuck out of my way.”

“Tell me why and I will, be a big girl, use your words,” his venomous teasing only fuels your fire.

“Jesus Christ you incessant fucking gnat! Get out of the way!”

Eddie presses forward, inching towards you, making you draw away from him, “are you jealous, Tooty?”

The word makes your cheeks heat, admission written all over your face as he keeps pressing into you further, your back is at the wall and his arms box you in, face inches from yours. “Did seeing me with someone else make you mad?”

Grumbling his name you try to push away from him but he is persistent. “Tell me I’m not crazy, baby.” His whispered tone seeps through your skin, flooding your panties even more, your heart screaming with each beat, mind inching you impossibly closer to him.

“Tell me you want this just as much as I do,” his hooded eyes, pour into yours, licked lips wet with spit.

Toes in the water, it’s surprisingly warm despite the frigid cold of the weather outside, but he’s been keeping you warm now for months.

Hands on his chest you finger the holes in the neck of his shirt. His cold wet hair tickling your hands as you yank him closer to you, practically bumping noses, “you’re not crazy, but I will be if you don’t kiss me.”

Hesitation long forgotten, the smooth silk of your lips are hugged tight against Eddie’s pinked and chapped ones. Floating higher to the galaxy he swore he would take you to, tank full of gas, dancing you around in his arms on Saturn’s rings, diving head first into Jupiter’s springs.

Blissfully euphoric is the language of your spilled lust infused love.

-

for readmore 🦋

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 7]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: I know I always say this, but I am very excited for this part! lol I hope y'all like it! Also, if I forgot to tag you in the taglist, or if you'd like to be added, please let me know! I try to add people as they ask, but I'm afraid I'll miss someone. So just let me know! Thanks!

Taglist: @cassies-cookies @crisle19 @jk-190811 @khadeeeeej @kooklovee @lalataegi @lallataegi @parkinglot-nights @rispwr @taetaecatboy @whoa-jo @11thenightwemet11

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Series Masterlist

“How are you feeling about today?” Namjoon asked his client. 

Jimin was standing with you in the lobby of the courthouse, dressed in his best Ralph Lauren suit, keeping your hand in his. You sported a long-sleeve baby blue pencil dress from Versace that belted around the waist, with a pair of beige Louboutin heels. You chose your outfit knowing that the press would be there that day, and you wanted to appear put together and presentable for your fiancé’s case. Standing by him, with your engagement ring proudly shining on your finger, you could see the cameras outside through the lobby windows, snapping photos that will undoubtedly be front page news tomorrow. You understood fully that the direction the day goes would determine so much; the Park family name, the perception of Jimin as incoming CEO of the company, and most importantly, your future together. 

“I’m ok.” Jimin replied, gripping your hand, before turning to look at your face. “How are you feeling, my love?” 

“I’m ok, too.” You offered a sweet smile. Composed. 

“We’ll get through this.” Namjoon said. “I can’t imagine Judge Harmon being more difficult than he has to be.” 

“How is he? As a judge?” Jimin asks. 

“No bullshit, but fair.” Namjoon replied. “He’s worked in the city a long time, and he’s seen it all. But as long as he can see that you’re trying, he’s fair.” 

Namjoon glanced at his phone, checking the time. 

“We need to go in there, it’s our time.” Namjoon said. “Ms. Y/L/N, thank you for having your statement ready for me this morning.” 

“Of course.” You responded, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “Anything to make this easier.” 

Jimin smiled sadly at your words. He wished it were easier; he wished the situation weren’t so difficult on you. He felt like a liar to your families, and to himself. He knew he’s already failed so many times in taking care of you, loving you, and giving you the life he knows you deserve. Yet here you were, dignified as always, standing by him in front of the world’s attention. He didn’t deserve you, and for the first time, he truly understood that deeply. But he was thankful that you were there nonetheless, holding his hand. 

The four of you walked down the hallway together, and you gave Jimin a quick kiss for luck before slipping away with Jung Kook into the public, gallery seats in the court room, behind Namjoon and Jimin’s council table. The court was empty otherwise, except for the other legal team at their table, as the judge ordered prior to that no cameras were to be inside for this brief decision. 

“All rise for the honorable Judge Joseph Harmon.” The bailiff announced, leading everyone in the room to stand while the judge entered, taking his seat at the bench. “You may be seated.” 

“Mr. Park,” Judge Harmon began, looking up from his glasses to the young heir. “It seems your council is asking for a deferral on your case today. Is that correct?” 

“Yes, your honor.” Jimin answered. 

“Your honor, my client is asking for a minimum ninety day deferral, in order to seek rehabilitation treatment.” Namjoon began. “We request to submit a treatment plan to the court, as well as a personal character statement written by the defendant’s fiancé.” 

