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hippiegoth97 · 1 year ago

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Diary of a Hawkins Hussy: A Stranger Things x Reader Anthology

Banner by me :)

Master List

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, smoking, fingering, oral sex, protected sex, heavy kissing/groping, multiple orgasms, light squirting, rough sex, use of handcuffs, praise/degradation, overstimulation, light crying, dirty talk, brief LGBTQ+ references

Word Count: 13.5k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Diary Entry #4: Eddie Munson

June 5th, 1984

Dear diary,

After over a month of non-stop paperwork and interviews, among other things, I have finally gotten the hang of running Waxed Out 100% on my own. I have hired a couple kids to work below me, and they are exactly what I was looking for. There's Alex, a bright young boy who is obsessed with rock n' roll. He can tell you every band member, the instruments they play, stories behind their songs/albums, etc. He's like a living encyclopedia. I also hired a girl named Julie, who reminds me of a younger version of myself. She's very well-versed in most genres, and she has the most primo picks when it comes to playing music in the store. We're the dream team, us three. They're very respectful and eager to learn, and Icouldn't be happier with them as employees.

Despite figuring my shit out at work, however, a certain old flame of mine has quickly moved on to dating someone else I happen to have previously slept with. I don't want to go into detail about that, though. It's honestly too painful. It's bad enough to see them out together, kissing and giggling the way they used to with me. But it's for the best, and I can surely find someone else to date or fuck quite easily.

Moving on to more amusingthings, I happened to catch a sneaky little shoplifter today. Well, more like I caught him before he could even manage to take anything...

You're sitting on the stool behind the counter, reading another one of your novels as usual on a slow afternoon. Alex has just left for the day, so you're on your own until closing time. You don't mind it, you like the quiet. Alex, despite his great work ethic and extensive musical knowledge, can be quite the chatterbox. It's a bit tedious at times, though you'd never say so. He's only sixteen, and he's a nice kid. You would never hurt his feelings.

The bell above the door tinkles, and you barely look up from your book to see a somewhat familiar face. An older boy, with brown, curly hair that goes just past his chin, full lips, and slightly oversized brown eyes. He's dressed in dark-colored jeans held up with a belt bearing a buckle in the shape of handcuffs, with a Metallica t-shirt and a battle vest loaded with various patches up top. Weathered converse adorn his feet, classic black with that iconic star logo on the outer side. He looks like the typical kid you see in here, browsing around for the latest rebellious sound.

His eyes meet yours for a moment, before quickly darting away. Perhaps he's shy, which is your first thought. But he moves oddly around the store, seemingly trying to find the most obscured view from where you sit. A thief, huh?, you think to yourself. These dumbass kids always think they're so slick. But they're not slick enough for you. You watch him closely, flicking your pupils up from your novel in a subtle way. He keeps looking back at you to see if you're paying attention, so you have to let him think you're none the wiser. He settles on the heavy metal section of cassette tapes. Small, easy to stow away in pants pockets, makes sense he'd try that. But before he can even lift a finger to touch the tape he's got his eye on, you speak up.

"If you even think of stealing from me, I'll have you on the floor in three seconds flat." You say sternly, making him freeze in place. He's unsure what to do. Should he try to take the tape and run? Or stay put until you ream him for attempting to steal? "Come here, kid." You order him over, marking your place and setting your novel down on the counter. The kid turns around, looking absolutely terrified. He shuffles over to you, shame playing about his fearful face. He doesn't look at you, his eyes trained on the floor until he meets the counter. "What's your name?" You ask. At first he doesn't answer, shaking his head. You sigh, rolling your eyes. "I'm not gonna call the cops. I just want to talk to you." You say calmly, which seems to relax him a little. He raises his head, and swallows hard.

"Eddie." He almost mumbles, picking at his fingers anxiously.

"What?" You ask, having not fully heard him.

"My name, is Eddie." He repeats himself, speaking more clearly now.

"Alright, Eddie. How old are you?" You continue to question him, noting how much he's shaking.

"E-Eighteen." Eddie stutters, which you can't help finding a little bit cute. If he hadn't been trying to take something without paying, you'd say he's pretty easy on the eyes altogether.

"Okay. You mind telling me what you were after over there?" You figure there's no need to spend much time berating him for such a petty crime. There must be a reason he wanted...something over there. And you can't bear to quash anyone's passion for music, not even in this instance.

"Um...Defenders of The Faith." Eddie blurts, wondering why you're even asking.

"Judas Priest, huh?" You say with a light laugh, taking a closer look at his patches now. Motörhead, Iron Maiden, Megadeth. Yep, it's just as you suspected. He's a full-blown metalhead.

"You know them?" He asks curiously.

"I know I don't look it, Eddie. But I'm quite familiar with metal music. Well, all music, really. I can't manage this store without the musical knowledge to back it up, you know." You chuckle, watching his eyes widen in awe of you. He appears to find you extremely cool in this moment. How cute.

"Sorry. I swear, I didn't mean anything by that." Eddie apologizes, though you understand perfectly what he meant.

"It's alright. I'm not offended." You giggle, making him laugh gently as well. He's got a nice laugh, you could definitely stand to hear it quite often.

"You do look a little young to be running this shop all by yourself, though." He says, finding it a bit strange that such a young, beautiful woman like yourself would be working in a dusty old store like this.

"You could say that. I'm nineteen, getting close to twenty, if you must know." You reply, and he smiles a little wider at your response. "What?" You ask, wondering why he's so happy about that.

"Nothing. You're just...really pretty." He says bashfully, his cheeks turning red. "A-And it's impressive that you run this place all by yourself." He adds, hoping he's not insulting you by focusing on your looks.

"Well, Eddie, I'm very flattered. And, lucky for you, flattery works with me." You say lowly, giving him a certain look with your eyes that only deepens the crimson on his flesh. "How 'bout this: you bring that tape you want over here, and I'll give it to you on the house? Hm?" You offer.

"Really?" Eddie asks in disbelief. Just a few minutes ago, you were ready to tackle him to the floor for shoplifting. And now, you're going to let him have that coveted album for his collection for free?

"Yeah. You seem nice enough, and you've got good taste." You smile and shrug. He nods his head, and practically skips over to the section to retrieve the tape. He sets it on the counter, and you ring it in and bag it up for him. You write down the price for later, you'll pay it out of your own pocket at the end of the day. "Here you go. And one more thing, Eddie. If you want to shop here, please bring money next time?"

"Yeah, I will. And I'm sorry for trying to steal from you...Y/N." He says apologetically, reading your name from your tag as you hadn't told it to him yourself.

"It's alright. I used to have sticky fingers, too, once upon a time." You grin, reminiscing on your high school days of snatching the occasional pack of gum or tube of lipstick when you were bored. "Well, I dunno about you, but I've got a novel to get back to." You say, interrupting your own nostalgic daydreaming.

"Oh, right. I'd better get goin' anyway." Eddie adds awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it was nice to meet you, Y/N. Thanks for the tape, and for not calling the cops." He laughs, picking up the small paper bag in his hands.

"No problem, Eddie. I'm sure I'll see you around. Let me know how that tape suits you when you come in again. I'd love to hear your thoughts." You say cooly, and he nods in response. He backs away from the counter, clumsily bumping into the record shelving. You can't help giggling a little at his misstep, it's quite obvious that he finds you attractive.

"Shit." He mutters under his breath, blushing again at his clumsiness. He gives you a weak laugh and smile, before turning around and running out of the store in embarrassment. You watch him step out onto the street, and laugh a little harder at his palm smacking against his forehead as he scolds himself.

June 8th, 1984

Dear diary,

Eddie stopped by again, and we talked at length about the album I let him walk away with. We discussed our favorite tracks, mine being "Love Bites", and his choice, "Eat Me Alive". The whole thing is extremely solid, not to mention rather sexy, in a very aggressive way. But that's the way I like it. As does Eddie, I would imagine. He kind of danced around that subject as much as he could, though. I don't blame him, it's not exactly comfortable to talk in detail about sex to someone you've just met (and totally have a crush on).But we're definitely sharing a vibe, there's no doubt about that.

Our conversation ventured to other areas, like other bands in the genre. Metallica is a big-time favorite for him. I'm more of a Sabbath girl, myself, but there's not much to dislike within that whole scene. It felt like we talked for hours, while also not being nearly enough time before I got a bit of a rush in the store. I recommended some new stuff for Eddie to try, which he didn'twaste a second in purchasing when I had to get back to work. He hadn't heard of Dokken before, which was a real shame, in my opinion. They're a little more glam than the stuff Eddie seems to like, but I have a feeling he'll enjoy them. If I've read him as well as I think I have, that is. I can't wait to hear what he thinks, he's a highly stimulating conversation partner.

June 11th, 1984

Dear diary,

My little wannabe thief returned again today. He absolutely devoured Tooth and Claw, which I was hoping he would. He said he played it over and over, really listening to the words, while also thinking about me. In what manner that was, I have no idea. He kind of froze up for a second after he said that, like he had never meant to tell me such a thing. It was really cute, though. Ugh, the way his cheeks went all red, and his breath got stuck in his throat... It was a beautiful sight.

He hung around for a while, I'd have a mind to call it loitering if Ididn't like him so much. But it's honestly really nice to have him around, he's far more entertaining than the novels I keep burning through every day. He's smart, and funny, and a total nerd on top of all that. He absolutely will not shut up about Lord of the Rings and Dungeons & Dragons, not that I'd ever want him to. Eddie's so passionate when he speaks, he's mesmerizing to watch. And Ican't help resting my head in my hand as I dreamily observe him going on and on about anything and everything.

I'd very much like to hang out with him outside of work sometime. But hell if I know if that's something he'd be interested in. I mean, Iknow we like each other. But he's sort of shy at times, and I'd hate to drive him into his shell if I push him too far. I think it's probably best to wait for him to make that move, if that's what he wants. I don't want him to stop coming in, and Idon't want to lose the nice talks we have at the shop. Eddie brightens my day every timeI see him, making the ones where he doesn't pop in feel gloomy in comparison.

June 15th, 1984

Dear diary,

It's been a few days since I've seen Eddie. It's not a huge deal, but it's like I've said before, I really enjoy being around him. I can't help my head snapping up to see if he's the one walking in the door every time that damn bell rings. But of course, it hasn't been him yet. In the meantime, I replay the conversations we've had on repeat in my mind, remembering how perfect his plush lips look when he talks. Or the way his eyes almost never leave mine when he's listening to me, those large pools of luscious chocolate that I could get lost in for hours. Or the lines that indent his gorgeous face whenever he smiles or scrunches his nose. I've got it bad, diary. I want this ridiculous, charming, handsome young man, to a point where I'm seriously questioning my sanity.

June 18th, 1984

Dear diary,

Just when I was starting to get worried that I'd never see my new acquaintance again, he showed up at the perfect time. My heart almost exploded when I saw his face, and I had to keep myself from going all giddy when he sidled up to the counter...

"Hey there, long-time no-see, Eddie. What have you been getting up to?" You chirp as Eddie comes right over to you.

"Uh, not much. Just been tryin' to talk my uncle into letting me get my GED instead of repeating senior year." He speaks casually, giving you a warm smile. "How's the store goin'?" He leans over the counter on his forearms, getting very comfortable in your personal space.

"The shop's been alright, nothing unusual. It's been missing you, though, I suppose." You reply, feeling your cheeks heat up at how close he is. He's gotten this close before, but it feels different today. Maybe it's because he's been away so long, and you've been thinking about him almost every second in his absence.

"Aw, you missed me? That's sweet." Eddie teases, making you roll your eyes. "Relax, Y/N. I missed you, too. I kept thinking about the next time I'd be able to come in here and be a pain in your ass." He says playfully, leaning even further towards you. For a brief moment, you're almost within kissing distance. That is, until Eddie loses his balance and almost slips onto the floor. He backs off to reorient himself, giving you a small glare when you giggle at his clumsiness.

"You can come back here if you want. Might keep you from falling on your ass." You offer, you figure there's no harm in it. He's not going to steal from you, and you're stuck in yet another snail-paced day in terms of business.

"Cool, thanks." He grins, practically scurrying around the counter to join you in the employee area. He hops up to sit on the edge, swinging his legs back and forth.

"Cute." You muse, settling back onto your stool across from him. You both sit quietly for a little while, unsure what else to say. The only sounds you can hear are the cars passing by down the street outside, and the Prince album playing at a reasonable volume on the store's sound system.

"So...what now?" Eddie asks, breaking the awkward moment of silence.

"I dunno, Eds. I kinda thought you'd be the one bringing the conversation." You answer, and he nods. You carefully observe him, his shifting gaze, his fingers fidgeting with the massive rings that rest upon them. He's thinking very hard of something to say, trying his best to keep you from becoming bored with him.

"Right." He chuckles nervously, nodding his head. "Well, I was thinking..." He pauses, trying to find the words. You look at him expectantly, and he continues. "...I-I was wondering if you'd, um..." He keeps fumbling over his own train of thought, but you can already gather what he's getting at. A knowing smile grows on your lips, though Eddie isn't sure why. You let him take his time, he'll get the words out eventually. "Would you like to, uh...hang out sometime?" He finally finishes, his tone heightening at the words 'hang out'.

"And what exactly would you have in mind for us to do if we 'hang out', Eddie?" You ask curiously, crossing your arms. Given his nervousness, you can tell he's been thinking about this a lot. Surely he has some kind of plan in place, whether it's just listening to music and talking, or doing intimate things in either of your homes.

"Well, I was thinking you could come over to my place. We could listen to tapes in my room, or watch a movie or somethin'." He shrugs, trying to sound casual. But the light quiver in his voice gives him away. He's been dying to get closer to you, you've been taking over his mind since you gave him that tape. You're so pretty, and sweet, and you listen to him ramble on for hours. No one else has ever done that for him. Not even his uncle Wayne, supportive as he is. Every time he's been around you, he gets this unbearable urge to pull you close and kiss you. It's not exactly a common occurrence for him, and even less so for those feelings to seemingly be reciprocated.

"I'd be alright with that." You say with a smile, hopping down from your stool to slowly walk over to Eddie. "Is there anything else you've been thinking about doing with me, Eds?" You ask innocently, peering up at him from under your lashes once you're standing right in front of him.

"I-I guess." He stutters, swallowing hard at you invading his space this time.

"And what would that be?" You question, stepping between his legs that he's had spread apart this whole time. You're not touching him, you're just occupying the gap he's left wide open.

"I dunno if I should say. I don't want you to think I'm a perv or something." Eddie holds your gaze, wondering what you're going to say or do next. He'd love nothing more than to admit all the dirty things he's thought about you. How he's held himself in his hand at night, quietly murmuring your name while listening to the albums you've shown him, imagining you there with him in his room doing very inappropriate things.

"I wouldn't think that at all, Eddie." You shake your head, giving him a reassuring smile. He doesn't say anything else, he's too busy thinking about the filthy scenarios in his head again. "You don't have to tell me if it'll make you uncomfortable. We can talk about it later, when we're in your room...if you'd like." You speak lowly, gently placing your hands on his thighs. His breath catches at your touch, and his eyes refuse to leave yours. "How's Friday night sound?"

"Sounds great." He smiles, eager to have these plans with you.

"Good. I'm looking forward to it." Your hands travel further up his legs, stopping just before you reach where his hands have been resting between them. Eddie sighs quietly, enjoying the simple ways you've been touching him. He's excited for you to touch him even more on Friday, and he's even more excited to touch you in all the ways he'll hope you'll like. He can't wait to see what turns you on, how easily and frequently he can make you moan for him. He's getting a little hard just thinking about it. Thankfully, his draped hands obscure your view of the subtle erection growing in his jeans.

"Cool." Eddie clears his throat, quickly trying to make his boner go away so he can leave. He doesn't want you to see how easily horny you've made him, it's seriously embarrassing. He quickly thinks about all the things that definitely turn him off, holding back his sigh of relief once he's no longer aroused. He takes hold of your hands, gently grasping them in his own, the backs of his palms resting on his thighs. "I really like you, Y/N." Eddie says sweetly, brushing his thumbs across your skin.

"I really like you too, Eds." You reply with a warm smile. He seems much more relaxed now, comfortable in your presence once again. It is a bit fun to watch someone get flustered when you flirt with them, but it's even better to witness them unfurl like a budding flower. Opening up to you, accepting your advances.

"Can I..." He starts to ask, raising a hand to cup your cheek. He can't help but pause, he's unsure that a move like this is right. At least so early. You can feel calluses on his hands, presumably from playing guitar. He's mentioned it before, his 'shitty little band', as he put it.

"Can you what?" You almost whisper when the rest of his words don't come. You already know what he's going to ask, but you long to hear him actually say it out loud.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks again, much more confident this time. You're just about to respond by bringing your lips toward his, when the bell above the door jingles. You immediately pull away, turning your attention to whoever has annoyingly destroyed your little moment with Eddie. You clear your throat, returning to your usual position at the register.

"Hey kiddos, what brings you in today?" You ask when you look to find Will Byers and his friends coming through the door in a loud bundle. They're bickering over their next D&D campaign, but they quickly stop once you acknowledge them.

"Y/N!" They shout excitedly in unison, running over to the counter. You come around to greet them, letting them each give you a small hug. You almost forget that Eddie is still here. You're a bit preoccupied with the boys talking over each other to ask you about the new albums they've been waiting on.

"Hey, Y/N. I'm gonna get goin'. But I'll see you on Friday, 'kay?" Eddie says, getting out of your area and heading for the door. He's walking backwards, wanting to see your face one last time before he departs. You suppose he's in a bit of a hurry after failing to kiss you.

"Sure thing! Can't wait!" You call after him, giving him the biggest genuine smile you can. He nods, smiling himself. He turns around and walks out of the shop. You watch him make his way down the street, feeling a bit bad that you've missed out on that kiss. Oh well, you'll get another chance in a mere four days. In the meantime, you've got four of your best customers waiting for your assistance.

...Well, it's safe to say the rest of the day was not nearly as eventful as Eddie's visit. I've been compulsively reminding myself of every small detail of our interaction far too often. The scent of Eddie's cigarettes and cheap cologne, the warmth radiating from his thighs inside his jeans when I touched him, those all-too-perfect lips of his calling my name. Shit, diary, I'm totally screwed on Friday. I don't know if I'll even manage to get through the door to his place beforeI pounce on him. Although, I now realize he's never told me where he lives. Hopefully he'll come around again at some point to clear that up for me.

June 20th, 1984

Dear diary,

I had a dream about Eddie last night. It was mostly kissing, but if my alarm hadn't taken me out of it, it definitely would've gone to very interesting places. Either way, it was wonderful. We were on my couch, and I was straddling his lap. Eddie's lips were soft and warm. He was the perfect balance of gentle and rough with me. He tasted like beer as his tongue tangled with mine. He didn't do that annoying thing younger guys do where they essentially try to eat your face. Ugh, I've always hated too much tongue. His hands wandered to all the right places, hungrily grabbing at my ass and chest while we were making out. I'm getting a little hot just thinking about it, and it wasn't even real. Not yet, anyway. Friday can't come soon enough, it's killing me to wait so long. And my sex-crazed brain fueling the fire with steamy dreams certainly isn't helping. I only hope Eddie can keep up, but I have a feeling he'll exceed my expectations.

June 23rd, 1984

Dear diary,

'The morning after'. It's a very interesting phrase. We all know what it means, hell, there's even a pill named after it. It's a rather bittersweet saying as well. On the one hand, you get to relive the pleasant experience you shared with another person (or multiple people, if you're lucky). But on the other, it signals the end of the fun, and you have to go back to your boring life once you eat and hose yourself off.

Lucky for me, though, I get to indulge in the sweet side of the morning following a very pleasurable night. I'm still in Eddie's bed as we speak, and he's making us some breakfast. I can smell the bacon sizzling, and the cinnamon from the French toast. I'm sure I'm gonna enjoy it. But not nearly as much as I enjoyed the time we spent together last night...

You pull up to Eddie's trailer around 9:30pm, killing the engine of your little junker before stepping out onto the gravel. Eddie called you about an hour before closing time at the shop, giving you the address. He seemed a bit ashamed of where he lives over the phone, but you didn't give him any reason to think you'd look down on him for it. It's just a home, like any other. And it's not like your apartment is exactly Shangri-la, either. You pull you overnight bag over your shoulder, one you'd packed very early this morning as you couldn't focus on sleeping. You shut the car door, and head up the small steps to the trailer. You knock, and wait for Eddie to come let you in.

You can hear the Judas Priest album you gave him playing over a stereo on one end of the trailer, presumably his bedroom. The stereo suddenly turns off, and quick footsteps make their way over to you. The door swings open to reveal your companion for the evening. "Hey, Y/N. Come in." Eddie smiles, opening the door wider and extending his arm to coax you inside. "You look great." He compliments you, his eyes dragging over your tight jean shorts and Metallica t-shirt.

"Thanks. So do you." You reply kindly, paying respect to his usual getup. "Where's your room? I want to put my bag down." You ask, looking around the humble abode. It's small, but mostly tidy. There's clutter here and there, but it's far from unclean. Mugs and baseball caps line the walls of the living room, definitely a prized collection. You doubt that Eddie would hoard such things, they're probably his uncle's. The various furniture is simple, faded and worn around the edges, but still perfectly functional.

"Oh, sure. Uh, this way." He points awkwardly down the hall, stepping ahead of you to lead the way. You follow him down the somewhat narrow space, entering a door at the very end of it. There's a decent-sized bed in the room, and various posters, banners, and drawings on the walls. There's also a couple guitars and an amp in the room, and other random things a teenage boy would own. It's a little more messy in here, clothes strewn about and overflowing from the dresser drawers, a couple empty beer cans on the night table. But you've seen worse. "Shit. Sorry it's kind of a mess. I'd meant to clean up, but time got away from me." Eddie chuckles awkwardly, hurriedly attempting to clean up.

"It's fine, Eds. As long as there's no roaches or rats, I don't mind." You reply, setting your bag down on the floor in the corner of the room.

"Oh, we are definitely pest-free in the Munson household. Although, there may be a few spiders." Eddie replies, making you giggle.

"So, what do you wanna do?" You ask, plopping down on Eddie's bed, which is dressed with a wrinkled brown comforter and well slept-on pillows. You lean back on your hands, kicking off your shoes while glancing at him casually.

"Well, we could pick up where we left off on Monday." Eddie suggests, giving you a cheeky grin.

"Been thinking about that a lot, have you?" You tease, patting the spot beside you on the bed. He comes over, sitting as close to you as he possibly can.

"Maybe." He shrugs, though the way he says it definitely means 'yes'.

"Well, so have I." You put your hand on his thigh, gazing deep into his eyes. Your mouth is not very far from his, it would take no effort at all to finally get a taste of him. "I had a dream about you, ya know." You blurt out the words, oddly compelled to as you stare at his beautiful mouth.

"Yeah? What did we do in your dream?" He asks, just as mesmerized by your proximity.

"This." You whisper, leaning in closer to bridge the gap that's beginning to feel miles long. Your mouth meets his, and time itself seems to stop. He tastes exactly how you thought he would in your dream, with a hint of tobacco as well. Eddie hums quietly into the kiss, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of your head. Your mouths move in sync, with just the right amount of tenderness and passion. You maneuver yourself to straddle his lap, just like your dream. Your tongues come out to play, teasing one another to turn up the heat. Your head feels light, and Eddie's does too. Flares of excitement course through you, driving you to bury your fingers in his hair, while his hands lower to grip your waist. "Mmm." You moan lightly, grinding yourself onto him.

You can feel Eddie getting hard underneath you, and you're tempted to reach down and palm him through his jeans. "Slow down, baby. We've got all night." Eddie says, pulling his lips away from yours to breathe.

"Sorry." You say breathlessly, letting go of his head. You really want to savor every moment, to truly take your time. You just got a little ahead of yourself.

"Don't be. Just relax, I'm not goin' anywhere." He reassures you, still holding your hips respectfully. You stay sitting on his lap, the both of you taking a minute to admire one another in this new light. "So, did we do anything else in this dream of yours?" He asks curiously.

"Uh, not really. Well, you grabbed my ass and tits, I guess." You explain, feeling a little silly saying all of this out loud.

"Oh, like this?" He questions, moving his hands lower to take rough handfuls of your butt.

"Yeah." You moan lightly at the contact, and his smile grows wider.

"And..." He stops squeezing your behind, traveling upwards now to grab your breasts through your shirt. "...like this?" He asks you again, his cock twitching at the whimper that escapes you.

"Fuck, yes." You respond, loving the way his large palms feel when they touch you.

"God, you're gorgeous." Eddie muses, drawing more little noises from your lips. "I've dreamt about you too, sweetheart." He says lowly, dropping the pet name like it's nothing at all. It's sounds so good coming from his lips, and you can't wait to hear it again.

"And what happened in your dream?" You ask, curious what his own mind holds in terms of fantasies. He's still groping your chest, which is making you very wet inside your shorts.

"Same as yours...except I was doing this." He says, leaning his head down to kiss your neck. His lips returning to your flesh feels absolutely exquisite. He moves his mouth on you slowly, employing his teeth and tongue to mark you with a dark hickey.

"Eddie." You moan involuntarily, lacing your left hand in his hair to keep him close to you.

"Mmm, and you definitely did that, princess." Eddie chuckles darkly, breath fanning hotly across your skin. He switches sides now, and you in turn switch hands. You have to have him as near to you as possible, you strangely feel like he might disappear if you let go for too long. His hands continue to massage your chest, causing more arousal to spread through your panties at the sensation. You grind your hips again, drawing a muted groan from him. "Havin' fun, baby?" He asks, nipping you a little bit harder this time.

"Yes, Eddie. You're really good at this." You pant, your nails digging into his scalp. You roll your hips over and over, slow as you can manage. Eddie keeps quietly moaning and grunting against you. Not because he doesn't want to make any noise. It's more that he doesn't want to disturb the sounds of heavy breathing and clothes brushing against each other.

"Let's take a little break, sweetheart." Eddie says, pulling his mouth away from your throat and taking hold of your hips to still them. You're driving him crazy with all your grinding, and he needs to slow down if he's going to keep up with you.

"Sure. You got anything to drink?" You ask, sliding off of Eddie's lap to sit on the bed again.

"Uh, yeah." He stands up abruptly, getting ready to retrieve what you're asking for. "Is beer alright?" He asks.

"Yeah, that's fine." You reply mindlessly, your gaze fixed on the large bulge inside his jeans. You want so badly to get on your knees, and take his cock in your mouth. Eddie's eyes follow your stare, and he looks down to find what you're practically drooling over. He blushes harshly at the obvious sign of his excitement, you've already had such a strong affect on him.

"I'll be right back then." He says, leaving the room. You're snapped out of your trance once his erection is out of your view, left alone in Eddie's bedroom for a moment. You casually look around, taking in more details of the space. You peruse the contents of the night table, sunglasses, condoms, an ashtray, a couple Heavy Metal magazines. Nothing too exciting. Your eyes wander along the walls instead, admiring the banner for Eddie's band, Corroded Coffin. You imagine he made it himself, perhaps with his other band mates. And then you happen upon something you didn't notice at all until now. A pair of handcuffs hanging on the wall. You wonder where he got them...and if he's ever used them on anybody. "Here ya go." Eddie says as he hands off a bottle of beer to you.

