#just went a full hour without letting up on this one part of the fic

[altruisticalastor]

so i’m cooking up part three right now and all i can equate my feelings to for this chapter is this image right here

[wendichester]

hiii it is i again \(^o^)/

was wondering if you could per chance maybe write a castiel x reader fic where he comforts the reader after a series of unfortunate events day. i need some fluff after not spontaneously combusting with the day i’ve had.

love your writing!!!

‧₊˚✩彡 in the quiet,

summary. you've been going through it. it's like the universe has personally decided to challenge you. and you're losing. luckily for you, you have an angel on your shoulder--or willing to burrow you one.

pairing. castiel x reader genre. comfort

wordcount. 607

notes / warnings. thank you so much for requesting this, sweets! hope it helps a little 😙 // light touch of anxiety and frustration, reader having a rough day, comforting physical affection (platonic kinda)

The door creaks softly as you push it open, shoulder first, too tired to care about stealth or politeness. You’re soaked from the rain, your hair sticking to your neck, your jacket dripping onto the bunker floor like the universe itself is mocking you.

You drop your keys. Again. Third time today.

“Perfect,” you mutter, crouching to pick them up with hands that are shaking harder than you’d like to admit.

It’s been a day. No—a series of days.

Coffee spilled. Car battery died. Case went sideways. Dean snapped at you. Sam accidentally erased three hours of research. And now, the sky opened up just to spit on you. Of course it did.

You barely notice Castiel until he speaks.

“You’re upset.”

You flinch, then sigh. “Cas. Jesus.”

“I am not Jesus,” he says calmly, stepping into the hallway light.

You snort weakly, rubbing your face. “Yeah, I know. Just a saying.”

He watches you. Head tilted. Gentle concern written in every line of his face.

“You are…” he pauses, looking for the word. “Frayed.”

That makes you laugh—a raw, tired sound. “That’s one way to put it.”

You expect him to offer a solution. An awkward question. Maybe another ‘why are you like this?’ angel interrogation. Instead, he just walks over to you. Silent, slow. Careful.

“May I?” he asks, already lifting his hands toward your face.

You nod.

His fingers brush along your cheeks, your temples, like he’s reading something there. You lean into his palm without meaning to. His skin is warm. Steady.

“You don’t have to be strong right now,” he says quietly. “You don’t even have to speak.”

Your throat tightens.

“I just wanted to come home and not cry,” you whisper.

“You are home,” Castiel replies, voice barely audible.

And then—he wraps his arms around you.

You tense at first. Not used to this. Not used to him being this solid, this close. But he doesn’t push. Just holds you like you’re something breakable, sacred. His coat smells like ozone and safety. His chin rests lightly against your hair.

You break.

Quietly. Softly. No big sobs, no theatrics. Just a long exhale, and then another, and then the tears come like they’ve been waiting at the gates all day.

He holds you through it.

He doesn’t try to fix anything. Doesn’t shush you or tell you it’s going to be okay. He just stays.

And in a world full of monsters and chaos and endings that never come gently—Castiel staying feels like a small miracle.

Eventually, your breathing evens out. Your fingers clutch the lapels of his coat like a lifeline.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

His voice rumbles low. “You never have to thank me for caring about you.”

You pull back slightly, just enough to see his face. “You care about me?”

His brows pull together, puzzled. “Of course.”

There’s something naked in his eyes—something unsure, like he’s worried he said it wrong. You smile, watery and crooked and real.

“I care about you too, Cas.”

His expression softens, like clouds parting just a little.

“Good,” he says simply. “That makes this easier.”

“This?”

He hesitates, then brushes your damp hair back from your face. “Letting you fall asleep against me without worrying you’ll wake up embarrassed.”

You blink at him.

“You’re—?”

“You’re exhausted,” he says. “And I’d like to make that better. If you’ll let me.”

You nod.

He leads you to the couch. Wraps a blanket around your shoulders. Sits close, warm and still, letting you lean against him without pressure.

You fall asleep before you can ask what he meant by easier.

He doesn't move all night.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[wolverinesbuttcheeks]

Burning point

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader Rating:  Explicit/ READ AT YALLS OWN RISK!! warnings: curse, sex-or-die, slow burn, hunter reader, awkward Sam, bobby research guy duties, smut , pinv , (mutual?) pining

THE PHOTO FOR THIS FIC💥👆

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The witch was supposed to be easy.

You, Dean, and Sam had tracked her to a rundown farmhouse in Arkansas. She’d been draining lifeforce from local farmers through cursed objects—hairbrushes, wallets, wedding rings. You knew the signs. The lore said she was using binding circles for energy manipulation, not for casting anything long-term.

So when you, Dean, and Sam broke into her place just after sunset, you weren’t expecting a fight—just a cleanup.

But witches, especially old ones, don’t go down without a parting gift.

“Don’t let her chant!” Sam had warned as you burst into the attic, where the air was thick with incense and blood sigils glowed on the wood.

You and Dean lunged forward, weapons ready. But the witch locked eyes with the two of you and whispered three words in Latin you didn’t catch—too fast, too quiet. She didn’t look at Sam. Just at you and Dean.

A burning red light flared beneath your feet.

Dean yelled something and tackled her to the ground, ending her spell permanently with a silver blade to the heart.

The light vanished.

The body crumpled.

Everything went silent.

You exchanged looks, breathless and confused. “What the hell was that?”

Dean wiped his knife on his jeans. “Some flare-up. Probably a last-ditch hex. It’s gone now.”

But the air still buzzed. The symbols under your boots shimmered for a second longer before they dimmed, leaving a faint impression of two connected rings—intertwined.

Binding magic.

But none of you saw that.

Not then.

•••

The motel room was hotter than hell, and not in the good way.

Dean paced by the window, fanning himself with a motel brochure. “This is freakin’ ridiculous. The AC’s on full blast and I’m still sweatin’ like a sinner in church.”

You were lying back on the bed, tank top clinging to your skin, your thighs sticking to the sheets. “Yeah, well, your charming personality must be radiating heat.”

He shot you a look. “Funny.”

You didn’t feel funny. You felt feverish, flushed, and your heartbeat hadn’t slowed since you woke up. The hunt the night before had been a success—witch taken down, hex bag burned, creepy symbols covered. Everything should’ve been fine.

So why did you and Dean both feel like you were melting from the inside out?

Sam was hunched over his laptop at the table, scrolling furiously through lore, eyes squinting at an old scanned text. “This doesn’t make sense. I mean, you both were exposed to the same thing—same spell circle. There’s no sign of poison, or disease…”

Dean ripped off his flannel, standing in just a sweat-soaked T-shirt now. “What if it’s some kinda fever curse?”

“Working on it,” Sam muttered, then reached for his phone. “I’m calling Bobby.”

You groaned and sat up, wiping your forehead. “Bobby’s just gonna tell us we’ve been idiots.”

Sam didn’t answer, just walked into the bathroom for privacy while the phone rang. Dean collapsed beside you on the bed with a grunt, his breath hot and uneven. “Y/N… be honest. You feelin’ weird too? Like… your skin’s on fire?”

Your eyes locked with his, and suddenly the tension that had always bubbled between you and Dean—the flirty barbs, the almosts and maybes—felt molten.

“I feel like my blood’s boiling,” you admitted.

Dean swallowed hard.

Just then, Sam walked out, looking very, very uncomfortable.

“Uh… okay, so Bobby figured it out.” He didn’t meet your eyes. “It’s… it’s a curse.”

“Well, no shit,” Dean snapped. “What kind?”

Sam scratched the back of his neck. “It’s a binding heat curse. Kind of… rare. It’s meant to punish intruders in coven territory.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Binding heat curse?”

Sam cleared his throat. “If you don’t, uh… fulfill the heat with the person you’re bonded to within twenty-four hours… your nervous system overloads. You both die.”

Silence.

Dean blinked. “You mean we have to—?”

Sam looked at the ceiling. “Yes. Or you die.”

Dean turned to you slowly, jaw slack. “You’re the one I’m… bonded to?”

You raised a brow, your voice dry despite the way your thighs clenched under your shorts. “Apparently.”

Sam backed toward the door. “I’m… gonna go grab some supplies. I’ll be gone for a bit.”

You and Dean didn’t move, eyes locked on each other like prey circling.

When the door clicked shut, you both exhaled at once.

“So…” Dean licked his lips, gaze dropping briefly to your chest, damp from sweat and rising fast with shallow breath. “Guess Bobby doesn’t do dinner and a movie first.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is insane. We should—should think about this.”

“Y/N,” Dean said, voice gravel-deep and soft now, “if we don’t… we’re dead.”

You stood, pacing. “Yeah, well maybe Sam can find a workaround—”

Dean stood too, suddenly right in front of you. “And if he doesn’t?”

You stopped. His eyes were locked on yours, full of heat, tension, and something else: desire that had nothing to do with the curse.

You swallowed, heart racing. “Dean…”

“You’re not the only one who’s been thinking about this,” he said, voice low. “Even before the curse. You’ve been in my head, Y/N. You drive me crazy.”

Your breath hitched.

And that was the last moment of restraint either of you had.

Dean’s mouth crashed against yours in a brutal kiss, all tongue and teeth and heat. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against his body, and you moaned at the hard press of him through his jeans.

Clothes came off fast and frantic—his hands tugging your tank top over your head, your fingers fumbling with his belt. You ended up half-naked on the bed in a tangle of limbs and breathless gasps.

He paused only once, hovering over you, eyes searching. “You okay?”

You nodded, voice soft but sure. “I want this, Dean.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Dean slid inside you with a groan that sounded like he’d been waiting for this his whole damn life. Your bodies moved in sync, all urgency and need, sweat mingling, breaths ragged. He kissed your neck, your collarbone, every inch of you he could reach, hands everywhere.

“God, Y/N,” he gasped into your ear. “You feel so good—so fuckin’ good.”

Your nails scraped down his back. “Don’t stop, Dean, please—”

He didn’t. He fucked you like you were the only thing that could keep him alive—because, for once, you literally were. And as you shattered beneath him, stars bursting behind your eyes, he followed you over the edge with a guttural moan of your name.

When you finally collapsed together, panting, trembling, and slick with sweat, you felt… calm. No fever. No burning. Just Dean’s warm hand stroking your back, and his lips brushing your temple.

“Well,” he whispered, grinning. “That’s one way to break a curse.”

You snorted. “Next time, we’re using a witch hazel charm like normal hunters.”

Dean kissed your shoulder. “Next time, huh?”

You rolled over, pinning him with a playful smirk. “Don’t get cocky, Winchester.”

He raised a brow. “Too late.”

THE END.

☄️🪐⭐️☄️🪐⭐️☄️🪐⭐️☄️🪐⭐️☄️🪐⭐️☄️

a/n: I NEED more fics of Dean, so I made this one- I REALLY HOPE YALL LIKED!!🫶

[fiastomatocheek]

THREE MONTHS IN

requested: yes | req: i live for angsty marital issues bc that’s real life!! I feel like maybe the main argument in their relationship would be about him not showing up for lucy or reader. i think it’d definitely cause massive tension between the two of them.

pair: dad!luke hughes x f!reader.

genre: domestic angst, emotional hurt/comfort, slice-of-life, romance, parenthood.

warnings: postpartum exhaustion, emotional vulnerability, soft confrontation, miscommunication, no yelling or aggression, themes of loneliness and readjusting to new parenthood.

summary: three months in with a three and a half months old baby, lucy, you told yourself you were prepared for the hard parts. you told yourself you could be steady while luke was gone for practice and games when the season begin, that you didn’t need help if you just planned enough. but exhaustion has a way of creeping in, and so does silence.

fia’s note: at first, i was planning to write this with the reader experiencing a bit of postpartum depression not something too heavy, just a subtle version. but after thinking it through, i decided not to include it, since i don’t have personal experience with it, nor do i know someone close who has gone through it. out of respect, i chose to leave it out. and to any young or new mothers out there who may be dealing with postpartum depression: just a little reminder that you’re doing your best and that’s more than enough. please take care of yourself, stay gentle with your heart, and know that you’re doing amazing!! love ya!!

tagging team fia ! — @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @hopefulsuitcasemoneyzonk @kell9rs @alwaysclassyeagle @nokiaholland @macka @silvenyy @bd147ms @voidvannie

fia’s masterlist | join fia’s taglist | yap & fic | mondays with fia

Angry? No, not really.

That was what you told yourself, over and over again, as the clock now past 22:30 and Luke still hadn’t walked through the door.

You weren’t mad. You were just tired. Really tired. And a little lonely. And a bit disappointed.

Lucy had gone down for the night at 19:04. You remembered the exact minute because she’d finally fallen asleep without fussing, her tiny fingers curled around yours as you sang her lullaby. It was supposed to be Luke’s song, the one he always sang, off-key but full of love. You’d sung it instead tonight. And last night. And the night before that.

You used to count down the hours until Luke came home. Not out of desperation, just out of hope. Out of the aching need to share the weight of a day. To say, ‘Here. This was heavy. Will you hold it with me for a while?’

And he used to walk in like he’d been counting down too. With tired eyes and a smile and always, always with a kiss to your forehead and a whispered, ‘Did she miss me?’

But the season had started. And lately, that kiss came later and later, if at all.

Luke finally home, shaking off his jacket with the same absent ease he always did. He looked exhausted but still, infuriatingly, beautiful.

“Hey, babe,”

He greeted, leaning down to kiss your lips. You let him. You kissed back. But it wasn’t quite the same.

“How’s Luce?” he asked, dropping his bag by the door.

“She’s asleep. She went down a little over an hour ago.”

He nodded and stretched his arms behind his back with a groan.

“That’s good. She give you a hard time?”

You shrugged. “No more than usual. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

He didn’t notice the way your voice thinned on that last part. Or maybe he did, but he was too distracted to ask.

“Did you eat yet?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I made pasta. There’s some left if you’re hungry.”

“Nah, I grabbed dinner with Jack. We were going over some film at his place.”

And there it was. Again.

“Did you mean to tell me that?” you asked gently.

Luke blinked, eyebrows pinching in concern.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… this is the third time you’ve eaten out without saying anything. I’ve made dinner every night this week, thinking you’d be home. And I get that things come up. I really do. But a text takes ten seconds, Luke.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out this sharp and it wasn’t, well not really. It was just true.

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish.

“I know. I meant to. We got caught up in film and then started eating and I, forgot, I guess.”

You nodded slowly. “Can we talk?”

Now he looked alarmed. “Yeah, of.. of course. Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you said quietly. “I just need to talk. And I want you to listen.”

Luke sat down beside you, close but cautious. Like he was trying to read you before you spoke.

You took a breath, your eyes drifting to the monitor where Lucy’s tiny form shifted in her crib.

“I know what we signed up for. I know what it means to be with someone during the season. I knew it before Luce was born, and I especially knew it after.” You turned your head, looking at him.

“But knowing doesn’t make it easier. It doesn’t make it less lonely when I’m rocking her alone at 3 a.m. or warming up leftovers because I thought I’d be eating with you.”

Luke’s face fell, and he reached for your hand.

“I’m not saying you’re a bad partner, Luke. You’re an amazing dad when you’re here. But I don’t think you realize how much your presence, even just a text helps me get through the day. I’m not asking for much. I just need to feel like I’m not doing this completely alone.”

Luke lacing his fingers through yours.

“I didn’t know it felt like that. I thought as long as I made it home for bedtime, I was doing enough.”

“And some days it is enough,” you admitted.

“But other days it’s not. And I feel guilty even saying that, because I know you’re working hard, too. But I can’t be the steady one all the time. I can’t keep telling myself I’m fine when I’m not.”

Luke leaned forward, resting his forehead against your hand.

“I hate that I made you feel alone,” he said.

“You’re doing so much. More than I can even begin to understand. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve been more careful. I think I got so wrapped up in trying to keep everything running that I forgot the most important thing is being here. With you.”

Your throat tightened. “You don’t have to fix everything, Luke. I just want you to check in, to come home and want to be here, not because you have to be, but because you miss us.”

He nodded, “I do miss you,” he said, fingers tightening around yours.

“All the time. But I stopped showing it, and that’s on me. You’re not just Luce’s mom, you’re my wife, my person. And I never want you to feel like I’ve forgotten that.”

“Can we make some small changes?” you asked.

“Like… one night a week that’s just ours. And maybe tomorrow morning, you take her for her first nap so I can sleep in.”

Luke nodded immediately.

“Absolutely. Wednesdays are ours. And tomorrow, I’m on nap duty. All day, if you want.”

You smiled, tired but relieved. “You say that now. Let’s see how you do when she only wants the yellow pacifier, not the pink one.”

“I’m gonna learn,” he promised, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Because I want to. Because I love you. And I love being her dad but I need to be your partner first.”

The tears that had been threatening finally slipped free, but they weren’t from sadness anymore. Just release.

You let him hold you. Let yourself lean into his warmth and his quiet apologies and the steady beat of his heart against yours.

Maybe things wouldn’t always be perfectly balanced. But at least now, you knew you weren’t the only one carrying it.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Of Cupcakes and Skulls | Part 1

(A/N) Aaaaaahhhh, I loved the prompt by @lunamoonbby and I'm so glad they allowed me to write a whole fic about it. Will probably write a second part because this is just too cute!

Pairing: single dad! Mafia! Simon x baker! Reader

Warning: lots of fluff

Synopsis: Based on this post by @lunamoonbby

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

A deep sigh escaped your lips when the door closed behind the last customer. It had been a long and tiring day, your legs had started hurting five hours ago, and all you wanted to do was finish closing the bakery and head home. But there was a lot to do before you could, so you put on some music and got started.

Quietly singing along, you disappeared into the kitchen, where you portioned the cupcake dough you had made earlier into the baking trays and slid them into the oven, setting a time on your phone before you started cleaning. As quickly as possible, you washed all the bowls, whiskers, and anything else that had gotten dirty that day, the thought of your bed ever present in your mind. Once you were done with that, you quickly vacuumed the floor and were about to wipe it, when a familiar sound stopped you.

The bell that hung above the door to the bakery rang out and you cursed at yourself. Had you really forgotten to lock the door after the last customer left? With another sigh, you walked into the salesroom, an annoyed ‘We’re closed’ almost leaving your lips before your eyes fell onto the little girl who had walked in. Her eyes were big and round, shining with unshed tears while her lips trembled.

“Oh dear, are you okay?”

You rushed to her side and knelt down in front of her, reaching out to gently grasp her shoulder.

“I…I l-lost da-daddy.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears began to stream down her cheeks, her little shoulders shaking with every hiccup as she tried to suppress the sobs. Without thinking, you pulled her into a hug, her little fingers immediately curling into the fabric of the shirt you were wearing.