“Very well.” Judge Harmon nodded, allowing the bailiff to take the paper work from Namjoon and bring it to him. The court was silent as he looked through the documents quickly. “And, why must the defendant miss his upcoming court dates for this? Could he not be escorted to and from the court during those dates, and return once the day is over?” 

“Your honor, it would be against the suggestion of his therapy team to remove Mr. Park from his in-person support for long hours at a time.” Namjoon reasoned. “His team, as well as Ms. Y/L/N, have requested in writing that Mr. Park focus solely on his health before his dates, as any distraction may disturb his treatment plan.” 

“Your honor,” The opposing lawyer spoke up, her tone annoyed. “Calling this case a ‘distraction’ is insulting to those who Mr. Park misled and defrauded out of their investments. I would argue that Mr. Park is attempting to delay this case in order to lower his chances of facing any consequences for his actions.” 

“If I may, your honor,” Namjoon responded, “I can assure the court that Mr. Park is not delaying consequences, as we feel that we have a strong case against these allegations. My client is simply doing the responsible thing; doing right by his family, his business, and his wife-to-be, by seeking immediate help for his addiction and behavior.” 

“And what behavior would that be, Mr. Kim?” The judge asked. Jimin shot Namjoon a wide-eyed panicked look, not wanting to reveal his private fight with you. 

You became nervous, as well. Jung Kook knowingly reached for your hand, and was surprised when you took it, locking your fingers with his for support. I’m right here, Y/N, he said to himself, as if you could hear his thoughts. 

“Emotional management courses, your honor.” Namjoon replied. “It’s standard practice for someone on this treatment path, as outlined by his recovery team.” 

“I see.” Judge Harmon said, looking at the blonde heir. Jimin was sitting upright, in perfect posture, trying to keep his composure under the weight of the judge’s look. “Mr. Park, I believe it may be best for you to seek treatment before we continue with the case. The court is granting you the request for a ninety-day deferral to focus on your health.” 

“Thank you, your honor.” Namjoon smiled, looking over at a very relieved Jimin. The prosecution lawyer rolled her eyes and tsked in disbelief, but Namjoon paid it no mind. 

Jimin turned around to give you a smile, and Jung Kook mentally thanked his luck that your fiancé didn’t see his hand in yours from where he was sitting, because Jung Kook wasn’t at all ready to let you go; to let you leave his hold, and run back to him. But Jung Kook knew he had to, as much as it hurt him. He knew, despite his heart begging at him to keep you close, that you weren’t his to hold on to. 

————————————————————————————————————

Namjoon brought you and Jimin back to your hotel room to help Jimin pack for his treatment, while Jung Kook retreated back to his office for the rest of the day. When you arrived at the suite, bottles were still scattered among the tables, floors and counters, reminding you of all of the terrible nights, not just the most recent incident, where Jimin had crossed the line. All of the times he messed up, not keeping his promise that he whispered to you that night in front of your families.

“Mr. Kim,” Jimin called out to Namjoon from the bedroom, who was gathering Jimin’s clothes from the closet nearby. “Would you be alright with leaving Y/N and I for the afternoon? My driver will make sure I’m on time for my check-in, I just… I’d like to have some private time with her.” 

“Of course, Mr. Park.” Namjoon said, bowing respectfully. “If either of you need anything, please don't hesitate to call.” 

“Thank you.” Jimin said, waving to him on his way out, before turning to you. 

You were picking up empty bottles with a sadness in your eyes that Jimin never, in his life, wanted to see again. 

“Hi, my love.” Jimin said as gently as he could, approaching you. He could see that sadness so clearly the closer he came, and saw just how deep in truly ran. “Honey, come here. I wanna talk to you.” 

You nodded, and reached out for his hand. Jimin led you to the bedroom, and sat you on the bed before bending down on the floor by your legs to look up at you, making you giggle. 

“Jiminie, what are you doing?” You laughed, earning a smile from your fiancé. 

“Jiminie? Honey, you haven’t called me that in so long.” He replied. “I just wanted to look at you, my love, and I wanted to ask what my pretty girl is thinking about.” 

“I… I don’t wanna fight anymore.” You replied, your voice so quickly turning soft in exhaustion and sadness. 

“There won’t be any fighting today.” He said, rubbing his hands up your legs in comfort. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“I’m just tired.” You responded truthfully. “I’m so tired, baby. I can’t… I don’t know what to do…” 

“Shhhh, I know.” Jimin said gently, looking at your face as you spoke. He could see it from the dark circles under your eyes, and the dullness of your skin. “I know I haven’t made things easy on you, and I’m sorry honey. You must be so worried all the time, right? Not sleeping or eating much?” 