"You ever use those before, Eds?" You ask casually, gesturing at the cuffs before taking a swig of your beer. It's nice and cold from the fridge, cooling down your boiling insides a little.

"Oh, um...no. They're more of a gag than anything." He explains nervously, hoping you aren't put off by them, or thinking he's some kind of deviant.

"Really? That's too bad." You say cheekily.

"Have you ever used handcuffs before?" Eddie asks, his interest piqued.

"A couple of times." You answer honestly.

"Were they used on you, or someone else?" He continues, needing to know everything he can about your prior experience.

"Let's just say I really like having my hands tied." You reply seductively, your hand finding his thigh once again. You give him a hungry look, smirking at his eyes going wide. "What? Too kinky for you?" You tease, taking another gulp of your drink.

"No, not at all. I'm just surprised." Eddie says nervously, downing his own beer to calm himself down. It appears you're much more experienced than him, and he's afraid to let you down. It's not like he's a virgin or anything, he's had sex plenty of times before. But he worries that maybe he won't be as exciting as you'd like him to be.

"Would you like to try it with me, Eddie?" You offer, noticing his unease. He's probably doubting himself now, wondering if he's good enough. The last thing you want is for him to lack confidence.

"Yeah. I'll have to find the keys for them, though." He smiles, relaxing a little at your offer.

"That's alright. We won't need them for a while anyway." You scoot a little closer to him on the bed, your leg resting against his. "I love this room, by the way. It's really cozy." You say kindly, putting the dirty thoughts away for a little while. As much as you want to jump Eddie's bones, it wouldn't hurt to have some nice moments with him that don't revolve around sex.

"Thanks. I'm glad you think so." Eddie replies, looking down at the floor as he speaks.

"You don't?"

"I dunno." He shrugs. "I guess it feels lonely to me more than anything else." He says sadly.

"Oh. I didn't think about it that way." You can't feeling bad for Eddie, you always seem to forget that he's far from a popular person. You don't really understand why, though. He's kind, and funny, and intelligent. What's not to like?

"Sorry, I'm not meaning to kill the mood." He scoffs at himself for being such a downer, finishing his drink. He reaches over to put the empty bottle on the night table, settling back into his spot afterwards.

"It's fine. You're just being honest. And I like that about you." You polish off your beer as well, and crawl over the bed to lie down. "C'mere, handsome." You beckon him to follow your lead, but he stands up instead. You're confused, until you see him going to the stereo on his dresser.

"Just a sec, I wanna put something on." He says, pushing the rewind button to reset the tape he has in mind. It takes a few seconds, but then you hear "Freewheel Burning" kick on through the speakers. He turns down the volume a little, enough so you can hear the song while being able to maintain conversation. He comes back to the bed, smiling excitedly. Eddie lays down beside you, the two of you gazing into each other's eyes again.

"How many times have you listened to this tape anyway?" You ask, bringing your hand up to playfully stroke his chest.

"Shit, I dunno. Like...thirty?" He says with a laugh, realizing how desperate that might sound after the words have already passed his lips.

"Damn, that's some serious dedication." You chuckle.

"Well, I can't really help it that every time I play it, I'm reminded of the beautiful girl who gave it to me." He says sweetly, brushing some loose hairs behind your ear. He cups your cheek afterwards, and presses his lips to yours. You instantly melt into the kiss, letting Eddie take the lead. He rolls you both over to kneel above you, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your hands find the hem of his shirt, gently tugging it upwards for him to take it off. Eddie pulls away, sitting up to remove it. He whips the shirt over his head, exposing his scrawny, yet slightly toned, chest. A black widow spider is tattooed on the upper left side, and it looks relatively new.

"Nice tat, baby. It's very sexy." You reach up to touch it when he lowers himself over you again. His breath hitches at your fingertips on his bare skin. You trace the outline of the spider's legs and body, admiring the mostly-steady line work.

"Thanks. Got it a couple months ago." Eddie grins, watching you take in every little detail of his ink. "Do you have any tattoos, sweetheart?" He asks.

"No. I've always wanted one, though." You reply, meeting his eyes again.

"What kind would you get?" He questions, lowering his head to kiss your neck.

"Fuck." You whimper, your nails digging into his chest. He groans at the sting, still waiting for your answer. "I'm not sure. Maybe a music note, or a flower or something." You say breathily, enjoying the feeling of Eddie's teeth nibbling your skin.

"Ugh, those are so cheesy, Y/N." He moans in disappointment. "You can do better than that." He encourages you to dig deeper, to think of something you'd truly want to have on your body forever.

You mull it over for a moment, laughing lightly when you come up with the perfect thing. "Alright, I'd get a little vinyl record, then. A tribute to my love of music." You say, extremely proud of yourself. He looks up at you with an approving smile.

"That's more like it." He chuckles, giving you a small kiss on the lips. "How far do you wanna go tonight, baby?" He asks, though judging from the size of the bag you brought, you plan to spend the entire night with him.

"As far as you're willing to take me, Eddie." You reply softly, taking off your own t-shirt now. You toss it away to the floor, revealing your baby blue bra. You gently push on Eddie's chest, ushering him to roll over onto his back. He does it without even thinking, his hands finding your bare waist once you're on top. You reach around your back to unclasp your bra, and Eddie's pupils dilate as he takes in the sight of your beautiful tits.

"Damn." He murmurs. You grab hold of his hands, slowly dragging them up your sides and towards your breasts. He watches on wordlessly, the both of you devouring the warm sensation of skin against skin. His fingers feel the outlines of your ribs, your supple flesh, until they finally reach their most-desired destination. His palms close around the rounds of your chest, thumbs brushing over your stiffened nipples.

"Eddie." You moan aloud, your eyes glued to his as he gropes you. You're getting very wet again, anxious to move things further. You roll your hips, pressing yourself down into Eddie's clothed cock harder than before. You can feel how hard he is, his jeans practically bursting at the seams.

"Fuck, sweetheart." Eddie groans at the friction. He can't wait to see how wet you are, to taste your sweetness on his lips, to put his throbbing dick inside you. His mind swirls drunkenly with the possibilities, each one more tantalizing than the last. You lower your torso, bringing yourself closer to him. You take a turn to give him some hickies of his own, quickly latching onto his throat. "Shit." He hisses at the pleasurable sting of your teeth.

"What should we do next, Eds?" You ask lowly in his ear, nibbling on the lobe afterwards.

"I'm not sure, there's so many things to choose from. What do you want?" Eddie turns the question back onto you, far too focused on how your tits feel in his hands to make a choice himself.

You put your head above his again, gazing deep into his doeish brown eyes. "I want..." You pause, lowering your hand between your bodies to palm Eddie's cock through his pants. "...to take you in my mouth, if that's alright with you." He moans breathily at your touch, and nods. "Perfect." You grin, pressing a brief kiss to his lips. You travel downwards, your mouth meeting his neck, and then his chest. Eddie breathes heavily, following you with his eyes. You leave wet kisses on his tattoo, his nipples, down the small trail of hair on his stomach that leads to his cock. You grab hold of his belt to undo it, slipping the leather through the buckle. You unzip his jeans, yanking them and his boxers down his legs. He helps you out, kicking them off once they reach his ankles. His dick smacks his stomach, rock solid and aching for you. You kneel over his body, taking his length in your hand.

"Y/N." He moans, his eyes falling closed. You stroke him nice and slow, watching a bead of precum gradually forming on his tip. You poke your tongue out to lick it off, swirling around his head. "Jesus christ." He mutters, forcing his eyes open to look at you. He locks onto your stare, just as you lower your head to take all of him at once. "Holy shit..." He gasps at your warm, wet mouth encapsulating him. You gag slightly when he hits the back of your throat, causing his hands to tightly clutch the bedding underneath him.

"You like that?" You ask lowly, pulling off of his cock for a moment.

"Fuck, don't stop." Eddie whines, making your pussy throb. "Please, keep going, Y/N." He politely begs, needing more of you.

"Sure thing, baby." You smirk, taking him in your mouth once again. You bob your head up and down, swirling your tongue around his length as you move.

"Feels so good, sweetheart." He praises, resting a hand behind his head to get a better view. You're quite a sight to see. Your hair falling loosely around the sides of your face, your hands gripping his thighs for balance, your plush lips opened wide as can be to take his dick past them again and again. "Shit, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth." He says boldly between needy moans.

"Mmm." You hum gently around him, thoroughly enjoying the lovely noises flowing from him like a steady river. You increase your speed just a little, adding more suction to really drive Eddie wild.

"Oh my god." He gasps, unable to believe the level of skill you possess. Your mouth feels absolutely incredible, and it's not going to take long to make him lose control. You feel his hand come down to rest on the back of your head, adding the slightest amount of pressure to keep you deep on his cock. "This alright, baby?" He asks, hoping you'll allow him some semblance of control here. You're melting his goddamn mind right now, and it's taking everything in him not to thrust upwards and fuck your face until his cum spills down your throat.

"Mmhmm." You hum casually, his fingers tightening around your hair at the vibrations. He doesn't push you down too hard, just enough to maintain that wet warmth he craves. You don't mind at all, you've had your fair share of face-fuckings over the years. They can be fun, if done correctly.

You use every trick you can think of, using Eddie's utterances of your name and various swears to guide you on the path to setting off his climax. He's not exactly a tough one to crack, given his undeniable gratitude to you for doing anything with him in the first place. But it's a thrilling chase all the same, as it always has been for you.

"I'm gettin' close, sweetheart. Fuck, you're too good at this..." Eddie warns, gripping your hair and the bed below him with all his might. His stomach is preparing to tense, his balls growing tighter by the second. You take this as your cue to go even faster, bobbing your head quick as you can, your tongue twisting on his shaft with frenzied intensity. "God, Y/N...You're gonna kill me doin' that." He whimpers, his entire being threatening to burst from the immense pleasure you're providing him. He's never felt anything like this before, and it's this thought sprinting across his mind that shoves him over the edge. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum." He grunts, trying and failing to hold back an obscenely loud moan from escaping him afterwards. His muscles clench, and you can taste his release spilling stickily on your tongue.

You swallow every last drop as it's supplied to you, still sucking harshly on his dick until he's empty. Eddie's eyes fall closed once his high runs its course, his breaths coming out thick and shallow. You pull away from his softening length, sitting back on your knees. "Did you like that, Eds?" You question as you gaze over his spent form. He's slicked over in a thin sheen of sweat, eyes closed peacefully while he catches his breath.

"Yeah, that was amazing." He huffs out the words, sensing your weight shifting on the bed to lie next to him again. He opens his eyes, turning his head to look at you. He finds you smiling giddily, appearing very proud of yourself for giving him such intense pleasure. "You must really like going down on guys if it makes you smile like that." He chuckles, intrigued by you.

"Maybe I just like making people feel good, Eddie." You reply simply.

"How many have there been?" He asks, realizing afterwards that it's a bit of a rude question.

"I don't exactly know. But I've had my fair share of guys...and girls." You answer, his eyes widening.

"Girls?" He asks, even more interested now. It shouldn't exactly be so shocking to him, he's been with a guy here and there himself. A lot of high school athletes are major closet cases. He supposes he just didn't take you for the bisexual type.

"Yeah, a few. Is that a big deal to you?" You turn the questions around on him, curious what his own history is like.

"No, of course not. I've been with a few guys myself. I was just surprised by you, again." He laughs, rolling his eyes at himself.

"Oh, really? Looks like we both get around pretty well then, don't we?" You tease, unable to hold in your own laughter.

"I guess so. Although, most of my hookups are meant to be a secret. No girl, or guy, seems to want to be seen with me." He chuckles dryly, his expression falling slightly.

"Well, I'd gladly be seen with you, Eddie. You're a great guy, and all those people are idiots." You say sweetly, taking his hand in yours.

"Thanks, Y/N. That's really kind of you to say." He brightens up again, your words healing his heart a little.

"Any time, baby." You smile, pressing a small kiss to his lips. He gladly accepts it, the taste of you pulling him further out of his self-inflicted funk.

"Do you want a turn now, Y/N?" Eddie asks, his free hand playing around with the waistband of your shorts.

"I'd like that." You nod, watching his fingers easily press the metal button through its stitched hole. He glides your zipper down its track, carefully slipping his hand inside to brush over your panties. He feels a wet spot in the fabric, gasping quietly at how soaked you are for him already. He deliberately brings his fingers onto your clothed clit, rubbing it in light circles. "Eddie." You moan, keeping your eyes on his hand stuck inside your shorts.

"So wet for me already, sweetheart?" Eddie asks lowly into your ear, watching your reaction to his touch.

"Yes." You reply breathlessly. His hand leaves your sensitive bud for a moment, moving up to the top of your panties. He ventures beneath the fabric, fully feeling your slick folds. "Fuck." You whimper, your hips bucking once at him touching your throbbing entrance.

"What do you want, baby? I'll give you anything you ask for." He offers seductively, spreading your arousal all around while drinking in your sexy noises.

"I want you to go down on me, Eddie. Please." You whine, desperate to feel his mouth on your pussy.

"Mmm, I like it when you beg." He chuckles darkly, pressing a wet kiss to your throat. He slips two fingers inside your cunt, making you gasp. He lays you down on your back, knees tented with him crouching above you. His mouth travels downwards, his digits gently curling to hit your g-spot. He's going very slow, warming you up before he eats you out. Clearly he's done this before, and knows his way around. Shy, my ass, you think to yourself as his lips leave open-mouthed kisses on your chest. He makes a little detour to take one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the pebbled flesh before biting down roughly.

"Fuck, Eds..." You moan, your hands slipping into his thick curls. He moves on to your other breast, nipping every inch of it before going after the stiff center. He doesn't stay in one place for long, venturing further down your body to make a trail along the middle of your stomach. Your hands stay weaved inside his hair the whole way, tugging lightly with every teasing pump of his fingers inside your pussy. He eventually reaches your jeans, regrettably having to stop touching you so he can remove them. You whine at the loss, but you know the pleasure will continue shortly.

Eddie grabs hold of the top of your shorts, pulling them down your legs to discard them. He takes off your panties the same way, spreading your legs open wide so he can see every last bit of you. Your pussy glistens with sweet juices in the dim light of his room, and he can't resist licking his lips at the sight. "You're beautiful, sweetheart." He praises, his arms snaking around your legs. He leans down to kiss the innermost part of your thigh, drawing more helpless sounds from your lips. You anxiously await him touching you where you need him most, watching his every move with pleading eyes. He meets the other side, still neglecting your very center.

"Eddie, please stop teasing." You beg in frustration, bucking your hips up to gain his attention. You need him now. You can't wait any longer.

"You're so needy, Y/N." He teases with a grin, bringing his tongue forward to lick a long stripe from your entrance to your clit.

"Fuck!" You cry out in surprise, your back arching off the bed. Eddie presses you back down with his hand, keeping a firm hold on your stomach so you'll stay still. He slowly flicks his tongue up and down on your clit, making you wetter by the second. He swirls around, dips in and out of the area in varying patterns. He's keeping you guessing, building you up at an agonizing pace. "Shit, you feel so good." You exhale, refusing to let go of his head for fear of him stopping for a single second. You can feel your pleasure growing, balling up inside the very center of you.

"You taste so sweet, baby. And you're fuckin' soaked for me." He says in admiration. He can't get enough of your decadent, musky flavor on his tongue. He's already getting hard again, and he cannot wait to feel you cum on his face, and around his cock when the time is right. He darts his tongue in and out of your soaked hole. Warm trickles of arousal and many, many moans spill from you as he does so. His impeccable technique drives you closer and closer to the edge.

"Just like that, Eds...keep going..." You struggle to piece the words together. Every lick and nip and suck of his mouth working against you steals your train of thought, just when you manage to set it back on the tracks again. You can sense your high building, your insides tensing and squeezing as the need to release the pent up tension grows more dire by the second. Just when you think this can't possibly feel any more amazing, Eddie replaces his tongue with two thick fingers. They worm their way deep inside your dripping pussy, the metal rings they're dressed in shocking your body with their coldness. He fingers you fast and hard, wet sounds mingling with your moans. "Fuck, baby. Don't stop!" You plead, thighs quivering as your end draws near.

"You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, lazily dragging the very tip of his tongue around your clit while his hand works overtime.

"Yes, please make me cum." You whimper, gripping his head even harder. It's a wonderfully odd combination, the battling movements of his quick fingers and slow licking. It's driving you positively insane. Any second now, you're going to lose it altogether. "I'm so close, Eddie. Fuck, right there." You persist, relentlessly calling out to him to help you reach your bliss as if your life depends on it. It's like you're caught in the middle of a fever dream. Sweat gathers on every last inch of your flesh, pooling in all the nooks and crevices, and dripping from the back of your knees.

"Cum for me, Y/N." He politely commands, sucking your clit harshly between his lips to seal your fate.

"Eddie! Oh, fuck!" You cry out as the buildup finally pays off, the pressure releasing itself throughout your entire body. Your thighs quake, threatening to clamp around Eddie's head. Your cunt pulses, simultaneously trapping his fingers and releasing a mess of juices onto his face. Eddie slurps against your folds, trying his best to savor every last drop of you. He moans at the taste, his cock twitching as the liquid flows down his throat and into his stomach. Your body relaxes once your orgasm fades away, hands releasing Eddie's hair from your grasp. He sits up to look at you, finding you looking absolutely blissed out. You're glistening in perspiration, eyes fallen closed and chest rising and falling with effort.

"Gorgeous." He observes simply, mostly to himself. He crawls over to lie down beside you once more, reaching over for his pack of Camels on the night table. "Want a smoke?" He offers, your eyes fluttering open to look at him.

"Yes, please." You smile, watching as he takes two cigarettes from the pack and places them between his lips. He lights them both, handing one off to you. He takes the ashtray from the table, setting it between you on the bed. You take a long, deep drag, humming blissfully at the smoke filling your lungs.

"Did you enjoy that, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, blowing a large cloud of smoke from his lips as he speaks.

"Yes, very much. Who taught you to eat pussy like that?" You question curiously.

"No one. Practice makes perfect, Y/N." Eddie replies with a chuckle. He's very glad that you enjoyed yourself, it was certainly fun for him to hear you crying out his name.

"More than perfect, Eds." You add, bringing yourself closer to snuggle up to him. He puts his arm around you, and you lay your head against him.

"You oughtta be careful with all the compliments. I might just get an ego." He says jokingly.

"I don't care." You turn your head to kiss his body, continuing to praise him. "You've earned one after that." You kiss his neck this time, nipping his skin a little. You can't help yourself, Eddie's made you feel so good. You want him to keep doing it, and to do the same for him.

"You just can't get enough of me, can you?" He asks teasingly, egging you on.

"No, I really can't." You reply, biting down harder on his throat.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He moans, taking another drag of his smoke to keep himself relaxed while you make a meal out of him.

"Sorry." You pull away after sucking another dark hickey on Eddie's skin, resuming your smoking. You recognize that you're going a little too fast again, forcing yourself to slow down.

"It's alright. I like it when you do that." He reassures you, gently stroking your arm.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You make me feel—" Eddie cuts himself off, wondering if he'll sound too corny.

"What?" You press him to finish his sentence. You have to know how your words and actions affect him.

"You make me feel wanted." He says, giving you a meaningful look. "Like I said, most people treat me like a secret, or something forbidden. They'll fuck me all they like behind closed doors, but they won't give me the time of day when there's others around. But you make me feel like I deserve more." He adds, his words full of passion and conviction. Eddie's never been one to mince words, he says what he means every time he opens his mouth. "Shit, I sound totally lame right now." He sighs before taking another drag, worried he's ruined the mood again.

"It's not lame at all, Eddie. You do deserve better. You deserve to be with someone who likes you for you, someone who won't hide you away." You speak gently, cupping his cheek in your hand. You wait for him to exhale his smoke, bringing your lips to his to give him a tender kiss once it flows out of his nostrils. He melts into you, humming lightly into the kiss. You both stub out your smokes, finding each other's mouths far more interesting. Eddie bites your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open to slip his tongue inside.

"You won't hide me away too, will you?" Eddie asks between hungry kisses, needing to know this won't be another secret fling. He can't put himself through that again, no matter how much he likes you.

"No, Eds. I won't. I promise." You answer, hoping your honesty rings true for him. You're unsure how many others there have been that made the same promise and broken it, along with Eddie's heart.

"Okay. Lemme find those keys real quick." He says, satisfied with your words. He gets off the bed, searching around his room to find the keys to the handcuffs. You've given him what he's wanted for so long, the least he can do is appease your every desire. He checks his dresser first, the top of it as well as the unorganized drawers. Nothing. He looks in a few random boxes of junk he keeps stashed around, typically for weed. Nothing here, either. He's growing a bit desperate now, checking the final place he thinks those damned tin keys could be. The night table drawer. He slides it open, shuffling the boxes of matches and random papers around inside. He hears metal tinkling somewhere in there, and he can't imagine it's anything other than the thing he's in search of. He finds them nestled under a crumpled receipt, bringing them out into the light with a satisfied look on his face. "Gotcha." He gets off the floor and retrieves the cuffs from the wall. He brings them over to the bed. "How do you wanna do this?" He asks, unsure how to proceed.

"Well, that depends. What position do you want me in?" You say with total self-assurance. Eddie doesn't say anything else, a rather awkward expression taking over his features. "It's okay, I'll give you some options. I can ride you, you can take me from behind, or we can do it the normal way."

"What would you prefer, Y/N?" He can't help asking for your input. You're the one getting handcuffed, after all. You ought to have some say on the subject.

"I'd really like to ride you, Eddie." You reply, giving him a seductive look. "Here, get behind me to put the cuffs on." You instruct, scooting forward and sitting on your knees to give him some room. He does as you ask, putting himself behind you. You place your hands behind your back, allowing Eddie to put the cuffs on. "Now make sure they're tight, but not too tight." He clicks each cuff in place on your wrists, careful of your reaction to see if he's done this correctly. "Very good. Now, sit up against the headboard and keep your legs together."

"Okay." Eddie says, scooting backwards to get into your desired position. He lays his legs straight forward, keeping them as close together as he can. You sit up on your knees to make room, and carefully inch yourself backwards until you can sit back down in his lap. His cock rests against your ass, warm and stiff, ready to get things moving.

"Wanna help me out a little, baby?" You ask, turning your head back to look at him.

"Sure." He replies, getting more excited by the second. He reaches a hand around your front, slipping between your legs to rub your slit.

"Fuck, Eddie. I want you so bad." You moan, eager to have him fill you up with his thick cock.

"I want you too, Y/N." He says softly, bringing your back to rest on his chest and lowering his head to kiss your neck. He continues to tease you, getting you ready for him. His free hand reaches over to the night table, pulling out a condom from the small box he'd left out. He rips the wrapper open with his teeth, wasting no time in rolling the latex over his length. "Get up for a sec, baby." He says, pulling his fingers away from your pussy. You get up on your knees again, letting him lead. He takes hold of himself, while also guiding you towards his tip. You feel him slip through your folds once, twice, three times. He can't resist teasing you a little more before getting down to business.

"Oh, fuck." You let out little moans for him at the contact, dying to take him inside you.

"Ready, sweetheart?" He asks lowly in your ear.

"Yes." You almost whisper. He keeps his dick steady, and gently presses on your shoulder to guide you downwards. "Eddie, f-uck..." You whine as you feel him slowly stretch you out. He's so big, filling every part of you so completely.

"That's it, baby. Fuck, you're tight." Eddie pants, leading you nice and steady until you're fully seated on him. Your walls contract involuntarily once he's all the way in, squeezing his length. "Shit." He hisses. You both sit still for a moment, allowing you to get comfortable with his size. His hands caress your sides, fingers brushing over your thighs, hips, and stomach. His warmth makes you feel safe, secure. "Doin' alright, Y/N?" He asks, wondering if you're okay to start moving yet.

"Yeah." You breathe, taking the hint to slowly lift yourself up, before sinking back down again.

"Fuck." You both moan at the same time, savoring the friction formed between your interlocked parts.

"You're so big, Eds." You breathe, picking a careful pace to start bouncing on him. His tip slides across your g-spot on its way to kiss your cervix every time you land on him, ripping borderline pornographic noises from your lungs in the process.

"Thanks, sweetheart." He chuckles at your compliment, his hands resting on your hips as you move on him. He's never had anyone ride him like this before, but he really likes it. He has such a pretty view in this position. From the recoil of your ass and thighs as you bounce, to your soaked pussy lubing him up every time he disappears inside you. Fuck, it's gonna be a challenge not to cum too early with this perfect display before his eyes. "You're taking me so well, baby. Such a good little slut, aren't you?" He says darkly, taking you by surprise at his choice of words. You pause for a moment, turning to look back at him with a questioning gaze. "Oh, shit. Was that too much?" Eddie asks, kicking himself for pulling out that word without checking with you first.

"No." You grin, letting him relax. "I really like it." You burn.

"Oh, okay. Good." He chuckles awkwardly. You face forward again, resuming your riding at a slightly faster pace now. He groans, squeezing your hips a little tighter.

"Say it again." You beg, your walls flexing at the sound Eddie's just made. He's so fucking hot when he does that, like he's not afraid to let you know how good you're making him feel. You speed up a bit more, ramping up your excitement.

"That's it, ride my cock like a good little slut. Do I feel good inside this tight pussy of yours?" He speaks lowly, the same mischievous tone he had when he went down on you.

"Yes! I'm so wet for you, Eddie." You whimper, eating up every last filthy word he says. Eddie reaches down to grip the small linked chain between the handcuffs, yanking on the metal to keep you close, making you work harder to ride him. "Fuck." You hiss at the bite of the cuffs digging into your flesh. But it only adds to the overall pleasure you're experiencing, and you love how forceful Eddie's choosing to be with you.

"Keep goin', baby. Gotta work for it if you wanna cum." Eddie taunts. You do as he commands, keeping up your rapid pace despite the added resistance. Your thighs are getting the workout of a lifetime, your muscles beginning to burn. "God, you're tryin' so hard for me. Such a good girl." He growls in your ear, making you moan even louder. You're getting very close now, quicker than you expected to. But the way Eddie's cock reaches every magic spot inside you, the way his words amplify every ounce of sensation, it's enough to make you catch fire from the inside out.

"I'm getting close, Eds." You warn, continuing to move yourself up and down on his length. He pulls even harder on the cuffs in response, making it more difficult to fully extend your thighs. "Fuck." You mutter, persisting in your pursuit of ecstasy.

"So soon, Y/N? I thought we were just gettin' started." He teases, thrusting his hips up once to meet your landing on him. You cry out at the sensation, his cock somehow hitting even deeper inside you than it was through your own efforts. "You like that? Should I do it again?"

"Yes! Fuck, it feels so good! You're gonna make me cum, baby." You whimper, and he gladly obliges. His lap ruts upwards to meet you in the middle over and over, making you cry out louder every time. You're right on the edge now, the two of you pounding yourselves into a pulp to earn your orgasms.

"Good girl. Ride that dick like you own it, sweetheart." Eddie pants as he continues to thrust himself into you. He can feel your walls fluttering around him, though he's not quite there yet. But that's more than fine by him. He'll make you scream his name, and then keep on going until he's moaning yours.