You stayed like that, hugging the little girl until she calmed down a bit, her body still shaking with hiccups. But you pulled away, gently swiping the tears away, as you gave her a reassuring smile.

“It’s going to be okay, we’ll find your daddy, yeah?”

She nodded, though she didn’t seem too confident. Convincing her would take some work.

“Okay, let’s start with your name, hm? Can you tell me that?”

“Mi-Millie.”

Your smile pulled into a grin, that you hoped looked proud.

“Great! Now, what’s your daddy called?”

Millie looked at you, confused.

“Daddy.”

You should’ve expected that answer. After all, she looked to be about four. What four-year-old knew their parent’s actual name?

“Oki dok. Do you know any way I can reach him? His phone number?”

She shook her head, a pout forming on her lips as she glanced at the floor. You hesitated for a second, but you didn’t know what else to do.

“Okay, let me just grab my coat and we’ll go to the police station nearby. I’m sure he would go there to look for you.”

But before you could rise to your feet, Millie reached out and stopped you, a panicked look on her face.

“No! We…We can’t go to the police. They don’t like daddy.”

Her statement confused you, but with the way she looked at you, you couldn’t force her to go either. While you were contemplating what to do, the timer on your phone went off and you got an idea to at least keep her busy until you came up with something. With a smirk, you looked at her.

“Do you like cupcakes?”

Millie looked confused but nodded. You rose to your feet and held out your hand, offering it to her.

“Want to decorate some while we wait for your daddy? You can even decorate one for him.”

A bright smile spread across her lips and you couldn’t help but fall in love with it. She nodded full of enthusiasm, her worries gone for at least the moment. So, after helping her out of her jacket and with her hand in yours, you led her to the kitchen and sat her down on the counter. You were just glad that the kitchen had a window front to the street. That way, if her father came along, he would be able to see her inside.

“Wait here for me, okay?”

She nodded and watched as you carefully pulled the hot trays out of the oven and placed them on a counter, far away from the little girl. You then checked the fridge, to see if there was any buttercream left, but there wasn’t. So you grabbed all the ingredients and walked back to Millie.

“Do you want to help me make some buttercream? We can even color it.”

Her eyes lit up and she nodded vigorously. After you put an oversized apron on her, you showed her a simple buttercream recipe, Millie snacking on it the whole time while you made it. Once it was done, you portioned it into different small bowls.

“What colors do you want?”

“Pink! And purple and blue and green and also yellow.”

You chuckled and nodded, pulling the needed food colors from a shelve. As you slowly placed them with the bowls, Millie reached up and tugged on your sleeve.

“Can we also make some black? Daddy really likes black.”

You again nodded and retrieved the last color. Together, you colored the buttercream, Millie whisking away at the pink one, while you quickly finished the other colors. Once you were both happy, you showed Millie how to put all the different colors she chose into the same pipe, so that it would be a colorful swirl when put onto a cupcake. She watched, her eyes wide and sparkling as if you were showing her how to create magic dust.

Once the cupcakes had cooled enough, you brought three over, one for each of you and one for her dad. While you carefully guided her hands, showing her how to use the pipe, you watched her as she poked her tongue out in concentration. A soft smile spread on your lips as adoration for the little kid overcame you.

Once all three cupcakes had buttercream on them, it was time for sprinkles. Millie of course wanted a lot of sparkles, hearts, and bows. While she was busy combing through the different sprinkle containers you had, you retrieved a large chocolate heart from the fridge. You used it to decorate cakes, but you thought Millie would love it. But for the moment, you decided to hide it, only wanting to reveal it when they were done.

“Did you find something you like?”

Millie nodded, while still looking through the containers.

“Do you have skulls?”

It took you a moment to realize that she was still talking about sprinkles. Once you overcame that initial shock, you nodded and retrieved another box, the one you kept the seasonal sprinkles in. You handed the little girl a container filled with small skulls, pumpkins, and spiders and she smiled.

“Daddy really likes skulls.”

You smiled as you stored that information. Black and skulls and not on good terms with the police. Sounds dangerous.

For the next few minutes, you decorated the cupcakes. For your own, you decided to go with your favorite sprinkles and a bit of glitter. Millie truly overdid her own and her father’s cupcake, but you couldn’t help but smile as you watched her concentrate, trying to find a free spot where one more skull sprinkle would fit.

Just as she found the spot and pressed the white form into the buttercream, the bell above the door rang out again and you could hear fast footsteps approaching. Both you and Millie turned to look toward the door and you couldn’t help but step in front of the little girl, shielding her body with yours. But then you heard it.

“Millie!”

A large man burst through the door, wild eyes finding yours before they jumped to the girl behind you.

“Daddy!”

With a relieved sigh, he fell to his knees, opening his arms as his little girl bolted toward him, almost stumbling over the apron on her way. She crashed into his chest, wrapping her short, little arms around his neck as best as she could. A soft smile tugged on your lips as you watched the duo. His brows were furrowed, but not in an angry way. No, he looked scared and desperate, but at the same time so very relieved.

Not picking up on her dad’s whirlwind of emotion, Millie immediately began talking, telling him all about the cupcakes. The man glanced up at you as his daughter pulled out of his hug and rushed back to the counter. As soon as your eyes met his, you felt a shiver run through you. You couldn’t explain it, but the way he looked at you felt…intimate.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look what we made.”

Millie quickly had his attention again, as the man joined her at the counter, his eyes landing on the cupcakes.

“We made them. There is one for me. And one for you. And one for her!”

He smiled - good god did he look stunning when he smiled - as he watched Millie point out all the details.

“Well done, munchkin. Why don’t you finish up so we can go home, hm?”

Millie nodded, not reacting when he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before he turned to you. Oozing confidence, he took a few steps toward you, only stopping once he was close enough that you could smell his cologne. Another shiver ran through you at the proximity, as you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes.

“I’m Simon. Thank you for…well, for taking care of her.”

You smiled, and for a moment Simon stopped breathing. The moment he spotted you through the window front he knew you were beautiful, but smiling up at him, you were just stunning, his fingers itching to reach out and feel you against him.

“It was a pleasure.”

Your eyes left his and landed on Millie as she poured more sprinkles onto her cupcake.

“She is amazing. Told me not to go to the police, because they don’t like you.”

You chuckled, expecting him to do the same, but he avoided your eyes as a light blush dusted his cheeks.

“She’s not wrong there. I-”

He was interrupted by Millie calling for him. And with an apologetic smile, he joined her at the counter. While the two were busy, you decided to quickly clean whatever you could, the rest you would do the next morning. Once you were done, you grabbed a box and the heart you had hidden, before walking up to the pair. Millie was showing Simon how you had put all the different colors into the piping bag, as he reacted with ‘ohs’ and ahs’ at exactly the right moments. You smiled as you watched, quickly catching Simon’s attention, as he glanced at you with a crooked grin.

“Millie?”

The little girl stopped and looked up at her dad, who gently motioned toward you. As soon as she saw the heart you were holding on a napkin, she started bouncing with excitement. Carefully, you handed it to her and watched as she stuck it into the buttercream on her cupcake, a big grin on her face.

After a few moments of her admiring it, you convinced her to let you box up the cupcakes, so she could leave with her father. While you did that, Simon carried his daughter to the sink, where he helped her wash her hands, before he dried them for her. With the box, you met them in the salesroom, where Simon was helping his daughter into her jacket. You knelt down and carefully handed the box to her.

“Don’t drop it, okay?”

She nodded and grinned, watching as you rose back to your feet. Simon was standing beside her, his wallet in his hands. Before he could say anything, you shook your head.

“No, it’s fine, really.”

“But-”

“I insist. It was a pleasure to spend time with your daughter.”

He smiled, and before you could protest, he shoved a few notes into the tip jar on the counter. You inhaled, ready to protest, but when you looked at him, you knew that it was futile, so you smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Thank you.”

The intensity of his gaze was too much, and you quickly found yourself glancing at the floor, jumping slightly as you felt his lips press to your temple.

“Thank you for taking care of her.”

He pulled back and you glanced up. Simon easily picked Millie up, before bidding you goodbye and walking out of your bakery. Millie waved at you the whole time until they were out of sight. A soft smile spread across your lips, as you turned towards the corner, curiously pulling out the tip Simon had left you. But when you counted the bills, you couldn’t believe it. You counted them three more times, before accepting the fact that he had left you $300.

But what caught your attention even more, was a black business card in the middle of the folded notes.

Simon Riley.

Simon.

Riley.

Riley.

Riley.

Riley!

A gasp left your mouth as you realized who you had just dealt with. Simon Riley, the local mafia boss, feared by everyone, hunted by the police. No wonder Millie didn’t want you to go to the police. As you continued to stare at the card, a shiver ran through you, wondering if you’d see the mafia boss again.

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[dreaming-of-epiphanies]

𝓝𝓮𝔀 𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻'𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂 - part 2

Link to part 1 if you missed it

Description: As the unresolved tension between Reader and Tom continues, Tom decides to make it clear where they stand. (Slytherin!fem!Reader x Tom Riddle, academic rivals to lovers, smut warning)

A/N: Soo like I said this was supposed to only be one part but I wrote too much and now this is the second (and final) part. Tbh, I'm not sure how the flow of the two feel together so if anyone thinks I should re-edit and add another part, let me know! Also, full transparency, this part is really just seven pages of smut (in google docs format).

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. mdni, 18+, unprotected p in v, language. This is the most explicit fic I've posted yet (so I'd love feedback on whether the smut was too much, written well or not, etc!)

--

For the next couple of weeks, you felt like you were playing some sort of strange game of cat and mouse. You’d stalk up to Riddle to talk to him, then change your mind at the last minute and scurry away. He’d ignore you in class and in the halls, but somehow be in every room you were in. It was infuriating, and the worst part was that you didn’t know if you were supposed to be the cat or the mouse in this scenario. 

As yet another week went by without any resolution to the tension, you got more and more agitated. Other than a couple more staring matches (as in, he stared at you when you stopped sitting next to him in class and you resolutely ignored him), you didn’t have any interactions with him. You tried to keep yourself from thinking about it, but as they had a tendency to do, your thoughts always seemed to wander back to him. 

It was fairly obvious what was bothering you, so in an effort to distract you, your friends dragged you along to the Quidditch game the following weekend. It was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, so naturally the stands were packed. Seemingly everyone went, but Riddle was conspicuously absent. You let yourself be carried away in the fun, and agreed to come to the afterparty in the Slytherin common as well. After what had happened the last time you’d drank too much, you told yourself you’d only have one or two shots of firewhiskey, but two hours and three very persuasive friends later, you found yourself drunk once more. Not as bad as the last time, you were sure, but still enough you were talking way more than you should’ve been. 

And talking to people you shouldn’t have been. 

Sometime during your tipsy haze, you spotted Riddle walking quickly from his dorm towards the exit of the common room. You hadn’t thought about him until you started drinking, but once you had you’d started to get mad and upset and hurt, and seeing him gave you a fantastic idea. 

You were going to go talk to him. 

He had his bag with him and was presumably on his way to the library, but that didn’t stop you from stumbling over to him and grabbing clumsily at his cloak sleeve. 

“Riddle!” You said abruptly, and he turned to look at you. His brow furrowed as you put your hands on your hips and tried your best to look commanding. Obviously, you just looked funny, but in your mind you were the perfect picture of confident and imposing. 

You opened your mouth to tell him just how mad you were that you couldn’t even remember sleeping with him, when you got distracted by his careful sweep of hair and sparkling mahogany eyes. 

“Yes?” He said when a full thirty seconds passed in silence. 

“You’re pretty,” you mumbled, smiling up at him. He stared at you, and then just as he started to say something, someone roughly grabbed your elbow and pulled you back towards them. 

“Nope!” You heard Amelia say. “You are not talking to Riddle while drunk. We all know how that turned out last time.” You glared up at her but allowed yourself to be dragged away. She was probably right, after all. 

You cast a longing look back in Riddle’s direction, only to see he had left the common room. You tried not to feel too disappointed. If he wanted to talk to you, he would. Maybe he didn’t want to take things further after your one-night stand. 

You blinked back tears at that prospect. 

༺ ✧ ༻

The weekend passed without any other encounters with Riddle. You were half relieved and half disappointed, because although you didn’t remember your drunken hookup, you did remember calling him pretty. You winced every time you thought of it. 

On Monday, though, things took a turn. 

Since you hadn’t seen Riddle since the party, you weren’t looking forward to seeing him in Defence early Monday morning. You arrived early to class, as usual, and began unpacking your things. The classroom was empty when you came in, but not even two minutes later Riddle walked through the door. Your gaze flicked up to him and your eyes met for a split second before quickly turning your attention back to your quill and inkpot. 

The classroom slowly began to fill up, and once Merrythought arrived and started the lesson, you resolved to keep your attention focused on your notes and definitely not on Riddle. 

Unfortunately, barely twenty minutes in, you were absorbed in a mindless daydream of not being on Riddle, but under him. 

It really was a spectacular daydream, and you would’ve happily continued on with it for the rest of class were it not for the feeling of someone’s intense gaze on you. 

You slowly turned your head and immediately, your eyes cut to Riddle’s. He met your slightly horrified expression with a small smirk. Oh God, he was reading your mind! 

You stood up instantly. “Excuse me,” you said, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “May I visit the Hospital Wing? I’m afraid I’m going to be sick.” It wasn’t a complete lie. You did feel a little like you were going to vomit. 

Professor Merrythought excused you, looking a little concerned, and you quickly gathered your stuff and rushed out of the classroom, making a beeline for the dungeons to go to your dorm. 

You didn’t make it far before you heard your name being called sharply behind you. 

“What?!” You exclaimed, spinning to face Riddle. He was smirking at you, and without another word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a small study room. 

“You’ve been thinking about me.” He said matter-of-factly as soon as the door was shut behind you. 

“No! I- I just…” you stammered, and he laughed, stepping closer. 

“It’s alright,” he murmured in a low voice. “I’ve been thinking about you too.” 

His tone and words sent a shiver down your spine. “You have?” You whispered, as he put a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“I have,” he echoed, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone. You shuddered. “I’ve been remembering…” He kissed another spot a little harder, sucking until you let out a small moan. He hummed and drew back. 

“Have you been remembering too?” He asked, and you could only stare at him for a second before shaking your head mutely. 

“I was too drunk to remember much,” you admitted, swallowing as his eyes dropped to your lips. 

“How much do you remember?” Riddle asked as one of his hands drifted up to your face, gently stroking your jaw and down the length of your throat. 

“I remember the first part of the party… I took a few shots and had a couple of goblets of firewhiskey, I know. And I remember falling onto you, then us talking and dancing.” You explained, frowning. “And I think I remember leaning up to kiss you. But that’s where my memory stops.”

Riddle nodded, continuing to look at you curiously. 

“That’s it?” He asked. 

“That’s it,” you confirmed. He nodded again, eyes still trained on you. “I don’t even remember the sex,” you added with a wry smile. 

“Hm,” Riddle stepped closer, tilting his head to the side and smirking slightly. “I remember it.” 

Your eyebrows raised, but you didn’t say anything as he nodded, taking another step closer.

“It was good,” he continued quietly and your heart picked up speed. “Very good.”

“Yeah?” You said breathlessly as he stepped up right to you, face inches from your own. 

“I believe you said it was the best you’ve ever had,” he said and your face flushed, but you couldn’t help biting back a smile. 

“I’m not surprised,” you admitted, and his lips twitched in a smirk, humming satisfactorily. 

“It’s a shame you don’t remember it,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave suggestively. 

“It is,” you agreed, leaning your head back to look at him. His eyes were on yours, dark and filled with lust. Your breathing hitched as he took the final step closer, backing you against the door, your hips hitting the wood with a soft thud.

“Let’s help you remember,” he murmured, and he bent down, connecting his lips to yours. 

You immediately leaned into the kiss, wasting no time in opening your mouth and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His lips were warm and soft and he tasted faintly spicy, like firewhiskey but more tangy. He slid his hands from your shoulders down your side, brushing the side of your breasts in such a tantalizingly brief touch that a shiver ran through you. 

His hands found your hips, rubbing circles with his thumbs as he continued to kiss you, slow and sensual. Your hands ran up and down his arms, gently squeezing at his biceps and slightly sinking your nails into his skin. He let out a low, almost choked groan and all of a sudden roughly grabbed your waist and pulled you into him as the kiss turned fierce. 

It wasn’t long before his lips moved from your lips to your jaw, down the side of the neck, and to the neckline of your shirt. You pulled your hands away from where they were ravaging his hair long enough to yank the shirt off, tossing it on the ground before leaning back in, already reaching back up around his neck. His hands on your shoulders stopped you, though. 

You looked up in confusion to see his eyes raking down your figure, taking in every inch of the skin you just exposed to him like he has to memorise it for a test. A smirk appeared on his face when he saw you were wearing the same green, lace bra you did when you first hooked up. 

“You wore that just for me, hm?” He said with a satisfied smirk that’s so damn sexy you wanted him to shut up and kiss you already. “You wanted this to happen.”

“I did,” you said breathlessly, smiling up at him in challenge. “So are you going to do something about it, or-”

The rest of your sentence got cut off as he swooped in again, kissing you harshly and running his hands up and down your torso, kneading your breasts with a firm pressure that had you sighing with pleasure into the kiss. 

Less than five minutes in and he already had you moaning. Merlin, the sex must’ve been really, really good. 

One of his hands slid behind you, deftly unclasping your bra. You reached up to slip it off but his hands stopped yours, breaking the kiss to murmur in a low voice; “Let me.”

You nodded quickly and lowered your hands. He slowly slid the straps down your arms, grazing your skin with such a hot touch it had you shifting side to side, needing his touch everywhere else. He gave you a wicked smirk, continuing to slowly remove the bra until it reached your wrists and he let it drop, stepping back to admire you. 

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly. “But there’s something missing.” 

You quirked your eyebrows at this. “What?” You asked curiously. His eyes cut to yours, gleaming dangerously. 

“Something that marks you as mine,” he whispered in a gravely tone before latching his lips onto your neck. 

“God,” you gasped as your head fell back, overtaken by the sensation of his lips on you. He kissed across your neck, nipping at the delicate skin there. You distantly registered that it was going to be difficult to hide them tomorrow, but then you forgot how to think because he began grazing his mouth down your chest. 

“Tom,” you choked as he kissed your breast, overwhelmed and more turned on than you’ve ever been in your life. You were pretty sure your panties were soaked at this point.