You nodded to confirm. “Jung Kook made japchae, and that was the first full dish I’ve eaten in a while.” 

Jimin smiled unconvincingly, hating to know that another man took care of you in the way he should’ve. 

“I’m glad you ate well, my love.” He said diplomatically. “When I’m in treatment, I want you to you sleep and eat well every day, ok? And I want you to tell me if you need anything at all. ” 

“Baby, I’ll be ok.” You smiled, delicately keeping your composure. “It’s only for a short time, right? You need to focus on getting better, not on my needs. Besides, Jung Kook is there, just in case. I won’t be alone.” 

“Yeah.” Jimin nodded, trying to keep his protectiveness and jealousy under control. “But listen, honey, I mean it. If you need or want anything, you can come to me, ok? I want you to come to me.” 

“Ok.” You nodded. 

Jimin gazed up at you for a moment longer, unsure if you really meant it, because knowing you, you’ll do things yourself or ask someone else before him, just to make sure he focuses on himself. You knew that giving you things was Jimin’s way of feeling adequate. A manicure, a new bag or dress, a nice meal at a nice place, a beautiful vacation, amazing sex. Jimin felt needed and secure as a man when he gave you these things. But what Jimin didn’t realize, was that you needed something that was somehow both more, and so simple. You only needed him to be ok, and to prove that he can be a stable partner for you.   

After a few moments of committing your features to memory, etching them into his mind, Jimin wrapped a hand around each of your ankles, and began kissing up your exposed legs, distracting you from your thoughts. Softly, slowly moving up your skin with his plush pink lips, making you giggle in surprise.

“Jimin!” You laughed sweetly. 

“Let me make you feel good, honey.” He said, his voice deepening as he moves up your legs, lifting your dress. “Gonna use my tongue just how you like it.” 

He continued to pull your dress up as he moved, keeping himself on his knees, nibbling and kissing your thighs until he reached your lace panties. He kissed you over the fabric, teasing you with just enough pressure and tongue to make you whimper in anticipation.

“Jimin, please…” You begged, running your fingers through his blonde locks. 

“Angel, this sweet little pussy’s so wet for me already.” He murmured, moving your lace to the side with one finger. “Such a needy girl, so easy to get your pretty pussy excited.” 

He gave you wet, soft kisses along your opening, nibbling delicately on the skin, making your throw your head back and pick up your breathing. Then, his tongue, pressing quick kitten licks at your clit, which had already peeked out to seek attention. 

“J-Jimin…” You whined, gripping his hair as he continued to alternate between speed and pressure, licking and sucking, burying himself between your thighs. He slid a finger, then two, moving them in and out, and curling them to caress your sensitive spot. “Baby… Baby… Please… Baby…” 

You had no idea what exactly you were begging him for, with your mind emptying alongside each movement. You knew it was a distraction; a moment of pleasure in a sea of pain that you’ve tasted many times before. But for now, you’d let his familiar touch melt your worries away once again. A few more moments of careful attention had your toes curling and your hands pulling his hair as you came with a cry. .

You let him move you up further onto the bed, so that he could undo his pants and drop them to his knees, to let his hard, sensitive length spring out. He slid fully into you with a possessive growl, and began to fuck you hard, making the hotel bed, and yourself, squeak just as you did the first night you stayed here. 

Each movement was a strong cocktail of loving passion, pleasureful distraction, and begging apology, mixed with a lingering sense of his sense of possession. Jimin locked his lips to your neck, and engraved you with shallow marks as he whispered in your ear, “My pretty girl… Fuck, my sweet angel… My girl, taking my cock so well… F-Fuck…. All mine… ” 

It was a clear reminder, whispered to you through your whines as you let pleasure consume you once more, feeling his thumb massage your clit; Parks got what they wanted, and Jimin intended on keeping it that way. His mistakes could always be fixed with the swipe of a card, some sweet words, or a good, loving touch between your thighs. But as his thrusts became more sloppy and shallow, so too did his promises, when he pulled out and spilled onto you, ignoring his vow to finish inside and be closer to you. 

It was a moment of realization, as you lay there looking at his beautiful face, that no matter how seemingly hard he would try, he would always be Jimin. Flaws and all. The way he showed love, the increasingly obvious emptiness of his commitments, the circles he takes your heart in. He will always be that version of himself, because it is the only version of himself.

As he kissed your neck and whispered “I love you”, you wondered, for the first time, if those words, and that love, would ever truly be enough. 

——————————————————————————————————  

You went with Jimin to the rehabilitation center, and after a teary goodbye, you had the driver take you to Jung Kook’s apartment. He was waiting for you in the living room, only able to imagine the emotional day you had. He had rehearsed over and over again what to say, to give you the comfort and love he knew that you needed. But when you walked in with tears, his mind blanked, and the only thing he could think to ask was, “What do you need?” 