"Oh, god...fuck. I'm gonna cum—" You whine mindlessly as your bliss finally takes over. "—EDDIE!" You scream his name, trying your best to keep moving as your walls pulsate and thighs tremble. White hot heat roars from your core to your extremities, blinding you with the flames.

"There ya go, baby. Ride it out, I'm not done with you yet." Eddie coos, keeping up his thrusts to help you work through your high. He's getting rather close himself, especially with your insides squeezing him so goddamn tight. But he knows you've got one more in you, and he damn well intends to make sure you have it. He lifts your body up to put you on your knees as the aftershocks roll over you, positioning himself behind you while still gripping the chain behind your back. "Is this okay?" He asks, his dick stilled inside you while he waits for permission.

"God, yes. Just keep going. I wanna make you cum." You beg, allowing him to use you to get himself off.

"You got it, baby." His free arm goes around your stomach, giving him more leverage before he starts thrusting. He slowly pulls out of your sensitive hole, before shoving back in with all his strength. His hips make a loud smacking sound against your ass, and your lungs painfully release a loud cry of pleasure. He pulls back again, snapping his hips to set a punishing pace.

"Fuck!" You gasp, wishing you had something to hang on to. Eddie's doing a great job holding you in place so you don't fall over, but you still feel completely out of control in this situation. He thrusts into you mercilessly, rapidly building you up for another orgasm. He grunts and pants behind you, sounding like a wild animal. His hot breath comes out forcefully enough to brush against your back as he fucks you. Your wrists are getting sore from him gripping the links so hard, but you know you're both almost finished.

"You like the way I pound this pussy, baby?" Eddie grunts, a bead of sweat rolling down his face as he slams himself into your cunt again and again.

"Yes! Don't stop!" You exclaim, tears gathering in your eyes. You're completely overwhelmed with sensation. The sting of the cuffs, the smacking of skin against skin, his cock filling you up just right. It's all so fucking perfect.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm almost there." He pants, his stomach tightening as his high approaches. He can feel your walls fluttering around him again, letting him know you're right there with him. "You gonna cum with me, Y/N? Like a good little slut?" He asks, moaning through his words.

"Yes...fuck me harder, Eddie." You plead, unable to stop moaning, so loud that you're worried the whole trailer park can hear you.

"Anything for you, baby." He chuckles at your neediness, you really are something else. He really puts his back into it, ramming himself as deep and hard into your pussy as he possibly can. He struggles to keep a grip on the cuffs, and his balance holding you both up on your knees. But he carries on regardless, needing to reach the finish line if it's the last thing he does. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum—" He's groans loudly as his high takes hold, his hips bucking into you wildly as he fills the condom.

"Eddie!" You cry out, falling over the edge alongside him. This time is even stronger than the last, more tears rolling down your cheeks from overstimulation. Your insides clamp down on him, and a spurt of your juices spills out onto your thighs as well as his. Eddie keeps thrusting, the two of you moaning and cursing until your orgasms fade away.

"Jesus christ." He slowly comes to a stop, and pulls out of you. He gently guides you to lie down on the bed, noting how much your body is still trembling. "Are you alright, baby?" He asks softly, leaning over to find your exhausted face. Your eyes are closed, as they have been for a good while, squeezed shut from the overpowering ecstasy you were experiencing.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just...wow." You reply somewhat lazily, opening your eyes to return to your body.

"Do you need anything, Y/N?" He asks, growing concerned. He's worried he fucked you too hard, even though you did indeed ask for it.

"Water would be great." You answer, attempting to roll over onto your back. You realize your hands are still bound behind you, however, so you stop. "You mind letting me out of these, Eds?" You request, lifting your wrists upwards. You hiss in pain, knowing you're gonna find bruises once he takes them off.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Eddie goes for the keys, quickly shoving one in the holes of the cuffs to let you out. He sees the dark purple marks left behind on your skin, tutting at the pain you must be feeling. "Did I hurt you, sweetheart? I'm sorry." He says apologetically, helping you sit upright.

"It's alright, Eds. I don't mind a bit of pain." You say casually, playing it off. It's not his fault, you didn't tell him to stop. If it wasn't fun for you, you wouldn't have let him keep doing it.

"Are you sure, Y/N? Those bruises are pretty dark. And they'll only be worse tomorrow." He speaks sadly, guilt lacing his voice. He sits beside you for a moment, cradling your wrists in each of his hands.

"Eddie, it's okay. I promise." You insist, turning his chin with your finger to get him to look at you. "You didn't do anything wrong, baby. There's nothing to feel bad about." You do your best to reassure him. "Okay?"

"Okay." He nods, carefully putting your hands in your lap before standing up. "I'll get you that water." He gives you a small smile, leaving the room to get your drink. You patiently wait for him, hearing various noises coming from the kitchen. A cupboard opening and closing, the faucet turning on and off. But he doesn't come back after that. Instead, you hear the freezer door open, and the unmistakable sound of ice cubes being cracked out of the tray and poured into zip lock bags. His footsteps gradually return to you, the glass of water and bags of ice in hand.

"You're too sweet, Eddie." You giggle at his thoughtfulness, his desire to take care of you.

"Here. Have the water first, then we can ice your hands." He says, giving you the glass. You take hold of it, ignoring the soreness of the tissue connecting your hand to your arm. You down the glass quickly, giving it back with a shaky grip. "Lay down, sweetheart." He kindly instructs, and you do as he asks. He gets in bed with you, giving you some space so your hands can rest at your sides. He gently lays the bags of ice down onto them, shocking your senses. But after the initial pang of cold, you start to feel relief radiating through your sore flesh. "Better?" Eddie asks after you let out a quiet sigh.

"Yes. Thank you, Eddie." You reply sweetly, leaning over to give him a quick peck.

"It's the least I can do." He gently strokes your arm with the back of his hand, gazing at you in the aftermath of what you've done together tonight. "Did you have fun? You know, besides the bruises?"

"I had a great time, Eddie. What about you?" You ask, laying your head on his shoulder.

"Are you kidding? You were amazing, Y/N." Eddie replies, still completely awestruck.

"Thank you, baby. The feeling is mutual." You say blissfully.

...after my wrists had been iced for a while, Eddie and I cuddled up together under the blanket. We exchanged a few more kisses, resisting the undeniable urge to grope each other beneath the covers. I fell asleep with his arms around me, keeping me close to his chest. I haven't slept that well in a very long time. But being in this humble room, and sharing this warm bed with Eddie was exactly what I've been needing. I'd better go for now, he's just brought in breakfast, wearing nothing but some black boxer briefs. I can feel a round two coming on.

June 25th, 1984

Dear diary,

Eddie and I have decided to make our little night of fun into a regular thing. It's just casual, and not exclusive. I don't exactly have time for a full-on relationship right now, and Eddie's uncle is really on his ass to buckle down and pass senior year once fall rolls around. We'll hang out when we have time, take-out dinners, smoke sessions in his van, as well as all the dirty things we enjoy doing together. But there's no expectations, we'll just enjoy each other's company until the summer is over.

It does kind of suck that this arrangement comes with a built-in expiration date. But it's really for the best. I won't hide him away, just like I promised. I'm sure we'll go on plenty of 'dates', and kiss or hold hands in public. I'm definitely looking forward to every opportunity I'll get to see Eddie. He's a really great guy. If he didn't have to repeat senior year, and I wasn't so damn busy with the store, I'd be fully prepared to commit to a real relationship with him. But life isn't exactly working in our favor, it never seems to in regards to my love life. All we can do is make the most of it, and hope neither of us get in too deep in the process.

#smut #stranger things #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #hawkins #eddie munson #hippiegoth97 #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #hawkins hussy

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lovesanmotion · 3 years ago

Note

HELLO! First I wanted to say I really love your writing 💘 and Then I wanted to request a Dom!Hongjoong x sub!reader where there's a big party for idols and they can bring their dates, but there's another idol trying to get close to the reader which makes joong jealous and angry :O I'm sorry if its too much.. idk how to explain TT

Be My Lover - Kim Hongjoong

�� This is: Requested

taglist: @yunhobabygurl @atiny-chocolate-chip @minhyukmyluv @yunhoandonly

You never thought you'd be surrounded by highly influential and powerful people around you in a dimly lit room.

The bass of music blared all over the floors, idols talking and laughing with other idols, sipping cocktails being served by black and white tie waiters. Everyone in this room has either: won a bonsang, daesang, album of the year, song of the year or any award in no particular.

Earlier, the year end awards were held and your boyfriend Kim Hongjoong, along with his group, ATEEZ, attended the said event and bagged two awards. Before anyone else could go home, an after party was held at the top floor of a luxurious hotel right next to the location of the awards event.

But Hongjoong taught you very well that some awards didn't arrived into the hands of the right owners.

"Y/N!" San was surprised to see you as he entered the hall, wrapping his arms around you for a friendly hug.

"Y/N!!!" Wooyoung almost screamed, running towards you as he spooted you, immediately engulfing you into a tight hug.

The boys were like your brothers and you were thankful to have meet them. Thankful that they keep Hongjoong afloat and on the ground.

"You look pretty in your dress, noona!" Jongho compliments with a smile.

"Hello, baby" Hongjoong says, greeting you as he walks closer to you, placing a kiss on your cheek while placing a hand on your lower back. "Is there anything I can get you?" He asks.

"A drink would be nice" You said, smiling shyly at how handsome he looks tonight with his hair slicked back. Sometimes you wonder if his scalp is hurting from coloring his hair too much or did he just kept it all inside.

"Got it. I'll be right back!" With a huge smile on his lips, he leans to place a kiss on your cheek before heading to the mobile bar. The other boys have already gone and were either helping themselves at the dessert booth or dancing at the dance floor - leaving you alone at the group's booth.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here all alone on a night like this?"

You lifted your head up and found Cravity's Minhee standing in front of you. You smiled at him then shook your head. "I'm not alone. My boyfriend just went to get us drinks."

Minhee's eyes then darted at the name of the current group this table's reserved for. His lips formed a shape before he tried to get closer to you. "Your boyfriend isn't here though. Is he the small guy? The one named Hongjoong?"

Gulping, you never liked talking about your boyfriend's insecurity. But what Hongjoong lacks, he always makes it up for in different ways. "You know, you should be with someone more taller. In that way, they could protect you better." Minhee smiles and points to himself. "Don't I fit the picture?"

You didn't bothered answering his question. Furthermore, your palms started to sweat and wondered what's taking Hongjoong so long. It was until, Minhee grabbed your forearm. "Come with me and I'll treat you really good."

You tried hard to force and yank your arm away from his grip, but it was no use - Minhee was stronger.

"If a lady says no, it means no. That's not an invitation for you to force her." Hongjoong calmly spoke as he reached you two. He set the two glasses of strawberry daiquiri's before punching Minhee square in the jaw, falling down on the ground.

Hongjoong didn't stop there, he squat down and grabbed his collar, repeatedly punching him in the face that blood started to trickle down his nostrils. All the idols stopped and slowly backed away from the two of them, their respective group members trying to pull them apart.

"Hey, you dropped something." Hongjoong says as Mingi and Yunho took his arms and restrained him from going after Minhee. Before Minhee could ask what was something he dropped, Hongjoong took the opportunity to extend his leg out to kick his chin.

"You dropped your manners." He says, panting heavily before yanking out his body. "And that's for Y/N" with that Hongjoong took your hand and led you out of the hall.

"Ouch!"

"Maybe if you didn't punched him you wouldn't be crying like this" You joked.

You and Hongjoong returned back to the hotel room and minutes later, the manager came striding in and gave Hongjoong an earful how bad this would look on the group and the company. But when Hongjoong started to explain what really happened that moment, the manager looked at him dumbfoundedly and wished his hand a speedy recovery.

"I could have bruised him up some more if only the boys didn't pulled me up" He frowned, looking away. Lifting your head up, you found it cute how his lips would form the smallest pout. And matching it with staring off somewhere? It was an adorable small trait of his.

"You look cute" You say

"I'm not cute!" Hongjoong scoffs, blushing at your comment to which it didn't go unnoticed by you. Chuckling at his cute antics.

"You're cuter than me." Hongjoong says, huffing as he looks at you after you've treated his hand.

"Come be cute with me in bed?" You asked, voice laced with lust as you laid down in the soft sheets. Taking the invitation, Hongjoong stood up from his seat, thankful to have someone like you in his life.

#ateez hongjoong #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #ateez oneshot #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x oc #ateez hongjoong x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x oc #ateez x reader #ateez x female reader

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talkfastromance4 · 5 years ago

Text

Ride-- c.h blurb

Based off of this ask I saw on lauren’s blog, I hope it’s all right I ran with this idea! Also

Word count: 1,582

Warnings: smut, sensual dom, praise kink

ALSO, ride by somo inspired this but i also listened to earned it by the weeknd :)

Masterlist

• • • •

Calum has been in a rut lately. He’s been on edge and short tempered because of alternating tour dates and trying to reschedule things and he’s also been trying to write some new songs but nothing has been flowing. You’d tried everything to help ease his frustration but he always shuts you out by closing the door himself.

Luke had invited you both over for a small party in honor of the album doing really well among the fans despite the issue with the Billboard charts. He was pressed on not going but you convinced him that being around the boys would be good for him. He’d agreed grimly and you kissed his cheek happily.

On the night of the party you were very excited because you’ve been wanting to wear this new dress you bought. It’s black and form fitting with large roses printed all over and a sexy little peephole in the front that accentuated your breasts perfectly.

Calum had just finished putting his leather jacket on as you came down the stairs tossing your hair over your shoulders as you did so. You saw the way his throat worked as his dark eyes scanned over your body, hovering over your cleavage.

“Let’s go,” you smile airily and saunter past him to the garage.

On the drive to Luke and Sierra’s Calum keeps glancing at you as you fix your dress. You love it but now that you’re sitting down, the peephole kind of pinches a little too tightly on your breasts and you’re trying to adjust the fabric so it doesn’t do that. That action inadvertently gets noticed by Calum who curses under his breath, fingers tapping on the wheel.

He puts the car in park so fast it makes you jerk forward in your seat, the belt strap tightens on your chest even more and you let out a little yelp.

“Calum! What the--”

“Get in the backseat,” he tells you, voice gruff as he’s already opening his door. You watch him through the window and when he opens the back passenger door as he slides in. “Now.”

You scramble to unlatch your belt and scurry into the backseat as fast as you can. It’s rare when Calum uses that tone with you, but when he does you know it’s urgent. He needs you right then and there and it fills you with excitement each time.

“C’mere, on my lap,” he pats his thighs and you are more than happy to climb on them. Straddling him causes your dress to ride up a little over the swell of your ass and Calum yanks the fabric up and groans audibly when he sees you aren’t wearing any panties. “You want to kill me tonight, hm?”

His fingers scrape up and down the sides of your thighs then to your ass before he squeezes, the action causes you to thrust forward onto him. Your core rubs against the button of his jeans and you can’t help but moan at the slight pressure.

“Why aren’t you wearing anything? Hm, pretty girl?” His tone is patronizing but you love it.

“You’d see the outline,” you say quietly.

His eyebrows rise in amusement and he kneads the flesh of your ass in his large hands, you’re pushed forward on him again and you whimper.

“I love this dress on you, cupcake,” he sighs, eyes glazing over your breasts that are situated right in front of his face. “Look fuckin’ incredible. . .”

He leans forward pressing his lips right in the center of your cleavage, his breath is hot on your skin and his tongue is wet as he licks a stripe between your breasts. You arch closer to him, loving his mouth on you but craving it somewhere else.

“Cal, please,” you whine, squeezing his shoulders as he does another lick.

“You won’t be getting my tongue right now,” he hums, lips traveling up your throat. You tilt your head back so he has clear access to your neck. “Want you to ride me. . . can you do that for me?”

“Mhmm,” you squeak.

“Gotta suck me off first,” he continues to mumble on your skin, placing a few kisses here and there between his words. “So you can just slide right down.”

“Fuck,” you whimper again and he pushes you onto the floor gently so he can undo his pants. You help him by pulling them down past his knees a little and before you can lean forward he takes you by the jaw and gives you a deep kiss, tongue rolling over yours deliciously.

He pulls away and you waste no time lowering your puckered mouth over his head then swirling your tongue as you go down on him. You take him as far as you can, letting your spit dribble down his shaft before sucking it back up with your mouth so he’s covered. The more slick he gets the easier it is for you to bob your head up and down and the sounds he’s making? Heavenly and sinful all at once.

When you feel his thighs clench, that's when he lifts you back onto his lap and you groan at the feeling of his cock against your thigh.

“You’re so good at that baby,” he sighs, giving you a kiss. “Ready for me?”

All you can do is nod as you take him in your hand and guide yourself down on him. He hums watching you slide down with ease, a smirk playing at his lips when he watches your face twist in pleasure. He’s hot and filling you so deep you don’t even wait for him to tell you to begin rocking forward.

“That’s it baby,” he encourages, hands burning through the back of your dress as he aids you forward and back. “Love watching you like this.”

The deep baritone of his voice vibrates your whole body and you rock faster, grinding yourself up and down on him harder so he can hit the right spot each time. Your clit rubs against the taut skin of his lower stomach and you’re moaning from all the sensations you’re receiving.

His hands on you, his hot breath fanning over your breasts and his cock pushing in and out of you at your control is sending you.

“Talk to me,” you say breathlessly as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“Fuckin’ look at you,” he praises tilting his head back so he can watch all of you. Your fingers tighten in his hair and he knows you’re close, he can feel you pulsating on his cock the faster you move. “Take me so well, baby. . . feel so good on top of me. You gonna come for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you nod closing your eyes as your tummy begins to flutter.

“Yeah, you are . . . such a good girl, come for me, come for me,” he urges you on and you do because his voice pulls it from you.

You let out a strangled cry of pleasure as it explodes from your lower belly and shoots up in all your veins to your head. You’re filled with intense pleasure and warmth and you can faintly hear Calum praising you through the fog of your bliss.

Your hips slow to a stop and then you knock your forehead against his. All feeling comes back to you and you can feel the ache in your thighs and Calum’s delicate kisses across your cheeks.

“That’s my girl,” he praises and lifts you gently off of him.

You whine at the loss of him inside you and slump into the seat next to him, completely frazzled. To your complete surprise, he kneels as best he can on the floor in front of you and presses his mouth to your sensitive core.

Your fingers fly to his hair instinctively as he works you over with his mouth with speed and vigor. You’re moaning and grinding yourself on his plump lips as he chases another orgasm out of you. Calum hums and shakes his head against your pussy until you’re coming again, body clenched from the feeling of an orgasm so soon after the first.

When he’s satisfied, he pulls his mouth from you and you watch him grab a towel from his gym bag to clean off his lap then he wipes delicately between your own legs. He gives you another kiss to the cheek.

“Ready to go in?” he asks letting the towel fall to the floor.

Your eyes are wide at his question after what he just did to you in only a matter of seconds.

He gets out on his side then jogs to your side of the car opening the door and takes your hand. Your legs are still a little wobbly and you made sure your dress is covering your ass completely before heading inside.

Your mind is still on what you just did in the car, you’re not even paying attention to the people you’re saying hello to and you stare at Calum in wonder. He’s acting like nothing even happened, signature crinkled grin on his face as he hugs people in hello.

Later on when you both get split off to converse with different groups, you feel someone’s eyes on you and when you turn around to find the source. Calum’s staring at you. Then he lifts his fingers to his face and swipes his thumb on his lower lip and chin before sucking on it and flashes you a wink.

• • • •

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @wokeupinjapanisabop @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17 @wildflowerxcth @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @thesubtweeter @wastedheartcth @atlcalm @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @babylon-corgis @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @lanternlover2 @istaywithmyjonas @calteahood @sarcastically-defensive17

#calum hood smut #calum hood blurb #calum hood oneshot #calum smut #calum oneshot #calum x reader #calum 5sos #calum writing #5sos writing

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hstyleshoney · 4 years ago

Text

fragments of what used to be - h.s

You just want one more night with him

Wordcount: 3.5K // angst angst and ANGST

A/N: I wrote it all in one night and I’m in pain. I don’t know what happen but I was in the mood for some sad shit and well... I wrote some sad shit. I haven’t proofread that carefully so I apologize for errors! I’m not sure if i’ll write like a part two or just keep it as it is... we’ll see! Enjoy!

Everyone kept telling you that it would get easier. That you’d soon forget all about him and come out stronger. You were going to find someone else; someone better. They all just kept telling you that he wasn’t the one. That you simply weren’t meant to be and it would be okay. The heartache was going to fade away with time.

But whoever said time healed a broken heart was lying.

You weren't getting stronger. Nothing was getting easier or better. If anything your heart only broke a little bit more every day you woke up without him. Your sheets no longer smelled like him and your mornings just weren’t the same without him. In your dreams he was still with you but as soon as you woke up you were once again reminded of your new reality. You were alone and his side of the bed was cold and untouched.

He wasn’t with you anymore, and yet he was still everywhere.

You couldn’t escape him no matter how hard you tried. It was impossible. His face haunted you, reminding you just how broken your heart was and how much you missed him. He was on TV doing promo every night. He was on every magazine stand when you went out to get some shopping done. His songs were on the radio when you got in your car. Adverts for his new album were everywhere.

Harry was everywhere.

And there was a time, not too long ago, when you didn’t mind seeing Harry everywhere. A time when your whole body almost exploded with pride and awe when you saw him on TV or heard his music on the radio. Harry was charming, humble and kind. He had the biggest heart out of anyone you knew. You adored him and he had your heart in his hand as soon as your first date was over.

Somehow though along the way you lost each other; you lost him. He was gone, touring the world, while you were still home in London because you had a life of your own and couldn’t just leave everything behind. You visited him when you could and the two of you made it work at first. The distance between you only made your heart beat twice as much when you finally saw him again.

The problem was that you didn’t always make it work.

Different time zones made you miss each other’s calls and his busy schedule sometimes made it impossible for him to answer your messages. There were always new rumors and it put a strain on the relationship even if you tried to not pay attention to them. In the end it didn’t matter how many times you made things work; a small part of you were always just breaking. You and Harry were getting smaller while the world around you got bigger. You were losing each other.

You tried to ignore the crack between you. Ignore all the times you fought over the most pointless things and went to bed angry because saying ‘I’m sorry’ just wasn’t enough anymore. You told yourself it was going to get better when his tour ended and you had time to work on your relationship. You loved him too much to let him go. You were going to fight for him and your love.

Except, he let you go before you had the chance.

“I think we should break up.”

It was the sentence you heard over and over again anytime you saw a picture of him or heard his name. The sentence that made you go numb. It made you sick knowing he didn’t want to fight for you like you wanted to fight for him. You were losing him and you couldn’t do anything about it. You were completely powerless as you watched him leave. Every single part of your body was screaming at you to run after him. To stop him. But there was nothing you could really say or do to make him stay or to make it hurt less.

Harry was gone.

He left you four months ago and your heavy heart was slowly killing you. It was impossible to pretend that you were doing fine. It was pathetic really; after all that time you still weren't over him. All your friends tried to get you to go out with them and keep you occupied, but at the end of the day when they all went home to their own partners you went home to your empty flat and cold bed, and there were no new notifications on your phone. You were alone.

You tried to go on a date, to feel less lonely, but you couldn’t stop comparing everything the guy said or did to Harry. You also tried to have a one night stand but instead of getting that euphoric feeling your whole body just went cold whenever the unfamiliar man kissed you. It all just left you feeling lonelier than you had before.

You had lost your best friend. The person you went to for everything. The person who usually made you feel better was now the reason you were aching. It didn’t feel real, or maybe you just didn’t want it to be real. He had told you he still wanted you to be friends, that he didn’t want to lose you, which at the time you didn’t oppose because at least you’d still have a little bit of his heart if he was your friend.

But as time passed you weren't so sure you could only have him as your friend; to not be allowed to kiss his pink lips whenever you wanted or to never feel his skin slick against yours again as he fucked you into the mattress.

Friends. It wasn’t what you wanted from him. It wasn’t enough to fill the void inside of you. The word made you sick.

And the worst part? Harry was seemingly doing just fine. At least judging by what you heard from your common friends who still saw him and from everything you found on social media.

Because even though it pained you to be reminded of him every day you couldn’t stop yourself from going online and reading all the latest updates about him and the new album. You were only tormenting yourself more by doing so but you needed to know what he was doing. Needed to know how he was doing.

You’d probably die if someone ever found out about your late night habit of stalking him online. It was something you knew you needed to stop doing, it wasn’t healthy and it certainly wasn’t helping you move on. You just weren't ready yet; not ready to lose that small, tiny, insight into his life that made you feel like you were still a part of it.

You also stared at his number in your phone at least once a day, and tried to not think about how he no longer had a red little heart after his name in your contacts, as you fought back the urge to call and text him. You knew it’d only make things worse if you did. It’d make you more desperate than you already were. Talking to him wouldn’t even be the same. It was better to just let it be. He had left you and you had to accept it.

But a part of you still couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you reached out. Maybe everything could be alright again if you talked to him, if he just came over and stayed with you one more night.

If he just gave you one more night then maybe you could be alright.

Just one more night.

You ended up getting one more night with him, and the truth slapped you hard in the face.

It was a close friend’s 30th birthday party, a close friend to both you and Harry, and you knew he was going to be there as well. To say you were a nervous wreck that whole week leading up to the party was an understatement. You were after 136 days, 3264 hours, 19 weeks and a lot of tears going to be in the same room as Harry again.

You hadn’t seen him since the break up and maybe you were just naive but a tiny part of you thought, even after all that time apart, that you could convince him to come back. Convince him to have one more night with you.

But the harsh truth was that you had been more than naive to think you could have one more night with Harry.

Because he wasn’t alone when he showed up to the birthday celebrations and it literally knocked the air out of you. Harry had an arm around a tall blonde woman, his hand resting low on her back, and everything became blurry as you saw them. Your friends were saying something around you, asking if you were alright, but your ears were ringing too much to be able to hear anything other than your own beating heart. You wanted to rip it out of your chest to stop it from hurting so much.

Still, you couldn’t take your eyes off him, nor the woman next to him. You knew very well who the stunning blonde was, you were already following the famous model on instagram, and it was truly a slap in the face just how perfect she looked standing next to him. Better than you ever did.

And even though everything was blurry and you had to blink away the tears that were threatening to fall, Harry was still so very clear to you; he stood out from the rest of the guests. Like he always did. His hair was a little longer than the last time you saw him. His beard a little bit scruffier. His skin tanned and glowing almost. He was, as always, breathtaking.

You wanted to go over and wrap your arms around him, nuzzle your nose into his neck and absorb his familiar scent and never let go, but you couldn’t. He wasn’t yours anymore.

Then Harry leaned over to whisper something to the girl next to him and kissed her softly on the cheek with a fond smile on his lips. The same smile he used to give you right before he told you he loved you and kissed you.

Everything inside you was hurting as you watched him and the girl and you needed to sit down somewhere soon before your legs gave up. You were closer to him than you had been in months and he had no idea how much he was breaking you by having his arm wrapped around someone else. How it slowly, painfully, killed what was left of your heart. If only you could swap places with the stunning model before the evening was over. To feel his touch again.