“Yes?” He asked, barely pulling away from your skin. You were going to say something about how maybe you should go to his room or somewhere that has a bed, but the way he was looking at you told you he wasn’t intending to wait, and neither were you. 

“My skirt,” you panted, “take it off.” 

He grinned wickedly, pressing another kiss to your chest before drawing away and back up to eye level. He leaned his face close to yours, slowly sliding his hands down your sides. He trailed his fingers teasingly across your stomach until you were groaning in frustration. 

“Fuck you, Riddle, just touch me already!” You exclaimed, and his fingers hooked into your skirt, quickly pulling it down around your ankles. He stepped in again, hands going immediately to your ass as you pulled him into another kiss. 

He ran one hand all across your body as you kissed him, biting at his lower lip until you tasted the deliciously metal flavor of his blood. He groaned and pulled both hands to your front, leaning away just slightly. 

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he promised, and you frowned in confusion for a split second before you heard a rip and your panties were torn off of you. Then his lips were on yours again and his hands were moving down, down…

He brushed his fingers over your folds and you gasped, an electric shudder going through you. 

“So wet for me,” he murmured, voice low and enticing. He slid another finger against you and you tossed your head back in blind pleasure, landing it hard against the door. You barely felt the sting from it though, because all you could focus on was his hand working between your legs. 

You grasped at his arms, tightening your hands as his fingers moved, slowly stroking you until your breath started coming more shallow. Only then did he gently insert a finger, barely into you but you let out a moan, inhaling shakily as he chuckled, deep and throaty. 

“You want this, don’t you?” He asked, adding another finger to tantalizingly dip into you. “You want me to touch you like this until you come all over my fingers?”

“Fuck, Tom,” you panted, barely able to contain yourself or stop your legs from trembling. 

“As you wish,” he murmured, and pushed his fingers in. All at once you let out a moan as his fingers stretched you, dizzy with the sensation. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, sliding his fingers back before pushing them in once more, overwhelming you with friction. Your head fell back against the wall again, breaths coming in short gasps and legs shaking beneath you. He curled his fingers and you cried out, clawing at his arm. 

“So needy, so desperate,” he hummed, adding additional pressure on your clit, making you cry out even more. “I like that.”

He continued on like this until you started seeing stars at the edge of your vision and electricity pulsed through your veins. You felt a rising in your lower belly and you chased the high, about to be pushed over the edge when all of a sudden Tom’s fingers vanished. 

You looked up immediately in confusion and mild irritation, but your mouth went dry when you saw him shrugging off his shirt and roughly pulling at his belt. 

“Need to be inside you when you come,” he got out in a strangled tone, throwing his belt to the ground and shoving his trousers and underwear down. You barely had time to react before his lips were on yours and he was grabbing your hips, roughly lining himself up with your entrance. 

You gripped his shoulders, holding on so tightly you’d be surprised if he didn’t have marks on there tomorrow. He hovered his mouth over yours, gently nudging at your nose until you met his gaze. His eyes were dark and steady as he nodded, encouraging and tantalizing at the same time. 

“This could be a lot,” he warned, and all it takes is you nodding once before he thrusted his hips forwards, sliding into you much faster than he probably should’ve. You let out a cry and he gripped you against his chest, humming his approval. 

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he rasped, deep and throaty.

Your eyes were shut tight as your head rested against the wall behind you. God, the feeling of him was amazing. Every single bit of your awareness was focused on him inside of you and you could already feel the anticipation building, a buzzing low in your stomach. 

A hand at your throat pulled your attention back to his face. 

“Look at me,” he murmured, voice low. “Look at me while I fuck you.” 

And then he started to move. 

It was slow at first, slow and sensual. He was letting you adjust to his size and the feeling of him in you, but it wasn’t long before you were clawing at his hair and gasping for air as he moved faster, roughly rocking into you as one hand supported you and the other ran across your body, all while he was kissing you hungrily. 

Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist and your hands were everywhere- in his hair, down his chest, across his biceps, and down to where he was still harshly rolling his hips into yours. You couldn’t get enough of him, he was hot and perfect and you just wanted to-

The hand that was currently tangling in your hair vanished suddenly, and then it was pulling your hands away from him and yanking them upwards. He pinned your wrists forcefully against the wall behind you and broke away from your mouth long enough to mutter “if you want me to last for much longer, darling, you’re going to have to stop touching me like that.” All you could do was nod as he pushed his mouth back onto yours. 

He kissed you, pushing into your hips and tearing into you until he had you throwing your head back in sheer bliss. He moved his lips down to your throat, tracing a savage path across your neck. It wasn’t long before you’re both completely lost in sensation, his lips everywhere on your chest and your hands struggling in the vice grip he has them pinned in. 

“Fucking hell, Tom,” you gasped as he pulled his mouth away from your neck and pressed a rough kiss to your lips, rolling into you faster and harder now. 

The blood roared in your ears and static started to fill your senses, blurring out everything until all you could focus on was the feeling of Tom rocking into you, hitting that perfect spot and you were rising, electricity racing through you. You furiously chased that high until the heat in your lower stomach burst into flames and white-hot fireworks exploded at the edge of your vision as you came all around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he moved into you faster until he caught his own high, barely seconds after your own. He came just as hard, throatily rasping your name. He gripped your hip with one hand, the other still holding your wrists to the door as he kissed you roughly, letting you both ride out your climaxes. 

When everything finally stopped being wonderfully hazy for you, you inhaled deeply and got a strong whiff of Tom’s woodsy-smelling cologne and the salty tang of his sweat. You were both panting against each other, lips still so close you were practically breathing the same air. Everything still felt heightened- every point of contact, every breath against the other’s skin, everything. You’d never felt anything quite so perfect.

Finally and much too soon, he released your hands and you dropped them onto his arms in exhaustion, holding loosely on. He bent his head and kissed your skin almost reverently.

“You,” he rasped, “are amazing.” 

You let out a laugh despite yourself. “That was incredible,” you gasped, smiling at him and his completely sated expression. “I can safely say that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He laughed at that, rolling his eyes fondly as he slowly started to let you down, pulling out as he did so, though he kept his arms around you for support until your legs stopped shaking. Only then did he drop another kiss onto your head and pull away fully, bending to pick up your haphazardly discarded clothes. 

You stepped forward to take your shirt and skirt for him when you caught a glimpse of yourself in a mirror. Your lips were swollen and you had a smattering of red marks across your neck and collarbone. Your makeup was all ruined and your hair was a mess.

“Tom, look what you did!” You exclaimed, smoothing at your hair in a half-attempt to get it to behave. “I have another class right after this.”

He smirked, stepping up behind you with his shirt half-buttoned. “I have no regrets,” he murmured, kissing your cheek. You turned to him and smiled, tilting your head to the side. 

“Neither do I,” you agreed. “In fact… my room is open tonight, if you’d like to come.” 

“‘If I’d like to come’?” He repeated slyly, and you winced slightly at the double entendre.

“You know what I mean,” you rolled your eyes, though you’re barely trying to bite back your grin. 

“Well, then I would like to come.” He said, the roguish gleam still in his eyes. “Very much.” 

“Good,” you smiled playfully, already leaning up to kiss him again. “Because I do too.” 

--

A/N (again): Thank you for reading and feedback is always appreciated. I always get so excited when I get a comment notification!

taglist - @princesspeach0-0

let me know if you want me to add you to a taglist! I haven't thought about making one til now so if anyone's interested I'll do it :)

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Roadside

Summary: On your way back from a long weekend that you got to spent with Joel, his car breaks down. While you both waited for Tommy to get there to help, Joel has some ideas on how to spend the time waiting.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 792

Rating: T

Warnings: roadtrips, falling in love but slowly, car trouble, implied smut, kissing, flirting, feelings, teasing, kinda secret dating, fourteen year age gap

A/N: I'm missing references to three pics I think, but it doesn't get better than this lol (technically I am not here, because I am on a writing break) The moodboard screamed road trip to me, so this is what I did. This is for @iamasaddie 24 hour writing challenge and I hope it does not suck 🙃

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

„What are you gonna tell him when he gets here?“ You hummed, looking up at Joel. He gave you a small smile before he stepped closer, his big, strong hands coming down to part your legs for him, stepping between them so he was towering over you, the sun slowly setting on the horizon.

You had almost made it home. 

After a long weekend of having Joel to yourself without the fear of running into someone you both knew (if you left your hotel room at all) that you had spend in a tiny town in close to Dallas, you were on your way back, just an hour out of Austin when his truck made a very sad noise until the engine went out and the car stopped on the side of the road. 

He had tried to get it to work before, with a long groan, he told you he had to call Tommy cause the something something needed a something so he could fix it. He had kept his eyes on you the whole times as he made the call, looking beyond sexy in the shirt you bought him, with his too long getting hair that you had spent all night running your fingers through as he made you cum over and over again until you both passed out. 

You had met Tommy before. You just hadn’t met him as Joel’s girlfriend.

Things between you and Joel had been… slow until they weren’t.

You’ve known each other for almost two years due to you working as an interior designer occasionally with his company. But it was six months ago that you had gotten closer as you worked on a very time consuming project where the client brought you both to the verge of insanity with how often they were changing the plans. 

He had finally asked you out one night and the rest as they say, was history. 

„Guess I’m finally gonna introduce my controversially young girlfriend to him,“ Joel smiled before he kissed you softly. You gasped in mock offence, before tilting your chin up to meet his lips with a smile, your hands running up his broad back until your fingers slipped into his hair on the back of his neck. 

„Not that controversial,“ you grinned and he chuckled before his lips kissed down your neck. 

„Fourteen years is a lot,“ he mumbled against your neck and you sighed, letting your head fall to the side to give him more access. One of his hands slowly drifted up your thighs, his fingers pushing the fabric of your skirt up. 

„Only if you care what other people think. Last time I checked, we’re both very consenting adults,“ you said and he playfully bit into your neck making your shriek. 

„How consenting are we talking about here exactly?“ He asked and you looked up at him as one of his hands slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing over your damp panties. 

You could feel your nipples harden against the fabric of the shirt you had put on this morning and Joel seemed to notice too, his other hand coming up to cup one of your tits, his thumb playing with your nipple.

Looking around you realised that you were pretty much in the middle of nowhere. You couldn’t even remember when you had seen a car drive by the last time. 

„Consenting enough to let you fuck me in the middle of nowhere until your brother gets here,“ you whispered against his ear and he groaned, letting his forehead fall against yours. 

„Atta girl,“ he grinned, before he kissed you again while his hands made quick work of your underwear. 

You could still feel him dripping out of you, your legs a little weak, when you jumped of the back of the truck, Joel taking your hand as the door of the car that had parked behind his opened and a man jumped out, looking between the two of you. 

The sun had set by now, the cold air making you shiver and Joel let go of your hand, to put an arm around your waist, pulling you closer against him, the warmth of his body helping instantly. 

„So this is how I get to find out the mysterious woman that makes my brother grin like a teenager with a crush when he looks at his phone is you?“ Tommy Miller approached with a wide grin. You could practically hear Joel roll his eyes and you smiled at his brother. 

„You got a crush on me, Miller?“ You teased and looked up at him. 

„Brat,“ he sighed, fighting a smile.

„You love it,“ you winked, feeling him pull you closer. 

„Yeah, I really do,“ he hummed before he kissed you softly. 

[s0phslibrary]

'after school solace'; bakugou x reader drabble ! :*:·ﾟ☆ 。·:*:·ﾟ★

content tidbits: platonic bond but possssiibbleee romance leaning, class 2-A era, following the plot but not the full on war, swearing, gender neutral reader, physical affection, maybe ooc bkg?, somewhat healed platonic bkdk bond, childhood friends bkdk + reader, stressed katsuki, slight workaholic reader, mild angst because bkg is a little insecure at one point , studying, ranting, cuddling, overall slice of life things :)

word count: 983

A/N: I am so making a part 2 for the next day. I also rly wanna write some izuku fics, with his POV of the friendship with 'reader'. Maybe a trio fic/drabble? I have so many ideas HAHA, but I shall work 🫡 also this song bc it reminds me of this dynamic

The soft patter of afternoon rain tapped against the window and balcony door, the warm flicker of fairy lights and orange glow of a nearby salt lamp eased your mind into a milder state, allowing the adrenaline and noise of the school day melting off of your muscles. You sat on your bed, typing away and scribbling notes to catch up from your Heroics class earlier in the day. Your phone pings beside you, breaking your focus away from the tedious details. On the screen, a series of messages.

katsuki, 1 minute ago:

can i come to your room

long day and you're the only one i can tolerate rn

dunceface and kirishima won't shut the fuck up

izuku and four eyes are studying and the nerd looks like he's ab to cry

everyone is just doing too much

so yeah can i?

You snort at the words, and text back;

yeah, ofc :) im just doing some hw, but you're welcome to chill here

mini fridge is stocked up too btw

You sent the texts, and got a quick response

Thank fuck

be there in a few mins

You smiled, and out your phone down, and went back to typing and writing in the time you had that would remain quiet.

Soon after, as promised, there were three, distinct knocks on your door.

"Unlocked." You call out, not looking up from the screen.

In walks Katsuki, hair poofed from the humid rain, clothes daggy and comfortable, and usual scowl replaced with a tired, slightly irritated, yet soft expression. Without saying a word, he goes to your mini fridge, grabs a can of cola, then walks to your bed, and plonks down next to you.

"The fuck are you doing? We finished that in class." He asks, his usual way of words lacking any bite.

"Yeah, but I didn't get to finish it. Love All Might, but he speaks so damn fast." You respond. He snorts, and simply watches you work. You both sit in silence again, before he yet again opens his mouth.

"Today was ass. Aizawa was on me about 'you need to work on your attack aim!", as if he doesn't swing around on a bit of mouldy string to fight. And don't even fucking get me started on English class. Shakespeare is so pointless, like, 'methinks', methinks I'm gonna fucking kill you."

You let out a laugh at his rambling, and look to him. "Oh, come on, he's the greatest playwright of all time. Plus, I've seen you watch the hell out of Romeo and Juliet during that one class movie night."

"The hell I did." He scoffs, but settles back against the bed. "You should finish that tomorrow. You're already doing too much."

"It's fine." "Yeah, you say as you have your 3rd burn out of the month." "Jokes on you, this will only be the second."

He rolls his eyes, and snatches your notebook and pen, throwing them on the floor, closes your laptop, and does the same, only more careful. "No. Not now. You need a fucking break." He says bluntly, and pulls you down on the bed.

"Rich coming from you. Training for 3 hours a day, outside of school, mind you, and you want ME to chill. Love you, but you're a hypocrite." You respond.

He flicks your forehead, but doesn't respond for a bit, but them mumbles something into your shoulder.

"It's becauze I feel like 'm behind."

"Hm?" "I said it's because I feel like I'm behind!" He repeats slightly louder.

"You? Behind? In what world?"

"Fuck off. I know, I'm 4th in the class, my grades are fine, that's all fine. I just feel like everyone else has made some random bout of progress, and I haven’t." He murmurs.

You sigh, looking down at his face. "You aren't. I promise. And if you were, that gives you a chance to race past the rest of us at some point, yeah? Just don't overexert yourself. You're right where you need to be." He nods reluctantly, his hold on you growing tighter. "Dunno what I'd do without your emotionally intelligent ass." You let out a short laugh, but know what he means. You're essentially each others anchor. You lean further into him, pressing your cheek against his hair, rather than verbalising anything. You knew comfortable silence would be what he needed right now.

10 minutes or so pass in silence. The rain still pours down on the window, the slight sound of electricity buzzing in the room. You look down to see Katsuki is now half asleep, expression soft, at ease, almost vulnerable. You smile softly in affection, admiring him. Even in all these years of knowing each other, you were the only person able to lull him into this position. His earlier tensed shoulders sagged against you, the crease in his brows gone. His drink sits discarded on the floor beside the bed, and your study materials sit idle by.

A noise from in the hall jostles him a bit, and he shifts slightly, sighing. "Do we have anything planned for tomorrow? It's the weekend." "Hm, I think we're both on grocery duty. Why?" You ask in a quizzical tone.

""m taking you out for brunch first. We haven't done that in a while. And it's on me, so don't fucking start. We can also go via that bookstore you like, see if there's anything new."

You grin, pleased with the idea. "Sure, if you carry the 5 I end up choosing." "Fuck you." He responds, but you feel his smile against your shoulder.

In that peacefully joyful moment, you both let yourselves be whisked away from the pressures of heroism, classmates, and studies. You could just be yourselves, and allow one another to do the same, no judgments or critiques.

And that was more than enough. As it always would be.

[galeorderbride]

Good lord! That Gale fic?! I made a GRAVE error and read it at work and now I have to concentrate while doing business things?! 10000/10 no notes! Thank you so much!!

What if Gale used Invisibility with a consenting Tav?

Ohhh you’re a gem for saying that thank you <3 and I hope you recovered from workplace smut (I have definitely made the same mistake lol)

You put a thought in my brain, anon. I made this little ficlet based on what you suggested :)

18+ MDNI for smut, including: inappropriate use of invisibility spell (consensual), surprise intimate touching, fingering

I wrote this with F!reader as the subject, hope that's ok <3

Words: 1164

Gale wasn’t a man to do the expected. When you permitted him to use an invisibility spell in your—private moments—he wasn’t going to simply sneak up on you while doing dishes or writing letters. He decided to take the time to make things elaborate, unexpected to the nth degree. Which is why, when he finally did execute his plan, you figured he’d forgotten about the conversation. You couldn’t deny your slight disappointment, anticipating a playful surprise as days went on. Never knowing when he’d take action. Only to have nothing happen. 

He was a busy man lately, now that he was a full time professor at Blackstaff and midterm season was peaking. Locking himself in his office for hours at a time, missing dinner if you didn’t bring him a plate after you’d finished. Followed by copious amounts of ‘thank yous’ and kisses on your cheek. Making sure you knew he hadn’t forgotten you, even if he holed himself up for so long. You tried to remain resilient, trust that he was preoccupied and once this time of the semester was complete, he’d be back to his attentive self once again. 

Self care was a good distraction from the hollow silence of the tower. Tara wasn’t even there to lift your spirits, visiting Morena for the night. Instead, you ran yourself an indulgent bath, using extra honey scented bubble bath and rosehip oil. Frothy suds blanketing the top layer of the hot water as you sunk your body into paradise. Letting yourself fall under the spell of relaxation as you tried to get your mind off the isolation. 

The dripping tap and gusts of wind against the glass windowpane were all that could be heard. Humming to yourself your favourite tunes from the bard performance you and Gale attended a week ago. Eyes closing as you became lost in the warm water, the perfect temperature for you. 