“I… I don’t know.” You said softly, unsure of so many things. 

Jung Kook looked at you with sad brown eyes, walked towards you, and replied, “I think what you need, is a hug. C’mere.” 

As he wrapped his arms around you, he realized he couldn’t have offered anything better. You clung to him like a float in a crashing ocean, desperate for a moment of calm. He wanted to provide that for you, so he held you close, hoping it could somehow meld the leftover pieces back together. Or, at the very least, remind you that you never had to pick them back up alone. 

He hoped you understood that later that night, when he heard you speaking to your father on a video call in the guest room. Jung Kook wanted to give you privacy, but when he heard the angry tone of your father, he couldn’t help but overhear through the thin wall between the bedrooms. 

“So Jimin is in treatment right now?” 

“Yes, Appa.” You responded, nervously picking at your nails. “I think he’ll be better afterwards. He just needs some time.” 

“Y/N,” Your father sighed. “I don’t like that you’re dealing with this again. How many more times are you going to have to go through this with him?” 

“He’s really trying.” You said sadly. “He’s not a bad person.” 

“I know he’s not a bad person, sweetie.” You father said, trying to reason with you. “But I think he may be ‘bad’ for you. I don’t know, I’m just worried about you. Are you by yourself now, in a new city?” 

“No, Appa. I’m staying with Jung Kook.” You said. “He works with Mr. Kim, and I used to go to university with him. He’s been very sweet to me, you would like him if you met him.” 

Jung Kook couldn’t help but smile at your words, but still held on to what your father said. Jimin’s not a bad person, but he’s bad for you. Your own father having doubts about your engagement was not something he expected to hear, but he shouldn’t say he was all that surprised. You deserved more. 

When he heard you say your goodbyes, his thoughts were interrupted, and he began to scroll through his phone as he laid on his bed, pretending as though he hadn’t heard your conversation. 

“Hi.” You said after a few moments, with a knock on his bedroom door. “I think I’m going to bed.” 

“I’m sure you’re tired. It’s been a hard day.” Jung Kook responded, watching you turn around. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, turning around towards him once more. 

“I’m off tomorrow.” He smiled. “Let me show you some cool places in the city.” 

“Jung Kook, you don’t have to do that-”

“I want to.” He replied. “Please? I think I… um, it can make you feel better.” 

You smiled at his sentiment, ignoring the charming slip of his words. 

“Ok.” You agreed, giving in to the brown, puppy eyes of the man who looked so soft in his bed. “It’ll be fun.” 

“Yeah.” He smiled. "I think so, too."

“Goodnight.” You waved, turning away from him. 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened, watching your hand wave him good night. Something was different, missing, that was clearly there before your conversation with your father. It made his heart drop to his stomach, and his mind buzz for the rest of the night.

Your engagement ring was gone. 

[ferrstappen]

F1 MASTERLIST

CARLOS SAINZ

paella en mallorca: spending time with your boyfriend's family was almost as good as having him for yourself.

mónaco : pero si hay algo que nos quedó es todo lo que pasó en Mónaco (but if there's something left in us then it's everything that happened in Monaco)

CHARLES LECLERC

loving him is red: Charles’ girlfriend receives her first Grammy for Song of the Year, sadly enough the inspiration behind the song isn’t able to make it to the ceremony.

and the Oscar goes to: Charles and his actress girlfriend go to the Oscars, and he has to constantly reassure her.

AirPods and Princess George: a story of lost AirPods and Twitter memes.

titi we don't care: Charles can't seem to handle the fact a notorious singer took interest in you during Monaco GP.

Josephine, baby nº2 and baby nº3 Leclerc (dad!Charles)

the first one (dad!Charles):  Charles tries to prepare to be the best dad for his daughter, even if she’s just two days old.

aren't we supposed to surprise you? (dad!Charles): you somehow manage to overshadow Charles and Jo's gift.

ESTEBAN OCON

LONG LIVE: Esteban Ocon (aka the biggest Spiderman fan, according to himself) tried to bribe his girlfriend for spoilers, but Marvel was just too good keeping their secrets (actress!reader)

LANDO NORRIS

august: every single one of her friends warned her that he was fresh out of a relationship. but she didn't care.

when we broke up series

the first time we broke up: it was easy to remember how you and Lando fell in love, but it kept getting harder for you to remember why you love him.

the second time we broke up: there were reasons to try again, but maybe not enough.

everybody wants a taste : Lando had never been the jealous kind, but after seeing you with many co-stars, he reaches his limit. and his girlfriend doesn't like it (actress!reader)

part ii

Amalia Norris (dad!Lando)

surprise! we are a family : this wasn't planned. you are basically children yourselves and why isn't getting pregnant at 24 not considered teen pregnancy? Now Lando is waiting to meet his baby and hoping he doesn't mess up.

meet & greet : Amalia's first time in the paddock to support her dad.

let me take care of it : when papa isn't feeling his best, baby Norris knows what she has to do.

daddy's a race winner : McLaren garage with baby Amalia in what appears to be Lando’s first win.