You wondered briefly if they ever did the same things you used to do with him. The thought nearly killed you. You weren't ready to come to terms with losing him, much less think about him sharing what you two once had with somebody else. You hated how vulnerable the thought of it made you. How powerless it made you feel all over again.

It was also at that moment Harry turned his head to the side and by chance locked eyes with you. The smile on his lips faltered immediately as he saw you staring right at him and the woman next to him. His arm didn’t move though. He kept it around the blonde, still holding her close to his body.

You were seconds away from passing out right there and then in front of everyone at the party. If you had struggled to breath earlier it was nothing compared to how you felt in that moment as Harry’s eyes saw right through you. The level of anxiety running through you was quickly becoming unbearable, leaving you with a lump in your throat and sharp pain in your chest.

Which was why you removed yourself from the situation and more or less ran out of the room, away from Harry’s burning stare. The glass doors that led to the patio shook as you slammed them shut behind you and you were thankful for the loud music playing inside the house so no one heard your escape. You wanted, needed, to be alone. To process what had just happened in peace.

You could feel your blood rushing inside your veins and your stomach turn over heavily, your dinner rising in the back of your throat, despite the fact that you had only had one drink so far. You felt so sick and now when you were outside, away from Harry, your shaky legs finally gave up.

You sank to the ground and hugged your knees close to your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself. It had been over four months since Harry broke up with you, but there was nothing that could've prepared you for the moment you had to see him with someone else. It felt like a part of you had just died and the whole thing was becoming too much. You had really lost him. He had someone else. It was all too real and too much at the same time.

And you couldn’t stop your head from spinning or your heart from racing.

Out of nowhere there was a gentle tap on the glass door behind you and you really shouldn’t have been surprised to see Harry standing there, looking down at you with a sad frown on his face. Of course he followed you. He made a small motion with his hand for you to move a little to the side so he could open the door without making you fall back.

“Hey,” he greeted you as soon as he stepped outside and carefully shut the door behind him, cutting you off from the party happening on the other side.

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t.

It didn’t stop Harry from sitting down next to you though. His leg brushed against yours and your mind instantly swirled with memories of the two of you cuddled up on the couch in your small flat or in various hotel beds across the globe.

You sat in silence for a long time after that. Harry didn’t say anything after his greeting and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. If you knew him right, which you did after nearly two years together, he was waiting for you to say something or tell him to leave. But being so close to him again after so many weeks apart left you speechless. You could hardly breathe with him next to you, his presence was nearly suffocating you. It physically hurt.

How were you supposed to think of something to say and actually talk to him when you couldn’t even breathe?

You didn’t have to think of anything though.

“How are you?” Harry asked unexpectedly and caught you completely off guard.

And then you almost laughed because what a stupid fucking thing to ask.

“What do you want H?” you snapped instead because his question also caused a sudden anger to run through you. So sudden you didn’t even realise you had accidentally called him by his nickname -- it was a force of habit. You hardly even had time to realise you had said anything at all.

Harry inhaled sharply as he recognized the aggravation behind your words and shifted uncomfortably next to you.

“I just - I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he gulped.

“Well it’s a bit too late for that,” you sneered back at him as the image of him kissing the blonde woman on the cheek just minutes ago flashed before you.

“Don’t,” Harry began and his deep voice sent shivers through you. “Please, don’t be like this. Please.”

There was something about the way he said ‘please’, twice, that made the anger in you fizzle out all at once. And you hated yourself for being so weak around him. You wanted to be mad at him. You didn’t want him to see how broken you actually were; didn’t want him to know the effect this whole thing had on you.

“What do you want me to say?” you croaked out in a voice that was barely loud enough for him to hear.

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted quietly, his voice matching yours.

“Because I’m not okay.”

Silence took over again after that.

The tension between you was thick enough for someone to cut through and it was so different from what it used to be. Everything you once were was fading away right in front of you and there was nothing you could do about it. You just wanted it to stop. Your head was spinning with memories of the two of you together, memories from a happier time when Harry only made your heart feel full, and you were trying to hold onto your past so desperately it left you bruised.

“Letting you go was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” Harry told you and you had to bite down to choke back a sob.

“Why did you?” Your lips trembled as you spoke and you made the mistake to turn your head to the side and look at him. His face was closer to yours than you expected, so much closer, and you had to take a deep breath to steady yourself. Harry really was the prettiest man you had ever met. Your fingers ached to reach out and caress his cheek, to just feel his skin under your fingertips again.

He was so beautiful.

But it was also in that moment that you realised that you were looking at him in a way that he no longer looked at you. His eyes didn’t devour you in the same way they used to. They didn’t want you like before.

“I had to,” Harry replied with a heavy sigh and your chest was getting so tight it made you dizzy.

“Why?”

Your voice cracked and Harry instinctively raised his hand to brush away the tear that escaped and rolled down your cheek. But you were quick and flinched back before he could touch you, because you weren't sure you’d survive that. It was Harry sitting next to you but it was slowly becoming clear to you that it wasn’t the Harry you were used to. Something had changed.

The man who held your entire heart in his hands no longer wanted it.

“It wasn’t working. You know that,” Harry said softly but it still made your eyes water. “We weren’t happy in the end.”

“I was,” you mumbled and tilted your head back in an attempt to stop more tears from falling. You refused to cry more.

“No, you weren’t.”

“Do you love me?”

Silence.

“I do,” Harry replied and for just a split second everything didn’t feel so hopeless, but it didn’t last long because what he said next made your whole body go numb. “Just not in the way you need me to... I’m sorry.”

You opened your mouth to say something but nothing was coming out. You were just falling. Drowning. Suffocating under the agonizing waves that pulled you deeper down. And Harry was still talking to you but you couldn’t hear any of the words coming out of his mouth. All you could think about was the fact that it was indeed over between the two of you. His words played over and over again in your head.

He said your name.

Once. Twice. Three times. Until you looked at him.

Your cheeks were wet from all the tears you no longer had any control over.

“Can you leave now?” you asked him; begged him. You couldn’t be in around him anymore, but you didn’t trust your own legs. He had to leave before you snapped. Harry’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something but, just like you, he was at a loss for words. For the first time he looked as hurt as you were. It didn’t make you feel better though and you just wanted him to leave so, maybe, you could breathe again. “Please.”

Harry stared at you for a few more seconds, taking in your broken appearance, before he cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yeah, of course,” he murmured and you watched as he fumbled to his feet. Panic swept through you as his warmth left your side and a part of you wanted to tell him to stay with you, to never leave you again, but you also knew it was just going to hurt more.

You choked back another sob as he opened the door. He turned around to look at you again and you really wished he hadn’t because it was far too painful to look into his green eyes, knowing that it might be the last time. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

Then he was gone.

Both from the patio and your life.

And as a sob finally tore from your throat you prayed that everyone else was right; that time would and could salvage what was left of her broken heart.

----

#Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fanfic #Harry Styles oneshot #Harry Styles blurb #Harr Styles angst

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sunflowersunshinevol6 · 5 years ago

Text

Harry Styles x OC

Warnings: drinking

Summary: Mixtapes. We all love them. We have a different one for a different mood. A different moment in time. For Harry and Summer, they become the soundtrack of one beautiful summer in California and the definition of their relationship. Because the people you love never really leave, they're only a mixtape away.

Part One

Let me start at the beginning. I never would have met him if it wasn't for my roommate Halley.

We lived in Monte Nido, about three miles from Malibu. I had just graduated from Berkley and was looking to become a freelance photographer. Halley did the temp thing, it paid the bills and we could still have fun.

I woke up to 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' blasting from the boombox in the living room. Halley had just broken up with her boyfriend and I knew she was hurting, but I despised the song. It was overplayed in my opinion.

"Hey," she whined when I walked out of my room and over to the boombox, shutting the music off. She was in the kitchen, baggy misfits shirt hanging off her slim frame, black hair tousled and looking like she hadn't brushed it in weeks. I rolled my eyes, walking over to her and catching the plate she slid across to me. A bagel with cream cheese and a cup of coffee. The perfect morning.

"I'm tired of you moping babe. We gotta get you out of the house." She grumbled, playing with the ends of her hair.

"Maybe I should call him," she started towards the phone hung on the wall. I ran, beating her to it and slamming my hand over it. "Summer!" She said slightly annoyed.

"No. Not doing that." I grabbed her hands, tugging her back towards the kitchen. "Know what we need?"

"What?"

"A night out." I said, bumping foreheads with her. "When's the last time we went to a show together?" She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. "Exactly. There's a new band supposed to be playing downtown at The Dome tonight. We should check it out." Halley chewed on her bottom lip for a second before nodding, giving in.

"I could use a girls night." I grinned, high fiving her.

I've always communicated best through music. There's something about a song that can just get what I'm feeling across in a way that words can't. My mom used to say I was born with music in my soul. We used to dance around the kitchen, Fleetwood Mac's Rumors on vinyl, blasting as we croaned, singing of heartbreak and hope. It was deep. It always has been.

Halley went to work, another gig at a vet's office and I grabbed my roller blades and headed outside, Walkman in my pocket, Dinosaur Jr's 'You're living all over me' blasting in my ears. I took off towards town, heading to the record store.

Big and Easy Cassettes and Vinyls had been around since the late seventies. It was my place, and my mom's. Even when she got sick I would drive her over and we would pick an album, just one new one to listen to on the way home. We'd come across a song that was too good plenty of times and would go around the block to finish it. The place was my home away from home.

The Psychadelic Furs 'Pretty in Pink' played over the speakers when I walked in. A couple people lounged around.

"Hey! Summer! What's happenin'?" Willy, the owner, waved at me from behind the register. He'd been a hippie back in the day, even lived at the Haight. He wore small circle rimmed glasses that were tinted and his afro was always a mess. He grinned at me as I made my way over to him.

"Hey man! Got anything new?" He nodded, pulling a box out from under the counter, the label on ot reading 'New Shit'. I opened it eagerly, looking through the tapes.

"How's Halley doing?" He asked.

"She could be better. We're going to a show tonight at The Dome." Willy nodded.

"Yeah? My buddy Mitch plays in the band. His girlfriend Sarah is drums."

"Really?"

"Yup. Could make a call. Get you guys backstage." I couldn't contain my grin.

"Thanks man." I grabbed a couple tapes, holding them out for him to charge me. He shook his head.

"On the house. This time."

"Thanks Willy."

"No problem. Tell Halley I said to have a good time. I'll call my buddy, let him know you're coming through."

Halley and I have always had a preshow ritual, but since she was working when I got home I started without her.

I put on my new cassette, The Cure 'Disentigration' and hummed along as I started making drinks. I was halfway through my third margarita when she came in the door.

"Hey!" She shouted. I laughed when she began dancing towards me and I handed her her drink.

"Willy knows someone in the band. He's gonna get us backstage."

"Are you kidding? That's fucking great!" Halley screeched jumping up and down. We danced around the living room drinking and singing the wrong lyrics. It's always good to hype up before you go out. Remember that.

We started getting ready around eight thirty, both of us slightly buzzed. I grabbed my favorite t shirt. An oversized Clockwork Orange shirt that was black and had the logo on the front in orange, a red plaid long sleeve and torn up Jean's with my mom's old converse. I'm not one for makeup much but I put brown eyeshadow on to make eyes look a bit sunk in, mascara and dark red lipstick. I let my black hair fall down over my shoulders and put on my favorite sunnies.

Halley was a bit more punk than I was. She wore a black mini skirt, ripped see through black mesh shirt with a black tank top over it. Her favorite dog collar around her neck and heavy eyeliner and lipstick, her favorite Doc Martens laced up her ankles, ripped stocking covering her legs.

"You look hot." I acknowledged, winking at her teasingly.

"Tell me something I don't know." She laughed.

"Show starts at ten. You wanna walk?"

"I'm up for that."

The Dome was the local bar. It was only about a mile away and we hoped the walk would sober us up as we went. We talked and laughed, excited at the prospect of hearing new music. Music had been the thing that brought us together in the first place. Our mutual love for Depeche Mode and Peter Murphy. It always seemed to me that music was the only thing that brought people into my life and kept them there.

We got there early enough to see people coming into the bar. We weren't sure if they were there for the band or for drinks. We didn't really care. We were young and looking for fun.

"I hope they're hot." Halley said as we took our seats at the bar. I laughed, rolling my eyes at her.

"The one named Mitch is taken. He's dating the drummer so you better hope you don't fall for him." She snickered at me.

"Hi ladies, what can I get you?"

"Two Jack in Coke on ice?" She looked at me and I nodded my approval. The bartender nodded, heading back to make our drinks. That's when I saw Willy's unmistakable afro making his way through the crowd and towards us.

"Hey ladies! Lovely to see ya." He kissed Halley on the cheek and then me before leaning against the bar beside us.

"Heard you can get us backstage tonight." Halley said, wiggling her eyebrows. Willy nodded.

"Sure can. Already told Mitch I was coming. Just gonna bring you girls back with me." I opened my mouth to say something else but the feedback from the stage caught my attention just as the bartender came up with my drink. I took a sip, watching as the lights dimmed and everyone's attention turned to the stage.

The band filed out. Three girls and three boys heading towards the stage. The guitarist had shaggy black hair and a full beard, dressed in bell bottoms and a baggy white tee. But it was the singer who caught my eye.

He wore beige slacks and a black button down tucked in, the first few buttons unbuttoned, a couple of tattoos poking out on his chest. His brown hair curled slightly but was slicked back and the rings on his hands glinted as he grabbed the mic stand. He was outrageously handsome.

"Oh my." Halley whispered. Oh my was right.

"Ello." My heart dropped into my stomach when he spoke, a thick english accent greeting my ears. "My mama's Harry. This is Mitch, Sarah, Ny Oh, Adam and Charlotte. We don't have a band name yet, maybe one day. But we hope you enjoy." Everyone laughed at his comment. "This song is called 'Ever Since New York.'"

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply as the song began. It was beautiful. My mom would have liked it.

"Tell me somethin'" his voice was sweet, carried along the melody that the band played. I opened my eyes, watching as he swayed to the beat of the music. Everyone was quiet, enraptured by this young man's voice.

"Wow." I heard Halley say behind me, I couldn't have agreed more. It wasn't dancey, not in the way that you could get up and shake your ass. No, it was the kind of song you listened to at home in the evening, with your lover perched on the counter while you stand between their legs, dinner cooking on the stove. It was comforting. It was....home.

When the song came to a close I was breathless, a weight placed on my chest, I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

A few songs in and he began a heavier song, one that we could dance to. He called it 'Kiwi'. Halley and I got up, dancing with Willy and laughing as he screamed into the microphone. I felt free, laughing with my friends and feeling like we were the only ones in the world.

I looked up at the stage after I flipped my hair to see him, Harry, eyes locked in on me. I held his gaze for a moment, blushing when he smiled at me before breaking eye contact. I smiled, turning back to my friends and feeling the music once more.

"Thank you all for a lovely evening." He said when the show was over. Willy gently took me and Halley by the arm.

"We can head back now guys."

The backstage area was small. Not a whole lot of room, but enough for the small indie bands that usually played. Halley and I stood to the side as Willy walked up to Mitch, shaking hands with him.

"These are my friends. This is Summer and Halley." We smiled, shaking Mitch's hand. He introduced us to the rest of the band but the singer, Harry, wasn't there.

"He's in the loo." Sarah said, a kind smile on her face. Halley started a conversation with Adam while I spoke with Sarah and Mitch. They were so sweet and kind.

"Hey, who's your friends?" I felt my stomach churn. Harry walked back in the room, a bottle of water in his hand as he eyed me and Halley.

"Friends of Willy. You've met him before." Harry shook Willy's hand before turning to me.

"I'm Harry." He held out his hand.

"Summer." I said. He smiled.

"I like that. 'S pretty." He held my hand for a moment too long, eyes locked on mine once more. Halley interrupted us.

"Hey, you guys got a place to stay?" Mitch shook his head.

"Nah. We were gonna crash in the car." I looked at Halley with wide eyes. I knew where she was going with this, she seemed so cozy with Adam already.

"No. No. You guys can stay with us. Crash on the couch or the floor. We're cool with it. Right Summer." I blinked, inside I was furious. I hated being put on the spot like that.

"Yeah." I said dryly. "Sure."

"Cool. We'll pack everything up then." Halley grinned.

"It's kinda small but there's room for everybody." Halley said as she opened the door to our apartment. I cringed inwardly. We hadn't even cleaned up, but the band didn't seem to mind. Everyone sat down in the living room while Halley and I went to grab extra blankets.

"You know I hate when you spring shit like this on me." I glared as she handed me a blanket and pillow.

"Oh shut up. Adam's cute and hey, I saw you and Harry having a moment."

"We were not...he was just greeting me." I said flustered. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, they're our guests. Be hospitable."

We all sat around for a while, drinking and talking. Slowly everyone began to fall asleep, Harry and I being the only ones left awake.

We talked for what felt like hours. He told me about his parents, their divorce and his mom and step dad. His sister. How he knew he wanted to be a musician from a young age and when he met Mitch it felt like a sign from the universe. I listened intently, enthralled with the man before me.

"Tell me more about England. I've always wanted to go there." I was on my belly, propped up on my elbows while he sat on the couch. We'd been engrossed in our own conversation for so long that we hadn't realized everyone else fell asleep.

"Where I'm from is quite picturesque. It's a beautiful little town. Maybe one day, if you ever go to England you can come by."

"Maybe." I laughed. "If my photography ever takes me there."

"You have to have faith in yourself love. You'll do it." I was glad he couldn't see me blush in the dark. "I'm glad you came to the show." He said after a moment of silence between us.

"Me too." He shifted, laying back on the couch.

"This is probably weird. But I was wondering....would you like a cuddle? I hate sleeping alone." I was taken aback. But he seemed serious, green eyes looking at me curiously. I couldn't say no. How could I?

"Sure." I said, climbing up on the couch. I laid my head on his chest, slotting my body against his, he wrapped his arms around me, lifting his leg slightly to keep me up on the couch. I felt him nuzzle my head, he was smelling my hair.

"I like this...you smell nice." I didn't reply, only smiled, burying my face in his chest as we drifted off to sleep.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #solo harry #hs fandom #hs imagine #hs fanfic #hs2 #hs1

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silverlightqueen · 5 years ago

Text

Grease - Teaser

greaser!Hoseok x cheerleader!reader - fluff, angst, humour, potential smut

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 5k+ (not really a teaser lmao, but let’s just roll with it)

Summary - During the best summer of their childhood, good girl y/n and greaser Jung Hoseok indulge in a sweet and innocent love affair before parting ways, believing they will never see one another again. But fate has other plans, and it is only the beginning of the story for y/n and Hoseok in this tale of cars, chicks and high school cliques... (ft. Red Velvet and NCT Jaehyun)

Warnings - mild profanity, mention of sex, mild threat of violence, misogyny and sexism (it was the 50s lol), a lot of 50s slang (it took me longer to find relevant slang than it did to actually write this lmao), bts and red velvet flirting, gross overuse of pet names, I think that’s it but tell me if I missed anything lol

a/n: this is actually edited and proofread by the love of my life @silverlightprincess who made me even more excited about this story than I was before. I hope y’all like it x

song I listened to whilst writing: Bad Boy (English Version) - Red Velvet (the album cover inspired their outfits - yes, I know Rydell’s colours are red and white but I don’t care lol)

divider credit: ? (lmk if you know whose it is pls)

silverlightqueen masterlist

‘Six strawberry milkshakes for the paper shakers!’ the chef behind the counter shouts. A waitress, stood mere feet away from him, winces at the volume of his voice in the quiet diner before picking up the tray of our milkshakes and heading over towards us. ‘Six strawberry milkshakes,’ she says softly, and we all thank her as she puts them down on the table in front of us.

‘You girls look neat. Rydell trying out some new threads?’ she asks, and we all look at Irene, the Cheer Captain, and the unspoken leader of our little group. ‘Yeah, but Coach didn’t really… dig them like I hoped he would. Says they’re impractical or something lame-brained like that,’ Irene says ruefully, and the waitress rolls her eyes. ‘And those skimpy little cheer kits aren’t? Coach is such a pooper – he’s probably just peed off he didn’t come up with these,’ she says, and Irene smiles, a hint of pride in her grin – she likes a little compliment. ‘He’ll warm up to them. Well, he has no choice – all the other girls have bought them too. Our parents will blow a fuse if we can’t wear them,’ Irene says, and the waitress nods, us five just sipping on our milkshakes as we listen. Just as she opens her mouth to reply, we hear the chef shout, ‘Mina! These tables ain’t gonna clean themselves!’ She rolls her eyes with an apologetic shrug before trudging over to the counter where the chef throws a cloth and disinfectant at her.

‘Irene, where did you get the idea for these duds?’ Joy asks, straw between her teeth as she speaks. ‘You know that girl group, Red Velvet? They dropped a new record a few weeks ago – you’ve heard it right? It’s all over the radio. Well, anyway, they did a video for it, and they were wearing these cute little skirts and tops, all in blue and yellow plaid,’ she explains, but I get the feeling Yeri and I are the only ones listening, all of the other girls staring out of the window behind us.

‘Oh, no. I recognise that hunk o’ junk. That’s Kim Seokjin and his little gang. They’ve just pulled up in the parking lot,’ Seulgi says, though the way she checks her reflection in her little pocket mirror shows she’s not quite as distressed about their arrival as she seems. ‘Don’t say that in front of Kim Taehyung. He calls it a ‘hot rod’; he’d flip out if he heard someone call it a hunk o’ junk,’ Wendy says warningly as she fixes her hair.

‘Wait, sorry, but who is Kim Seokjin? And who’re his gang?’ I ask, the girls all looking at me shock, quickly followed by realisation. ‘I keep forgettin’ you’re a newbie. They’re greasers – you’ve probably seen a couple of them at school. They’re… bad news. They have a reputation of humpin’ and dumpin’. Still doesn’t put all the girls off them though,’ Seulgi explains, saying the last bit under her breath.

‘What’s humping and dumping?’ I ask, the five of them shushing me instantly. ‘Keep your voice down, y/n, we can’t be heard talkin’ about things like that in public. Humpin’ and dumpin’ is, like… one minute, they’re all friendly, then they’re suddenly in your bed, and then they’ve forgotten you existed,’ Wendy explains quietly, and I nod in understanding, feeling my cheeks warm up a little bit at discussing something so crude.

‘That Jeon Jungkook did it to Lisa,’ Joy whispers as she applies fresh lipstick, and I picture our fellow cheerleader in my head, feeling a little bit of pity for the poor girl. ‘He’s so dreamy, though,’ Yeri says softly, and Irene rolls her eyes. ‘They’re all dreamy, Yeri, but they’re bad news,’ the girl says forcefully, echoing Seulgi’s earlier words.

And then the bell above the diner door rings behind me, followed by an absolute hubbub. ‘I’ll have you know, I got an A in Miss Lee’s class through workin’ my ass off!’ ‘No, it’s ‘cause you’re a little brownnoser, Jeon.’ ‘Hey! I am not!’ ‘So, if you’re workin’ your ass off in her class, why can’t you work your ass off in all the others? You’re failin’ everything else!’ ‘I’m not failin’ anything! I just don’t have time to do extra sessions with any other teachers.’ ‘You’re doing extra sessions with Miss Lee? Lucky fucker.’ ‘Lucky? How am I lucky?’ ‘She’s stacked.’ ‘So what? She might be a sex-pot, but we’re doin’ history work, not makin’ out.’ ‘Maybe you should make out with her. Drive her home, a little backseat bingo.’ ‘Jeon’s too much of a sissy for that.’ ‘I’m not a sissy! I could easy… backseat bingo with Miss Lee if I wanted too.’ ‘So you don’t want to? Are you queer?’

‘Hey, fat-heads, put a lid on it,’ one voice rises above all the squabbling. ‘Get a load of those dollies,’ the voice says softly, not softly enough for us to not hear. I feel a sudden rush of panic, knowing they’re about to join us. ‘Are those paper shakers I spy?’ ‘It can’t be.’ The teasing voices get louder and closer, and Irene gives me an encouraging smile, obviously telling me not to worry.

‘Ah, if it isn’t Rydell’s resident greasers,’ Seulgi says with a small smirk, and then ‘Rydell’s resident greasers’ come into my view. All of them have their hair slicked back and wear black leather jackets over black or white t-shirts, and black or blue jeans, but that’s where the similarities end. All of them are handsome, but in their own ways; Irene was right – they’re all dreamy. ‘Speak for the rest of ‘em, my hair ain’t greasy,’ one of the boys says with a boxy smile, pushing himself into the booth beside Joy who welcomes him with a flirty grin. He’s right too; his hair isn’t greasy at all. None of their hair is. A little shiny and sleek, but not greasy. At the mention of grease, one of the boys begins singing ‘Grease Is The Word’ obnoxiously loud, another hitting him over the head.

‘Don’t you skirts look cute?’ another of the boys says with a smirk as he pulls a stool up to the side of our booth, and the girls all smile back. ‘Thanks, Jungkook,’ Yeri says with a little flutter of her eyelashes, and he ever-so-slightly leans over me towards her, ignoring me completely. ‘You’re most welcome, doll,’ he replies, and she giggles behind her hand.

‘Oh. Who’s this?’ one of the other boys asks, looking at me, and suddenly all of them are looking at me. I will myself to be confident and flirty like the other girls, and I sit up a little in my seat. ‘She’s new ‘round here,’ Wendy says, not giving me a proper introduction. But it seems it’s better she didn’t, all of the boys suddenly intrigued, eyes scanning me intently. I spot Seulgi and Joy exchange a little grin; they’ve been bugging me all week to try and talk to some boys, saying it’d be super easy for me because of how much of a ‘dish’ I am, but I’m way too shy for that. ‘Obviously. I woulda noticed a cute little piece like this before,’ a disembodied voice says, and when Jungkook moves his head to the side, I spot the source of the voice.

He’s… hot, to say the least, his good looks making my stomach turn a little. His skin sports a golden tan, his eyes and hair a dark brown, and he has nice proportions, not too built but not exactly small either. He gives me a little grin when he spots me looking at him, and I’m endeared when I notice his lips form a heart shape when he smiles. I’m certain I’ve seen a smile like that before.

‘Don’t call her a piece, Hoseok. That’s derogatory towards women,’ Irene says, all eyes turning to her with surprise. Hoseok. Nice name. ‘What? We all know I’m a feminist, it’s not a surprise,’ she says matter-of-factly, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world, before taking a sip of her milkshake. ‘We’re just surprised you know a big word like derogary,’ one of the boys says, coaxing laughter from the rest of them. ‘It’s derogatory, doofus, not derogary,’ Irene says but her voice is lost under their laughter.

‘Hey, Yoongi, Mina’s workin’ tonight,’ one of the boys says, nudging another, presumably Yoongi, who instantly looks up with eager eyes, everyone else laughing. ‘Excuse me, ladies, knuckleheads. My lady awaits,’ he says, the other boys hollering and hooting at him, pushing him towards where poor Mina cleans tables on the other side of the diner.