Until a shift in the formerly still water catches you off guard. A smooth, tranquil wave of the bubbles splitting in two, as if a hand broke between. Teasing through the gap of your spread knees. You hardly noticed at first, just thought it was a twitch of your leg or stretch of your foot. But the light flow around your skin becomes a soft but evident caress from ankle to calf. Someone is touching you, but you are completely alone. 

You unleash a shaky breath, a fearful but intriguing jerk within your muscles as the invisible touch hastens to move further between your legs. Ripples of water now waving in full force, sizeable enough that you pieced together just what—or who—guided such spontaneous magic. 

“Is that you, professor?” You say, voice hitching with captivated breath as the formless hand brushes against your cunt. Featherlight to the point where you wonder if you even felt it. 

No response, the typical verbosity of your wizard masked for effect. Part of you fizzled with fear, a tiny threat of a question in the back of your mind that asked if Gale was the one touching you or not. But you were more than familiar with the way he circled around your clit, the patterns of which he teased even though he’d swear there was no routine. After months of living with him in Waterdeep, when he’d seldom go a day without ravishing you, you found little trouble recognizing the force to be him.  

You giggle flirtatiously, head lying back against the ridge of the tub as invisible fingertips went from tickling to softly rubbing your clit. Letting your ankle lift through the steamy bubbles and hook over the edge. Opening further for him, biting your lip in sinful satisfaction as you catch the desirous sound of his shaken breath in your ear. Definitely him, drowning in the essence of your soaked up pleasure. You moan a little louder for him, a sign for this new ghost lover of yours to keep going as you climb further toward climax. 

Splashing increases around you as your lower body jolts with pleasure. Gale slides one finger inside, curling upward in the perfect way. Your skin runs red in a lusty blush as you picture what your pussy might look like as an invisible finger thrusts into it. Getting penetrated by nothing yet filled even further as he slips a second finger inside. 

Your moan is almost guttural, ferally chasing that high. You say, “Are you going to show yourself or am I gonna cum all by myself?” 

With his free hand, he snapped his fingers with a loud flick. Gale appeared behind you, resting his arm around the tub as your eyes stared upward at him. Strands of hair hanging around his face, the circles under his chestnut eyes darkened even further with incurable lust. Finished by a smirk so irresistible you’re sure you could explode just by looking at him. 

Moving his free hand to your breast, prodding at the plush flesh, he says, “I’d hardly be able to concentrate if I tried. Watching you come undone for me…I can’t think of anything else.” 

Gale smashed his lips against yours, passionate and fiery. The same pace as his thumb rubbing your clit, fingers thrusting assertively up. His other hand worked your nipple, pinching and twisting in just the right spots to get your entire midsection in tingles. Slipping his tongue into your mouth just as you let out a pleasurable yelp. Bringing you closer and closer to the edge of paradise. 

He doesn’t miss a beat, maintaining rhythm even as your body writhes in ecstasy. Your kiss slips away, mouths still hovering over each other, drinking in your air. You shudder out, “D-don’t stop…nearly there…”

His breath is hot, keeping your foreheads together. Leading you up and up that hill of no return. He growled, “Yes, good. Do it for me, do it now.” 

The crackle of his voice is enough to fully tip you over the edge. Your sex blossoms with a wet, intense orgasm that spreads throughout your lower body. Gale laughs quietly, taking in the satisfaction of finally unravelling you after so long waiting to strike with that invisibility spell. Days of thinking about the perfect time, now coming to fruition as you fall apart around his fingers. He can’t wait for the rest of the evening. 

Your body calms down, settling into the lukewarm water filled with soap lines and sweat. Gale gives you no time before he scoops both arms under you, lifting you from the tub in a bridal style carry. You giggle as you hug his shoulders, rubbing your nose against his. 

“Thank you for lifting me,” you say, “My legs are like jelly after that.” 

He chuckled, “Well, it’s the least I could do. Considering I’m about to take you to the bed and make the rest of your body—like jelly.” 

“Oh? Invisible or not?” You asked. 

As he flipped you onto the mattress and climbed over you, he said, “Why not both?”

[aeristudios]

Caller #17

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: basketball player!Soonyoung x college dj reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, 90s au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: PG-13

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, talks of tough family dynamics, bit of heavy angst, kissing

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.8k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You could easily name 10 things that you hate about him. But when you bond over music and families, you realize there's more to him than meets the surface.

𝐀𝐍: This was not an easy fic. It took me way longer than I planned to write, and the story I had mapped out went in a different direction. I still feel proud of this one, my longest fic yet, and I hope that you will enjoy it too 🥹 This is a part of my very own Now That's 90's collab hosted by me and @mingsolo. Thank you to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and @hobeemin for making a banner for me at the last minute 💙

“Thank you for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s your song of the week?” “Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve!” “You got it! Thanks for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio at 526 AM.” Hitting play on the record, the orchestra's melody hits your ears, sending you into an out-of-body experience, your soul floating to cloud nine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand every time the song is played, and you imagine yourself playing the violin, getting lost in the beautiful and complicated sinfonia. 

Working at the college radio station was your life. It’s the only place to lose yourself to TLC, Nirvana, and Weezer for hours without judgment. You are in your 3rd year of college, getting your bachelor’s in music theory so you can be one of the most prominent songwriters in the world. While everyone in high school didn’t know what they would be doing with their life, you always imagined yourself getting a Grammy for Song of the Year on stage. That is your real passion: creating musical poetry for the masses.

You slowly take the headphones off and set them down, looking at the big clock plastered on the wall. You let out a heavy sigh, sad that your time at the station is ending. You are allotted two hours a day on Saturday as a part of credit for your program. If you had it your way, you would be here daily, listening to your favorite records and writing songs between commercial breaks.

“Hey,” your professor Kim calls out from her office. “Come in here before you leave.”

You gather your things to leave, looking at the station one last time before entering the smaller space. This isn’t her regular office, but it has everything you think you would need: a desk, a comfortable chair, and bookshelves full of books and ornaments for decoration. You have spent a lot of time in here, pitching new ideas for the station and getting turned down every single time.

“What's up?” You sit in the chair opposite of her.

“So we will be introducing a new segment to the radio where callers can call in and ask for advice about anything, and then you can recommend a song based on what they are calling in about.” She pauses to take a sip of water. “I want you to be a part of it.”

You don’t answer right away. You are peeved that Professor Kim wants you to head any segment. You have never shown any initiative to want to talk to anyone who calls in besides listening to music. It’s just not your thing. You are a loner at heart, and that’s how you plan to stay.

“Why me?” You finally speak up. “There are other people who are better at this than I am. Hell, ask Emily. She has been foaming at the mouth to talk about anything other than music.”

“Because you are who I want,” she shrugs. “I see how you look when you talk about your favorite releases. You go deep with the lyrics and how you can relate that to any part of your life. You are more than the person behind the voice, and it’s time other people see that.” “Well, I am not trying to be the next Oprah or Ricki Lake,” you scoff. I just want to play music, write my songs, and do whatever I need to do for the class.”

“No one said you would be the next talk show anything,” Professor Kim retorted. “This will be considered a project, and it’s worth 20% of your grade. Plus, when you are in the industry and have sessions with the artists about the song's lyrics, don’t you need to talk to them about their life and what they need? Think about that.” You nod, feeling defeated because you know you can’t talk your way out of this. You know she is right, but you will never admit it. “Plus, it’ll be a good idea to get out of your shell and work on those social skills,” she says. “We will start in a couple of weeks, so get your mind ready because before you know it, you will be there.” You nod and leave the office, your stomach grumbling loudly as you put your headphones on and listen to the latest Backstreet Boys release. It’s a quarter past seven, and dusk officially sets in the sky as you walk across campus. Working at the radio station is the highlight of your week, as you can’t play music loud at your dorm without others complaining. Fortunately, your dorm is set where you have your own space, but the walls are thin, and you can hear everything. You considered buying noise-canceling foam to cover your door but were told it was “against” the rules. Whatever. Your stomach rumbles again, and you are determined to get a burger and fries in your stomach and drink an Oreo milkshake. You cross the street, open your bag, and grab your wallet before being met with a screeching halt from a car in front of you, its headlights blaring in your eyes. “What the fuck?” You mouth at the driver. The driver pokes his head out the window, and you instantly recognize him as Soonyoung, the star point guard of the basketball team. His black Jeep is crowded, full of guys and girls, with Usher blasting through the speakers. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he waves. “Yeah, no shit,” you retort, walking to the end before the car pulls off. Jeers and boos could be heard, but you could care less. People like that always get in your way no matter what. You avoid people like that as much as people, as you don’t want to be mixed in with that crowd. Soonyoung will eventually go pro and live the NBA life, whereas you will be on the stage accepting awards, with millions of people cheering your name.

The segment started as planned, and you sat and listened to every caller asking for advice. Most of them wanted advice on how to ask someone out for a date, makeup, and things you didn’t care about. The only thing that made it worth it was you got to pick the music to go with the advice, which allowed you to show off your taste in music, from Britney Spears to Mandy Moore, Usher, Sugar Ray, etc. It made the time go by faster as well. You look through the glass, and Professor Kim gives you a thumbs up to take the last call. Letting out a sigh of relief, you let the call ring a few times before you answer. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s on your mind?” “H-hello?” a tenured male voice booms through the speakers. You groan, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You’ve reached C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s on your mind?”

“Hey. You can use this line to ask for advice, right?”

“Yep,” you say, a bit annoyed. “Whatcha got?”

There is a lengthy pause, your fingers tapping dramatically on the soundboard. You raise an eyebrow at the professor, who shrugs and walks out of your view. You hear shuffling in the background, followed by what sounds like something being sipped from a cup.

“S-sorry, I am a bit nervous,” he apologizes. “It’s my first time calling in.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure him. “I know how it is. How can I help?”

“So I already have this path carved out for me by my family and everyone who cares about me. Sports is all I have known all my life, and I have worked very hard to get here.” He stops for a brief second. “Everyone expects me to act like this all-star college boy, and no one ever talks to me about anything else than sports, and I am starting to hate it.”

“Do you mind telling me what kind of sports you’re in?”

“I play ball.”

“Okay, that's good. Well, what is it that you want?”

“I’m tired of being what everyone wants me to be: this golden retriever everyone loves. I just want to be me.” You understood how he felt. Maybe not in sports, but people pushing you to be something you’re not. You come from a family of doctors and lawyers who expected you to be the same. “Get good grades so you can get into an Ivy League school” is all you heard growing up. When you were seven, you expressed interest in music, sitting in front of the family piano on Christmas and playing Jingle Bells, which you learned on your own. Your parents cared for a while, putting you in piano lessons and taking you all over the state for recitals. They figured if you kept this up until high school, it would look good on college applications, but nothing that they took you seriously for. It wasn’t until you learned how to play the guitar in secret that you fell in love with how the strings strummed against your fingers that you realized that your passion is music. Thanks to your choir teacher, you had a good voice and kept it in tune while practicing writing music. You soon sang in front of the school, getting high praise from people all over for your voice and how you would “make it big one day.” Your parents insisted that it was just a phase and that eventually you would become a doctor and make a “real” living. You were determined to prove them wrong by applying to one of the best music schools and getting in on a full ride. You did that, but it came with a cost: being cut off by everyone in your family but your grandparents. They believed in you from the beginning and made sure you were okay. You will pay them back in tenfold one day. “Hello?” the deep voice cut through your thoughts. “Y-yeah, sorry,” you snap back into focus. “Do you want my advice?” “Yeah, I do,” you hear him clear your throat. ‘I think you should be who you want to be. It may feel a little different at first, but eventually, you will be happier being yourself.” “I mean…” he pauses for another second. “How do I go about that? How do I show people the real me?” “Hmm,” you think out loud. “Why don’t you try easing into it? Start a random conversation about something you are interested in that no one knows about. Gauge their reactions, and if they treat you weirdly, then start making new friends. It might be a little harder with your family, but they will come around. But either way, it’s exhausting having to hide yourself at the time. It’s the 90s and a new era!” “Yeah,” he says slowly. I’ll try that. Thanks.” “No problem!” You say. “Check out this song that’ll hopefully speak to your heart. This is me signing off on CARAT Radio, 800am.” You played “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree, a personal favorite, closing out the end of your segment. Admittedly, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Sure, some questions were annoying, but it allowed you to pass on music to people and help them get over whatever. You can’t call that a total loss. You push the mic to the side and leave the room, checking in with your professor before leaving. “Great job,” she leaned back into her seat. “You were well-spoken and composed, and the music selections were excellent. Have you thought about being a radio DJ?” “NO! you snort. “I want to be more behind the scenes, writing songs and getting Grammys.” “Okay, okay,” Professor Kim chuckles. “But don’t rule it out. You are a natural at it.” You nod and head out the door with a small smile. Getting complimented about your work feels good, but you rule out being a radio DJ. You deal with people if you have to, but you prefer to have time for yourself a lot of times. You’re just introverted like that. However, that last call was in the back of your mind. You just want to live and succeed at your dream job. It was nice knowing someone out there felt the same way you did. 

Before you knew it, a few weeks had passed, and you had secretly liked doing the segment every Saturday, talking to people from different backgrounds and listening to their troubles. You had a song for every call, and you bragged to your professor at the end of your shift that you had impeccable taste. The analytics showed that more people were tuning in during your segment than at any other time on the radio. Not gonna lie; it stroked your ego quite a bit.

The mystery guy called in on Saturdays, ironically being caller #17 every time. He would call and ask for advice about getting his grades up, coming out of his comfort zone, trying new things, etc. You got to know him a little, see how he solves problems, and see his sense of humor. You have no idea what he looked like, but you imagined he was just your type, like a Keanu Reeves, Theo Mizuhara, or Merlin Santana. Is it crazy that you sometimes daydream about a man you never met?

Today was the last day of the advice segment, and everyone called in with their usual advice and well wishes. Like clockwork, the mystery guy was caller #17. His breathing was labored when you answered, followed by a clunk of metal hitting the floor. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s your damage?”

“H-hey.” You know it was him; the sound of his voice was familiar to you. You shift in your seat, sitting straight and placing your elbows on the desk. You try to keep a poker face, your professor watching you with curious eyes. “Hey there,” you clear your throat. “How can I help?” “I heard today is the last day to ask for advice,” he says. “I can’t say I won’t miss calling and hearing your voice every Saturday.” “Oh yeah?” you chuckle. “ That’s good to know. Well, what is the last piece of advice that I can give you?” “So, there is this girl,” he starts. “I really like her. She’s cute, a bit of a hard ass, and I really like her mind. She’s not like anyone that I’ve met. How do I ask her out?” “Does she know you exist?” “Yeah. I almost ran into her once, but we talked a lot.” “Ah. Do you think she might like you?” “I-I’m not sure,” he stutters. “We get along and everything and we have some things in common. I just don’t know if she would be into me.” “Okay, well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask her out? The worst that can happen is that she says no; at least you’d know.” “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m nervous as hell, that’s all. Have you dated anyone before?” You are taken aback, your professor raising her eyebrows through the glass. You nod, licking your lips before responding. “I’ve dated here and there,” you say slyly. “It wasn't anything serious. What about you?” ‘Um, yeah, I have,” he snorts.

“Well, there you go then, tiger.” You’re clearly entertained by this conversation. “Remember how you felt when you asked the other girls out, and apply that same confidence to this girl. You never know. She might say yes.” “Okay, I will take your word for it. Thank you.” “Not a problem!” You beam. “Here is the last song I leave you with: ’ 4-page letter’ by Aaliyah. Have a good night, ya’ll.”

You play the final track of the night, setting down the headphones while Professor Kim claps her hands in applause. You roll your eyes playfully, pushing your chair onto the desk and exiting the booth. You feel light as a feather, dopamine taking over your body as you meet your professor in her office. “Great job,” she smiles. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “Maybe,” you plop down on a chair. “It was fun giving out music suggestions.” “Mhmm,” she nods. “Well, get out there and enjoy your Saturday. I will see you in class on Friday.” You grab your things and leave the station, your stomach rumbling and your mouth parched. It’s after 8, and the nearest thing open is the local pizza joint with the best pepperoni pizza with the cheesiest cheese you’ve ever had. You go there often, and the owners, Dante and Gabriella, get your order ready before you sit down. “The usual?” they always ask, knowing that you are a creature of habit. Aside from your grandparents, they were the closest thing to family to you, always making sure your pizza was hot and crispy with a tall cup of Coke to go with it. They asked about your studies, and Gabriella always asked when you’d get a boyfriend. 

“Ah, stop it, amore mio,” Dante jokingly shushes her. “She has all her life to find the love of her life.”

More people started coming in, and they left you to your food and your walkman. You gleefully put Parmesan cheese over your pizza, taking the first bite and feeling instant gratification. A slice of heaven, literally. You take your headphones on, listening to Kurt Cobain croon on Nirvana’s Something In The Way. The “Nevermind” album got you through some tough times, especially when your family cut off communication with you. It hurt you and made you feel isolated and misunderstood. On the outside, your mom and dad put on this persona of being open-minded and willing to do anything for the family. Why were you the exception? You feel the tears well up, and you get yourself together before people start to notice, eating the rest of your pizza before you call it a night. You look around, seeing people on dates or hanging out with their friends, and you miss that. You had friends back home, but you all split up before you went to college. Who knows what their lives are like now. It’s not like you are visiting home anyway. You clean up your mess and walk into the bathroom, relieving yourself and washing your hands before returning to your dorm. You looked at yourself in the mirror: your jean jacket covered your black button-up shirt, shorts, and stockings underneath. Your eyes were slightly red, a contrast from your fresh face. Stifling a yawn, you leave and wave goodbye to Dante, opening the side door and bumping into someone in the process. You look up, facing Soonyoung, his cheerful eyes meeting yours. “We gotta stop meeting like this,” you mutter, backing up and adjusting your jacket. “Yeah, we shouldn’t,” he responds, opening the door to let you out. Your head snaps up, half expecting him to not hear you.  You rake your fingers through your hair, walking out of the restaurant. He’s a handsome guy, you can admit that, with his fresh, faded haircut and trendy clothes. You get why he is popular with everyone. “I’m sorry for almost hitting you with my car the other day,” he calls out. “It’s alright,” you turn around. “Just don’t make it a habit.” “Alright.” He chuckles and goes inside, and you speed walk to your dorm. Did I just flirt with him? You think to yourself. What the fuck was that? You aren’t even interested in Soonyoung in that way. You two are the two opposites of each other. You’re clearly losing your mind.