MAX VERSTAPPEN

what happens with the kids?: Max really didn't have to find a girlfriend that soon after the divorce, and the fact that his girlfriend had a daughter of her own, didn't really help your case.

max, don't panic (driver!reader): your relationship with Max gets exposed in a non-conventional way, an accident.

max the wag: you can’t keep up with all the drama outside the track, but your boyfriend keeps you updated.

max the wag (again) max the wag (for the third time) max the wag: are we the drama? max the wag: caught in the middle max the wag: is taylor swift coming?

chicken soup: chamomile, green tea, honey, chicken soup, and your boyfriend was the best recipe to get over the flu.

primero llegó verstappen : Suddenly, Max isn't annoyed about being featured in a music video.

SLUT! : this isn’t your first time being a WAG, but people don’t seem to like the idea of you ending your relationship with Joe Burrow and falling in love with Max.

Mila & Luca Verstappen (dad!Max)

SAFE HAVEN: the Verstappen family and St. Barths

Disney World Break: Ahead of the Miami GP, Max and his wife take the twins to Disney World.

happy mother's day, sorry for the mess: Mila and Luca go rogue during Mother's Day, ignoring Max's plan.

unscheduled school visit: the twins’ teacher calls, the twins got in trouble. Max is in disbelief.

maxplaining 2.0: Luca Verstappen's first press conference during his karting career. turns out, he even speaks like his dad.

could you be more obvious? : you show up pregnant for the first race of 2024, just six months after Max won his 3rd WDC.

prompts

Accidentally referring them as "my" (MV1)

and whispering in their ears, "I love you" (CS55)

collections

THE COLLECTION MASTERLIST: pieces inspired by Taylor Swift's lyrics.

all the years we stood there on the sidelines, wishing for right now (EO31)

wanting was enough, for me it was enough (LN4)

[adventuringblind]

Pleaseeee part two of media relations!!!

Maybe J*s’ texts and comments to reader get brought up and Mac and Charles get all protective (maybe time skip with a mini verstappen 👀)

- 📚 @ireadthensuetheauthors

Media Relations Part Two

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: angst

Summary: Max and Charles get protective when Jos goes a bit to far.

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, lestappen if you squint, rough pregnancy and birth,

Notes: Reminder that I'm not a doctor :)

Masterlist

Charles had mixed feelings about the whole situation. Angry that Ferrari and Redbull screwed over his sister and friend. Happy that they don’t have to pretend to be in love anymore. Sad that she moved out of his apartment and into Max’s. Now he adds confused to his list.

The two had come over to his apartment for dinner. He wanted to show his appreciation for his sister and what she'd tried to do for him regardless of if falling through.

The female, though, had been anxiously eyeing her phone screen. It had buzzed a few times against the table, but she hadn't picked it up. It looked like she was even getting farther away from it.

When she excused herself, Charles jumped on the opportunity. "Is she okay? She's been acting a bit strangley."

Max sighs and stares at her empty place at the table. "She insists everything is fine, but you and I have known her long enough to see when something is off." Max looks at Charles, and the Monegasque can see the worry on his face. "She's been eating less and has barely touched her phone. She hasn't talked to anyone outside of me or you in a while."

"Yes, I know. My mother is getting worried about her."

Both of them had come to the conclusion that it's possible she's just going through a rough patch.

~

It's crazy how things change over the course of a year. Her and Max had been flourishing. Absolutely in love.

Max had been planning on proposing. Even going to Charles to ask his blessing.

The Dutch had yet to learn that plans change on a whim. That when he found his hopefully soon to be fiance crying on the bathroom floor of his hotel room his world would be changed again.

He sets himself down onto the floor and pulls her into him.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpers, handing Max a plastic stick. Ten of them, actually.

“You’re pregnant?”

She starts sobbing again but Max feels the opposite. He’s all smiles and warmth.

It’s not shocking she’s upset. Not to him, at least. She’s been on the receiving end of hate over the last year. Someone had leaked that they were originally doing this for a contract. Another reason Max wants to marry her. Help her insecurities about the whole thing.

“There is no reason to apologize.” He kisses her head.

“Your not mad at me? What if this is another distraction?”

“Another distraction? Where did you get that idea?”