‘So, what’s the dealio with you, sweetie? How’s a cute little dish like you managed to get in with the socs?’ one of the boys says to me in a teasing tone as he leans against the booth beside ours, the other girls rolling their eyes. ‘I hate it when you call us that, Jimin,’ Seulgi says with wide eyes and a little pout, and he grins at her, blowing her a kiss before he says, ‘sorry, baby, but ya know it’s true. Popular teeny queenies, you five.’ Seulgi certainly seems appeased, a satisfied little smirk on her face when she turns to take a sip of her milkshake.

‘I was a cheerleader at my old school, so the girls got me on the team as soon as I started at Rydell,’ I explain softly, the boys all listening with interest. ‘Ain’t you a cutie? So softly spoken, an’ all posh soundin'. Not like this noisy broad,’ the boy beside Joy says, nudging her, and she nudges him back with a scowl. ‘Shut it, Tae,’ she snaps, and the boy, Tae, grins as he throws an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side, Joy’s scowl quickly disappearing.

‘Ain’t you in one of my classes?’ Jungkook says, and I look at him for a moment, before nodding, realising he’s in my Math class. ‘Mmhmm. Math, right?’ I say, and he nods with a little grin at me, an unreadable expression on his face. ‘You’re awful quiet in class.’ ‘And you’re awful loud.’ The entire group bursts out laughing, Jungkook included, and he looks impressed.

‘The kitten has claws, huh?’ Hoseok says, my eyes flitting up to meet his amused ones, and then I realise – I’ve seen him before. ‘I recognise you,’ I say without thinking, and a little bit of surprise appears on his face before he quickly masks it with a grin. ‘That’s a line I usually use,’ he says, and everyone laughs, a little bit of embarrassment unfurling in my chest as I let out a giggle.

‘So what’s your name, sweetheart?’ the boy that thought ‘derogary’ was a word asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘What’s yours?’ I ask, and he grins, more laughter rippling around the group. ‘Kim Seokjin, Jin for short. I’m surprised you don’t know. Irene’s neighbours sure do,’ he jokes, a little gasp escaping my lips as everyone laughs, Irene shooting him a death stare. ‘Aw, ain’t you adorable?’ Tae says with an amused grin, having noticed my gasp, and I feel blood rushing to my cheeks as I duck my head to take a sip of my milkshake.

‘What’s the name then, doll?’ Hoseok asks, my heart fluttering at the nickname. ‘y/n,’ I say, and his mouth falls open. ‘Get outta here. There’s no way. y/n y/l/n?’ he asks, and I nod mutely, shocked that he knows my full name. ‘It’s me, Jung Hoseok,’ he says, and I vaguely recognise the name, but can’t remember where I know him from. One of the boys whistles to fill the awkward silence, another whispering ‘sheesh, ain’t that a bite?’. Hoseok looks at me with intense eyes, almost willing me to remember him. ‘Come on, y/n, you remember me. That summer. At the beach. You know me,’ he says, almost desperately, and then I realise exactly who he is, ice cold shock filling my veins.

‘Hobi! No way!’ I exclaim, a grin spreading across his face as he nods. ‘Hobi? Who the fuck is Hobi?’ Jimin asks, and Hobi rubs the back of his neck embarrassedly. ‘I am. It was my nickname when I was a kid,’ he admits, the boys all laughing, and annoyance appears on his face. ‘Put a lid on it, dipsticks. My old lady gave me that nickname, an’ I’ll be damned if you make me embarrassed of it,’ he says seriously, the boys all falling silent. ‘I like it,’ Seulgi says evenly, taking a sip of her milkshake. ‘Yeah, it’s cute. Hobi. Definitely suits you,’ Wendy says, and suddenly, Hobi’s sporting a little grin, and the other boys seem a little jealous at the attention from the girls.

‘So, you two childhood friends or somethin’?’ the only boy whose name I don’t know yet asks, and both Hobi and I nod. ‘We met a couple years back, when we were… 15?’ he asks me, and I nod. ‘Yeah, 15. I was nearly 16. It was summer, an’ our villas were next to each other on holiday. We spent the whole summer together,’ he says, the others listening with interest. ‘Ain’t that just adorable? Who woulda thought our big bad wolf would turn out to be a little softie?’ the boy replies, and Hobi glares at him. ‘You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’, Namjoon, so can it before you get a knuckle sandwich. I’m sure Wendy wouldn’t be too happy to see your face busted,’ Hobi threatens, and I’m shocked to see a new side to the gentle and kind boy so full of sunshine that I met a few years ago. He spots the look on my face, and suddenly looks ashamed of himself, the anger in his disposition instantly disappearing.

The conversation quickly moves on to Namjoon and Wendy, and I’m lost in my memories of that summer with Hobi. He was such a lovely boy, so funny and full of laughter. We made a lifetime of memories that summer, and I’ll always treasure it as the summer I fell in love for the first time.

‘Oh, y/n, your milkshake’s finished. Why don’t you get another one?’ Yeri says, nudging me out of my own mind, and I look down at my glass. Sure enough, it’s empty. I didn’t think I’d had that much. ‘Oh. Yeah, okay. Does anyone else want anything?’ I offer, and Yeri hands me some money to get her a basket of cheesy fries, and tells me to get my milkshake with her money too. And it’s then that I notice her glass is suspiciously full, around the amount that I had left in mine. She grins at me sneakily before her eyes flit to Hobi, and I know she’s plotting for him to follow me.

I slide out of the booth, and head up to the counter, my white cheer shoes squeaking against the clean vinyl floor. I cross paths with Yoongi, who’s glowering a little. ‘Any luck with Mina?’ I ask, my courage at speaking to a virtual stranger surprising me. ‘Not really,’ he admits, and I supress an amused laugh. ‘Maybe bring her some flowers next time you’re here? Girls love it when boys do things like that. It’s cute and romantic,’ I say, and he nods, digesting my words. ‘Yeah. Good idea. Thanks, new girl,’ he says, heading back to our booth with renewed energy.

I order a strawberry milkshake and Yeri’s fries at the counter, poor Mina looking like she could kill the chef when he shouts at her to clean the machine before getting my milkshake. ‘Shall I bring it over, or you gonna wait?’ she asks me, but I’m saved from answering, a voice behind me replying, ‘we’ll wait.’ Hobi appears, sliding on to the stool beside where I stand with an easy grin at me, my heart jumping.

‘I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,’ he admits, and I smile. ‘Me too. You’ve changed,’ I say, and his smile slips a little. I feel guilty, and so I make up for it by saying, ‘you’ve grown into a dreamboat.’ A grin instantly appears on his face, and he puffs out his chest a little, coaxing a laugh from me. ‘But look at you, y/n. You were always a pretty little thing, but now… well, you got a classy chassis, alright, an’ your face ain’t half bad either,’ he says as offhandedly as possible, a little grin on his face, and I can practically see his new greaser image fighting down the sweet boy that I know is inside. What he says is a little… not offensive, but I know Irene wouldn’t be too impressed if she heard it, and yet I can’t help but feel a little flattered. ‘Thank you. I think,’ I giggle, fingers toying with the hem of my skirt nervously, and he leans back against the counter, eyes skimming over my figure. ‘It was a compliment, doll. This new uniform’s cute, too. Reminds me of that little dress you wore, our last night that summer,’ he says, smiling widely, and my heart warms at him remembering.

I know exactly the dress he means; it was yellow and white plaid, sleeveless, and the hem came to just above my knee. I remember feeling so grown up in such a short dress, but it’s nothing compared to the outfit I’m wearing now. My grandparents would be scandalised if they saw me in my strappy, yellow plaid top – revealing my arms, the majority of my chest and a little bit of midriff when I stretch – and my blue plaid skirt, swishing around my thighs, with lacy white ankle socks and a yellow plaid scrunchie on my wrist. All the other girls are in variations of the same outfit, colours switched around on their tops and bottoms, different shape tops, different length skirts. It’s a little risqué, but times are slowly changing, and Irene is a firm believer that people like us will help to change it.

‘I barely remember that night,’ I say shyly, and he raises an eyebrow, knowing I’m lying. ‘I could never forget,’ he says lowly, eyes locked with mine, and the memory appears in my head. I shared my first kiss with him that night and whilst the memory is one that I treasure, I’m surprised it means anything to him. He’s a greaser, and they have a reputation for… ‘humping and dumping’ as Seulgi so eloquently put it. ‘You were my first kiss,’ he says casually, and I smile shyly, a little surprised at hearing so. ‘I never would’ve guessed,’ I say softly, and he grins. ‘I haven’t been a… greaser forever, you know,’ he says frankly, and I laugh. ‘Well, you were my first kiss too,’ I admit, and he grins even wider. ‘I know, kitten,’ he replies, and I feel my face fall a little, his face falling too. ‘No, no, I don’t mean it like that. It wasn’t bad, or anything,’ he says hastily, and I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. ‘You were just so…’ he trails off, and I give him a pointed look, prompting him to continue. ‘Innocent. Practically jail bait. A cute little Quentin Quail. It’s hot when a girl’s like that. Hotter than easy girls,’ he says, and I nod, holding back a laugh, and trying to mask how embarrassed I am at the flattery.

‘Here’s your milkshake, y/n, and your fries,’ Mina says, suddenly interrupting mine and Hobi’s eye contact. ‘Hey, Mina,’ Hobi says with a flirty grin, and I try to stop my smile from faltering. ‘Hi Hobi.’ ‘Why’s the diner so quiet tonight? It’s like Nowheresville in here.’ ‘Everyone’s at the bar, watching the football.’ ‘Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Well, anyway…’ ‘Yes, Hobi?’ Mina replies in a bored tone, and I suddenly like the girl. A lot. ‘Why don’t ya give Yoongi a chance? He’s real sweet on ya,’ Hobi says easily, and my heart warms when I realise that he’s trying to be a good friend. ‘And I told him already, I got a boyfriend,’ Mina says, and Hobi nods, impressed. ‘Yeah? What’s his name?’ ‘He goes by Bambam.’ ‘Still at school?’ ‘Na, he works at the garage ‘round the corner.’ ‘Good pay?’ ‘You writin’ a book or somethin? What’s with all the questions?’ ‘Just askin’. I wanna work there.’ ‘I’ll put in a word if you get Min over there to leave me be,’ Mina says, Hobi holding a hand out to her with a grin. ‘Deal,’ he says, Mina unable to keep a small smile off her face as she shakes his hand.

‘Come on, doll, let’s get back before Yeri’s fries go cold,’ Hobi says, his attention back on me as he hands me my milkshake, picking up the fries in one hand and snaking the other around my waist. A little thrill runs through my body at the feeling of his hand on me. He leads me back over to the table as I thank Mina over my shoulder. When we reach our booth, everyone’s staring at us, continuing to do so when Hobi puts Yeri’s fries down in front of her, slides into my seat and pulls me down onto his lap. My heart nearly pounds out of my chest.

‘You two look awful… close,’ Wendy says cautiously, and Hobi shrugs offhandedly. ‘We spent a whole summer together, ‘course we’re close.’ ‘Yeah, like two years ago.’ ‘So what?’ ‘Nothin’. Hobi.’ ‘Are ya laughin’ at my nickname?’ ‘No.’ ‘So, tell us more about this summer you two spent together,’ Taehyung says musingly, his elbow on the table and his chin resting on his hand. ‘Yeah, d’you get in her drawers?’ Jimin asks with a mischievous grin, and blood rushes to my cheeks from embarrassment. ‘Hey! Shut it, bozo, they were little kids,’ Seulgi exclaims, hitting him over the head, and he continues grinning, still looking at Hobi for an answer. ‘Mind your own beeswax,’ Hobi replies as his arms slide around my stomach. ‘Come on, let’s hear a little at least,’ Namjoon says softly, the others all nodding in agreement. ‘We wanna hear about your summer lovin’. Did you get friendly down in the sand?’ ‘D’you get far?’ ‘Did she put up a fight?’ Shut it, clods! Don’t ask questions like that, ‘specially not in front of her,’ Hobi exclaims, all of them exchanging grins. ‘Jeez, whatta grouch. You oughta tell us somethin’, since you didn’t even tell us about her after that summer,’ Jungkook says, leaning away from Hobi when the boy goes to hit him. ‘What are ya, the FBI? Lay off a little. There’s nothin’ to know. Like Seulgi said; we were little kids. Ain’t that right, kitten?’ Hobi says, and I nod in response to his question, butterflies in my stomach at being sat on his lap, having his arms around me, and having him speak to me like… like I’m his girl or something.

‘Well, whatever. I’m bored. Let’s cut out,’ Taehyung says, and I can see Joy deflate a little, my heart going out to her. ‘Na, let’s stick around a while,’ Jimin grins, eyes locked with Seulgi who grins right back. ‘Thought we were gonna hit the passion pit,’ Hobi says, Irene rolling her eyes. ‘The flick’s probably finished by now,’ Namjoon says, and Yoongi grins. ‘Let’s head down to Thunder Road,’ he says with a glint in his eyes, and the others exchange a glance before looking to Jin. ‘Na, my old lady said I gotta be home before midnight,’ Jungkook says, the others all mocking him. ‘Candy ass. Your old lady won’t say nothin’ if you’re late, let’s just go,’ Yoongi says, and Jin shakes his head. ‘Ice it. We get in enough trouble, let’s not go lookin’ for it,’ he says, surprisingly wisely, and the other boys respect his words, nodding.

‘We makin’ tracks or what? I really gotta get home or my old lady’ll crown me,’ Jungkook says, Yeri practically melting at his words – obviously she’s got a soft spot for a momma’s boy. ‘Yeah, let’s split. You dollies hangin’ ‘round here, or ya wanna come with?’ Jin asks, and the girls all look to Irene. ‘Where ya goin’? We ain’t comin’ if you’re goin’ to Thunder Road,’ Irene says, and I’m still unaware of what exactly Thunder Road is. ‘Na, we’re gonna drop the kid off an’ then… head to the bar,’ Jin says, the other boys cheering at his words. They all start to get up from their seats, and I feel Hobi fidgeting a little beneath me. I get out of the booth, and he gives me a smile before sliding out himself, and I take the empty seat. Irene looks around at us all before answering, ‘I think we’re gonna head home.’ ‘Any of ya need a ride?’ Jin offers, and Irene shakes her head. ‘I’m drivin’ Yeri and y/n home, and Seulgi’s old man said he’ll pick her, Joy and Wendy up on his way from work,’ Irene says, Jin nodding. Whilst he seemed a little immature at first, it’s obvious he’s a lot more grown up and responsible than the others.

‘Well. We’ll see you dollies at school on Monday then,’ Jin says, the other boys giving various goodbyes. Tae squeezes Joy’s thigh, the girl jumping a little in her seat as he grins, Jimin blowing Seulgi a kiss as he heads towards the door and she giggles, pretending to catch it and tuck it into her top. Namjoon gives Wendy a wink and she rolls her eyes, unable to hold back the grin on her face, as Jin exchanges a little glance with Irene and Jungkook presses a kiss to Yeri’s hand with a smirk, Yeri giggling as a blush colours her cheeks. ‘See ya Monday, y/n,’ Hobi says with a grin, and I smile back. ‘Bye, Hobi,’ I reply, the boys leaving moments later.

The diner seems eerily quiet now that they’re gone, and all of the girls look at me. ‘You and Jung Hoseok, huh? Who woulda thought?’ Joy says, looking at me with both curiosity and amusement in her eyes. ‘You’re so good, and sweet, y/n. I never woulda guessed you had the hots for him,’ Wendy says, and the true words are unspoken. So I say them. ‘And you never would’ve guessed he had the hots for me?’ I say plainly, Wendy looking a little guilty. ‘It sounds bad when you say it like that. I mean… the greasers, they flirt with us and all, but they’d choose an easy girl over us any day. And you’re not easy. You’re so innocent and soft, and I’m just surprised Hoseok would like someone like that,’ Wendy explains herself, and it makes perfect sense. ‘He wasn’t the same back then. He was… really nice, and gentle,’ I say, the girls exchanging a glance. ‘y/n, he’s been in that gang since he was, like, 14, ‘cause his big sister dates one of the older boys in the gang. Meanin’ he was a greaser back then too. Maybe… he dropped the act with you, though,’ Irene says, though she sounds sceptical. ‘Yeah. Maybe,’ I say, questioning our summer together in my head.

‘Speak of the devil,’ Wendy says gently, just before Hobi reappears beside me. ‘Hey, doll. I was wonderin’ if ya wanna do somethin’ with me? Maybe next Friday, after school?’ he asks, rubbing the back of his neck, and he looks almost nervous. My stomach turns with butterflies, and it’s only when Yeri nudges me that I remember I need to answer. ‘That… sounds real nice, but the pep rally’s next Friday. Maybe another day?’ I ask, and he nods, looking down at the floor, a little disheartened. ‘I can do something on the weekend after the pep rally?’ I offer, and he looks back up hopefully. ‘Yeah. Yeah, the weekend sounds good. You wanna… go to the passion pit? They’re showin’ Sunset Boulevard,’ he suggests, and I nod with a small smile. ‘I… I’d really like that, Hobi,’ I reply, and he smiles, real wide, his eyes practically shining. ‘I’ll pick you up. It’d be nice to see your parents again.’ ‘Yeah, that would be nice. They’d like to see you too.’ ‘Yeah. Neat. We’ll talk about it at school, but I gotta go. The boys are waitin’ for me,’ he says, and I nod, smiling. ‘Bye, Hobi,’ I say softly, and he grins back at me. ‘See ya, y/n,’ he says, taking a sip of my milkshake and laughing when I swat at him, before jogging towards the door.

I sigh happily, looking around at the girls, who all look back at me amusedly. ‘Oh, she’s a goner,’ Yeri says gently, and I laugh, rolling my eyes. ‘So is he, by the looks of it,’ Joy says, and Irene raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m not so sure. You know why people go to the passion pit,’ Irene says, and I look blankly at her. ‘Why?’ ‘To have the movie as background noise for… backseat bingo,’ she says quietly, and I feel my happiness deflate a little. I’ve met the first (and only) boy I loved again after a couple years, and I’m finding out he’s a horndog. ‘But maybe he just wants to watch the flick. I heard Sunset Boulevard’s real good,’ Seulgi says encouragingly, obviously trying to cheer me up, and I nod, though Irene’s words still ring in my ears. ‘I could be worryin’ for nothin’, y/n, don’t get sad about it. I just wanna look out for ya, that’s all,’ Irene says, and I smile at her, feeling gratitude for her being so kind this soon into our friendship. ‘Thanks, Irene. Don’t worry, I won’t let him… get into my drawers,’ I joke, repeating Jimin’s earlier words, and the girls all burst out laughing. ‘I sure hope not ‘cause my momma’s goin’ to watch Sunset Boulevard next weekend,’ Joy says between laughs, coaxing more laughter from us. I meet Irene’s eyes, and she gives me a gentle smile before mouthing, ‘be careful.’ ‘Don’t worry,’ I mouth back with a smile, ‘I will.’

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wri0thesley · 5 years ago

Note

scenario formaggio touching up his s/o right during a la squadra meeting? cause IMO he loves public sex and the thrill of being caught

thirsting for cheese tonight

the sofa - formaggio x fem!reader

nsfw. afab reader, fem pronouns. public sex. overuse of pet names. 2k

Sometimes La Squadra meetings migrate to the living room by virtue of comfort and so many of you already being gathered there; there are comfortable sofas, cushions, and Risotto’s own cracked leather seat that nobody else would dare claim. Unfortunately, sometimes this means you’re left in an uncomfortable position during the meeting because you have no wish to move from where you are and disrupt the rest of the room’s occupants - and today, that means you’re sat on Formaggio’s lap with your arms around his neck when Prosciutto strolls into the room and tries to snap everyone to attention before Risotto comes in with the assignments.

“Sit up straight, Pesci! Formaggio, could you keep your hands to yourself for ten minutes? Melone, stop hanging all over Ghiaccio and be a professional for once in your life!”

Pesci stiffens, Melone pouts, and Formaggio - easy grin on his face, unruffled totally by Prosciutto’s stern voice, says;

“Aww, Prosh. One day you’ll get a cutie like mine and you’ll know what a sacrifice that’d be.”

Prosciutto sneers at him, but Risotto’s slow and methodical steps (he can be quiet when he wants to be - but in the hideout, he has no need to hide) echo on the scratched wooden flooring and Prosciutto turns sharply to his seat, perching on the sofa cushion delicately as if he’s afraid of getting everyone else’s dirt on his immaculate Prada suit. Well. You have seen Melone sit there before. You can’t really blame him.

Formaggio’s arms lock even tighter around your waist, pulling you further in, neatly settling you perfectly into his lap. Contentedly, he nuzzles his face against yours, breathing in the scent of your hair and murmuring - as Risotto sits down on his armchair and looks seriously from one member of his squad to the other;

“Sweetiepie, you’re just the cutest damn thing. How’m I supposed to keep my hands off you, huh?”

You giggle under your breath, aware that Prosciutto is giving you a furious glare, and rest your head on Formaggio’s shoulder too. You move your ass - just a little, to try and get comfortable between Formaggio’s knees on his lap - and have to stop yourself from freezing when you realise that there’s something hard and excited digging into your softest parts. You feel your face flush, and sneak a glance at Formaggio - your boyfriend’s face is free and easy, his smile wide, but his eyes . . . his eyes are glinting wickedly. He knows you’ve felt it.

He shifts too, making out that he’s just readjusting to get comfortable, but you know that what he’s actually doing is grinding his hardness into you.

This isn’t the first time Formaggio’s goaded you into doing this kind of stuff somewhere risque - it is the first time, though, he’s dared to do it when he’s entirely in work mode. In front of your boss!

Risotto is calling to Ghiaccio, and everyone’s attention slips onto those two. One of Ghiaccio’s hits had gotten a little too out of control, White Album had been used on some people who it shouldn’t have - and Formaggio uses the distraction as a chance to reach his hand out and pull you further into him, his grip curling around your thigh and pushing your skirt up a little more than is entirely reasonable.

“‘Maggio--” You whisper, at once impressed by his brazenness and flustered by it, and your boyfriend gives you another one of those heart-rendingly sleazy smiles.

“Honeybunch,” he says, under his breath and low. “Y’don’t like it when I touch you?”

You look away, demure and flushing. You love it.

“Aww, that’s my girl!” He cheer-whispers. Fingers slide over bare skin, gently brushing your underwear - and you move your legs a little to try and hide that Formaggio’s hand is currently looking ready to dive between your thighs. His other hand comes around to cup your ass, angling you a little differently. You’re thankful that you and Formaggio are in a corner of the sofa and you’re closer to facing the wall than you are to facing the other people.

“Prosciutto?” Risotto’s voice cuts across the room. Prosciutto is at the other end of the sofa you and Formaggio are sharing (and somehow, the knowledge that it’s prissy Prosciutto, who would no doubt be the most scandalised if he realised what was going on, that’s closest to you is thrilling in the best way). “I have your assignment, too.”

His fingertips ghost along the lips of your sex through your damp underwear. You’d felt yourself growing wet the minute he’d whispered how cute you were into your ear in that low, smooth voice, and the way he’s manhandling you and touching you without a care for the rest of your teammates catching you had only added to the mess of slick you can feel pooling between your thighs.

“Sweetie,” he whispers, his breath ghosting your neck and earlobe. “Y’gettin’ all worked up already?”

“It’s you,” you whisper back as softly as you can, because Prosciutto is straining forwards to hear what a good job he’d done on his last hit (the kiss-ass). “Everything you do works me up.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t do this then, huh?” He whispers. Fingers lift some of the sodden fabric away from your sex, prying beneath the elastic to get at what’s beneath. Your breath catches in your throat. “Don’t want you to get overwhelmed, baby girl--”

“‘Maggio,” you say, softly as you can, your tone petulant. “Maggio, please--”

He breathes out, a huff of amusement.

“You know I can’t say no to anythin’ you want, angel,” he says - and fingers dip between the lips of your sex into your slick, brushing your clit and your entrance with well-practised little movements, his wrist barely moving so as not to draw too much attention to you both. You bite your lip at the sudden feel (his fingers are rough and cool), but your attempts to stop your reactions in your tracks clearly aren’t good enough, because your name is called across the room.

It’s not Risotto’s voice.

It’s Pesci’s, tremulous.

“A-are you okay?” He asks you, and suddenly all eyes in the room are on you. Your thighs instinctively tighten around Formaggio’s hand, trapping him between them. The friction is almost enough to make you moan, but you know better than to do that with all the eyes on you. You blink innocently at Pesci, stifling a fake yawn with your shoulder.

“L-last hit just had me up a bit late,” you tell him, your voice shaking imperceptibly. “I’m tired.”

Risotto is staring at you. His dark sclera bore into you and you wonder if you’re about to be fired, or exposed for being shameless in the communal areas of the hideout, or exposed instead for simply being desperate--

“I don’t have any missions for either of you,” he says, after a beat. “But it’s good to foster team spirit. I won’t keep you long.” He squints down at his papers again. He has terrible eyesight, but he won’t use glasses. “Melone?”

“Yes?” Melone’s voice is pleased and sing-song. The rest of the team turn their heads towards him, frustration already beginning to gather in the air. Melone’s presence and general being can be contentious at the best of times.

Slowly, as the attention fades, you let your thighs relax and Formaggio is able to move his hands again. Snickering, he leans in and breathes in the smell of your hair at the same time as he mumbles into the top of your head;

“You’re tight everywhere, huh, sweetie?”

You nestle your head further into him, resting your own face close to his neck. You desperately, desperately, want to reach forward and kiss the swell of his adam’s apple and the concaves of his throat, kiss and suck love bites into his neck, gently nibble on his ear until he gets grumbly and breathy and hungry for you (you know, better than anything, how to drive Formaggio to distraction so all he can think about is driving you into the mattress until your thighs shake and you beg) - but you are still in public. You are still surrounded by the rest of your squad. You do not need to give Melone any jack-off material.

“You could always find out.” You say, hushed, your breath brushing against his heated skin.

You know Formaggio well enough to know that the breath he expels at that is ragged, but Prosciutto is berating Melone for something and the attention is elsewhere. Formaggio’s smile curves his lips in a way that makes you want to leave a line of kisses all along it.

“Maybe I will then, cutie.”

One finger circles your entrance, coating itself in your slick and arousal. You resist the urge to squirm in his lap, wiggle your hips, and all in all shamelessly beg him to fuck you with that same finger. He’s achingly slow filling you up with it, clearly trying to make sure you don’t give the game away - but that doesn’t stop the fact that his pace is maddening.

One knuckle. Two knuckle. The base of his finger, his others pressing against other parts of your slick sex, his thumb gently resting over your swollen clit. You want him to go at you with abandon, but you have to school your face into a neutral expression, pretend that Formaggio isn’t pulling out of you (the slow drag of his skin against your velvet damp walls just as frustrating as the slow entrance) in order to press two of his fingers inside you at once.

“You’re soaking, babe,” Formaggio growls, holding himself back in volume a little worse than before, and you look around to make sure nobody is looking at you. “Y’really like being all cute and cosy on my lap like this? I ain’t complainin’, ‘course . . . but y’sure do look adorable tryin’ told hold yourself back.”