The cool air calms you down, and the slight breeze underneath the moonlight keeps you at bay until you get to your building. It’s Saturday night, and everyone’s out; the only sound being heard is your boots hitting the tiled floor as you walk down the hallway to your dorm. Unlocking your door, you notice an envelope tucked underneath it. You sit on the bed, open it, and pull out a letter. I know this isn't a four-page letter, but I like you. You’re funny, have good jams, and are down to earth. Did I say that you’re cute? I like talking to you every Saturday and don’t want it to stop. 

 I want to take you out to a concert on Friday. I’ll pick you up at 4 at your dorm. I know you've said yes if you’re there when I arrive. —Caller #17

“What do you think of this?” Your former roommate and good friend, Nikki Prince, holds up a black leather jacket in your size. You asked her to go shopping with you for an outfit for tomorrow's impending date, and you needed another set of eyes. She majors in architecture and design but models on the side thanks to her striking looks. A tall, tanned skin and green-eyed beauty, she now lives with her much older chef boyfriend, Caelan, but whenever you need her, she’s always there. She’s French, stylish, and brutally honest. You loved that about her. “I dig that,” you take it from her and try it on. It fits you just right. It would be chilly, so you bought new boots, a white shirt, and black jean shorts to wear with black stockings underneath. You wanted to be comfortable as you would be on your feet all night. 

“Are you sure about this date?” Nikki’s foreign accent comes through. “How do you know this guy isn’t some serial killer? We’ve all seen Scream.” “Gee, thanks, mom,” you roll your eyes. “If he tries anything with me, I’ll just show him the moves I learned from the YMCA.” 

“I’m serious. This is risque for you, no?” You shrug, slowly taking off the jacket and heading to the cashier. “I get your point, and if anything happens, I can defend myself. But I have a feeling that it won’t happen.” You greet the cashier and pay for the jacket. “I’ll call you before I leave and tell you about it the next day. Deal?” Nikki nods, and you both walk out of the store, satisfied with what you bought. The mall is busy for a Thursday night, with young adults frolicking at stores like Rave and Wet Seal, looking for the latest fashion trends. The mall isn’t really your scene, as you prefer to thrift shop for your clothes. You have been lucky to find some hidden gems there, especially since you are on a limited budget. Nikki, however, said it was a special occasion, and you quote, “You are not going on a date in someone else’s vêtements.”

You stop at Auntie Anne’s, buying a massive pretzel with cheese on the side, while Nikki opts for a small lemonade. You offer her a piece, which she declines, saying her boyfriend, Caelan, will make her dinner later. “How is that going, by the way?” You sit down at a table. “It’s going good,” she enthuses, raking her fingers through her long black tresses. “He’s so mature and sophisticated. Imagine not having to cook and clean after a man and have good sex.” “Well, yeah, he’s about six years older,” you remark. "He better know a thing or two if he wants to keep his model.” Nikki gloats as you finish your pretzel, talking about the elaborate French dishes her boyfriend makes for her and how he worships the ground she walks on. Since you’ve known her, she has always been opinionated and refused to associate with people within your age group. Whenever you see her in the hallways, she always talks with teachers or ignores the lustful looks of college boys. You two got on well because you were roommates, and both were Scorpio risings. You understood each other. “Oh shoot, I better head back to the flat,” Nikki says, looking at her watch. Caelan is going to be home soon, and he is making steak frites tonight.” 

“Yeah, I gotta head to the dorm anyway. Early class tomorrow.”

You walk out of the mall into the chilly night air. She offers you a ride home, and you decline at first, saying that you will walk as it's pretty close. But a slight wind blows, bringing chills down your spine.

“Wait,” you shout after her. “I’ll take that ride.”

The ride was short and quiet, your mind occupied with your date with this mystery stranger. Nikki was right, you don’t know him, and he could be this crazy guy. But you’re also excited; the butterflies haven’t left your stomach since Saturday. You feel like you know him, and you don’t even know his name. He is just caller #17.

She pulls up to your building, and you hug her, preparing to run inside and shower. You know Nikki is still worried and means well, even if she sometimes acts like an overbearing old sister.

“Come over tomorrow at two if you can,” you announce. “You can help me get ready and meet my date in case anything goes crazy.”

“Alright,” Nikki seems relieved. “I’ll be there.”

You shut the door and shout your goodbyes before sprinting inside.

“Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

The next day went fast, like a blur. You slept past your alarm and woke up after twelve, making you two hours late.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” you shout as you scrambled out of bed and tripped over a blanket. You throw on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater from the University, your hair in a wild ponytail as you brush your teeth and high-tailed it out the door. You ran to class, forming an apology along the way, your heart beating out of your chest. You are met, however, with a closed door and a white paper plastered on the door:

NO CLASS TODAY. ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND.

“Really?” You huffed, leaning against the wall. It’s not like you are late for class; your alarm was

set despite you being up late last night. But whatever, fuck it. You aren’t about to let this ruin your day.

The leaves flow softly with the wind as you walk back to your dorm, the sun playing hide and seek in the clouds. All you can think about is tonight and what concert you are going to. Maybe it’s a huge concert, and that’s why he is picking you up early… or perhaps it’s a local indie band at a bar. Your mind runs with endless possibilities, excitement pumping through your veins. You aren’t a hopeless romantic or a love-at-first-sight kind of person, but something about this person makes you feel good… like you finally have someone who can relate to you on some level. Granted, you have only talked with him on the phone, but you have a gut feeling and are rarely wrong about these things. You finally return to your dorm and take a well-needed shower, washing and detangling your hair with much-needed privacy. Your dorm has shared showers; you usually take them when everyone is asleep at night. Fortunately, there were only a few people, allowing you to have time for yourself. You allow yourself to think of the water running down your body as him, his hands caressing your body, his lips maybe touching yours— “Is anyone in here?” You snap out of your daydream quickly, and the water turns cold right on queue. “Y-yeah?” “I am here to clean the showers,” a woman’s voice calls from the door. “O-okay, give me a second.” Cursing silently, you quickly step out and dry yourself, throwing on your robe and grabbing your shower caddy before exiting the bathroom. You are met by an older woman wearing a shirt representing your college and sweats, with cleaning supplies in tow. “You were in there for a while,” she remarks as she sets out the wet floor sign. Do you have a hot date tonight?” “Something like that,” you shrug. You walk back to your room, and to your surprise, Nikki is outside your door. “You’re early,” you remark, unlocking the door. “Yes, I know,” she said. “But we will need more than two hours to get yourself right.” “You act like I can’t dress myself,” you scoff. “I just wanted your company, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah? Mon ami, when was the last time you changed your makeup?” You open your mouth to rebuttal but close it immediately. You hate to say it, but Nikki’s right. It’s not like you are going anywhere besides school, the music store, and the pizzeria. “Exactly,” Nikki says, setting her stuff down on her bed. “I went and got you makeup close to your teint, just in case.” She pulls out brand-new makeup from Revlon from mascaras, concealers, powders, and assortments of lipsticks of my choosing. She also bought nail polishes, saying it was time to add some color to your life. As much as you want to roll your eyes at her, she is right. As harsh as Nikki seems sometimes, she has a big heart and always looks out for you when you least expect it. You know a thing or two about style, but she takes it to a whole different level and isn’t shy about giving advice on it. You appreciate her so much. Being honest with yourself, you are nervous as hell. You have had crushes before, but you have never been pursued like this, where someone likes you enough to ask you out formerly, even if it was via a note. This person cares about your mind or seems to. You aren’t sure how to feel; you want to be excited and have a good time, but you have a wall up for a reason. You don’t want to be disappointed again like your family has. You figured if the people you love the most can abandon you like that, there is no hope for you out there. You lived with that hard truth for a long time, and you were content with that. But god, this guy has you curious. “What’s on your mind?” Nikki finishes with your makeup and hair, gazing at you through the mirror. “Butterflies in my stomach are killing me,” you grimace. “I can’t believe I am even doing this.” “Oh, relax,” she blows a raspberry. “You always do this thing where you talk yourself out of things you deserve. Stop that. D'accord? “Yes, mother,” you tease. She sucks her teeth, and you get dressed, putting on the new clothes you bought and your black leather boots. Checking out your appearance, you are satisfied with your look, and Nikki gives you a thumbs up while she cleans up. Knock, Knock! You look at the door, the butterflies fluttering deeper in your stomach. You look in the mirror one last time as Nikki opens the door, a brief silence followed by a hearty chuckle. “Mon ami, your date is here.”

You see him, and you're stunned. It dawns on you why he’s here, and you feel your heart drop all the way to your ass. This has to be some kind of joke. “Soonyoung? What are you doing here?” He walks more into your view, wearing a grey jean jacket with matching pants. His right hand is in his pocket, and he has a small bouquet of irises in his other hand. “I’m here to take you to the concert?” Nikki is behind him, trying to keep her composure and mask her giggles. Of all the people you thought would show up, Soonyoung was the LAST person on your mind. This is the person who was calling in every Friday and wanting to talk to you? Yeah fucking right. “What happened?” you accost him. “Did you lose some bet, and you had to ask me out? Or do you feel bad for almost hitting me with your car?” “No?!” he scoffs, clearly offended. “I mean, yes, I feel bad about almost hitting, but no one dared me to do anything. Do you think I am that kind of person?” “Well, yes.” You wish you could take back what you said, but it was too late. You knew you hurt his feelings, the crestfallen look on his face saying it all. “This was a mistake,” he sighs dejectedly. “Sorry, I wasted your time.” He handed Nikki the flowers and walked away, the air feeling thick and awkward. You couldn’t even look at her in the eyes. You knew you fucked up. “Well, that was awkward,” you huff. “And shitty.” You raise an eyebrow at her, and she stares you down. You don’t want to feel worse than you already do, and Nikki isn’t helping. “Honestly, I think the guy was telling the truth,” Nikki surmises. “He looked like a sad puppy.” You think about this caller #17 guy who would call in every week and share his thoughts with you about everything, with you having to do very little. You think about how scared he felt about being his true, authentic self and how much courage it probably took to ask you out. You know you are a tough cookie to crack and understand better than anyone how it feels to go against the grain and be who you are. “I fucked up Nik,” you slump on your bed. “Yeah, you did.” God, you hate her bluntness sometimes, but she’s right. You need to go find him and make this right. “Do you think he’s still here?” you ask, sitting up and grabbing your purse. “He couldn’t have left that fast.” “Only way to find out is to get off your ass and find him,” she says, pulling your arm. “Go find your guy.” You both rush out of your dorm, jogging down the hallway and out of the building, looking for a silhouette of him. You were scared you missed him and felt defeated, not seeing any sight of him anywhere. Surveying the area one last time, you noticed a black Jeep peeling out of the parking lot. It stops at the stop sign, the second to last car to go. This is your only chance. “WAIT!”

You sprint towards the car, barely meeting him as he is about to turn.

“STOP,” you exhale, relieved that you caught him. “Don’t go.” Soonyoung steps out as you rest your hands on the hood of his car, trying to catch your breath. He touches your arm, his hands soft as silk, sending shocks throughout your body.

“Are you okay?” He asks, taking a good look at you.

“Aside from me about to pass out, I’m good.” You take a deep breath. “Listen. I’m sorry. I was a jerk and an asshole and—”

“MOVING YOUR FUCKING CAR!”

A middle-aged woman leans out of the window and gives you the bird, followed by a slew of car horns beeping in annoyance behind you and Soonyoung.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung curses, realizing the amount of cars behind him. “Get in the car.”

You both get in the car and drive off from the angry drivers, pulling into the nearest gas station. You sit with your hands in your lap, this weight of regret sitting on your chest and guilt eating you from the inside. You look at him, and he seems surprisingly relaxed as if you didn’t reject him

not even thirty minutes ago.

“I’m going to get some gas,” he announces. “Wait here.” 

You watch him walk inside to pay and let out the deepest, most agonizing sigh. He should be calling you every name in the book, and rightfully so, as you insulted him. Why is he being so nice? Does he really like you that much?

He returns a few minutes later, shoving his pockets with change left over, and you both lock eyes with each other. In another situation, you would’ve been able to appreciate his good looks, trendy clothes, and tiger-like appearance. But instead, you feel sick to your stomach, disappointed in how you acted. You look down, twiddling your thumbs until he finishes pumping his gas and returning to the car. This is not like you at all. “Hey,” he says. “Hi,” you stammer. “I’m sorry again. I feel like a terrible person, and I shouldn’t have bit your head off like that.” “I know you were intense, but Jesus Christ,” he exhaled. “Why do you think I wouldn’t be interested in you? You made it seem like I lost a bet to ask you out. You made me feel like crap.” Every word felt like a punch in the gut, and you deserved it. Despite your parents' many flaws, they always taught you not to judge a book by its cover, and that’s precisely what you did. You were pretentious and stuck up about him. In some ways, you aren’t any different from them. “I guess…” your voice trails off. “I just saw you as the athlete that everyone is in love with. Your friends, I know the type, and we’ve never really crossed paths with each other unless I was bumping into you or almost getting hit by your car.” “So… you saw me as the very thing I told you I didn’t want to be seen as.” You didn’t have to answer back. You both knew the answer, and it was eating you up inside. “I’m sorry, I am just gonna go.” Before he could stop you, you exited the Jeep and started walking back toward your dorm. You are embarrassed and can never face him again. This is why you don’t don’t talk to anyone. This is awkward; it feels weird. You lose yourself in your thoughts until you reach the street light, waiting for your turn to go. The air is slightly chilly than usual, the smell of the ocean taking over your senses that you would enjoy any other time. Yeah, a walk to the beach sounds nice, you say to yourself just as the street signal turns green. You feel someone’s hand pulling you away, and you twirl around, facing Soonyoung’s back as he takes you back to his car.

“You’re dramatic as hell, you know that, right?” He shouts over his shoulder. “You didn’t even let me respond; you just hopped out like you were on the run.” 

You stayed silent. What more could you say? He was right. He opens the passenger side, letting you slide in and shutting the door behind you. A few seconds later, he is on your other side, turning on the ignition. 

“You not a terrible person,” he breathes. “A terrible person wouldn’t come sprinting out of their doom in boots and a nice outfit trying to apologize. You said you’re sorry, and it’s fine.” “Is it?” 

“I mean, I’ll get over it,” he shrugs. “I wouldn’t have pulled you back here if I didn’t want to be around you. Now, do you still want to go back and forth about this, or do you want to make it up to me by going to this concert?” It’s a brief moment of silence as you seriously consider your options. You can tell Soonyoung is still bothered by what you did, but his small smile clarifies your decision. “Lead the way, tiger.”

He chuckles as he pulls out of the lot, pulling into a line of cars headed in the same direction. The sun starts to set, the golden hour hitting the horizon at the sea. You fold your arms, confused as to why he is being so nice to you, despite you being a bitch to him earlier. You haven’t felt forgiveness in a long time, which feels foreign. Uncomfortable. You hope this feeling will go away as the night goes on.

You mainly rode in silence aside from the music on the radio, and the hour trip to the venue seemed to be double that. You pull up to Bayfront Amphitheater, packed to the brim with people screaming their hearts out to the band onstage. Your heart skips in excitement, realizing what concert Soonyoung took you to. 

“The Foo Fighters?” you grin, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’ve been wanting to see them forever." “Yeah, I remember you were talking about it on the radio, so I figured why not,” his voice trails off. 

Your heart feels like it is going to burst at the seams. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you, and you had the nerve to be a bitch to him earlier. 

“Hey,” you clear your throat. “I’m sorry again. I feel really shitty about it.”

“I know,” he says. “Look, let’s just enjoy this concert, and I’ll forget about it, okay?” You nod, walking towards the loud music. The rhythm of the drums and guitar blended together, hyping the crowd. You let Soonyoung lead the way, checking your tickets and guiding you to your seats. The crowd is thick, with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol flowing freely, and everyone is caught in their own zone. You wouldn’t say you are claustrophobic, but being packed like sardines isn’t your definition of a good time. Soonyoung notices your discomfort and grabs your hand, holding tight until he finds your assigned seats. You felt safe with him, a tiny spark in you that made you swoon. 

“Are you okay?” He shouts over the noise. “Do you want a beer or anything?” “Nah, I’m good,” you shake your head. 

The opening act finishes their set, the crowd politely cheering as the members walk off the stage. There is a small intermission, with people disbursing from their seats to grab drinks or making quick trips to the bathroom. You can feel Soonyoung looking at you, his eyes burning into the left side of your face. You lick your lips and pull strands of your hair to the back of your ear, a blatant attempt at flirting. 

“Are you gonna stare at me all night?” You feel bold, turning your body towards him. “I might,” he purrs. “I have a beautiful, mysterious girl sitting beside me.”

“I’m not that mysterious. We’ve been talking for weeks.” ‘Yeah, in front of thousands of people on the radio. Now I have you all to myself, and I want to get to know the real you.”

“Uh huh,” you nod. “Well, I’m always the same on and off air. You’ll see.” “I hope so.” He smiles at you, and gotta admit the man can flirt. Soonyoung is devastatingly handsome, and he’s quick with his words. It excites you. You like being around people you can banter with and not take shit personally. It takes a load off your shoulders, not having to hold yourself back every time. You just want to be you and be free. It feels like Soonyoung is chasing the same thing. 

“I wouldn’t have predicted you’d be into rock bands like the Foo Fighters. What made you want to go to their concert aside from me?”

“Well, you might be surprised to hear this, but I actually like the band,” he laughs. “I’ve been following them since their debut.”

“Really?” you say. “That’s cool.” “What?” Soonyoung leans closer, your shoulder barely touching his. “Do I not seem like the Foo Fighters type?” “Aht aht,” you playfully wave your finger at him. “I’m not getting tripped up on that question.” You fell into a rhythm of laughter that felt natural as if you had been doing this all your life. Despite your fuck up, he makes you feel cozy and open. The sun makes one final appearance, shining its glorious light on his beautiful, tanned skin. You can fully admit to yourself that he’s handsome as fuck, taking him all in before the sun dips below the horizon. “No, but seriously, I don’t seem like the type to be into them?” You pause before responding, being careful with your answer. “On the surface, no. But I am learning that there is more to a person than meets the eye.” There is a comfortable silence between you two, the sweet-smelling breeze keeping you at bay as you sit and enjoy each other’s company. You have so much you want to say but don’t simultaneously. You savor this tiny bit of peace with him. “I think I am gonna grab a drink,” Soonyoung gets up suddenly. “Do you want anything?” “Yeah, like a juice or something.” You watch him leave, checking out his ass as he stands in the concessions line. Nice and firm, definitely a football player’s ass. You look away before being caught, watching the crew prepare for the next act. You feel like a young girl who just realized you have a crush on a boy. You’re giddy inside, hypersensitive to everything around you and how you look. You hope he finds you as attractive as he says he does, or if not, keep up the lie a little longer. You’ve been dealt many disappointments in your life, and you can’t let this be one of them. 