She freezes. Her chest was barely moving. “No reason - just my brain being dumb." She starts wiping her tears away, but Max moves her hands aside and does it for her.

"Marry me?"

"What?"

“Marry me, please.” It was supposed to be romantic. He’ll make it romantic eventually. But as he stares at the smile on her face and shine in her eyes, he knew he made the right choice/

“Yes.”

~

Charles was the first to know. She’d called him much more excited then when Max had found her on the floor. She had yet to tell him about the threats she’d been receiving. He had his own things to worry about, specially with the contract leak. She didn’t want to bother him with her problems.

She’s two months in and laying on the floor in Charles apartment waiting for Max to come get her. “Charlie, what if this is a bad idea?”

Charles looks up from his phone. “What is a bad idea?”

“Max, the baby, everything I’ve ever done in my life.” She sighs.

Charles rolls his eyes at her. “You used to never ask these questions. I think there is something else going on.”

“Nothing at all.”

Charles once again want to push for answers. She got better for a while. Now she’s worse again. The truth is that mental health is not a straight road and he knows that, but he wishes for nothing more then his sister to communicate with him.

~

Four months now. She’s struggling worse then she ever has been. She loves Max with every fiber of her being. Yet she can’t bring herself to tell him the vile things Jos whispers to her when he’s not around or the texts she receives whenever he catches wind of what they do in their off time.

She’s struggling with the pregnancy in and it’s only been three months. She’s had to stay with her mother while Max is traveling. The doctor keeping a close eye on her.

She didn’t want to be a problem while he’s working. Maybe that’s the reason he’s dominating right now. She’s not there to Interfere.

She knows Max loves her. It’s what she clings to daily. The reason she pulls herself together every morning despite the fans and Jos.

It’s the thought that puts her to sleep as she curls up in bed and dreams of him.

Jos leaves with a huff when he gets no response.

Is the pain supposed to be this bad? Where’s her phone? Everything is fuzzy and if she could just find someone who could help her maybe she’d be okay.

But the exhaustion hits to soon. The floor becoming her new home.

~

Seven months. She’s going to see him race seven months pregnant. It’s the last race before summer break. She wanted to see at least one race before they go on holiday.

That’s how she got herself here. Standing in hospitality with Jos Verstappen.

She needs Max. Jos had been not so subtly telling her she shouldn’t be here. She’d turned her brain off after the first paragraph.

Her water had broken after the second.

She needs Max. Or Charles. Or literally anyone at this point.

“Are you even listening to me?!” When did he get so close? She’s three months early so the stress of the situation must have cause an early labor. It doesn’t help that she’s not listening and the feeling of liquid on her leg isn’t helping.

~

“Charles! Have you seen your sister anywhere?” Max gets the Monegasque’s attention.

Charles spins on his heels to face him. “She was in the Redbull garage last time I heard from her. Have you tried hospitality?”

“No, not yet. Might be a bit stupid for that one.” He chuckles.

“Mind if I come with? She looked pale when I left her before the race.”

“Only if you’re okay with the stares.” They both laugh and chat on the way. Since the female Leclerc has become a common factor between them, they’ve grown into quite the pair themselves.

They walk leisurely together through the paddock until Max catches sight of his father. The older male stomps in their direction.

"Tell that girl of yours to be more respectful." He shoves past Max and continues his fit straight through the lines of people.

Max rolls his eyes. His fiancé hadn't hesitated to stand up to his father in the past when it came to him. She was willing to fight anyone for people she cares about. Most likely, that's what happened.

Though there is a feeling in his gut that something else is going on. He and Charles now jog to the entrance.

Why are there so many people around?

His eyes fall to the figure on the floor, and he freezes. Clueless on what to do.

"We've called an ambulance for her." Says somone in the area. He can't tell who. Everyone's voices are swimming.

Charles' hand on his shoulder shakes him from his trance. Max's body is kneeling next to her in seconds.

Charles is calling his mother. She knows everything about her recent medical history forwards and backward.

"She's in labor, I think." Says a different female.

Labor? She's three months early. His mind is reeling, and he knows he needs to get a grip.

He looks at Charles for any sort of support, but the Monegasque is ranting in reach over the phone. Charles does catch his gaze, however, sliding to the floor on the other side of her.

It feels like an eternity until the ambulance gets there. Then Max and Charles are driving to meet her there.

Of course, it's the one week they are in a different country with no family around. He'd texted Christian, the Austrian was more than understanding. He even said he can't wait to meet the mini Verstappen.

The realization hadn't sunk in that he's going to become a father here shortly. "Charles I'm going to be a dad."

"And I'm going to be an uncle. We've known this for a while, mate." Charles is smiling, but Max can see the fear behind his eyes. Passing out is never a good sign.