You nod, a furtive thing, your cheeks pink. The meeting is drawing to a close, you know it - and Formaggio’s drags and pumps are slow and lazy, not wanting the rest of the team to be drawn to his wrist frantically fucking you (even if you’re beginning to care much less about being caught and much more about the ache low in your stomach). Risotto bids them a goodnight.

The rest of the squad stand up, stretching out their backs, sighing and checking watches and pagers. Goodbyes are called, goodnight greetings are given - and all of them, respectfully, walk by Risotto who remains in his chair as they all go their separate ways.

“Are you two not going to bed?” Risotto’s voice cuts across the room, as you feel your walls tighten around him in a cross between anxiety and need. “I thought you were tired.”

“J-just gonna cuddle for a bit longer,” Formaggio says, lying through his teeth but still managing to sound much cooler and more level-headed than you know that you would. “Y’know how it is. Y’have the most beautiful girlfriend in the world, y’gotta show her it, y’know?”

“Oh, you,” you breathe out, hoping Risotto doesn’t hear the hitch in your breath or see how swollen your lips are. “You’re too cute--”

“Just as cute as someone like you deserves, sweetie-baby-angel,” Formaggio says, putting his face near yours to rub his nose against your own. You almost faint at how his fingers move inside you when he does it, and at the smirk you get as he pulls away. Whether the smirk was at the cutesy motions or the awful nickname or him knowing exactly what his fingers were doing inside you, you cannot say.

Risotto blinks at you both slowly, and then inclines his head. He turns away, and you feel Formaggio let out a breath you hadn’t realised he was holding. Your capo moves across the living room slowly, and you think you’ve gotten away with it, until he says loud and clear--

“Don’t ruin the sofa. The rest of them like to sit there sometimes too.”

Well. Fuck.

#jjba #not sfw #writing #formaggio #formaggio x reader #afab reader #fem pronouns #public play #Anonymous

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nerianasims · 4 years ago

Text

Billboard #1s 1987

Under the cut.

"Shake You Down" -- Gregory Abbot -- January 17, 1987

The only reason I've heard this song before is because of Todd in the Shadows' worst hit songs of 1987 video. I do not entirely agree with his list, but this one definitely belongs on it. I don't think the song's writer knew what "shake down" actually means. This is supposed to be a love song about how the narrator is missing the woman he's staring at (um) and wants her back so he can "shake you down." It sounds creepy, and yet the music is so painfully bland it can't even rise to that. It's no surprise it hasn't gotten radio play since it was a hit. That it was a hit in the first place is mystifying.

"At This Moment" -- Billy Vera and the Beaters -- January 24, 1987

A rather good blue-eyed soul song. The narrator is singing to a woman who just told him she's in love with someone else. It sounds like she's acting scared, and he's upset by that as well as by her leaving him, because "I'd never, never hurt you." And he'd give up twenty years of his life if she'd stay. There are some massive blues horns, Billy Vera sings it well, and it's cathartically sad. The song became a hit years after it was first released because it was on Family Ties. Billy Vera keeps on chugging, and he's also a music historian. He won a Grammy for "best album notes" in 2013 for a Ray Charles boxed set. I had no idea that was an award category.

"Open Your Heart" -- Madonna -- February 7, 1987

Watch out. When Madonna says "I've had to work much harder than this/ For something I want, don't try to resist me," it's absolutely believable. She worked incredibly hard to get where she was. I guess the song is stalkery when looked at from a certain angle, but that is not the angle I choose. I hear it as I did as a teenager -- as something aspirational, because I got huge and powerful crushes on guys (mostly friends) and then did absolutely nothing about it, both because I had no idea what to do and because I didn't actually want a boyfriend yet. (That changed in college.) Musically and lyrically, the song is Motown mixed with disco and updated, as most of the True Blue album is. It's a lot of fun.

"Livin on a Prayer" -- Bon Jovi -- February 14, 1987

I wonder what I'd feel about this song if it hadn't been overplayed for years and years. I don't think it was/is played more than "You Give Love a Bad Name," but I have never been sick of "You Give Love a Bad Name." This one... meh. I don't want to run screaming from it, even after hearing it a zillion times, so that's something. It's about a working class couple who's having serious money troubles. It's just a snapshot of this difficult time in their life, and how they're holding on to each other. I'd be happier with it if the story were rounded out, and especially if they got a happy ending. The music is fine, acceptable rock, but nothing special.

"Jacob's Ladder" -- Huey Lewis and the News -- March 14, 1987

This song is a "fuck off" to televangelists, though if you only listen to the chorus you might not know that. I always appreciate anyone telling televangelists to fuck off. I could use it being nastier, but you can't expect real nastiness from Huey Lewis and the News. Genesis would go there a few years later, and I like that song much better. "Jesus He Knows Me" is also more interesting musically. This one's fine, but not memorable.

"Lean on Me" -- Club Nouveau -- March 21, 1987

The original "Lean on Me" is one of the great songs. This version is annoying. A go-go beat and a faux-reggae break. The original of this song is deeply emotional and touching. This one is not even a good dance song. I liked it when I was a kid, but that makes sense, because it's a very kiddie song.

"Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" -- Starship -- April 4, 1987

This song is actually not bad. It's pretty good, even. It's a very slick synth-heavy drum machine love song, but I really like the way Grace Slick sings on it. Mickey Thomas, well, he hits the notes. Could be worse. If they'd gotten a male vocalist who could match Grace Slick on his part of the duet, this might be a great song. They didn't, so it's just pretty good.

"I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)" -- Aretha Franklin and George Michael -- April 18, 1987

George Michael is an excellent singer, but he's no Aretha Franklin. But who is? He holds his own pretty well here. As both Franklin and Michael know how to push emotion in a song, they end up with good chemistry on this one. Unfortunately, though the vocal performances are great, the music itself is dull. The melody slips out of my head while I'm listening to it.

"(I Just) Died in Your Arms" -- Cutting Crew -- May 2, 1987

*silent scream of anguish* I wish this song would slip out of my head permanently. It is my personal most overplayed song in existence. My hate for it could end worlds. I have no idea about what qualities it might or might not have. I just want it to shut the fuck up.

"With or Without You" -- U2 -- May 16, 1987

I don't think U2 actually counts as "alternative," but the alternative stations were the only ones who played them where I lived. The song is extremely structured and carefully designed, but it feels somehow raw at the same time. It doesn't have the layers upon layers of synth that most of the songs on the charts did. It has a beautiful melody. The lyrics are thoughtful, heartrending poetry. I'm not sure what I thought of the song at the time -- I associate it more with a couple years later, when my family moved to a town near a huge state college and I started listening to the college station. It hasn't aged a bit. An amazing song.

Also Bono’s personality is somewhat insufferable if one is silly enough to look into it. But his voice is incredibly hot, and I very much appreciate that.

"You Keep Me Hangin' On" -- Kim Wilde -- June 6, 1987

Back to the layers of synth. This is the Supremes song updated as a 1987 dance song, and it sounds exactly like you'd think it would. It's okay.

"Always" -- Atlantic Starr -- June 13, 1987

This is the kind of song I made gagging noises about at age 10, when it came out. I'm tempted to now too. It's like corn syrup, both lyrically and musically. It sounds like it was written for weddings.

"Head to Toe" -- Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam -- June 20, 1987

I liked this song a lot when I was a kid. I had a lot of fun dancing to it. Now I hear Lisa Lisa's vocals in the opening and chorus, which are kind of like a police siren, and want to cover my ears. I can't listen to it without getting a headache nowadays.

"I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)" -- Whitney Houston -- June 27, 1987

This is a Whitney Houston song I like. She doesn't oversing as much as usual -- she mostly, though not entirely, saves it for the chorus. She wants to dance with "a man who'll take a chance/ On a love that burns hot enough to last." It's a simple dance song that speaks to real emotion.

"Alone" -- Heart -- July 11, 1987

In the 80s, Heart did hair metal ballads. All the men who did the same were copying them. Including the hair itself. Heart did it first, and Heart did it best. So lyrically, why can't she get this person alone? Not even on the phone? Whatever, it doesn't matter. What matters is the emotion, the music, and that this is a great song to sing along with.

"Shakedown" -- Bob Seger -- August 1, 1987

Unlike Gregory Abbott, Bob Seger knew what "shakedown" meant. The song was written for Beverly Hills Cop II, and that's exactly what it sounds like. It's a good movie song, but doesn't transcend that box. Still fun though.

"I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" -- U2 -- August 8, 1987

This is a spiritual pop song. But it's very far from the sanitized happy clappy Christian-brand pop that's so foul. It's about a search for transcendence that's ongoing -- eternal, really. And while this song is explicitly Christian, it speaks to a universality that doesn't require religion of any kind. Also it's beautiful musically.

"Who's That Girl" -- Madonna -- August 22, 1987

I'm surprised this was a number one. Or even charted in the top 20. I'd have predicted #46 or something. The movie it was written for was terrible, and Madonna was particularly terrible in it. Like, aggressively terrible, when in most movies she was just kinda blah. I've never liked the song. I don't hate it either; I don't feel much of anything about it. That is very strange for a Madonna song -- "American Life" is awful, but it makes me feel things. (Mostly embarrassment.) But "Who's That Girl" is bland, which a Madonna song should never be.

"La Bamba" -- Los Lobos -- August 29, 1987

This is a nearly faithful rendition of Richie Valens' original hit, which was based on a Veracruz folk song. But where are the castanets? The original is better, a true classic, but this one isn't bad. It's simply... unnecessary. It was done for a movie about Valens, so I guess it was sort of "necessary" in that way. Skip this one and go for Valens' version.

"I Just Can't Stop Loving You" -- Michael Jackson with Siedah Garrett -- September 19, 1987

This is from the Bad album, which I did not like in 1987 and continue to not like now. I find this song extraordinarily dull. Whitney Houston and Barbra Streisand both turned it down, and I'm not surprised. This song weirdly makes me think of The Love Boat. Like it belongs in a television series. It's legitimately bad. When do we get to Janet again?

"Didn't We Almost Have It All" -- Whitney Houston -- September 26, 1987

I think the narrator in this song is trying to get an old flame back. It's a pretty melody, and the lyrics are wildly repetitive but not bad, but I can't get past Houston's oversinging. Anyone who doesn't mind that will probably enjoy this song.

"Here I Go Again" -- Whitesnake -- October 10, 1987

I wonder what makes one feel a song is "horribly overplayed" vs. just "played probably too much but I'm fine with it." This song is the latter for me. It's a really good song, so obviously that's part of it. The beginning is thoughtful and searching, with an organ and everything (or probably a synth on the organ setting), and has that same spiritual feel as "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For." Then in come the guitars, which are awesome. It absolutely rocks, and the emotion is of "like a drifter I was born to walk alone" is amplified by the rock, rather than buried under it.

"Lost in Emotion" -- Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam -- October 17, 1987

Lisa Lisa does not sound like a police siren in this, thankfully. And I got frozen on this song because I listened to it over and over and managed to feel absolutely nothing about it. I guess she's falling in love with a friend and worried she's telling him too much, and I should identify with this because it's happened to me more than once. But I don't. I like the bass line, and it's updated Motown, so I should like that. But again, I feel nothing. Maybe it's the way Lisa Lisa sings it. I don't know, and I've wasted far too much time on something I cannot make myself care about in any way.

"Bad" -- Michael Jackson -- October 24, 1987

I think the Bad album is bad. Actually bad, as in not good. I was 11 when this hit #1, so everything in the universe embarrassed me, but this stood out. I no longer knew anyone who liked Michael Jackson. I certainly didn't. In my opinion, Jackson had exactly one good album in him, and that album was Thriller. Thriller is one of the greats. Bad is blah.

"I Think We're Alone Now" -- Tiffany -- November 7, 1987

I wonder what makes stations decide to play #1 hits and what makes them decide not to. I don't remember hearing this much at the time, and never after. It's a cover of a 1960s song that was never that great, and it's worse here. In 1967, the "ooh we're alone gonna do something naughty" idea was still edgy. In 1987 -- are you kidding? Madonna's tearing up the charts in 1987; what on earth is this thing doing on it? It's an annoying song, annoyingly sung.

"Mony Mony" -- Billy Idol -- November 21, 1987

I had to do aerobics to this in middle school. Next!

"(I've Had) The Time of My Life" -- Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes -- November 28, 1987

This is one of those songs I can't really evaluate because it feels like background music to my life. Not that it was ever particularly important to me -- it's not. But it's sort of like "Eye of the Tiger", movie song and all. Medley and Warnes are well-matched on the song, and they do a great job. I wish the music were more interesting, but well, movie ballad. It's a good one for what it is. By the way, Dirty Dancing is another movie I've managed to never see. For no reason -- I might even like it. But somehow, it's never come up.

"Heaven Is a Place on Earth" -- Belinda Carlisle -- December 5, 1987

Ooh baby, do you know what that's worth? Yes. I love everything about this song. It's a big and unashamed dance power ballad about how great love is, and the lyrics are simple but powerful. But I have a question: What the heck is up with the video? It looks like she's being inducted into a cult, not like she's in ecstasy over great romantic love. Well, it was the 80s, the videos usually didn't have anything to do with the songs. Still, weird.

"Faith" -- George Michael -- December 12, 1987

I've known the lyrics to this song since it came out, but I never registered them before. Only "I gotta have faith, faith, faith." I remember the video, though, with its prominent focus on George Michael's butt. I'm watching the video now, and huh, there's a basically naked woman in it too. That, I didn't remember, because it wasn't relevant to my interests. Anyway, the lyrics are about how the narrator needs a break from relationships so is not gonna have sex with this hot woman. Sure, George, that's why. Ahem. Sorry, we didn't know then, and it doesn't matter one bit anyway, because the singer is playing a role. It's a fun song for which the lyrics don't matter at all.

BEST OF 1987 -- "With or Without You" by U2 WORST OF 1987 -- "I Just Can't Stop Loving You" by Michael Jackson with Siedah Garrett

#billboard number ones

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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years ago

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Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-Seven

A/N: this is kinda raunchy. I'm not sorry.

Word count: 4K

Warning(s): explicit language, explicit sexual situations, mentions of drug abuse

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1981

"...Shh." Nikki chuckles out in a smile, his hand over my mouth as he comes up for a second so I can calm down. "If your parents hear you, I'm fucked."

"I'm sorry, you've been going down on me the past hour, I'm really sensetive right now, and I thought you didn't care." I whisper, quoting him from something he's said before.

He just smirks.

"I thought about it and decided if we get caught, I won't be able to do this..." He tugs my nipple with his teeth for a moment, causing me to gasp out. "...or this..." he pushes two fingers into my slick cunt and I arch my back, the delicious friction causing my body to crave more. "...or this." He goes back to where he was, his tongue working at my swollen clit.

I take in a sharp breath, trying to keep from moaning too loud as he devours me and every last drop of sticky-sweet running out of me.

"Oh, fuck, daddy." I whine out, my hips bucking up, grinding against his feasting mouth, only causing him to move his tongue faster and more deliberately.

He hums at the sound, his dark eyes glancing up at me, his hands keeping my thighs spread wide open as he sucks at my clit, making my eyes roll back, my toes curl, and a wanton moan leaves my lips as my pussy tenses and relaxes repeatedly, wanting to be filled and abused.

Nikki finishes licking the cum from between my legs, before laying beside me as my exhausted body tries to wind down.

"You don't want me to do anything for you?" I ask him, taking deep breaths, blinking slowly at him.

He shakes his head, giving me a little smile, before pulling the covers up to my chin so I don't have to.

"No, Viv, getting to eat you for over an hour straight is repayment enough." He chuckles and my face burns red.

"Quit saying it like that." I cover my face with my hands.

"That's what I was doing, was it not?"

"I guess, but you don't have to be so..." I wrinkle my nose for a second. "...I don't know."

"Oh, so you can call me 'daddy' but when I call it 'eating', it's the end of the world?" He looks at me and I narrow my eyes at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I deny his accusation and he raises his brows.

"Oh, please, Viv, you scream it out like a bitch in heat almost everytime we fuck around."

"Fine, then, I'll stop." I shrug and he snaps his attention to me.

"I didn't say I didn't like it, it's just amusing to hear it from you, of all people, Saint Viv."

"Shut up, Devil Spawn." I shove at his arm.

"Ow." He complains, rubbing his hand over where I hit him, pretending to be hurt.

I roll my eyes and he mocks me, causing me to shove at his arm again.

"Do it again, see what happens." He threatens and I, spitefully, do it again.

I don't have time to react before he's snatching me onto him, grasping my wrists in his hands as he tickles at my stomach, causing me to double over and try to keep from waking my parents.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I whisper yell and he stops, allowing me to catch my breath and he laughs arrogantly, his rough palms rubbing up and down my thighs, calmly, his smile slowly starting fade as he looks up at me.

"What is it?" I ask him, self-consciously pulling the covers back around me to cover my chest.

"You're beautiful." He says lowly, his hand coming up to brush my red hair from my face.

"Don't be weird." I say in regards to whatever the hell is happening between us.

We've only messed around a handful of times and I've been trying not to get attached because there's no point. I don't need him bullshitting me just for the hell of it.

"I'm being honest, Viv. You are."

"So is every other girl you have fun with. We're already fooling around anytime either of us wants it, you can stop trying to tell me nice stuff so I'll let you between my legs, Nikki." I laugh it off, but the sting of the truth strikes through my body.

"The other girls are nice to look at, but are grade-A hangers-on. They could give less of a fuck as long they're getting boned by a rockstar, they don't care." He replies.

Apparently the look I give him is one of doubt.

"I'm always right." He states sarcastically with a toothy grin. "So if I say you--despite being a pain in the ass--are beautiful, then there's no arguing about it." He adds and I try not to make my overjoyed smile obvious, instead leaning down, pressing my lips to his.

1987

"Another vehicle, Nikki, are you kidding me?!" I scream as he simultaneously says, "don't fucking start, Viv!"

He can't be serious.

"Do you not remember that notice we got about the $5,000 a day in heroin being spent, Nikki, or did that just fly over your head? We have bills, we have have things that we need to prioritize and what do you do?! Buy another car!"

He just ignores me, grabbing a paper bag from the fridge.

I give up on fighting, tears of frustration rolling down my cheeks as I grab my car keys to just get the hell out of here.

He had gotten a brand new Mercedes Benz after I had asked him to wait until we got more money from the album and the tour. He decided we had enough money and went for it.

I angrily wrap packing tape around the cardboard box packed full of Steven's things, seeing him flinch each time the tape let out a squeak from me manhandling it.

"You good, Viv?" He asks me cautiously and I glare at him.

"I married a junkie who's mission is to damn near give me a heart attack anyway he possibly can whether it's with his drug abuse or simply spending money we don't necessarily have." I state. "So, no, Stevie. I could be better."

"Oh...I'm sorry." He mumbles.

"It's called D-I-V-O-R-C-E. They're perfect in situations such as your's and could really benefit you and him." Izzy sarcastically let's out, raising his brows and I slowly turn to look at him with a death glare. "Or suffer, that's a good option, too." He shrugs.

"We don't want that." I state as Duff comes in the living room from the kitchen.

"Not what I've heard." Izzy scoffs back. "Sixx talks when he's smacked out."

"And what exactly does 'Sixx' say?" I ask, raising my brows.

I can feel Steven making motions to Izzy from behind me, and I turn to look at him only to see him pretending to rub the bottom of his jaw with his knuckles.

It's obvious he was just running his hand against his neck in a "stop" motion to Izzy.

"Uh, n-nothing." Duff puts in as an unsettling tension settles in, like the three of them are on a level of understanding that I'm not aware of.

"Guys, seriously, what does he say?" I ask.

"It's not really what he says as much as what he does." Izzy let's out carefully and Duff glares at him.

"What does he do?"

"Cries." Duff states.

"Yeah." Steven adds.

"Like a little bitch." Izzy sighs.

I look at them for a moment before deciding to not ask anything else.

"Okay, Steven, here." I finish taping his box of stuff.

"Thanks, Viv." He replies, picking the box up, and suddenly every nude magazine he owns is spilling onto the floor from the bottom of the box.

"Aw, dude, that wasn't suppose to happen." Steven states and I hand the tape to Duff when he offers to retape it, before plopping down beside Izzy.

The difference in Fred, Mick, Duff, Steven, Izzy, Slash and Axl keeping the Vanity situation from me, and Tommy, Vince, Doc, and Tansy, keeping it from me was that Vince, Doc, Tommy and Tansy were protecting Nikki.

Everyone else thought they were protecting me, instead they would constantly down Nikki about it, trying to get him to stop his shit.

It would have been nice for someone to tell me instead of having me looking like an absolute dumbass in front of God and everyone.

But I can see why they would think I couldn't handle that information at that time.

"Baby, c'mon, Tommy and I leave in a couple hours." Nikki pleads with me over the phone.

"Okay, so just days ago I was a 'psycho cunt' and you bought a brand new car a couple days ago just to spite me, and now I'm 'baby' again?" I question him.

"We fucked last night, Viv." He states and I sigh.

"We have sex because we're horny, Nikki, not because either of us are sorry for whatever we fight about." I point out and he groans.

"Just get down here and tell me 'bye', please?" He asks and I let out a breath.

"Fine, I'll be down there in a few minutes." I tell him, rolling my eyes.

How Nikki's logic worked:

Sex = apology.

I had accepted that, but a few months into '87, I realized sex didn't fix anything. It just swept it under the rug and allowed the both of us to pretend nothing was wrong.

The rug was starting to have so much dirt swept under it, it wasn't even laying flat on the floor anymore.

I shut the door of my car, Nikki waiting for me outside in his sunglasses, despite it being night out, his cocky smirk plastered on his lips at the fact that I came when he snapped his fingers, like always.

He holds a cassette out to me and I raise a brow, unamused.

"An apology for being an asshole." He tells me.

On the label reads "You're All I Need."

"Remember that song I wanted to write for you?" He asks and I nod, not necessarily knowing how to feel.

"I'll see you when you get back." I let out, giving a tight smile, opening my car door but he shuts it quickly, turning me to face him.

"That's it? No 'thank you', no 'goodbye' kiss, no nothing?" He questions me.

"I'm still upset over our fight Nikki."

"We always have bullshit fights, Viv. We say shit we don't mean all the time."

"Okay, but we're getting too comfortable saying hurtful things to each other, are we not?" I point out, and he sighs, shaking his head a little.

"We tried therapy, it didn't work, so. I don't know what to tell you."

"We went to a handful of sessions, Nikki, before you refused to go after Nona passed away." I remind him.

"Because we were both miserable in those sessions."

"Well, it's nearly one year later and we're still miserable." I state and he furrows his brows.

"Being married to me makes you miserable?" He hisses out.

"I didn't mean it like that, I just mean--"

"--Great, well, I'll see you in five days." He cuts me short, hurt over what I said, stepping to the door.

"That's not what I meant, Nikki." I follow after him and grasp at his wrist. "I meant the both of us are getting more and more unhappy."

"I'm fine." He pipes. "I'm sorry if you're antidepressant stopped working or something but I'm fantastic, Viv."

"You're fantastic?"

"Yep."

People who are doing "fantastic" don't self-medicate but okay.

"I'll do better." He says to me, smiling down at me reassuringly. "Alright?"

I nod, and he looks me up and down for a moment before catching my lips with his.

His Jack flavored tongue meets mine, eliciting a soft hum from me as his hands hold at my waist, my fingers lacing in his hair.

We take a few steps back and I feel my legs hit the front of my Corvette. I drop the tape to push his jacket off his shoulders when he nudges for me to sit back on the hood of my car, already knowing where this is going.

His lips trail down my neck, his teeth nipping at my hardened nipples through my dress, causing me to giggle and moan simultaneously, my fingers running through his teased hair.

He stands up straight to unbuckle his belt, the sight of his prick desperate to get out of his pants has a wave of pleasure sweeping up my back, my hand pulling my dress up to run over the soft fabric of my panties, the toe of my heel gently traveling up the inside of his leather covered thigh.

He stops me just before I can trace over the bulge in his pants, his hand gripping my ankle, his fingers of his other hand untying the lace of his pants.

I sit up, reaching my hand out to free his cock, but he grabs at my jaw, forcing me to look at him.

"No, no." He wags his finger at me with a slick smile and my mouth waters when he pulls himself from his pants, precum already beading at his tip.

He sees me eyeing it, purposely wrapping his fist around his shaft to jerk of a couple of times, causing even more of the liquid to leak from him.

"Go ahead have a taste because every last drop is going in that pretty pussy so you remember who's you are while I'm gone."

My core tenses up, evidence of my arousal wetting my panties at his words and I don't hesitate to swipe my thumb across his tip, enjoying his jaw tensing at the contact, before making a show of sucking my thumb into my mouth to lick it off.

He stares at me and I blink up at him, taking my thumb from my mouth, waiting for him to make the next move.

And oh, does he.

He's impatiently pushing my dress to my hips and yanking my panties off, holding at one of my legs as his fingers trail between my legs to my clit.

I let out a harsh breath when he lightly runs the pad of his thumb over the sensitive nerves, watching my face.

I have to bite my lip in order to keep from cursing at him teasing me, and he licks his lips before taking his dick in his hand, rubbing the head against my clit, watching as my eyes close and a whimper leaves my lips.

I feel my pulse in my core, and the ache of utter need has me giving him my best "fuck me" eyes I can muster up.

"Does my little slut wanna be fucked?" He asks and I nod, looking at him with my eyes half-open.

I shudder when he drags his tip to my hungry cunt, slowly, agonizingly, sliding into me.

My back arches as he gives me the time to feel his girth stretching me, and he grins, his head falling back, his hands pushing my thighs against the hood of the car.

"I will never get over how fucking tight you are." He tells me in an almost moan, pulling back out again and slowly sliding back in, time looking down to see himself thrusting in and out of me.

"So good." I let out softly, my hands pinching at my nipples through my dress and he starts to pick up the pace, causing me to gasp and moan with every thrust as he goes deep into me, hitting my cervix.

I remember where we're at and I put my hand over my mouth to keep from drawing attention from the street incase anyone can hear me.

Nikki doesn't like that.

"Keep your fucking hand down." He orders, pulling my hand from my mouth. "I want them to know you're getting fucked, I want them to know who's fucking cock you're taking inch for fucking inch." He states, and I moan quietly at his words, still not wanting to draw attention.

My walls tighten and loosen around him as he continues to drive into me, my sounds of pleasure getting louder and louder with my loss of control and Nikki's determination.

His fingers quickly go back and fort against my clit, causing me to let out an unexpected cry, my hand holding at his wrist to try to get him to stop but he won't.

"Good girl." He praises me for not trying to hide my pleasure, grunting at the feeling of my pussy tightening around him.

The wet sound of him moving in and out of me mixed with my cries and he cursing fills my ears.

"Harder, Nikki, please." I beg, a masochistic part of me not wanting to walk right for a couple days.

I don't have to ask twice, his hand's around my throat, his fingers roughly stimulating my clit while his prick mercilessly starts pounding into my weeping cunt, only causing me to moan the best that I can with him choking me.

The two of us look at each other in pure ecstacy and I smugly grin before opening my mouth, sticking my tongue out.

His hand grasps at my throat a little tighter as he leans forward and spits in my mouth, only letting his grip loosen briefly so I can swallow it.