“Here. I got you a lemonade.”

You gaze up at Soonyoung, carefully grabbing the cup from his hand. He has a cup of beer in the other, sipping before making a face. You laugh in your cup, tasting your sweet drink with some tart. You feel refreshed and a little bit alive, thanks to him. “Ladies and gentlemen, who’s ready for the FOO FIGHTERS?”

The crowd erupts into a roar as the band joins the stage, getting their placements to perform. Jolts of electric excitement course throughout your body, screaming your heart out before the first string is played on the guitar. You’ve always wanted to see them in concert, being a huge fan of Nirvana and following Dave Grohl after. Despite everything, he seems like a rad guy, and

if you ever had the opportunity, you would want to pick his brain and jam out with him. “ARE YOU MUTHAFUCKERS READY?” Dave Grohl shouts into the mic. 

 You both scream as the first song is played, the drums scratching the excellent part of your brain while the guitars take you to another level. You look at Soonyoung, his attention on the band with his arms folded, in awe of the performance being given. He looks adorable, and all you can do is smile, satisfied that you are in this space and can experience this moment. The band keeps playing hit after hit, the energy around you making you want to levitate in the clouds. You haven’t been this happy in a long time. You reach the last song of the night, and the key changes, the guitars riffing into a song you know all too well. “I want everyone to sing this song with us— this is for the regular heroes out there.” 

You feel the emotion and intensity in Dave Grohl’s voice, making you emotional. The song is about the ordinary person and their potential; you wish your family saw your potential. You wish you could share your music with them and see you thrive in the elements you’re most comfortable in. But instead, you’ve been cast out, and as much as you worked hard to get over it, it hurts you deeply. “Are you okay?” Soonyoung looks at you wide-eyed; you’re unaware of the tears trickling down your face. All you want to do is be held and told everything will be okay. As if he read your mind, he holds your hand, his thumb rubbing your palm softly, keeping you anchored in your emotional storm. Nothing else needed to be said between you two; the song lyrics moved your spirit. Kudos, my hero

Leavin' all the mess

You know my hero

The one that's on

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary

“Thank you for taking me to the concert. I had a really good time.”

You sit with Soonyoung in his car, sitting outside of your dorm. You talked about music all the

way back home, singling your hearts out to whatever is on the radio. Soonyoung is surprisingly a good singer, hitting some notes even better than you can. You wonder if he had any training. “I’m glad I was able to make it up to you,” he grins. “Oh, please,” you wave him off. I’m the one who started us on the wrong foot.” “True. But I think you more than made up for it tonight.” “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure.” 

“Why were you crying during the concert?” You knew this question would come eventually, but you still felt unprepared. You hadn’t really talked about your family life with anyone besides Nikki, but you were determined to keep it to yourself. But he makes you want to open up. “The song really hits me,” you point at your chest. “I feel every word and every percussion note as it plays. It reminds me of my mom and dad, and I wish they saw me as a normal person with their own aspirations rather than the person they want me to be. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Soonyoung nodded his head, understanding what you were saying. 

“My parents wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, and I just don’t see myself doing that. I fell in love with music and singing, and when I shared that I wanted to do songwriting full-time, they made me feel so low. Like I am stupid and naive for wanting a career in this. I would actually be happy.” You huff, wiping fresh tears off of your face. “I just wanted them to support me, but they couldn’t even do that. Aside from my grandparents, they cut me off completely.” “That’s not cool,” Soonyoung scoffs. “So they just went cold turkey and quit talking to you?” You nod, bitterly reliving the last conversation you had with them before you made no contact. “Why can’t our parents just let us live the lives we want? It’s like they want to live vicariously through us.” “Right?!” You exclaim. “See, you get it!”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he mumbled. You turn your body to look at him, studying his face and the possible thoughts he is having. You may see more eye to eye than you realize. ‘So, what’s your damage?” You poke at him. “It’s the same as yours,” he revealed. “They just want me to keep playing basketball so I can go into the big leagues and take care of everyone. I am essentially everyone’s meal ticket.” “Well, you don’t have to be,” you say. “You could just say fuck ‘em and live for yourself.” “Easier said than done,” he sighs. “I’m the first person in my family to attend college, and I actually like playing basketball. I believe in it, bleed it, all that… but whenever I am around my folks or friends, that’s all they want me to be about it. It’s like I’m not real. I am a person with complex interests and feelings, too.” 

“I know exactly what you mean, tiger.” 

You smile reassuringly; you understand that last sentence all too well. Your family would rather consider you the family fuck up, the black sheep, instead of understanding that you wanted different things. Why is that so fucking complicated? You stifle a yawn, looking at your watch and seeing how late it was.

“I really like talking to you and being around you,” Soonyoung confesses. I hope we can do it more.” “Yeah,” you gaze into his eyes. “ I would love that.” He walks you to your dorm, opens the doors, and holds your waist as you walk up the steps. His hands bring jitters and butterflies in your stomach that you hope you can experience more. You know you have a hard, cold exterior on the outside, but deep down, you want to feel love and adoration from someone. You hope Soonyoung can bring that. 

You never want this feeling to go away.

“Thank you for walking me in,” you say, unlocking the keys to your room. “I know I was being a bitch early, but thank you for showing me a good time anyway.” 

“It was worth it, seeing a smile on your face.” 

“Was it?” 

“Yeah,” he leans in closer. “I want to see it more.”

His lips touch yours, your chest bursting like fireworks as he deepens the kiss. Your arms rest on his shoulders, feeling natural and comfortable like a glove. He is gentle and kind, not doing too much but making you feel safe and like you can depend on him. It's crazy how one kiss can have you seeing your future. 

“We should do that more often,” you joke, leaving one last peck. He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “We will. I’ll make sure to do it more often.” 

“Okay,” you say, walking into your dorm. “I’ll hold you to it.”

[simpsdept]

Lute x female reader smut part 2

Words:955

A/n: okay! I hope this is good, cause I didn’t fully know what to do for part two, but I tried to make it as long as I could cause I know ppl(or most) don’t like short smut fics. Also sorry this took a while, my school is hella long so weekends are better for posting, im ill today so I’ll be trying to write more

(Requested by kdkdlslsdldldldd on tumblr)

Warning: insulting, rough sex, mean Lute, gay sex, male positions/female positions , toys(straps), hair pulling, biting, size difference, blow jobs(fake), sobbing, bondage

You were still laying on the bed, exhausted from the hours of teasing and the hard orgasm you just had, but it wasn’t over. The next thing you knew you were flipped over onto your knees, your elbows holding you up due to your wrists being tied tightly together.

“Lute..?” You asked tired, she got up and opened one of her closet drawers, searching for something. You stayed in the position that lute told you to stay in, still dizzy and aroused from your pre-orgasm. Lute finally came back with a large strap, putting it onto herself.

You trembled with excitement and nervousness, your core more and more aroused. Lute got in front of you and roughly grabbed a hand full of your hair to force you up and forcefully opened your mouth. “Be a good girl and suck.” Lute said smirking. You lowered your mouth onto the strap, taking it in like it was hers and not a toy. You moan and suck the strap, Lute pushed your head deeper into it making you gag. “That’s it whore..good job..” Lute pretended to moan, causing you to grow even more aroused.

She started to thrust in and out of your mouth, fucking it. You let out gags and moans when the strap hits the back of your throat repeatedly. She finally stopped and pulled out eventually, strands of your saliva connected your mouth to the strap.

She then gripped your hair harder and pushed your head down on the bed, you let out a soft whine, a more needy one, even if you were slightly scared.

Lute went behind you, you were more scared now, Lute would not go easy on you. “Get ready you little slut…” she said more hushed and sat on the bed behind you, lining up the strap at your entrance, you whimpered softly when the cool rubber hit your entrance,’threatening to push in.

Lute grabbed your hips roughly, rough enough to leave bruises. You wince softly and close your eyes, your head still being forced into the bed by lutes powerful grip.

You can feel her pushing into you, stretching you out already. You let out a soft cry as she pushed in without any hesitation or worry for your concern. She let out a teasing deep moan into your ears to get you more turned on, and she succeeded.

“That’s right..taking in my cock like the good white you are..” Lute teasingly said into your ears, not giving you anytime to adjust to the straps size before already thrusting in and out of you. You let out quieter and more exhausted weak cries, it felt good but so painful too.

You started to get tears in your eyes from how tough she was being, your ass having red marks from how hard she was thrusting into you. Your eyes were closed tightly as she continued to thrust wildly, showing no remorse for your wellbeing. Your breathing becomes quicker as she picked up the pace.

She thrusted harder and harder, eventually you let out a long cry, cumming onto the strap. Lute smirked and chuckled darkly, pulling her strap out and then forcing you to give her another blowjob with it. You pant and sloppily take the cum covered strap back into your mouth, sucking it the best you could even though your exhausted.

Lute noticed your exhaustion and softened for a second. “Only a few more times…” She reassured before going back to fucking your mouth with her strap. You whimper and gag as she fucked your mouth harder than the last time. You licked the strap and sucked it, tasting yourself on it.

As soon as you finish cleaning the strap with you mouth, she flipped you back over onto your back. Untying the ropes off of your hands which you thanked her for, they were rope burned around the wrists. Lute took off the strap and put it on you instead. Positioning herself over it.

You take this moment to catch your breaths and relax, knowing that she’s finally giving you a break. She lowered herself down onto you gently, moaning as the strap entered her. You couldn’t help but grab her hips and force her down onto it more. She lets out a soft gasp, trying to keep her moans hidden and sound more mad still.

She started to thrust against your hips, the strap hitting against her walls. She moaned and gripped your shoulders, biting them harsh once again to ground herself. You moan and groan when you feel her bite you, loving the feeling of her hips pushing up again yours in a more gentle manner.

You began to buck your hips as well, trying to give Lute some pleasure of it too. She moaned louder into your shoulder and tightened her bite, causing you to let out a groan. She got closer and closer to her climax, bucking her hips more wildly over the strap.

You felt the warm liquid of cum from Lute fall over your things from below. Both of you pant while she pulls herself out of the strap, throwing it onto the ground and not caring about it right now. She laid down next to you, both of your bodies covered in pre-cum and sweat, your sticky bodies pressed together. She was more calmed down now, telling you soft sorrys for being so rough, she was a lot sweeter once she got all that stress out, and she’s looking forward to doing it again next time.

[rocknrolldecadence]

hii, can you write something about reader being friends with benefits with early glam era Slash like drunk sex after or between sets at a gig, please and thank youuu

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

better than ever

hooking up with slash after a gig 😋😋

warnings: drunk sex (DONT DO THAT GUYS), drinking etc etc

a/n: soz i keep disappearing guys. this is lowk bad but it’s the longest fic i’ve ever written so far (954 words 🤯) so oh well

backstage was always your favourite place to be. sure, it was a trek to the bar if you wanted a drink, but there was something about staying backstage that just felt brilliant. it was calmer - the walls muffled the sound of whatever band was playing and there was no drunken crowd you had to be a part of if you wanted to enjoy the performance. being backstage allowed you to enjoy the night without all the hassle that normally came with listening to live music.

tonight, guns n roses were playing. well, not technically. they were opening for some glam rock band the sunset strip seemed to love, one you didn’t care to remember the name of. you’d read it on the bill as you walked into the bar, but didn’t pay it any attention, instead focusing on the small lettering that read ‘GUNS N ROSES’.

slash, guns’ lead guitarist, had invited you here. you had known him for a few months, and you had become friends with benefits. it worked perfectly for the both of you - you weren’t looking for a relationship right now, and neither was he. and the sex was great.

you traversed through the winding corridors of the venue’s backstage area until you found a dressing room with the names ‘slash’ and ‘duff mckagan’ written on a piece of paper stuck to the door. you knocked on the door and went in.

“hey guys!” you greeted the two men. duff was sat by the mirror, seemingly making some final adjustments to his makeup before going onstage. his hair was as tall as could be, the blonde mass teased and hairsprayed so much it was almost laughable. slash was standing in front of another mirror, just finished putting in a star-shaped dangly earring. he looked over at you and smiled.

“hey. you look good.” he said, looking you up and down. duff turned round in his chair, before doing the same and agreeing with slash.

“yous excited for the gig tonight?” you asked.

“it should be good,” slash replied, “i hope so, anyways.”

“what makes you say that?”

“do you not remember the last gig we played here? i don’t know *what* happened but i think it was the worst show we’ve ever played. i’m surprised they let us back again.” duff answered. his reply jogged your memory, and you started to remember just how bad that gig was. you giggled as you recalled the group’s drunkenness as they stumbled about on stage, barely able to play their instruments. they were nearly always drunk on stage, but something about that night must’ve just been… insane.

you chatted with them for a while before they had to go onstage. as they were leaving, slash pointed to a corner of the room you hadn’t noticed.

“take anything you want.”

he closed the door and you looked over to the corner where he had pointed. you don’t know how you didn’t notice it, considering it was stacked full with bottles of drink. every sort of hard liquor you could imagine was there - whisky, vodka, gin, etc. of course, there were mixers too. not to mention a few beers. ‘what a treat’ you thought to yourself as you reached for your favourite. you searched with your eyes for a glass but didn’t find anything. shrugging, you opened the bottle and drank straight from it.

and that was how you spent the next hour and a half, just drinking. you knew you shouldn’t, but when you had all that on offer for free, you couldn’t resist.

it was late when slash came back to the dressing room. he was drunk too, clearly having spent some time at the bar to celebrate the gig. he laughed as he came in, seeing you sprawled on the sofa with a bottle in hand.

“enjoying ourselves, are we?” he smirked, coming over to sit on the arm of the sofa.

“what? you gave me free reign.” you retorted.

“you drank those beers? warm?”

“they were nice.”

he laughed again.

you started asking him about the show. you’d been listening, but the audio was significantly damped by the dressing room’s door. it had been good, not the band’s best, but nothing went wrong.

“well, i’m glad you had a good time out there.”

suddenly, slash leaned in and kissed you. this was normal for you guys - a makeout session could spring out of nowhere. you kissed him back, setting your bottle of beer on the ground as you did so. you settled into his lap as the kiss intensified. soon, your hands were in slash’s hair, and his were roaming down your sides. then, he started to fiddle with the button of your jeans. you smirked, knowing what was about to come.

it must’ve been an hour or two you spent in that dressing room with slash, but it passed by so quick. it was relatively quiet, except for the sounds of your skin meeting his and moans & groans that came out of your mouths. like every time before, it felt like heaven. not to mention, since you were both drunk, it feel even better. every time you felt slash hit that deep point inside you, you were entering another dimension. you could barely take it anymore, but it felt too good to stop. it seemed like slash could last forever, as his steady (albeit drunken) thrusts continued.

when you both came, it felt amazing. you could almost cry as your high washed over you.

as slash pulled out, he asked you “was that good?”

“better than ever.”

[ybklix]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀

★ pairing: chris bahng & lee minho x popstar!femreader

✦𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Prima donna: someone who demands to be treated in a special way and is difficult to please.

The sweet and perverse play of a life hidden behind an acclaimed character created by someone.

Minho Lee, a frustrated young writer working in one of the most important music magazines, is about to find out what’s really going on behind the scenes of the mysterious girl everyone is wondering about.

With small steps in your career, you are discovered by a famous producer under the pseudonym CB97, whose vision of work is very specific and quite peculiar… yet you succeed in becoming a rising star, who manages to spark the public's curiosity. Hiding little secrets under the image of a mysterious internet girl with an angelic voice and face.

Once Minho is challenged to come up with a really good story to keep his job, he finds your unusual videos on the internet, wondering if he could have a chance to meet you… only to find himself with no way out, immerse in a dark world, hidden and full of beauty and desire.

♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 - 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, angst, daddy kink, soft bdsm, sex toys, sextape, est. relationship, cheating, threesomes, mention of sex workers, sugar daddy, dom!chan, toxic relationship, reader is slightly a nymphomaniac (current warnings appearing in each chapter).

♡⋆˙ FIC MASTERLIST

❀ inspired by the early career of poppy, the singer and her “weird” yt videos back in 2016, electra heart by marina and the diamonds and almost famous film.

main masterlist

current warnings: daddy kink, pet names, suggestive smut.

word count: 860

♡ PROLOGUE ♡

“Perfect, beautiful, but I feel you can do better, let’s do it again just one more time” your boyfriend said in a soft tone, focused on all his recording equipment watching once more your video, you nodded determined and quickly arranged your two pigtails back on your shoulders, “In three... two...”

You went back to your role and acted according to the script previously studied to perfection written by your boyfriend. It wasn’t rocket science, your videos were never longer than three minutes, and this was one of those that came out in one continuous take, but Chris, your boyfriend, was a total perfectionist freak.

Once you heard him say “Cut,” you felt yourself breathe again and were a little tired of the bright set lighting hitting your face.

“This is the good one, babygirl, you did excellent, I just edit it and it’s done” he said, cheering you on and still focused on his computer.

You approached him, this time he was so focused on the result of the video that he didn’t go straight to you to pamper you which seemed strange to you, like something empty, you missed his affection and compliments every time you did something well, or every time you did your job well and didn't complicate it for him too much.

You admired him, his handsome side profile, you sighed, you were dying to call him by his name, but he didn’t like when you called him that at all, according to him, it was like a lack of affection towards him.

“Daddy” you tried to catch his attention, stretching his clothes a little but he was still engrossed watching every detail of your recorded video, “Daddy” you called him again in a more needy tone.

“What’s wrong little one?” he replied without paying attention to you, deftly moving his long fingers on his computer.

“Did I do it right?” you asked.

“Of course you did, babygirl, I’m almost about to post it...”

“Then why don’t you show me how much you like it?” you whined, knowing full well that tone made every part of his body tremble.

He finally turned to look at you, your expression with a slight pout, your eyes bright, it was obvious you wanted sex to which Chris smirked as he couldn’t believe you were insatiable, you had a huge sexual appetite, you could last hours and hours, round after round until he left your body completely tired, until you cried and begged for no more. But you couldn’t help it, he had made you that way, he created you, from your dyed hair, to your feet with your socks and shoes on that he chose and dressed you in them. You were all his.

For a year now, you had this kind of relationship that was a little abnormal, but you were turned on by every part of it. It was a routine you kept, but besides the sex your favorite part was making music with your boyfriend, being able to share creative ideas, and ending up completely fascinated with the great work he did with your voice.