~

Max is brought back to her room immediately. Charles had to wait for now until she could give permission. Apperently, she'd woken up screaming for Max.

It was too late for any kind of pain medication. The labor was induced by stress. Things didn't look like they should, and Max was panicking when they told him.

They get him sanitized so he can go in the room, and he dosen't know what to do. So he does the one thing he knows how to do and holds her hand.

"Max, it hurts so much." He can see the sweat and tears in her eyes.

It's long and tiring on her end.

But the sound of her baby's cries are all worth it.

~

Charles gets to go see them hours later when she's cleaned up. She looks exhausted when he peeks in the door. The baby lays peacefully on her chest.

Max is sitting next to her, waving him in with a massive grin.

"Charlie." She whispers. "Meet Jules." A baby boy is handed over to him and he dosen't know what to do with himself.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired and sore. Where is maman?"

"She'll be here as soon as she can." He smooths some hair out if her face.

"Charles, can I talk to you outside for a moment?" The Monegasque nods his head and hands the tiny body back to his sister.

Him and Max step outside the door, it shutting behind them with a small click.

"They said it was a stress induced labor. She suffered immensely because of it. Both her and the baby are going to need extra care for a little bit." Max explains.

Charles can hear the waiver in his voice. "Stress from what? The race ended perfectly." Charles taps his chin. His brain trying to think back.

"Do you - do you think it could have been my dad?" Max asks. Teary-eyed and exhausted, the Dutch doesn't know what else it could be.

"You don't think?-"

~

Max creeps back out of the room a second later. His lover and son asleep on the bed.

He clutches her phone in his hand. "I don't like invading her privacy."

"She's been scared of her phone for around two years now. I think we need to look for her safety and health."

Max unlocks the phone and sees a million unread messages. The majority is from an unsaved number.

Max keels over when he reads them. It's his dad's number. He'd texted his dad when the baby was delivered. He's coming to the hospital shortly to visit.

He feels idiotic. How had he not caught this sooner?

Charles helps Max back to his feet. "My dad's been sending her threats. Convincing her not to come to races. Telling her my success is better when she's not around to distract me." Saying the words out loud makes him feel sick again.

Charles takes the phone from his hands and scrolls through the messages so he disent have too. "I don't like how he calls the baby a parasite." He scrunchs up his nose in disgust.

Charles turns off the phone and grabs Max by the shoulders. "You cannot blame yourself for this. It's your dad, and you are not him. You are gentle and kind, and you've treated my sister better than I could've asked for." Max dries his eyes and nods his head.

She and his son both need him now.

~

Everything hurts. Her body feels weak and exhausted. But her mind hasn't been this elated in months.

Jules is lying on her chest. The name was something her and Charles fought over. Having then losing their godfather made them both want it. So it was decided that whoever had a child first gets the name.

Why does everything hurt so much? Charles and Max had to run back to the track to get their stuff but promised they'd be right back. That was twenty minutes ago, meaning they'll be back shortly.

When there's a knock at the door, she's surprised. Maybe her nap was longer then she thought?

Then, a familiar unfriendly face appears inside. "You had one job."

"Please get out."

"I told you to get rid of that thing." He snarls. Her mind is reeling, and the shouting wakes the baby.

She's crying as well, and his antics are doing nothing for her pain. Her heart rate was going up. She could hear it on the monitor.

She's frozen. The pain she felt from their last encounter back in full force.

She screams this time its so bad.

Max and Charles come running in the room. She didn't know how long she'd been screaming, but it was enough that people had heard.

Charles runs back out, yelling the word security.

Max's voice is fuzzy, but he's here. Her heart calmed with his presence. The beeping noise now less intense.

There are a few nurses around. One to take the baby, which makes her panic again. Another is to get her to breathe and give her something for the pain.

"You need to leave. I know what you've been doing now." Max seethes. He doesn't raise his voice, but he doesn't need to. His tone is enough to say everything and more.

They start speaking in Dutch. She can't keep up with it. She's too busy attempting to get Jules back anyway. Jos had threatened to take the baby a few times and being sperated like this with him in the room was doing nothing for her anxiety.

Charles comes back with security, who escort him out of the building. The room goes silent as he leaves.

"I told him never to speak to us again." Max is breathing heavily, and for a moment, she thinks she misheard. "I told him what he did is unforgivable, and he is never to speak to us again."

They both cry this time. The nurses leave them, and Charles is left holding Jules until the two calm down.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to ruin your relationship with him." She chokes. "I didn't want to be a hindrance for you or another problem to worry about."

All the hate she's received the past few years is not something she'd ever wish on someone. She just wants to live peacefully with her family.