Our bodies are now drenched in sweat and I'm growing closer and closer, squeezing around him so tightly I think he's having to force himself not to finish before I do.

I'm probably looking up at him like he's a god, mesmerized by the sheen of sweat covering his chest, his thumb of his hand around my throat softly swiping the skin of my neck, sweetly contradicting his roughness.

"Oh, daddy, I'm gonna come." I gasp out. It's been a while since I've called him that in bed and it's only motivating him to go harder. "Fuck!" I mewl, squeezing my eyes shut as I tighten around him even more before my orgasm hits and my pussy's spasming in hopes of getting every last bit of his load.

He groans from the sensation before I feel him push back into me, forcing himself against my cervix, hot cum coating the inside of me.

"What the fuck?!" Tommy screams in a high pitch, and Nikki and I startle, looking in the direction of the door to see Tommy and Vince standing there, just walking out, but being met with Nikki inside me, with his hand around my throat and me moaning.

I'm horrified, Tommy's traumatized, Vince is probably wishing he had his camera, and Nikki's...well...

"Hahaha!" Nikki let's out, pulling my dress down my legs so I don't flash Tommy or Vince. "Sorry." He says next, tucking himself back into his pants, picking his jacket up off the ground as I scramble to get off the car, wincing at the feeling Nikki's cum about to start running out of me.

My face is bright red and Tommy looks like he's about to cry.

"I came out here to tell you 'bye' and-and..." he can't finish speaking, disgust on his face.

"Nikki was telling you 'bye', too." Vince laughs out and I glare at him.

"I'm sorry we fool around, T-bone, jeez." Nikki chuckles.

"'Fooling around' is a blowjob. This," he grabs his own throat and pulls his own hair. "Is something I don't want to see Viv in."

"She's the one who's into it." Nikki argues and my eyes bug as I feel even more embarrassed.

"Nikki, what the hell?!" I ask him as Tommy looks even more worried.

"Aww, man, this is great." Vince sighs out, grinning.

"Viv, I love you, I'll see you in a few days." Tommy let's out, avoiding eye contact with me.

I don't want to face him at the moment either.

"Love you, Tommy, bye." I reply as he heads to their car that just pulled up.

I grab the tape from the ground and my panties, and Nikki takes the skimpy undergarment from my hand and puts it in his jacket pocket.

I just look at him.

"What?" He asks. "It's a token of your affection to remind me of you when I miss you on those cold, lonely nights."

"You'll be gone less than a week, Nikki."

"You want me to think of you or not?" He points out and I can't hide my smile, chuckling at his bullshit.

His eyes shift to the tape in my hand, and his face falls for a second as if he regrets giving it to me.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, um...just...don't take lyrics too seriously." He tells me and I raise my brows.

"What?"

The car honks the horn and he looks at them as Tommy's standing out of the sunroof.

"Dude, c'mon, we're gonna miss the flight!" He tells Nikki.

Nikki turns back to me, giving me a little smile, kissing me sweetly.

"I'll call you when we get to the hotel." He assures me, kissing me again.

"Okay, be careful." I say.

"I'm sorry, Viv, alright?" He says next, and I think he's apologizing for the "Wild Side" ordeal and buying a new car we could barely afford.

I'm about to say "I am, too" but he cuts me off, kissing me yet again.

"See ya, Sixx." He whispers, smirking to me.

"See ya, Sixx." I reply in the same tone.

With one last kiss, he's telling Vince 'bye' and making his way to the car.

I rub my lips together, noticing Vince has this amused look on his face as I step to my car.

"What, Vince?" I ask.

"Nothing. Enjoy the song." He tells me before walking to his bike.

I go home, clean myself up, change and head to the Franklin Plaza where Duff, Axl, Izzy, Slash and Steven are staying currently.

The second Steven opens the door, I'm waving the tape.

"He doesn't hate me!" I exclaim, handing the tape to Axl--who bet $50 that Nikki and I would divorce this year--as he's smoking his cigarette.

"'You're All I Need'." He reads the title, looking at Duff and Izzy who're on one of the suits' couches. "What, is it an ode to heroin?" He asks and I cut my eyes at him.

"Seriously, man?" Slash questions him, unamused.

"No, Axl, it's not." I state.

"Well, let's listen to it." Stevie excitedly says.

Soon enough we have it playing, hearing a beautiful piano ballad backed with Mick's guitar, Nikki's bass and Tommy's drums.

"The blade of my knife

Faced away from your heart

Those last few nights

It turned and sliced you apart

This love that I tell

Now feels lonely as hell

From this padded prison cell"

The lyrics of the first verse sound as with each passing second, everyone's looking more and more confused, glancing at each other while I try to make sense of whatever metaphor he's using.

"So many times I said

You'd only be mine

I gave my blood and my tears

And loved you cyanide

When you took my lips

I took your breath

Sometimes love's better off dead"

He can't be saying what it sounds like he's saying.

"You're all I need make you only mine

I love you so I set you free

I had to take your life

You're all I need, you're all I need

And I loved you but you didn't love me."

"Umm...Viv...I don't think this is about how much he loves you." Izzy speaks out.

"Laid out cold

Now we're both alone

But killing you helped me keep you home."

"I-Is he singing about killing me?!" I ask, nearly at a loss for words.

"I guess it was bad

Cause love can be sad

But we finally make the news."

"This bastard is singing about killing me!"

"Dude, didn't he actually try to kill you?" Steven asks me and I raise my brows.

"Tied up smiling

I thought you were happy

Never opened you--"

Duff stops the tape, snatching it from the player before tossing it on the floor and stomping it to pieces with his cowboy boot.

There's a long, long silence between all of us, and I force myself not to cry in front of all of them.

"I guess that fifty bucks is still on the table, then?" Axl shatters the silence.

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #mötley crüe #gateway drug

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 4 years ago

Text

Shades of Your Soul

April 27th, 2021

Prompt - Write about a world where people have different soulmates for different kinds of love.

Characters - Lela, Butchy, Mack, Mick, Miles, and Tanner

Notes - This is Lela-centric, but I like writing her and I adore the idea of this, honestly, so I figured why not try combining the two. I might do this as a mini-series since I really enjoyed working on this yesterday. I hope you enjoy it!

Each italicized word at the beginning of a segment *like this* is a Greek word for a different kind of love. Their definitions are next to them so you don't have to look them up yourself.

Storge - Strongest Familial Love

Most, if not all, kids Lela’s age had at least one colored name on their wrist. For most, it was the simplest, easiest color in the rainbow to get - green. Green was the color of familial love, usually a color you’d get from your parents or siblings. Lela remembered being loved by her mom and dad but the five-year-old still had no name on the inside of her wrist. Once she started school, her curiosity on the topic grew stronger; she was the only child in her year, with both parents in the picture, without a name where the green stripe should be. One evening after school, she had talked to her parents about it, wondering why on earth she could feel the love from her parents, but still had nothing to show from it. Their explanation was simple enough - it just meant that someone loved her even more than they did.

For the nearly six-year-old little girl, it was hard to understand. Her mommy and daddy loved her more than anybody ever could. She loved them loads and couldn’t think of anybody else that could possibly give her more love. Then, one day, while Lela was on her way to her older brother’s side of the elementary school, she was pulled aside by a group of kids from her class. She had been teased by them before about her colorless arm, but she tried her best to not let it affect her. Her big brother had always told her that she was special and, of course, she never had a reason not to believe him. After all, he had only just gotten his green stripe the year before when their mommy was in the hospital and their Uncle Antonio took them to stay with him and his family for a few weeks.

Try as she might, Lela couldn’t contain her tears as one of the boys said, “Look, nobody loves her, not even her momma!”

The boy’s words cut deep. Even though Lela knew her mom and dad loved her more than anything and told the boy as much, nothing seemed to be enough to stop them from their cruelty. The burning in Lela’s pale blue eyes was hard to ignore as the group continued to tease her for something she couldn’t control, so she wrenched them shut and pushed her palms over her ears, hoping to block out their incessant remarks. Then, almost out of nowhere, a slightly deeper, louder voice cut through the kindergarten group’s comments, making them quiet down almost instantly.

“Leave my sister alone!” the voice commanded. Lela quickly looked up, seeing her older brother running toward them from the fourth-grade wing of the school with a look of pure rage on his face. The group of five and six-year-olds quickly scurried off, their backpacks thumping heavily against their backs as they rushed toward the kindergarten pick-up area, leaving the angry nine-year-old and his baby sister in the hallway alone.

Her brother sighed quietly and knelt next to Lela, pulling her into a hug. “Are you okay, sissy?” he asked softly, pushing some of Lela’s hair out of her face and pushing her headband back into place.

Lela shook her head and buried her face in the crook of her brother’s neck, squeezing her arms around him as far as she could reach. “I was scared,” she mumbled softly into his hoodie.

“I know,” the nine-year-old whispered back as he pulled Lela to her feet. “Sorry I didn’t get here faster.”

“It’s ok,” Lela said, smiling weakly up at her brother. Her brother didn’t need to worry about her so much - she was a big girl, after all. “You’re here now.”

The shaggy-haired nine-year-old grinned back at the younger girl, placing a hand on her head and ruffling her hair as he stood again, taking the little girl’s hand in his own as he led Lela into the fourth-grade hall. “Yeah, and I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

It wasn’t until they were sitting on the bus ride home, playing Go Fish with the deck of cards her brother always brought to keep her busy on long rides, that the nine-year-old pointed out something on Lela’s left wrist. Three words in brilliant green; a name Lela knew all too well, written in an, obviously amateur-ish, cursive font that Lela had only seen a few times on her brother’s homework.

Biagio Maccio Bandoni

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Mania - Obsessive, Fixed Adoration

Lela’s next color came when she was eleven. Her older brother had taken her to the Gator Bowl to see his new favorite singer, a man named Elvis Presley. Butchy had heard some of the man’s songs from some guys at school and just had to see him live. The only condition their parents had, was that he took Lela. Of course, the pair had no problem with that, Butchy loved his little sister and Lela loved him.

The event took place outdoors, something Lela was grateful for, and they were able to sneak in toward the back of the crowd without gaining much attention from the security guards. Once they found a place to stand, Lela was hoisted up on her brother’s shoulders so she could see better. Butchy had grown much taller over the last six years, standing at just a hair under six feet tall. The tall boy was fairly strong as well, having joined the football team at the first chance he got and working tirelessly on any vehicle he could get his hands on for as long as Lela could remember.

From her seat on her brother’s shoulders, Lela had a nearly perfect view of the stage. The show began with some band Lela had never heard of but still enjoyed. After almost an hour of that band being on stage, she felt her brother tap her calf, gaining her attention. She looked down and locked eyes with her brother, but he only smiled brilliantly up at her and pointed toward the side of the stage. Lela couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary as the band on stage continued to play, but then, as she squinted to see better, she locked eyes with a man. He was tall, maybe as tall as Butchy, hair was slicked to perfection with a single lock dangling over his forehead, and his eyes… oh, those eyes.

Lela could drown in them.

Lela beamed as the man smiled at her, releasing her grip on one of Butchy’s hands to give him a little wave. Not long after, the man Lela had locked eyes with had taken the stage, much to the excitement of the crowd. As soon as Lela heard Butchy holler excitedly with the people around them, she joined in, cupping her hands around her mouth and screeching happily. After the audience quieted, the man smiled and took his place in front of the microphone with his guitar, singing a song Lela had heard her brother singing softly while doing his homework - Heartbreak Hotel.

The man must have been Elvis himself! Lela could now see why her brother loved his music so much. His voice was magical! The man danced as he sang and played his song, making all the women toward the front of the audience scream excitedly. Elvis performed longer than the previous band had - not that Lela was complaining in the slightest - but when his show came to an end, Butchy lowered Lela to the ground and the pair took their leave, sneaking out the same way they’d gotten in.

As the pair made their way home, they sang some of the songs Elvis had performed at the concert. When they neared their house, Lela asked Butchy if she could borrow one of his albums so she could hear more of Elvis Presley’s music. Butchy, delighted with the fact that his baby sister was so interested in his favorite singer, readily agreed, offering to bring her some in the morning so they wouldn’t get in trouble for blasting music late at night.

Lela didn’t notice the orange writing on her arm. The first person to take notice of the bright orange was the man who’d incidentally caused the orange handwriting to appear, her older brother. On Lela’s wrist, about two inches above the green scrawl of her brother’s name was a hastily written, sort of shaky signature as though the person was simply signing something for a fan.

Elvis Aaron Presley

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Philia - Platonic, Trusting, Soulful Connection

When Lela is barely fifteen, she receives a third color: yellow. For once, she had noticed the writing before anybody else and she couldn’t have been happier with the name she’d received. How it was even possible, she wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to complain in the slightest.

Lela had been hanging out at Big Momma’s with her brother and their friends when she first saw this person. The two of them had instantly hit it off when they were introduced and, when she invited her to one of the biker girl sleepovers, she stood out like a sore thumb. The older girl was very different, asking things that Lela and her friends had never asked before. She had even suggested that they ask boys out instead of the other way around! The taller girl was unlike anything Lela had ever encountered before. Lela liked that.

The next day, Lela invited Mack to her home for the night, just wanting to spend time getting to know the new girl in town. That night, they danced around Lela’s room to Elvis, painted each other’s nails, and told each other things that they had never and would never tell anybody else. In a matter of days, Lela had formed a tightly woven bond with the girl, trusting the girl with her deepest secrets and vice versa. She couldn’t wait to see how their friendship would blossom over time and it seemed as though her new friend felt the same way.

That night, whilst Lela was helping roll the girl’s hair into curlers, Lela noticed a bright, daffodil yellow on her wrist. Lela nearly started jumping for joy; this girl that she’d known for barely two days, was her platonic soulmate. She had to be, the girl was the only other person around. She would be the one to be there for Lela no matter what happened in their lives and they’d spend every day with each other if Lela had anything to say about it. Lela hadn’t noticed the look of confusion on the other girl’s face at the time, but it didn’t matter as her expression changed quickly when Lela had wrapped her in a tight hug.

Then, the very next day, Lela had to say goodbye to the girl she had already mentally made millions of plans with. She hated goodbyes, but according to the girl and her blonde companion, it needed to happen. So, Lela gave her a parting gift, a necklace with a Hawaiian flower hanging from its pearls. With a hug and some shed tears, the girl and her friend disappeared under the waves of the ocean. Lela didn’t even notice that the girl’s wrist only had red, green, and blue signatures.

The girl’s name, according to the signature on Lela’s arm. was McKenzie Fox, but Lela knew her as Mack.

As time went by, Mack’s name on Lela’s arm faded from a bright daffodil to a pale, buttery shade of yellow.

What felt like only two years passed before Lela’s yellow signature began to turn a slightly brighter shade once more, but Lela paid it no mind. She later found out that her platonic soulmate had grown older and had a child, a young girl with a nickname only one letter off from her mother’s. Lela grew closer to the young girl, finding out that Mack had married her companion, Brady, and, later, gave birth to the now fifteen-year-old girl. She had missed growing up with her best friend, watching her get married and have kids.

Of course, Lela was disappointed, but she had no choice in the matter now. Everything that had happened with Mack, had happened without Lela. Surely, if Mack made it this far, she didn’t need Lela in her life. Instead of dwelling on what could have been, Lela took it upon herself to be there for Mack’s daughter, no matter how long or short Lela would be with her. As time went by, Lela did get the opportunity to see Mack again. Their reunion was peaceful, much needed, and Mack caught Lela up on the events of her life for hours. Lela wasn’t sure what hurt more - the lengthy life stories that Lela couldn’t share, or the fact that the girl she was supposed to stick by through everything, now had a child the same age as Lela herself.

The more time Lela spent with Mack’s daughter, the closer they got. She started to grow with the girl, celebrating birthdays and, eventually, the girl’s engagement to Lela’s older brother, Butchy. It wasn’t until Lela was sat across from the girl, chatting over some milkshakes, that she noticed her signature on the inside of the girl’s wrist in a brilliant, golden yellow. Lela quickly asked the girl if she had noticed it herself, to which the young woman answered that she’d had it for as long as she could remember and asked Lela, in return, how she never noticed the signature on her own arm. Lela quickly moved the bracelets on her wrist to see for herself and, sure enough, there, in a beaming, golden yellow, was her platonic soulmate’s name.

Makana Kaya Birch

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Pragma - Loyal, Dedicated, Protective Love

Lela’s fourth color came sometime after Mack had left and before Makana - or Mick, as Lela always called her - had arrived. It started when her brother had brought home a boy he’d met at Big Momma’s. Butchy said something about the boy being eighteen and that he’d just moved to town, but Lela was just happy to make a new friend. The boy was taller than Lela - which wasn’t exactly difficult in the first place - but many inches shorter than Butchy’s now six-foot-three height. He was timid at first and kept mostly to himself, but it quickly became obvious to Lela that the boy was very protective of those he was closest to.

One day, while she was playing with some friends on the beach, the older boy came and sat nearby, reading a book and occasionally watching the group play volleyball. Lela noticed, however, that whenever the ball would get anywhere near her, the older boy would put the book down, almost like he was ready to jump into action. He later told her that he just wanted to make sure he was there in case she got hurt or needed help.

Not long after Butchy had invited the guy into their home, he had taken to helping Lela and some of the other teenagers in town with their schoolwork. Lela had even noticed that he was slowly becoming her personal bodyguard. Every day, he would either walk her to school or offer her a ride, making sure she got there safely either way. Slowly, but surely, a couple of the other girls - and some of the boys, occasionally - would walk with them to school or Big Momma’s, either as a safety precaution or just to be with friends.

It wasn’t until something happened to Lela that the blue name on her wrist appeared.

It had been almost eight months since he had moved in with them, but it felt like only a few weeks to Lela. The boy had adjusted to life with them so quickly that time just seemed to fly by. Their everyday routine was so natural that she was worried when he didn’t bother to leave his room for breakfast. Upon poking her head into his room, Lela noticed that the older boy was sick and was too weak to get out from under the cover, let alone walk her to school. He had most likely caught something from one of the men at work but insisted that he could try getting a hold of Lugnut to give her a ride. Lela refused and said she’d be walking with Giggles, even though Giggles herself had told her over the phone the night before that she wouldn’t be there.

After giving him some medicine and calling his work for him, Lela had some breakfast and bid the older boy goodbye even though he was sleeping before making her way to school. Along the way, however, she ran into a group of bikers from a rival gang her brother had raced against a few times. Of course, Butchy’s Rodents didn’t care about winning or losing as, to them, the races were all in good fun, but that mindset didn’t seem to go both ways. The leader of the group - a girl Lela could never remember the name of, but recognized due to the girl’s long, pure white hair - approached Lela and asked her where her brother was.

“I don’t know,” Lela answered honestly. “Probably hanging out at the beach with the rest of our crew. I would start there if I were you.”

The group chuckled as though they knew something Lela didn’t, but Lela brushed them off, moving around the white-haired woman so she could continue her trek to school. She didn’t get far, however, as the woman gave a short whistle, commanding two of the men from her group to grab Lela and sit her on some rocks nearby.

“Oh, darling,” the woman began, smiling eerily down at Lela as the two men prevented her from moving. “We’re not done here.”

A few minutes of impromptu interrogation went by with Lela insisting she had no clue where her brother was, which was true. He had left before Lela had gotten out of the shower that morning and left her with nothing but a packed lunch and a note wishing her a good day. The white-haired woman, however, wasn’t taking Lela’s truthful ignorance for what it was and kept pestering the sixteen-year-old for information. At first, Lela felt she had no reason to fear the gang as they had never tried anything before, but that opinion changed when the woman - Lela was pretty sure the man on her left had called the woman Crystal, but she couldn’t be sure - got sick of Lela’s ‘tight-lipped attitude’ and gave another series of whistles, signaling the man on Lela’s right to press the cold blade of his pocket knife against Lela’s throat.

A million thoughts ran through the sixteen-year-old’s head as she tried to find a way out of the situation. Every time Lela tried to move or say something, the man’s grip would only get tighter on Lela’s hair and she would be reminded of the cold blade against her neck. The only thing that came to the forefront of her mind at that moment was the fact that she should’ve stayed home to take care of her sick housemate and friend. If she had, she’d be safe. If she had, none of this would’ve happened. If she had-

Lela’s thought process - and the group’s knifepoint interrogation - was quickly interrupted as a loud engine roared up the road toward them. One of the men alerted the woman - Lela was now sure her name was Crystal- about the motorcycle coming their way and Lela felt a surge of hope as the shiny, cherry red vehicle came closer to them. The man on Lela’s right quickly flipped his blade shut and tucked it into the sleeve of his leather jacket while the man on her left let go of her hair and resorted to gripping Lela’s shoulder hard enough that the girl was sure it would bruise. The red motorcycle revved loudly as the person driving pulled to the side of the road, just a few feet from them.

The rider of the bike quickly dismounted and hurried over to them, whipping off their helmet in the process and, when she saw who it was, Lela couldn’t contain her smile. The taller biker shoved his way to Lela, taking her by the hand and helping her off the ground. When the man that had been holding her arm began to protest, grasping Lela’s wrist and insisting that the motorcyclist had nothing to do with the situation, the biker reeled back and punched the man, knocking him to the ground.

“You took my little sister hostage,” the teenage biker stated angrily. “I have everything to do with this,” the boy growled down at the older gang member. He made his way back to the bike with Lela, making sure she was on the motorcycle comfortably before placing his helmet on her and securing it before swinging his leg over the motorcycle and pulling away from the curb.

The ride was silent, not that Lela would have heard him much over the wind, but when they arrived at their house, there was nothing Lela could do to shut him up. He repeatedly asked her if she was alright, checking her for bruises as he went, and the sixteen-year-old was sure that he nearly had a heart attack when he found a thin, yet long slice across her throat where the man had held his blade to her. When they finally made it inside, he made Lela sit down while he called Butchy’s work and informed him of what happened, asking the older boy what he should do to take care of her. Lela watched him patiently as he hung up the phone and approached her. He checked her over once more, giving her a small smile when she assured him that she was fine, just a little shaken up.

It was only when she reached up, over his shoulders to hug him, that she realized that she had delicately written, loopy handwriting on her wrist in a brilliant, cerulean blue. The first letter of each name was fairly bigger than the rest, but all three names were perfectly legible and Lela almost couldn’t believe that the clean, well-rehearsed writing belonged to the boy she now lived with. After all, she’d seen drop more plates and accidentally break things many times and the handwriting on her arm was so steady, she almost thought she’d read the wrong name. But, after asking the boy if that was his handwriting and getting another tight hug in return, she was glad to know that the boy she looked to as another brother, would protect her for as long as they lived.

Miles Andrew Murphy

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Agape - True, Unconditional Love

She was only a few months into being sixteen when she found her true love. Well, technically, she’d known him for years. He had defended her from bullies in kindergarten before Butchy’s name appeared on her arm. He was caring, friendly with everyone, and, occasionally, smart. Lela had seen him in the high school halls now and then, but never saw him in class. She was a Junior, after all - a year younger than his, soon-to-be-graduating Senior - and most of the combined classes their school had, were Freshman-Junior and Sophomore-Senior.

Most of the interactions Lela had with her soulmate had been at Big Momma’s. He was a surfer - he was “leader of the pack” if Lela were to ask any of his friends - and, if her biker friends were to find out she liked him in the slightest, there would be absolute pandemonium and Lela knew that. One day, however, she had the opportunity to spend one-on-one time with him and soulmark got to know him better. They talked for hours about the similarities and differences between their two groups, giving each other an inside opinion on the little feud between the groups.

He was unlike anybody she’d ever met before.

While they were talking about their families and how they felt about each other’s friend groups, Lela noticed a red mark on the boy’s arm and felt her heart sink. He had found his true love. Upon asking him what his soulmate was like, Lela found that it was her name on the inside of his left wrist. Before they had the opportunity to properly talk about the situation at hand, a group of surfers came and started chatting with the blonde boy. They talked for a while about everything from the tide to the fish Big Momma was cooking for the special of the night before Lela’s soulmate was whisked away. All the while, Lela hid under the edge of the pier that she and the boy had been sat on before the group of surfers had come over.

Once the group of surfers disappeared into Big Momma’s, Lela moved from her hiding spot and pulled herself back onto the pier, finding an old candy wrapper sticking out from between two of the wooden planks on the edge of the pier. Even though she was now soaked from having to hop in the ocean to hide from the surfers, she wasn’t about to let someone litter the ocean. Lela pulled the wrapper free to throw it away but found writing on the inside of the torn plastic and decided to read it before tossing it in the trash. Thick words, scrawled in what smelled like a permanent marker, was a note with her name at the beginning.

“Lela, there’s a big surfer shindig tomorrow night at 7. If I see you there, I’ll buy you that strawberry soda you were telling me about. I hope we can hang out again soon ☺ -your soulmate”

Needless to say, Lela kept the candy wrapper, reading over it again and again on her walk home.

The raven-haired girl had to walk home in her now sopping wet dress, but that was fine since everybody else was either at Big Momma’s or work, Butchy and Miles included. That just meant that nobody else would see her smiling at a candy wrapper on her walk home. Lela kept that wrapper from her soulmate well hidden, tucking it in the top drawer of her dresser alongside her diary. After all, she couldn’t let Butchy - or anybody else in the Rodent crew, for that matter - know her soulmate was a surfer.

A week went by and then another. With every shindig, Lela and Tanner were able to sneak off and spend time getting closer to each other and getting to know more about the other person. However, Lela’s little secret couldn’t last forever and, after three weeks, it came to a head. One Friday night, when Lela was getting herself ready to make an appearance at yet another shindig, she was called down to the living room by Butchy and Miles. When she got there, Miles looked up to her from his spot on the couch with an apologetic stare while Butchy merely sat with his elbows on his knees, staring ahead, looking deep in thought.

“What’s going on?” she asked softly, mindlessly playing with the ribbon bracelet she had chosen to hide her red soulmark from her friends and family. When neither boy responded, Lela addressed Miles directly, “Miles, what’s wrong?”

Miles rose from the couch, taking Lela’s hand in his as she stood in front of him. “I’m sorry,” the taller boy whispered to her, looking distraught as he swiftly untied the golden ribbon from around her wrist and kept it grasped in his fist.

Lela watched him owlishly, wondering how he had found out about the mark she had gone through great lengths to hide. When Butchy rose from his seat, Lela had, for the first time in her life, felt the instinct to hide from him. He looked upset and Lela hated it when he looked like that, especially toward her. By the time the now twenty-year-old was in front of her, Lela felt like shrinking into herself. Butchy gently took Lela’s hand from Miles as the nineteen-year-old took a step back from the siblings and wrapped his arms around himself. The oldest biker looked down at Lela’s wrist, reading the red name before meeting his little sister’s eyes again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked gently. Lela shook her head, staring down at the floor as wave after wave of guilt hit her. She could feel tears burning her eyes and wanted to keep them to herself, but Lela knew she could only hold them in for so long. “We could’ve talked about it. Did I do something to make you think I would be mad about this? Tell me how I can fix this.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Lela started with a firm shake of her head, pulling her gaze from the carpet to meet her brother’s gaze once again. “It’s just… It’s just that you guys fight with the surfers all the time and I didn’t want him to get hurt. He’s my soulmate and I love him.”