“That’s what you want, huh, babygirl?” Chris raised his eyebrows, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth watching you with desire, making your pussy throb under his penetrating gaze, “Wasn’t the good morning daddy gave you enough for you?”

You shook energetically, your heart racing at the thought of being touched again by him, igniting in you an inner flame that could only be extinguished by reaching your so intense orgasm that your daddy always makes sure you reach.

“I want more, daddy please, don’t I deserve a reward?”

“Mmm, the video wasn’t that hard to act...” he commented teasing you a little.

“Daddy, pleaseee” you begged, you were so wet that if he refused to touch you, you’d go to your room to lock in and give yourself an orgasm, without caring about breaking one of his rules, either way a very painful but sizzling hot punishment awaited you every time you broke one of them.

“Okay, come here” Chris turned from his chair, putting his body in front of you.

You moved closer, almost in a jump of happiness, wrapping your arms around his neck, Chris wrapped his arms around your body, squeezing it and dropping his heavy strong arms in you.

“What does my princess want?” he asked, close to your lips, brushing his big nose against yours.

“I don’t know, daddy, you decide...”

Chris moved one of his hands down to your wet center, starting to stroke your clit, making you gasp and moan.

“You’re so wet... You want daddy to play with you, don’t you?”

You bit your lip, aroused, every muscle in your pussy throbbing, so needy at his slightest touch. You loved him, you worship him.

You didn’t believe that anything or anyone could break such a bond between you. He knew absolutely everything about you, or at least you were so blinded as to believe so. But trying to figure him out was a constant game that sometimes you had to lose. And gosh, you really fucking hate to lose.

[remlionheart]

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦ ˚ *

Marinade

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ when i first decided that i wanted to write some yuuji angst, i had a v vague idea in my head of what it might look like, but when i tell you that this fic took me for a ride, i mean it. angel boy yuuji itadori finds himself mourning his 22nd birthday rather than celebrating it. sitting alone at a bar, overwhelmed by grief when he's suddenly greeted by the one part of his past that doesn't hurt to look at. 4.9k words. hurt/comfort, angst, smut, fluff, slice of life, shonen, literally everything and anything going on here. i was crying and smiling and rooting for these characters and i'm not sure that i'll ever emotionally recover from writing this, but i'm really happy w the outcome so lemme know whatcha think, luv you ♡ (also shoutout to my girl @bratbby333 for always being my biggest hype-woman and proofreading for me when i've looked at a fic for too long and start to hate it) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

now playing: marinade by dope lemon

Yuuji hadn't seen you since middle school.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He remembered you as the girl who had pretty handwriting and a serious affinity for the color blue. The girl who would leave pastel origami hearts on his desk without ever saying why. The girl who'd hide away in the library during lunch instead of eating with the rest of the class. The girl who he'd watch on the bus ride home with a sinking feeling in his stomach, catching the way your eyes glossed over each time the driver stopped in front of your house.

He learned how much you loved to read and write that year. Glancing at you from across the study hall room, secretly jotting down what number was printed along the spine of your book so that he could get you the next one in the series. He'd leave it on your desk before class started, the same way you did with his origami hearts. Never saying a word about it.

He watched you fill countless journals, your face always so concentrated as you poured your thoughts into them. He’d stop by the shopping plaza near his house after school every time he noticed that you’d reached the last page, spending his allowance to make sure there was a new one waiting for you the next morning. Each one he gave you, a different shade of blue.

But it wasn’t until the last day of eighth grade that he finally mustered up the courage to break the not-so-silent-silence the two of you had been sharing for the last 6 months. He sat down next to you, introducing himself even though it went without saying. His eyebrows furrowed a bit when you wordlessly slipped out an earbud and handed it to him. A rare, but visible smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. He held it in his palm for a moment, his eyes drifting along your face as he brought it to his ear, letting the tangled white cord tether the two of you together.

He’d never heard the song before, but he still remembered thinking how fitting it was. Dreamy and melodic - just like you. The singer's voice was full of raw sincerity, adding another layer of atmospheric haze to the already heady beat while the chorus gradually filled the space between you.

He didn't have the right words to explain it at the time, but he felt lucky as he watched you stare out the window that day. Lucky to know how pretty you looked when the sunlight caught the side of your face. Lucky to know which fantasy novels you liked to spend hours losing yourself in. Lucky to know what type of music you listened to when you were deep in thought. Lucky, just to be sitting next to you.

His heart jumped around in his chest when your eyes met his again. Both of you exchanging the same somber smile as you realized what road you were on.

He handed his half of the headphones back to you, secretly relieved at how calm you still seemed despite the fact that your stop was next.

“That song,” he hesitated, the lyrics still swirling through his mind. “what was it –”

But his question came to an abrupt end as the bus began to brake, a new and overwhelming warmth dancing through his veins when he noticed how close you suddenly were to him.

His pupils doubled in size, his breath catching in his throat while you leaned in carefully, pressing the softest kiss against his boyish cheek.

"Have a good summer, Yuuji." you whispered, grabbing your backpack off the floor.

His hand rested where your lips had been, his gaze following you off of the bus. You made it about halfway up your driveway before pausing to look back at him over your shoulder, two lingering smiles blurring past one another as the driver hurried on with her route.

The next two months were filled with sunshine and soccer practice for him. Bike rides and camping trips and basketball courts. His days were usually full, but no matter what he was doing or where he was going, there was one song that was always on the tip of his tongue:

♫⋆｡ ♪ ₊ ﾟ“Do you want me? Just how I am? Do you need me and where I stand?”

One song that would forever remind him of you:

"Let's go steady, let's make a plan. Marinade on that for a little while." ⋆｡ ♪ ₊♬ ﾟ。

And he did.

He marinaded on the infatuation he felt for you the rest of that entire summer.

When August arrived that year and brought everyone back for high school, he was ready.

There were stories he wanted to tell you, questions he wanted to ask you. Playlists he wanted to make with you. Books he'd found while thrifting that he wanted to give to you. Daydreams he had of roaming the halls and laughing with you. Visions of bringing his lunch into the library so he could eat with you. He couldn't wait to hear about your summer. Couldn't wait to catch up with you. Couldn't wait to see you.

Unfortunately for you both though, life had other, much darker plans in store for the pink-haired boy who just wanted to carry around your books for you and hold your hand during passing period.

He was called out of class early on the first day. Forced to leave the building before he even had the chance to see you as he frantically tracked down the nearest shuttle and rushed across town to get to the hospital. His grandpa’s health had been on a slow decline, but after his most recent fall, it had suddenly started to plummet.

Yuuji missed the majority of that week, dedicating all of his time to the man who had essentially raised him. He would bring him food and sit with him for hours even though he was mostly incoherent. He’d tell him about his day and leave flowers by his bedside. He'd watch reruns of old game shows with him that they used to watch when Yuuji was little, completely ignoring the nurses who would say things like, "You need to give yourself a break.”

The hospital staff tried their best to get him to take a day off. To go back to school and live his own life, but Yuuji just couldn’t. His grandpa was the only family he'd ever really had. There was no way he was going to leave him. He ditched the comfort of his bedroom and began sleeping on the cramped hospital futon next to the grey-haired man, teaching himself what each machine hooked up to him was responsible for and what vitals they monitored. He’d sometimes leave throughout the day, but it was only for a couple of hours at most. He'd return with more flowers and books to read to him. By the third week of school, he'd missed almost every single one of his classes, but he didn’t care. His priorities were firm.

Yuuji stayed by his side - day in and day out, until the very end.

When he woke up to the sound of erratic beeping and codes that he didn't understand being called out by nurses, he knew. He knew in his heart that this was it. Amongst the chaos were two sets of shaking hands reaching for each other, his grandpa's last words hanging heavily in the space between them,

“Yuuji... You're a strong kid, try your best to help others, okay?”

He remembered thinking at that moment that there couldn’t be a worse feeling. That he couldn’t possibly have anything else left to lose. He was only 15 and he was now officially all on his own as he watched the only parental figure he had let out his last breath of air.

He had no family, no future, no chance.

Fate was a cruel and calculating thing though. A few days after the funeral, Yuuji discovered that he did have a future. One that was irreversibly sealed the minute he stepped foot into Jujutsu High. He had to let go of everything he'd known in exchange for the damning task of becoming a vessel for Ryomen Sukuna. He had to trade in his mundane role of being a high school freshman for the daunting responsibility of becoming a first-year sorcerer. And arguably the hardest thing of all, he had to give up the simple pleasure of sharing a set of tangled headphones with you to try and save a world that didn't truly care about him.

There was no room for normalcy anymore. This was his new life and it was ending, one day at a time.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He sat at a nearly vacant bar by himself, staring down the empty glass in front of him, watching the ice melt as he ran a shaky hand along the back of his neck.

It was 4 o'clock and he was only one of two people here this early. The lights and music were still being adjusted by the workers. Cups being stocked and coolers being filled for the inevitable Saturday-night rush that would come in the next few hours. His goal was to be absolutely obliterated by then - to already be on his way back home before the swarm of college students took over.

He paused, noticing the calendar hanging by the craft beer list in front of him. His heart stuttered a bit as he blinked back at the date. No wonder he'd been feeling so reminiscent lately.

He leaned over the counter hoping to find the bartender who'd poured his first drink, but to no avail.

He grabbed his glass, sucking down the very last drop of whiskey it had to offer, trying desperately to drown out the realization that today was his 22nd birthday and the people who should be here with him weren't.

Almost every friend he'd made over the last ten years had been ripped away from him. They were scattered memories. Familiar voices that he did his best to hold onto. Faces, names, deaths that followed him everywhere he went.

Middle school and the innocence of just wanting to hold a pretty girl's hand while she walked down the hallway were long gone. He was an adult now. A very tired and traumatized adult.

He peered around the corner again, half-tempted to jump over the bar and pour himself another drink when the stereo kicked on, an overwhelming wave of pure, deep blue nostalgia flooding over him without warning.

His back straightened, his eyes suddenly darting towards the speaker as the lyrics drifted across his skin, causing every hair on his body to stand up at once.

"She wanted to die by a river. She wanted the tide to come up and drag her away, so that when she's dreamin', she can watch the tree line fall away." ⋆｡ ♪

It was the same hazy melody that he'd spent an entire summer listening to on repeat. He still knew every word, every beat. It was muscle memory the way his fingertips began to drum along the counter when a bartender finally emerged from the back.

"Sorry, do you need a –"

Time stilled, the glass nearly slipping from his hand as your gaze caught his.

"Yuuji?"

Despite how much you'd changed since the last time he saw you, your voice was somehow just as soft as he remembered it being.

He stared back at you in quiet disbelief, guilt quickly settling in the pit of his stomach as he thought about how fucking strange and unexpected this all must feel for you too.

From your perspective, he'd spent all of 8th grade trying to befriend you only to up and leave without even saying goodbye. And now, 7 years later - he was at your work, looking back at you like you were an actual angel, and forgetting every word he knew.

Your eyes stayed locked on his for another moment, both of you studying the person in front of you before you finally let out a shaky breath and smiled at him.

"Here," You offered, suddenly feeling the need to soothe your own nerves too. "On the house."

He tried to tell you that he could pay for it, but it was too late. You were already pouring two shots and motioning for him to put his wallet away.

"Okay, fine. But..." There was a glimmer in his eye as he pulled his glass away from yours. "What are we toasting to?"

The smile he gave you felt like a warm hug. One that you didn't realize you needed until you had it again. "Oh," You stammered, trying to ignore the blood that was rushing to your cheeks. "What about... To old friends?"

He nodded, still wearing the same expression as your drinks lightly knocked together. "To old friends."

He couldn't help but grin again at the little shiver that swept across your body as you finished yours.

Your hair was longer, your features a bit more mature, but your mannerisms were all the same. You were still the girl that was made up of mid-day sunlight, handbound books, and shades of blue that were too pretty to exist in this world.

You grabbed a beer out of the cooler and slid it to him, once again ignoring the credit card he tried to hand you. "Yuuji, relax." you leaned against the counter, resting your head in your hands so that you were eye-level with him. "They're not gonna go bankrupt over a $2 IPA, I promise."

"If you say so."  

You both exchanged the same small smile, his finger lightly running along the counter. "So," he cleared his throat, completely unsure of where to start. "How've you been?"

It was a loaded question, maybe even a dumb question considering how much time had passed, but he didn't care. He really did want to know how you'd been. What you'd been up to. What type of things you'd been writing about. What your Spotifty playlists looked like. What you did on your days off. He wanted to know everything. All of it.

"Well," you exhaled, trying to find an easy way to condense the last seven years of your life. "My parents..." your eyebrows furrowed, realizing that you'd never gotten the chance to tell him why you used to dread your old bus route so much. "My parents finally got divorced..."

“Oh shit, I’m sorry -"

“No,” You said swiftly, not wanting him to feel bad for asking. "It was more of a relief than anything. They used to fight, a lot. My mom wasn't always the nicest when she drank... It probably should've happened way sooner to be honest."

His breathing slowed as memories of you with tears in your eyes walking up your driveway smashed through his mind. He'd promised himself that he would ask you about it one day, but he had no idea it'd be this much later on. He'd wanted to talk to you about it as kids. Wanted to know what scared you so much about going home, but he didn't know how. It was the reason why he left journals on your desk. The reason why he never let you go without the next book in your series.

For everything he couldn't say, he tried to show. But he'd failed you on both accounts the day he disappeared.

"My parents separated my -" you paused, eyes dragging to his as you corrected yourself. "our graduation year."

He nodded, doing his best to digest the thought of you walking down the aisle in a cap and gown with the weight of your parents' downfall on your shoulders.

"But, after that," you smiled slightly. “I applied to college and got accepted. Started working here. Got my own apartment. And I don't know...” you shrugged, "I think in a weird way, things happened the way they were supposed to. It was like everything needed to fall apart before it got better, you know?"

He smiled back at you, your last sentence lingering in the space between you as he reached for your hand. He probably wouldn't have understood that sentiment a year ago, but watching your eyes widen while your fingers slowly tangled into his, he knew exactly what you meant now.

"I'm really sorry I wasn't there..." His thumb brushed against the side of your hand, steadying himself as he let 15-year-old him and 22-year-old him come together to say what they had both been holding onto for so long. "I didn't want to leave. I just -"

Your heart swelled in your chest, watching him blink back tears he wasn't prepared to shed. "Life got really hard for a really long time for me too. But, whenever I felt myself drifting... I thought of you. Thought of the way you'd glance at me from over your book during class. Thought of the way you smiled when you thought no one was watching. I thought of you... all the time. And it was like, no matter how dark things got, it reminded me that life could be good, because it was at one point. So..."

Your hand tightened around his, two sets of glossy eyes now staring back at each other as he forced himself to say what he should've years ago. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there, but... I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere."

You were dizzy with emotion. Swimming through feelings that you'd kept buried for nearly the last decade. The thoughts you'd only been brave enough to write down. The overwhelming urge to kiss him again and again and again until neither one of you had any air left in your lungs.

Your mouth opened and then closed, your body saying more than you were capable of with how desperately you were holding onto him.

You weren't sure what you were doing. Didn't have time to think or care about the repercussions of your impulsiveness.

"Hey Mai," You called out, "I'm really not feeling well. Think I'm gonna go home."

Yuuji's head was shaking no, but the surprised smile tugging at the corner of his mouth was saying otherwise. "What're you doing?" he whisper-shouted, watching you run around the bar to grab his hand again.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mai yelled from the back, but it was too late.

You and Yuuji were already gone, practically sprinting alongside each other, laughing as you booked it across the parking lot.

"First the free beer and now this?"

"They won't go bankrupt over me missing one day." You winked. "C'mon, I wanna show you something."

You may have been leading the way, but he was still the athlete between the two of you, purposefully slowing himself down to not be right on your heels. But when he noticed you starting to pant as the road curved into an upward slope, he reached out for you, gently spinning you around to face him.

"Come here." he knelt down, positioning himself so that you could easily wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

He carried you piggy-back style up the hill, the sun fading into an array of pink and orange as you pointed out every bookstore around campus, explaining which ones were your favorites and why. Promising to get matcha with him tomorrow at a local coffee shop you passed. Asking him about his time at Jujutsu High and trying to wrap your mind around what little he was able to tell you as he swore that he'd fill you in on the full story when the time was right. You caught him up on what he'd missed the last three years of high school and how your college classes had been going. You talked about libraries and ghosts and laughed about how in 7th grade he'd joined the occult club just because he thought it'd be an easy after-school credit.

By the time you'd finally reached the spot you'd wanted to show him, the moon had almost completely replaced the sun. Your cheeks hurt from smiling and your hands were full of a mixture of different flowers that he'd picked for you along the way.

"This is..." he trailed off, watching the sky shift into a deep blend of blue and silver. "Beautiful. How'd you even find this place?"

It was an abandoned park surrounded by overgrown trees that overlooked the city, only one rusted swing set left to its name. The hike you had to endure just to find it had more than likely been the cause of its demise, trekking up here with a backpack was hard enough, let alone a stroller.

"I kinda found it by accident." You shrugged. "I was working on an art project and needed a good view of the skyline. I looked up a bunch of different places online, but then I saw this spot and just knew."

Yuuji pulled off his hoodie, sweat trickling down his neck from the late-summer heat as the two of you sat in the grass, his arm gently wrapping around your waist.

There had been so many times you'd sat in this exact same spot by yourself, wondering what the odds were that you were both somehow looking up at the same star.

Your head rested on his shoulder, a warm gust of air swirling around you as you both looked out into the distance, watching the way the stars faded into the Tokyo lights.

"Hey, Yuuji?" You twirled a blade of grass between your fingers, not wanting to ruin the moment, but still needing to be sure.

"Yeah?"

"You promise, right?"

"Hm?" He could hear the concern in your voice, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer.

"You promise that... you're not leaving again?"

"I swear, I'm not going anywhere. And if I do," His eyes returned to yours, his free hand attentively resting under your chin. "I'm taking you with me."

You nodded, warmth washing over you as he traced along your jawline, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Your fears were lost to his touch. Your worries dissolving into the sincerity of his voice. Your need for reassurance wholeheartedly met when his hand cupped your cheek and his lips finally caught yours. Seven years' worth of pent-up feelings pouring out between the two of you, hands roaming and little moans slipping out between breaths while you tugged on the collar of his shirt to bring him closer. He was gentle but eager. Soft but secure. Perfect, in every way.

He hovered over you, easing you onto the grass as he made a makeshift pillow out of his hoodie for you to rest your head on.

You smiled as his lips drifted from your mouth to your neck, his palm delicately traveling up your shirt, pulling your bra to the side while he helped slide your tank-top up over your head. He kissed your collarbones, whispering sweet little praises into your skin. "You're gorgeous, you know that?"