"You have no reason to apologize. None of that is on you. They are jealous of you, and my dad is plain evil."

Max leans his forehead against hers. "We have our own little family now. I don't care what anyone has to say, I'm going to fight for it always."

[yappielestappie]

Some lestappen thoughts in these trying times:

I think Max and Charles have a bond unlike anyone else in F1, even though they’re not that close of friends. I’d even go so far as to say they’re trauma bonded.

We all know Jos was downright horrible. It’s quite reasonable to assume that this was very hard on Max as a child, and that he felt alienated and alone (recall the quote of him saying it would’ve been nice to be able to play football with kids his age, sometimes). The only times he got to hang around with kids his age was on the race track. And who was always there? Always at the top? Always challenging him? Charles Leclerc.

Charles, meanwhile, had the opposite. He had a entire support system built around his racing career. He had both brothers and his godfather with him, and a fathers love to guide him through. In his teens, he lost both Jules and his father, and suddenly, the only consistent familiar part of racing that remainder from his childhood, would have been Max.

Meanwhile, while Charles was suffering this loss, Max was in Formula 1, in a top team, doing quite well, and had picked up a support system (albeit a likely limited one) in Daniel Riccardo. I think Charles was extremely jealous of Max when he also got to F1 in 2018. Their whole lives, they’d been opponents, and then Max beat him to F1 by 3 years & had everything Charles did not (a good seat, a father, an older F1 driver to guide him). I also think that’s why the Austria 2019 podium ended up being such a big conflict. It was a lot more than just a win to Charles. It was proving himself.

Now, they’ve both matured (Daniel helped Max and Seb helped Charles). They can look back on their karting days fondly, and they both recognize that the only real supportive part of their karting careers that still remains, is each other. All the hatred they had for one another has turned into support, and a kind of respect that very few drivers have for one another.

They have something special. It’s undeniable. There’s no other drivers on the grid that have history anything like them (Pierresteban could be discussed but that’s a whole mess). And now I think they’re old enough to realize they have something special.

Max genuinely cares about Charles. It’s obvious. Their racing is so much different to anyone else Max goes wheel to wheel with. Leclerc is the only driver I’ve ever seen him apologize to. The whole “Charlie I’ve got a space for you!” Thing is still blowing my mind. Max talks about Charles like he’s the only one Max actually wants to race, like Charles is the only person worthy of challenging him. He rates Charles over everyone else even when he fucks up “come on Charles man, too many mistakes” comes to mind.

And Charles is the same way right back, he just usually has a bit more shame. It’s worth noting that he speaks highly about a lot of other drivers, but Max always seems special. He compliments max out the wazoo sometimes. It’s clear that he sees Max as the very best - as the benchmark to beat. But more than that, he defends Max just like we do. Charles always supports Max’s moves on Lando, even when they’re clearly in the wrong. He supports Max’s aggressive racing, claims to LIKE it even, when Max is being constantly harassed by the fans and media.

There’s something between them. Some unspoken reason why they support each other like this and the only conclusion I can come to is that the memories they have of each other are inseparable from their memories of racing. They’ve been competing at the top since they were 6 years old. They know how to be rivals better than they know how to do anything else in the world.

I don’t know if they ever hang out outside of F1. I don’t know if we’ll ever see them interact again once Max retires. But I do know that they’ve shaped each other in a way that will impact them until the day they die. Every untainted memory from their childhoods is about each other. All the memories of loss and abuse are separate to their memories of each other. They are the only thing that remains.

The most fundamental part of racing for Max, is beating Charles. And the most fundamental part of racing for Charles, is beating Max. Everyone else on the grid is irrelevant- an obstacle. They are two halves of the same story and I think that’s more beautiful than any romance book I’ve ever read.

oh anon you are so absolutely right. listen for me, it's the fact that we can talk all day about lestappen and ship them or let our imaginations and minds go wild with w/e but fundamentally? at the end of the day? there is also substance to it - even any form of fandom aside, there are simply facts about them that make them such a beautiful dynamic. there is something so mesmerizing about the level on which they drive, perform, their talents and skills and the way they grew up with and around each other in a sense. the beautiful juxtapositions, the red strings of fate, the way their paths kept crossing and intertwining even before they raced each other again (suzuka being max' first proper f1 test drives and then jules etc.)... there is just something cosmic about them that (as stated in some previous post) almost boils down to THEM BOTH BEING LIBRAS which is still driving me insane. the balance. the way this just screams UNIVERSE just as partners in life, as twin flames, as two sides of the same coin, two weights on a scale... again, not even saying this is related to the fandom angle of romance. like you said it almost runs deeper than that. and i, personally, refuse to be normal about it the same way the two of them are never truly normal about each other.