“Oh, sissy,” Butchy sighed as he wiped the tears from his sister’s face, pulling the girl into a hug. “If I had known Tanner was your soulmate, I would’ve done everything in my power to end the rivalry with them. You can’t control who your soulmates are, baby, we all know that.”

Once Lela had calmed down a bit, she joined Miles and Butchy on the couch, sitting between the two, older bikers. “How did you even find out?” she asked softly, leaning her head against Butchy’s shoulder.

“Miles saw it when you were helping him make dinner last night,” Butchy answered, glancing over Lela’s head to the nineteen-year-old who had wedged himself as close to the opposite armrest as humanly possible. “Said he didn’t want to tell me because he thought I might be mad and take it out on you.”

Lela moved away from her brother so she could look at her adoptive brother figure. “He’s never hurt me before, Miles.”

“I know,” Miles murmured, his icy blue eyes meeting Lela’s, “but I’ve seen families turn on each other because of soulmates - or lack thereof. I… I didn’t want you two to hate each other because of something you can’t control.”

Lela wrapped an arm around Miles’ waist, squeezing him tightly. She knew from the little that Miles had told her, that he had come from a broken-soul home - his mother had passed away when he was only eleven and his father had become cruel to him not long after her passing. It was only natural that, after coming from such a rough home, Miles would be concerned for her and Butchy’s relationship and what Butchy’s reaction would be when he found out that Lela’s soulmate was a surfer - their biker crew’s rival.

After an hour or so of talking things over, Butchy and Miles brought Lela to Big Momma’s, where the sixteen-year-old told her soulmate what had happened. Later that evening, they took to the stage and announced to all of their friends that they were each other’s soulmates. Their announcement was surprisingly well-received by all in attendance and the couple was met with more than a handful of hugs from their friends. Most of the girls from both groups had crowded around Lela, fawning over the cherry red signature that now graced the raven-haired girl’s arm.

Trenton Louis Jackson

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Philautia - Self Love, Acceptance of Self

When Lela decided to visit Mack and Brady in their world for the first time, she’d had no idea what to expect. She found herself in a world where women had more things to do than sewing and handling the household chores. She felt empowered to do more - be more - with her life than just sit around and do whatever every other girl was doing. Lela tried to change things when she returned home, make things better for her homeworld and the people she cared about.

Lela decided to start small, helping to bring the people who always stayed in the background to the front so they could be more present. She learned their names and communicated with them easily, listening to them sing on stage now and then and cheering when they were done. She easily befriended some of them, showing them that there was more to life than being stuck in the background of someone else’s story. It was small, but the change was significant.

Then, Lela helped her friends, showing the girls that there was more to life than looking pretty or sitting at home while the boys took charge of everything. The boys were a little harder to get through to - Lela didn’t outright say that they were thick-headed, but she was tempted to on more than one occasion. With some time and effort, she was able to get them to realize that they were in control of their fates and that their futures were up to them and them alone. A few of her friends decided to break the mold, hanging out with people from the opposite clique, spending time getting to know each other and the world around them. Slowly, but surely, some of the bikers and surfers began to see what was possible if they allowed themselves to be free from “the script” of their world and be who they were meant to be.

The hardest people to convince were those closest to her. For a reason that Lela couldn’t understand, Tanner, Miles, and Butchy had come to her with their concerns over all the changes she was making to their world, their friends, and - the most concerning factor to the three men - herself. Lela listened to what they had to say and had an answer for every question they fired her way. Their concerns wouldn’t sway her from becoming the woman Mack’s world had shown her she could be. After a long time - three months, to be exact - Lela had worn them down and they began to play with the idea of becoming a new person.

Lela had already changed significantly by that point and it was pretty obvious. She had traded in her baby pink biker get-up for a black and white jumper and a magenta-colored, studded jacket. Her red and white, polka dot dress was lurking in her closet somewhere, having been unused for nearly ten months at that point. The only thing she kept from her old style was a ring she refused to take off. It had been a gift that Mack had commissioned someone to make; the flower on it was an exact copy of the one Lela had given the brunette on a necklace.

Even though Lela’s intentions were purely for the betterment of herself and those around her, her changes to the world began to change more than the raven-haired girl ever bargained for. Some of the people that used to lurk in the backgrounds had either taken off or tried taking roles from Lela’s “main character” friends. Tanner began spending more time with his friends and only really spent time with Lela when it was right for her “script” for him to be there. Butchy and Miles had gotten jobs at car garages, doing repairs, and were only ever around when it was convenient for “the plot”. Lela slowly began to realize the changes to her friends and, at first, it didn’t bother her much. They were free to do what they liked, who was she to try controlling them? Lela only became more concerned when she noticed the colored markings on her arm began to fade, getting paler and paler until they were almost the same color as her natural skin tone. Her little “movie world” was changing so much that her soulmate marks were beginning to change as well.

It took Lela almost a month to decide to change things back to the way they were as she was so attached to the way things were, but, when she finally did, she knew Butchy, Tanner, and Miles would have her back. She talked it over with them and their friends, telling them that none of this was what she wanted, she only wanted everybody to be happy. Many of her friends, surfers and bikers alike, told her that they were happy as long as they were all together. A few hours of talking went by before they decided to try going back to the way things were, no matter how long it took.

So, they started slow, returning to Big Momma’s for parties and dates and dancing. They spent more time with their respective groups, integrating their friends from the background so they wouldn’t feel left out again. One day, nearly a month into this endeavor, as she was preparing to end the whole song and dance as Lela, Queen of the Beach, the raven-haired teenager tossed a ring with a flower on it into the ocean, hoping it would make it to Mack’s world and remind Mack of her. Mack was the only person outside of Lela’s world and the ring was the only thing of Mack’s that Lela had; it was her only chance. Then, she went back home, put on her old, pink biker outfit, and made her way down to Big Momma’s to start all over again, as Lela - sister of the lead biker, Butchy, romantic interest of the lead surfer boy, Tanner, and little sister figure of the protective biker, Miles.

A week went by without a hitch. Everybody seemed happy going to shindigs, playing “rivals” with each other, and just spending time with each other again. Now and then, Lela or Tanner would sing a song on stage that everybody in Big Momma’s knew was from Mack and Brady’s world, but nobody said a word. Everything was the way it should have always been.

One night, Lela walked home from a shindig with Butchy and Miles by her side. They walked and talked about the party and how glad they were that they were back to the way things were supposed to be. Lela had to admit, she had missed everything about their world. The fighting, the friendships, the bad guys, the teamwork, the dancing, the bonding of two rivaling groups… she’d missed it all. After giving it some thought that night, she found herself sitting in front of her vanity mirror, staring herself in the eye. Perhaps what she’d missed most was herself.

Although she still felt empowered to be a better version of herself and wanted to empower those around her to be a better version of themselves, she knew that the people around her could do so at their own pace and in their own time, if they wanted to. Lela took great comfort in the fact that everyone she loved was safe and happy. She was safe and happy. She had tried so hard to fix things and make them “her own” that she’d forgotten what made her, her. She’d tried so hard to become someone else and make herself “better” that she’d abandoned who she was entirely. The only way she would be able to grow would be if she learned from where she was now and spent time working on herself. But, as she thought about it, Lela acknowledged that she didn’t have much of a desire to change herself anymore. She was happy with herself the way she was. It made no sense to change anything about herself now.

With a deep sigh, Lela picked up her hairbrush and began stroking it through her freshly washed hair. She could hear Butchy and Miles downstairs, laughing at something or another. Last she knew, they were watching a movie - some Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn film, if Lela recalled correctly - and talking about something stupid that Lugnut had done to try to impress Struts. Lela smiled as she listened to the boys howl with laughter downstairs; their happiness was very contagious, Lela had to admit.

She continued to brush through her hair, humming to herself and occasionally giggling as the boys downstairs sang their own rendition of “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” at the top of their lungs. ‘Gosh, our neighbors must hate us,’ she thought to herself as a loud crash boomed from downstairs followed by Miles laughing hysterically. Butchy must’ve tripped, fallen, or just done something stupid. Lela grabbed a curler from her vanity and wrapped her hair around it until she reached her scalp, securing the curler with a clip. Checking her hair in the mirror, Lela paused, glancing at her right wrist in confusion. She was used to seeing things on her left wrist as that was where her soulmarks were, but her right wrist was usually barren, bar from the occasional bracelet, of course.

She lowered her arms slowly, keeping her gaze firmly locked onto the pink on her arm. Maybe she’d gotten some marker ink on it from when she was coloring with Seacat’s little sister earlier in the day? Yeah… Yeah, that would explain it. Lela quickly rubbed at the mark before checking it again, finding it was still there. Upon closer inspection, however, she found that it wasn’t anything from a marker at all. There was no way she could’ve gotten her own signature on her right arm, after all - she was right-handed and her left hand had the writing ability of a two-year-old with a coloring book. On her inner wrist was a sweet signature in bright, almost neon, pink lettering with little hearts above the I’s and swirls forming each big letter.

It had taken her nearly seventeen years. Lela had loved everybody around her for nearly seventeen years. She showed her love and admiration for everyone she came into contact with in many ways. Her love for those around her knew no bounds, but love for herself had taken the longest time for Lela to give. It took almost losing those she loved most for her to realize that she needed to love herself in order to love those around her more. It took her nearly seventeen years, but those around her told her that it was about time.

She had learned to love herself, just the way she was.

Lela Caprice Bandoni

#ForeverAlwaysPrompts #writing #writing prompt

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softlyoongi · 5 years ago

Text

all i want (is you)

Summary: “So do your work while I take care of you,” Jimin purred like it was the easiest answer in the entire world. Like he was slowly spelling it out and Yoongi was too distracted to understand what was going on. Which was the truth, honestly.

Then, to make matters one hundred times worse, he grinded down on Yoongi’s cock like his life depended on it.

Pairing: yoonmin Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: coming untouched, porn without plot, slight degradation, teasing, overstimulation A/N: I don't know where this came from! I just wanted to write a fic about cock warming and this came out. I hope you guys enjoy it! My Twitter Account

Read it on AO3 Read it on Wattpad

Yoongi didn’t notice Jimin was in his studio until he was literally dropping down onto his lap.

His eyes burned from staring at the monitor for too long, his fingers were beginning to cramp after hours of gripping the mouse, and his jaw was aching from clenching it in concentration. How long had it been? Nine, ten hours, maybe? He’d gotten there at around noon, and it was already close to ten at night, the daylight bleeding into darkness and his mind running blank except for the track he was working on.

He had a deadline, one that happened to be fast approaching in two days. He’d procrastinated until last minute, so it was technically his fault, but inspiration hadn’t hit, and Yoongi hated trying to force creativity. Every time he tried, he ended up hating what he made, and he couldn’t do that for this track. No, not for this album, not after Bangtan’s popularity had risen considerably since the last album. He had to make it good, one of the best songs he’d ever produced.

He was so into the music, adjusting the sound of the bass through the speakers, when something hard and heavy dropped into his lap. And if that wasn’t worse enough, suddenly his headphones were being removed from his head, placed onto the desk in front of him.

Once his eyes adjusted and his mind was able to focus on something that wasn’t music, he blinked and made eye contact with the man who’d plopped himself into his lap like a sack of potatoes.

“Jimin-ah?” Yoongi mumbled, voice scratchy from misuse. He cleared his throat, reached across Jimin’s body to grab his water bottle and took a long sip. “What are you doing?”

Jimin pouted, his lips tinged pink and shiny like he’d just applied lip balm. His eyes were droopy and there was smudged eyeliner under his eyes. His blond hair was damp, like he’d just gotten out of the shower and had forgotten to clean off his makeup. “You’ve been gone for so long,” he whined. “Am I not allowed to check in on you?”

He clenched his fingers in Yoongi’s shirt, his thumbs brushing against Yoongi’s collarbones. Goosebumps rose on his arms at the soft, warm touch of Jimin’s tiny hands.

“You’re allowed to,” Yoongi replied, leaning his head back against the headrest of his chair. He closed his eyes, trying to lessen the feeling of his eyes wanting to roll out of his head. “You know I like when you come visit me. I’m just busy with the deadline, is all.”

“Stressed?”

Yoongi hummed in agreement, nearly purring when Jimin started to run his fingers through his hair. Jimin knew how much he loved that, how it made his bones turn to putty and his mind go blissfully blank. He reached out and grasped onto Jimin’s hips, sighing gratefully.

“I can help, hyung. Let me help.” His voice was a low whisper, his fingers rubbing circles into Yoongi’s skin. When Yoongi opened his eyes, he saw the dark expression on his face, the way he looked like he wanted to devour him whole.

It made something in Yoongi’s heart stutter, even though this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Jimin had a horrible habit of coming to Yoongi’s studio when he was taking too long, trying to make Yoongi less stressed by touching him and making him feel good.

Most of the time, it worked. But-

“I have to work, Jiminie,” Yoongi sighed, squeezing Jimin’s hips in a comforting way. “I have a deadline and I’m not close to being done yet.”

Jimin hummed. He trailed his fingers down Yoongi’s chest to his stomach until he reached the hem of his shirt. His fingertips slid under the material, softly touching his skin, and the caress burned like it was igniting something deep inside Yoongi. “When has that ever stopped you before, hyung?” Jimin asked sweetly.

He leaned closer until his nose was brushing against Yoongi’s. Yoongi could feel his breath fanning across his face, the way his eyes were sparkling with lust and mischief. This was probably his favorite Jimin, the Jimin that only he got to see behind the scenes. The Jimin with smudged eyeliner and damp hair and glossy lips that were ready to take Yoongi apart in any way he possibly could.

“Jiminie-“ Yoongi whispered out, strangled, but he couldn’t say anything else.

When Jimin pressed their lips together, he gasped like he was taking his first breath of air. He tasted sweet, like strawberry lip balm and summer nights, like he’d walked all the way the way to the company building. He kissed like they’d been doing it for years, like he couldn’t think of anything else to be doing right then. And it was true, how they had been doing it for years, yet somehow he still wasn’t tired of kissing Yoongi.

His lips were so soft, his tongue licking into Yoongi’s mouth. He knew exactly what he wanted, how he wanted it, and Yoongi had always been a weak man. He let Jimin explore his mouth, tilting his head to better the angle, and succumbed to the feeling of Jimin’s body tight against his.

Jimin was straddling him, his thick thighs on either side of Yoongi’s, his hands running through Yoongi’s hair. He broke away to press kisses down Yoongi’s neck, nosing at his jawline. “So pretty, hyung,” Jimin whispered into his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

“The deadline,” Yoongi gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. He tried to think against the fog in his brain, but all he could feel and think was Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.

“So do your work while I take care of you,” Jimin purred like it was the easiest answer in the entire world. Like he was slowly spelling it out and Yoongi was too distracted to understand what was going on. Which was the truth, honestly.

Then, to make matters one hundred times worse, he grinded down on Yoongi’s cock like his life depended on it.

A spark shot through Yoongi’s spine, electrifying his entire body, and he gasped, burying his face into Jimin’s neck. “Jiminie,” Yoongi rasped out, gripping Jimin’s hips so hard that he was sure it would leave red marks later. With each movement of Jimin’s clothed cock against his, he could feel himself chubbing up, his cheeks burning with the sudden influx of arousal. It surely didn’t help his case when Jimin leaned forward and bit him - hard - on the shoulder.

And then, Jimin’s weight was gone from his lap. Yoongi blinked up at him, his mind trying to catch up with him once again.

Jimin smirked at him, his hair a drying mess and his lips shiny with spit. There was lip gloss smeared around his mouth from kissing and an obvious tent in his gray joggers. However, that didn’t matter when he pulled his pants down, revealing his pretty cock, flushed red and eager. “Well? Let me sit down, hyung.” It was a thinly veiled demand, one that Yoongi complied to easily.

He stood on shaky legs, collapsing back down only when Jimin sat down. He was splayed in Jimin’s lap, his back to Jimin’s chest and his legs spread wide. His dongsaeng took advantage of that position, snaking his hand down until he was cupping Yoongi through his sweatpants. He nibbled on Yoongi’s ear, his breath hot enough to leave goosebumps all over Yoongi’s skin.

“Pay attention to your work,” Jimin teased him, slowly sliding Yoongi’s waistband and underwear down until they were pooled at his knees, hard cock laying across his stomach, “you have a deadline, remember?” But then he was wrapping his hand around Yoongi’s cock, stroking it to full hardness, and there was no way Yoongi could focus when Jimin was doing that.

He looked down, whining at the imagery of Jimin’s tiny fingers holding his cock. He could barely wrap his hand around it all the way, his fingers barely touching. It made Yoongi’s average sized cock look huge, all dripping wet with precome. To add to that, he could feel Jimin’s cock hard and heavy between his cheeks, rubbing against his hole.

Had Jimin just come here to torture him?

“Lean forward, hyung,” Jimin sang. Once again, Yoongi listened, arching his back as he presented his hole to Jimin. He moaned highly as Jimin’s dry cock caught on his rim, going unsteady for a moment. He caught himself on his keyboard, fingers pressing random letters and making his computer beep angrily at him. He didn’t care. He could barely hear anything other than the sound of Jimin popping the cap of a bottle.

A few seconds later, there was cold, lubed fingers pressing against his entrance and Yoongi shivered at the feeling. Slick with lube, Jimin could easily press two fingers inside of Yoongi with barely any resistance. He knew how much Yoongi could take, knew that he liked to be stuffed full until he was sobbing for it. His other hand pressed soothingly into his hip, keeping him steady, firm as though he was going to stop Yoongi from pressing down any further.

Yoongi breathed in deeply, trying to ground himself. He could feel the way Jimin started to scissor his fingers, stretching him out so he could fit a third finger. There was precome dripping down his length, dribbling onto Jimin’s legs, and it was possibly the hottest thing in the world to Yoongi at that moment. “Feel good?” Jimin murmured, leaning forward. The action made his fingers lodge deeper into Yoongi’s hole and he had to grip Yoongi’s thigh to stop him from writhing too much.

“So good,” Yoongi breathed, licking his lips as he tried to calm his heart.

Jimin took his time fingering him, making sure he was stretched enough. His fingers weren’t very long, which was frustrating because he couldn’t brush against Yoongi’s prostate - or more like he wouldn’t - but it made it all the more hot. Yoongi was wanting, waiting, and Jimin refused to give it to him until he was ready. Jimin knew just the way Yoongi liked to take it, just like Yoongi knew all of Jimin’s buttons to press when he was on the opposite side.

Yoongi breathed a sigh of relief when Jimin patted his butt and took his fingers out. “Up, up,” he ordered, adding on a tacky “hyung” when Yoongi didn’t immediately listen. Yoongi leaned forward even more, waiting patiently for Jimin to slick up his cock.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when Jimin lowered him down, his cock slippery with lube and catching on his rim. He ran the head over Yoongi’s hole a few times until Yoongi was whining desperately, chasing the feeling and trying to get him inside like he so desperately wanted.

Finally, finally, Jimin decided he had enough teasing. He steadied his cock with one hand and pushed Yoongi down with the other until his head was breathing Yoongi’s hole. It was a tight fit, always was, but Yoongi liked it and he knew Jimin did too by the way he groaned and leaned his forehead against his clothed back.

“Please, please,” Yoongi begged, feeling the way Jimin was filling him up. He could feel his cock pressing against his walls, slowly filling him until he was pressed entirely inside of him, clenching onto the feeling as though he could make him stay this way forever. He kept pushing in until Yoongi was sitting completely on his lap, butt pressed to his pelvis.

Jimin leaned forward, put his chin on his shoulder, and wrapped his arms around his waist. And he didn’t move.

“Wh- wha-?” Yoongi gasped, hole spasming around Jimin’s cock. “Move?”

Jimin hummed and shook his head. “You have work to do, hyung. I can’t be distracting you.”

“Please, Jiminie,” Yoongi nearly sobbed, trying to move his hips, do something to get Jimin to move. But his arms around his waist kept him in place, and his cock was throbbing inside of his hole. “Please move, I need it.”

“Aww, hyung,” Jimin cooed. “So cute when you beg. But you have a deadline remember? Get some work done and I’ll reward you.”

Yoongi cussed loudly, pressing his hands to his eyes to stop the tears that threatened to angrily roll down his cheeks. He could feel the weight of Jimin inside of him, teasing him. He was so close, completely sheathed inside of him, but he couldn’t do anything about it. His hole was clenching and unclenching, but that didn’t stimulate him enough to get him off. He could risk stroking his cock, but he knew Jimin would get mad at him for that.

Yoongi had no choice. He had to work with Jimin’s cock lodged deep inside of him.

He worked slowly, completely distracted. Jimin was so hard and probably leaking precome in his hole, and Yoongi could almost imagine it. He tried to focus on the music, even putting his headphones on to ignore the raspy little breaths Jimin made against his back, but it wasn’t working.

It was just, Yoongi was so full. His hole was completely stretched out, swallowing Jimin completely. He was greedy, wanted everything that Jimin could give him. Sometimes Jimin would adjust, move him slightly, make his cock nudge a little bit further inside, and it made Yoongi’s head go blank and his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks.

He was sure that Jimin was torturing him, trying to tease him. There was no way he had to adjust that much, especially when he gripped Yoongi’s hips and lifted him up slightly only to bring him back down. The minute movement made Jimin’s cock brush against his prostate, and Yoongi let out a broken moan, but didn’t stop working no matter how much he wanted to.

He actually got a good portion finished, fixed some of the back vocals so they didn’t sound as uncertain. He tweaked some of the beat, let the music grow and expand and become something beautiful. He was sure he would be able to pick it apart better later, but Jimin had started to press kisses onto the nape of his neck, effectively distracting him.

He removed the headphones. “I need it,” Yoongi whispered, pleading. He clenched down, hard, and loved the strangled noise that came from Jimin. He knew that Jimin must be as frustrated as he was, having been hard and wrapped in his head for nearly an hour. His cock must be turning purple by now from all the teasing.

Yoongi was sure that once they started, it would take them both like thirty seconds to orgasm.

“Work, Yoongi,” Jimin growled, biting his shoulder harshly, but then he bucked his hips, fucking into Yoongi’s hole so fast that it made his head spin and a high pitched squeal escape from his mouth. The lack of honorifics made Yoongi’s cock twitch. “You’re being so bad right now. Not working for the company, only caring about fucking and coming on my cock.” He thrusted in again, the feeling slightly dry from the dried lube since they’d started. “I wonder what the company would say if they knew you were whining for my cock instead of working on your song. Do you think they’d be happy? You’re so desperate, hyung.”

Yoongi sobbed out as Jimin abused his hole like that. The angle strained his legs as Jimin pushed him up and then slammed his hips back down, but it was so good, so amazing that his legs were shaking. His hole was dragging against Jimin’s cock, needing more lube, but even that felt amazing.

Jimin seemed to think the same, because he leaned over and grabbed the lube bottle from the desk. He brought the nozzle to Yoongi’s hole and squirted it directly inside of him. Yoongi whimpered at the feeling of the cold liquid inside of him, but he didn’t have time to think about it before Jimin fucked it back in with a wet noise that echoed around the room. It was dripping all over the place, all over Jimin’s thighs and the chair, but Yoongi couldn’t care less at that moment.

Yoongi’s head was spinning as Jimin thrusted in so hard, jabbing his prostate, that Yoongi yelped and choked on his own spit.

And then, Yoongi decided he was going to kill Jimin, murder him in cold blood. Because right then, he stopped. Pressed so hard into Yoongi’s hole that he thought he could feel it in his throat, and he stopped, dick throbbing, lube leaking everywhere, tip pressed against Yoongi’s prostate.

“Why!” Yoongi cried, slamming his hands down on the desk. “Why, why! Please don’t! I want!” He was throwing a tantrum, but he couldn’t care. He was tired and needy and desperate, like Jimin had said and he wanted to be fucked.

Jimin didn’t answer for a moment, just pressing Yoongi on his cock so hard that his knuckles were turning white over Yoongi’s hips. When he spoke, his voice was dark. “Come like this, hyung.”

The words were ridiculous, to the point where Yoongi could hardly process them. How did Jimin expect him to come like that? Sure, Jimin was pressing against his prostate, but he wasn’t doing anything. He was completely still, holding Yoongi down with all of his strength. It felt good, Yoongi was so full, but it wasn’t enough.

“I can’t, Jiminie,” Yoongi sobbed. “I can’t do that, I need more. Need to be fucked.”

“You can, hyung.” He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Yoongi felt tears leak down his face, tears of frustration at stopping. He tried to reach down and grasp his cock, but Jimin smacked his hand away, only making him cry harder. He clenched onto Jimin’s length - hard - and oh, that felt good. That felt really good when it was pressed against his prostate, nudging it and throbbing against it.

So he did it again, and again, and Yoongi’s cock twitched and his eyebrows were furrowed and Jimin was moaning softly in his ear, whispering how good Yoongi was, and how he could totally come just like that.

His orgasm hit him by surprise, nearly knocking him out. He whimpered, clenching down so hard that Jimin couldn’t move even if he wanted to. The noise in his throat stuttered and died out, the feeling so intense that it completely took over his body. He was only slightly aware of the cum shooting onto his stomach, some of it hitting his chin with how hard he came.

Before he could calm down completely, Jimin was lifting him up and fucking back in like his life depended on it. He was grunting and Yoongi was like a limp doll on top of him, his sensitive hole being used like a toy for Jimin’s cock.

It didn’t take long like that until Jimin was pulling out, his cock between Yoongi’s thighs as he jerked himself off. He moaned into Yoongi’s shoulder as cum shot out of his cock, warm as it landed on Yoongi’s length and making a mess out of both of them. Yoongi’s thighs were still twitching.

He grimaced when he felt Jimin’s cum dripping down his balls. “We need to clean up,” he muttered.

“Five more minutes,” Jimin sighed, groaning loudly and throwing his head against the back of the chair.

“Jimin, I can literally feel your cum dripping down my cock and it’s uncomfortable. Clean me up and take some responsibility for once.”

He could tell Jimin was pouting when he muttered, “rude”, and easily dislodged Yoongi from his lap. He rummaged through his backpack that was laying on the floor and threw him a towel that Yoongi was pretty sure he used as a sweat rag before.

Whatever. Yoongi used it to clean himself off and then passed it back to Jimin, standing with shaky legs as he tried to pull his pants back up.

“You’re so mean,” Yoongi told Jimin, glowering at him. “I was ready for that good fuck like an hour ago.”

Jimin shrugged and shot him a cheeky smile. “You could have safeworded if you wanted to. You don’t have to act shy with me, hyung. That was fun, wasn’t it?”

Yoongi grunted. “I think we have different ideas of ‘fun’,” he lied.

Jimin beamed at him and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “You love me though.”

“No,” Yoongi said. “I want to fight you.”

“No offense, but I don’t even think you can stand right now.” A look at Yoongi’s shaky legs. “I could take you down in an instant.”

“Hey, fuck you!” Yoongi squawked.

“I just did!” Jimin called back as he basically skipped out of the studio.

Yoongi grumbled at him under his breath, but he was smiling and completely boneless as he sat back down at his desk. Maybe now he would be able to focus on his song.

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