He rested a hand under your back, steadying you as his tongue flickered across your chest. He took his time, making sure to give each nipple the same amount of attention, still humming things like, "the prettiest girl I've ever seen" while his hand traced over your hip.

He tugged at the waistline of your shorts, looking up at you through his lashes as he began to leave featherlight kisses along the inside of your thigh, his blood racing at the sounds you were suddenly making.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

You whimpered out a broken "yes", practically dripping when his fingers spread you apart. He watched you writhe beneath him, drawing slow but firm circles around you. Trying not to lose himself to the way your legs were already shaking for him.

"Yuuji," you whined. "I -" his mouth was ghosting your center, his fingers still playing with your clit while he held you in place. "I n - need you." your voice was heady, lost somewhere in the clouds the faster he went. "I wanna f - feel you, so bad."

"Yeah?" He smiled, his breath still fanning across your core as his digits prodded carefully at your entrance. He groaned at how beautifully your walls swallowed him. "I wanna feel you too."

Your head lulled back, eyes pointed at the sky while your hand tangled into his pink hair. His mouth was warm and heavenly, his tongue running uppp and dowwnnn your center, saliva mixing with slick while his fingers plunged into you.

"Oh, fuck."

He only went deeper the louder you got, flattening his tongue against you with just the right pressure to keep you saying his name. His ring and middle finger hitting spots you'd never been able to reach yourself. You were clenching around him, your thighs locking around his head as you rocked against his tongue.

"Yuuji - you're gonna make me -" he thought it was adorable the way you struggled to get more than two words out at a time. "Fuck, I -"

"Mhmm, just like that."

He was in the same daze you were, sliding in and out of you feverishly until he finally felt the blissful release of your walls spasming around him. Your body suddenly unable to hold it in any longer as you gave him the privilege of really tasing you.

"Oh my god," he moaned, faithfully lapping up every bit of you he could get, only pulling away when you started begging for him.

"Yuuji -" It was needy and light-headed. "Come here, come here. Please."

The way he lifted his head up, smiling at you with your cum dripping down his chin made something inside you ache.

You pulled him towards you, desperately wrapping your legs around his waist as he began undoing the buttons on his pants. He kissed you, again and again and again, using it as a pleasant distraction while he wriggled himself free.

He took a breath, both of you watching in blitzed out awe as he lined himself up with you. "I love you." he whispered, your eyes widening from the blend of his words and the feeling of his tip slowly entering you. "Always have."

His hair brushed against your forehead as he parted your lips with his tongue, your nails digging into his neck with his first full thrust. You were so tight and warm around him.

He tried to ease into you, encouraging you while also making sure you were comfortable. His voice sweet as honey as he asked you things like, "Is that okay, baby?" and "Aw, you like when I go deep like that, huh?"

Your gaze locked with his, your eyebrows knitting together the faster his rhythm became.

You'd thought about this moment before. Thought about what it might feel like, but nothing could've prepared you for the way your heart would race at the sound of him moaning, "You're doing so good for me." The way he'd hold you, looking back at you with stars in his eyes as he filled every inch of you.

"Yuuji -"

"Let it out, baby. S'okay." He whispered, his hand reaching for yours. "I've got you."

Your vision was blurred by the feeling of his tip meeting your cervix, warm summer air brushing against your skin as you reached your breaking point.

"I love you." The words left your mouth so fast you barely had time to register them, but then... they wouldn't stop. It was the only phrase you remembered how to say. The only emotion you remembered how to feel. "I love you." you whimpered again, feeling yourself tighten around him as your confession became more frantic. "Oh - mygod, Yuuji. I love you. I love you. I love - you."

His movements were suddenly beyond his control, his body completely succumbing to the grip of yours. "Fuck, baby - I -" He didn't know if he should pull out. Didn't know if he could pull out. His head was everywhere, his mouth dropping open the longer he watched you.

Your legs locked around him in heady reassurance. "Mm'mm, d - don't stop." You panted. "Cum with me."

It was a sentence he'd only ever thought he'd be lucky enough to hear you say in his dreams.

His hips stilled after one more thrust, your walls holding him tight as he began to twitch inside you. His forehead pressed against yours, his arms struggling to keep him propped up.

You exchanged the same exhausted smirk, leaning up to kiss him while he carefully pulled out of you. A blend of fluids spilling out onto the grass beneath you as he laid by your side with his forearm over his face, trying to regain his composure.

There was a calm silence that settled between you, the both of you looking up at the stars before you rolled over to reach for your shorts, letting him catch his breath while you dug something out of the back pocket.

"Here." You said, unraveling a tangled pair of headphones and handing him one.

His eyes widened with the same curiosity they had 7 years ago as he held it to his ear, your head resting on his chest while a song he knew all too well flowed through the small speakers connecting you. A smile splitting across his face as he held you closer.

"You know, I think you were right." he exhaled, running light fingertips along your arm. "Everything did have to fall apart before it got better."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[variant-zee]

All out of Love

pairing: dean winchester x f! reader

summary: based off of that one supernatural blooper where sam and dean are in the car and “all out of love” by air supply is playing on the radio in which it then cuts to jensen singing loudly in the blooper, but make it ‘x reader’

genre: fluff

cw: y/n usage

author's note: so i don’t think i’ve posted this here but i wrote this fic a WHILE ago and ngl forgot it existed.

======================================

[Sam, Dean and Y/N were on a werewolf hunt in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. They went to help Jody, since they’re was a whole pack, too big for just her, Claire, and Alex. Jody had her house full with the girls that she couldn’t lend them rooms to stay in. Sam and Dean insisted on staying at a motel either way, as to not disturb them. The boys and Y/N had checked in at the closest motel by Jody’s house.]

“You can take my bed, Y/N. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Sam said politely. Y/N shook their head in disagreement.

“Sam, I’m ok with sleeping on the couch. Plus it’s small, you won’t fit and you’ll just be uncomfortable. I’ve slept on a couch before, I promise it’s fine.”

They insisted. Dean quietly chuckled to himself when they brought up how tall Sam was.

Sam looked at Dean with a stern look on his face, as if he was telling him to shut up.

“Are you sure?”

Sam asked. Dean, obviously, didn’t want to give up his bed so he started to unpack as much as he could. Sam looked back at Dean, he cleared his throat to get Dean’s attention. Dean looked up at him.

“What?”

Dean said, confused on what Sam wanted from him. Sam rolled his eyes and took out his laptop from his bag. While Sam and Dean had their silent argument, Y/N had just sat on the couch and set their bag on the ground. Their bag wasn’t as filled or heavy as the boy’s. They were a hunter-in-training anyway.

“I’ll do some research on this case and… uhm… how about you two go get us something to eat.”

Sam said as he made his way to a small table that was placed next to the window of the motel. He sat facing towards the door, as a precaution, if anyone were to break in. [You should know this.]

“Sure.”

Dean said without looking up from his stuff on the bed.

“Y-Yea…”

Y/N stutters as they get up and wait for Dean to finish unpacking.

“Alright, let’s roll!”

Dean takes out the Impala’s keys out of his pocket, he spins them on his index finger as he walks towards the door. Y/N follows behind him. Dean walks out of the motel room. Y/N waved at Sam. He waved back.

Y/N closed the door behind them and walked to the car. Dean was waiting for them, as he was waiting, he used part of his flannel sleeve to clean a small spot off of the car. [Baby, a beautiful queen]

Y/N gets in the car then Dean gets in, the both close the car doors at the same time. They take off, the radio is on. The silence between them is only broken by the music playing. All Out of Love by Air Supply plays.

Y/N and Dean both collectively look at the radio and then at each other. Dean quickly turns his head back towards the road and Y/N looks out the window. The song slowly reaches the chorus. They look back at each other, but this time it’s different. It’s like if they had talked telepathically to one another.

“Don’t tell Sam!”

They both thought as they stared at each other.

Once the song get to the chorus, they belted out singing. [More like yelled out the words!]

“I’m all out of love! I’m so lost without you! I know you were right, believing for long!”

They sang together the whole way to the gas station to get the snacks Sam had told them to get. The song finishes as they get closer to the gas station. Dean parks the car, gets out, and heads inside. Y/N stayed in the car, they overthink about the moment they just had.

“D-Did we… just?…. Huh?”

Y/N says to themselves. Their mind goes at a 100 miles per hours just thinking about what just happened. Some time passes and Dean comes back with bags filled with snacks and in one bag he had a pie. Y/N could tell Dean cared more for the pie, since all the other bags were on the verge of ripping while Dean held on to the pie in his arms. He had reached the car. He put Sam and Y/N’s snacks in the backseat of the Impala, he sat in the driver’s seat with the pie in his lap.

“Pie?”

Y/N said with her eyebrow slightly raised and their arms crossed, questioning his snack choice.

“Pie!~”

Dean happily respond while he started the car, it sounded like he was going to drool just by saying it’s name.

“Ok then! Let’s go home!”

Dean said excitedly as he put the car in reverse and drove out of the gas station’s parking lot.

On their way back, it was silent, too silent. They had both remembered that they just sang a song out of their aesthetic range. The silence remained between them, as they reached back to the motel’s parking lot entrance, Dean broke the silence.

“Don’t tell Sam about what just happened.”

He said, almost emotionless, as he parked the car in front of their rented room.

“Yea.”

Y/N responded as emotionless as Dean.

They both got out of the car. Dean carried his pie and Y/N carried everything else Dean had left behind and they both walked in the motel room leaving their moment behind.

“How was it?”

Sam said as they entered. Dean and Y/N looked at each other.

“Fine.”

They said in unison.

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 6

Hello! And welcome to another chapter of this very underrated fic. Thank you to everyone who has given it love in the way of comments, reblogs/tags, and likes.

It's London calling! And we meet a Murray Bauman in the wild. Eddie and Steve get a little introspective and Steve does something rash.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

Their trip through the haunting and beautiful Ireland was amazing. So many tales and history. This is why Steve wanted to do more than just America like Eddie had originally wanted, because America just didn’t have the history Europe and other places did. Not unless you wanted to disturb actual First Nation people and that was something he wanted to avoid at all cost, thank you.

They were on the ferry from Northern Ireland to Scotland and Steve was looking out over his shoulder at the water as he leaned against the guardrail. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, allowing the wind to blow through his hair.

Eddie slid his arm around him and Steve laid his head on his shoulder.

Today Eddie had his beard and faux-dreadlocks in a light blue button up shirt and cream colored wide-legged pants. His chunky sunglasses covered the his face.

“You know,” Eddie murmured, “until we reached this leg of our journey and you started to disguise me, I didn’t realize how much I missed just being Eddie Munson, regular guy. I can really see the appeal of you and friends’ way of doing it.”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “Of course it means that we can’t go all out and buy everything we want, stay in fancy hotels, show up at restaurants without a reservation and get in. But I can go into my local grocery store and buy two tubs of mint ice cream because I felt like it.” He lifted his head to look Eddie in the eye. “Like some Karen would judge me, but it’s not going to go up on TMZ that I’m letting myself go.”

God, Eddie had had that happen more times than he cared to count. Like once Chrissy was on her period and he went to go get her chocolate, Ben and Jerry’s, and pads. Before he even got to his car it was all over the internet that he was letting himself go, just because it was 2am and his best friend needed something to help her feel better.

“You think you’ll ever come out?” he asked, pulling Steve in closer.

It was a familiar and well-worn topic of theirs; whether or not Steve would ever come out as bisexual at least.

He ducked his head and looked away. He didn’t know. He didn’t like hiding parts of himself for those he loved. He would like to tell people this is the love of my life.

“Would you leave me if I said no?” he mumbled, not daring to look up.

Eddie placed his finger under Steve’s chin and lifted his head gently. “Of course not, Stevie. There are literal actors who have been married for years and no one knows. It’s just between them. We could do that too. Just a quiet ceremony, Robin and Chrissy as the witnesses, and a justice of the peace.”

Steve let out a weak sort of watery laugh and shook his head. “I want all our friends there, famous and otherwise. I want a full tilt party with music playing into the early hours of the morning. I want fancy tuxes and flowers galore. I know I might not get that, the absolute coward that I am. But if I marry you, it be to scream from the rooftops that I love you.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “Softy.” Steve blushed. “Besides there is nothing in the world that says we can’t have it both ways. Have a quiet little ‘just us’ and then go full tilt when you come out. You don’t even have to tell anyone. Just a little comfort that I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie kissed him deeply and then tucked his head under his chin and they stayed like that until the ferry docked in Scotland.

~

God, Scotland and England were beautiful countries Eddie decided as he watched the rolling green hills from his train window. That was another thing he really liked about Europe in general, just all the different ways to travel that weren’t a car.

He looked over at Steve who had his glasses on and reading a book. He smiled at the title. His boyfriend wasn’t a fantasy fan or science fiction either, really, but put a clever mystery in his hands and you would have to pry to the book from his cold, dead fingers.

He glanced over at Chrissy and Robin who were playing Go Fish! They had asked him if he wanted to join them, but he passed. He rarely got time to just relax and watch the scenery go by when he was on tour. He was always doing something related to the band. Writing music, practicing, talking about the next venue, interview, or TV spot.

Him and his friends had fun, because of course they did. But it was nice to just let his mind wander. Currently he was sad that they were going to have to miss Wales this time. He really wanted to buy some Welsh gold jewelry. It’s super rare and absolutely gorgeous.

Maybe he would have to come back later and get something special for Steve. Just something simple like matching bands even if it wasn’t on the left hand. Or necklaces. Just something simple to prove they were it for each other.

“I made an appointment with a well-known tattoo artist in London,” Steve said nonchalant, but like he was reading Eddie’s thoughts.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to Steve. Robin nearly giving herself whiplash in her speed.

“As your friend, manager, and platonic soulmate,” she said darkly, “I advise against that. You can cover it up but someone, somewhere will see it.”

Steve looked up from his book and leveled her with his best bitchy glare. “Not if it’s on my ass.”

Chrissy and Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and they shared a shocked glance. Eddie always loved tattoos, he had a couple of stick and poke style ones from when he was young and stupid and couldn’t afford to pay for an artist to do the job, but there was one place, well technically two if you included his dick, which he absolutely did, that he refused to get a tattoo on and that was his ass. Not being able to sit down properly for what would probably be weeks was not his idea of a good time.

“Not really, though, right?” Chrissy asked with a grimace.

Steve took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Of course not really. Sheesh, you guys. But I hid fucking hickies from the both of you for a year and you never noticed, so I’m pretty sure I can hide one fucking tattoo.”

Robin and Chrissy shared their little ‘manager’ glance and Chrissy folded first.

“You’re right, Steve,” she said calmly. “Not once did you forget or slip up and you should be applauded for that. But is there a reason you’re deciding to get a tattoo now instead of waiting until we’re back in the States and you can use Eddie’s personal artist?”

He looked over at Robin and their little telepathy thing went off again and this time Robin folded first.

“It’s for Eddie,” she murmured. “They can’t be out as a couple and with Steve being the romantic that he is, wouldn’t want to get married without all his friends there, so this is his way of telling Eddie he isn’t going anywhere either.”

Eddie blinked for a moment. “Do you think they take walk-ins?”

“I booked it for both of us.” Steve smiled at him and took his hand. Eddie beamed back at him.

“They are so disgustingly cute,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms. “I bet Steve has this really sweet idea for a tattoo that even if people do notice it they won’t be able to tell the meaning but he and Eddie will know and be so sickeningly precious about it.”

Eddie gave him a huge kiss on the cheek. “I love my super clever boyfriend and can’t wait to see what this brilliant plan is.”

~

Steve’s brilliant plan was half of a white mask on Eddie’s inner wrist and half of guitar on Steve’s and when they held hands it formed almost heart.

The tattoo artist was really impressed with the idea and was more than happy to implement it. Steve walked out of there, completely smug as Chrissy pointed out. Deservedly so.

They were to stay in London for three days because of all the haunted places in London alone, there were so many worth visiting. They were going to start at Jack the Ripper tour and move onto the tour of London.

The tour they learned with deep dismay had accidentally been scheduled at 2pm and not 2am like Eddie had thought it said. It was so boring and their tour guide so dull, Eddie accidentally tripped of one of those concrete pillars they had in the middle of the sidewalk to prevent cars from driving up on it.

“Oof!” Eddie wheezed as he straightened up. “Why do they even put those things here?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” a nasally voice said from behind them. “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

They all turned slowly to see a weaselly little bald man with thick horn-rimmed glass.

“Holy shit,” Chrissy said slowly. “Murray Bauman, as I live and breath. What the hell are you doing in London?”

He shrugged. “Eking out a living doing tours for bored tourists. When the biggest metal band in the world drops you, so does everyone else.”

Chrissy and Eddie shared a grimace. Corroded Coffin had deliberately did that to Nancy after the shit she pulled with Steve and trying to be The Fallen’s agent. But this one was a complete accident.

“Oh fuck off,” Robin said with a grin. “You love it. I can tell. You have actual notes written down, you have a map marked with all the spots the murders take place. I bet you have all the great stories.”

Murray flushed and cocked his head to the side. “I mean I didn’t want to brag. But yeah, certainly better than Molly over there.” He jutted his thumb at their tour guide. “Most of the good ones are from tour companies and then you get people like Molly who make it look legit online and trick people into taking day tours.”

“God, I was so bored,” Eddie huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I felt jet lagged.”

Murray’s eyes instantly narrowed and cocked his head to the side and instantly everyone else tensed up. He took in their reactions and mimed zipping his mouth shut.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, “if you’re still in town tomorrow, meet me here at 9pm and I’ll give you a proper tour.”

Chrissy licked her lips slowly. “Or what?”

“Huh?” He was confused for a moment before he smacked his forehead. “Oh! No, no. I’m not going to blackmail you. Holy shit. If people want to enjoy a vacation without all the publicity, good on them.” He looked Eddie up and down. “Looks good on you kid.”

Eddie was suddenly glad for the large sunglasses and beard because it hid the blush on his cheeks.

“No, I’m just saying,” Murray continued, “that if you wanted to experience a proper Jack the Ripper tour, I’m willing to do it. I don’t have a tour currently booked and beside I like her.” He pointed at Robin, who grinned back him.

The four them all shared glances at each other.

“I’m down,” Steve said with a shrug. “If you’re as good as you say you are and aren’t trying to actively ‘get back’ at Chrissy for taking your job, I know I’d be interested in seeing what Whitechapel has to offer after dark.”

“I like him too,” Murray said brightly, rubbing his hands together. “So what do the rest of you say?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Steve’s three menaces said together.

He just smiled fondly and shook his head.

~

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

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