#not really edited but that should be expected of me at this point waaah

[ghost-proofbaby]

the cool down (e.m.)

request: from the lovely @mrsjellymunson: Please may I have a 🍋 (with 🍓 elements if there’s room) with Eddie Munson (friends-to-lovers, or established relationship, or your choice of other) in a super-hot, uncomfortable van on a really hot day (or day into evening), where he and reader have to come up with ever-more-daring/inventive ways to cool down/off, and maybe they end up next to, or in, Lover’s Lake?? I’m thinking cool cans of drink/beer, water sprays, fans, wet clothing…

a/n: okay this definitely took on a mind of its own and i just realized i did not have any water sprays or fans or wet clothing, but i did have eddie come up with a sort of unique way to cool us down <3 i hope you still enjoy this, kittie!! <3 <3 (also, if you squint, reader is alluded to having a chronic illness that causes extreme weather conditions to affect them. and i mean, you really have to squint. it's just very very vague since i got lost in the sauce of smut).

warnings: smut, oral f receiving, reader is afab, allusion to oral m receiving at the end, temperature play (ice). minors dni.

wc: 3.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

First, it had been to go driving around to get your minds off the heat. 

And it had worked. Eddie’s van was certainly not any cooler than the trailer had been, but something about riding around the town aimlessly with all the windows down did get your mind off the unbearable heatwave. Something about Eddie, singing along purposefully off-key to his favorite songs, his hand resting lightly on your thigh as you laughed at him, made it all a little less terrible. His genius plan had worked – for the first hour. 

Then, it had been to go to the gas station and get slushies. 

An even better plan than his original one, honestly. You’d gone from staring at his dash while the van stalled at a red light, desperately trying to focus on anything but that creeping sickness at the edges of your mind, when he’d brought it up. One moment, your stomach is dropping as you feel that familiar light-headedness. The next, your en-route for a cherry slushy, on your doting boyfriend’s dime. 

You win some, you lose some. 

The losing being the terrible affect the heat currently had on you now that you were laying out in the back of Eddie’s van now, parked at Lover’s Lake, the water doing nothing to cool the smothering breeze enveloping you two. 

“So, did you bring me all the way out here to kill me, or just stare at the lake all night?” you ask after taking another sip of the tart frozen treat currently cooling both your mouth and palms. It’s melting fast, the plastic cup holding it never standing a chance against your body heat mingling with the summer air. 

Eddie had insisted upon coming straight to the lake after the gas station. Urging you to walk back to the van faster as he’d held a cup in each hand; one blue raspberry slushy, and one mystery styrofoam cup he refused to admit just what it contained. 

As Eddie speaks, you can see his purple stained tongue, “Who says I’m gonna kill ya?” 

“All the movies,” you drawl, stretching your legs out in front of you, the soles of your sandals not even reaching the edge of the van. The thrown-open doors sway ever so slightly in the wind, “Why else would you bring me here, so far away from civilization?” 

“So no one could hear you.” 

You can’t help the laugh that immediately slips out. You nearly choke on your straw you’d lifted back up to your lips, side-eyeing him through a few wild coughs. 

“Excuse me?” 

He clearly hadn’t processed what he’d just said, because his eyes go wide as he attempts to backtrack, “Wait, wait, wait! No! I just- I didn’t mean-” he pauses and sighs, leaning his head back to wipe a frustrated palm over his face, “Oh my God, sweetheart, I’m not going to kill you. I didn’t mean it in a murderer way – I meant it in a horny way.” 

The horny comment nearly goes entirely over your head, “You’re not going to kill me? That’s something a murderer would say- wait, did you just say you meant it in a horny way?”

You both stare at each other for a short while, matching blown out pupils and chests rising in sync as you both suck in impossible bursts of parching oxygen only to blow them out in rapid successions. 

“I did,” he finally breathes out, timidly reaching behind him, revealing that styrofoam cup once more. 

Not even a drop of sweat on it yet. It’s holding up tremendously better than your slushies had. 

“What’s in the cup?”

You’re feeling bold, ignoring the pooling perspiration at the nape of your neck as you scoot yourself a bit closer, fighting a smile. 

“Well, I know the heat bothers you a lot…”

“Right.”

“And I was trying to think of ways to cool you down…”

“Of course.”

“But also just take your mind off of it, in general.”

“That all sounds great, Eddie,” you lean forward, slushy cup pressing into your kneecap as you reach forward for the mystery cup. Eddie is quick to fling his arm up, keeping it far out of your reach, “But what’s in that damn cup?”

Instead of answering right away, he grins slowly, wiggling his eyebrows comically until you roll your eyes at him. 

“Fine, keep your secr-”

“Lay back for me, baby.”

He purrs out the command, the sweet nickname a cherry on top. 

In a blink of an eye, your joking boyfriend has vanished, someone more confident and commanding in his place. A sight to see, really. There’s only a few times you’re awarded the sight: when Eddie is navigating you through crowded bars with a steady hand pressed to your lower back, when Eddie is hosting his weekly DnD nights that you’ve earned a lifetime invite to, when Eddie is on a stage and entirely within his element as his first sweetheart hangs from his shoulders.

And whenever he has you like this, already compliant and doe-eyed, a toying smile tugging at your lips as you follow through with his demands. 

It’s a welcome switch, a welcome presence. 

“Good girl,” he awards you softly, and you have to choke back a giggle. 

He was just a stuttering mess, defending himself like a clumsy fool. An adorable dork pulling at your heart strings. And now, he’s a vision of assuredness. Of determination. 

It’s hot. It’s great. It’s enough to get your mind off the dwindling summer heat that rises around the lake’s perimeter. 

“So,” he continues, popping the lid off the cup finally. There’s not a sign of liquid nearing the rim of the cup where you can see, and your face twists in a bit of confusion, “Here’s what’s going to happen – here I have a wonderfully not melted cup of ice,” he tilts it, and you can finally see the pebbled ice cubes. Suddenly, the entire situation has become significantly less funny, “And you’re clearly in need of a cool down. See where I’m going with this, sweetheart?” 

You do. But it’s more fun to play dumb. 

“I don’t think I do,” you sigh out, stretching so that your tank top rises and exposes your midriff, “Might need a demonstration.” 

It’s a vibrant green light for him – he’s quick to set the cup aside and focus all his efforts on undressing you. Hands that are still shaking – because it’s Eddie and his hands will always shake when it comes to you – and eager fingers tracing lines over your hips before he fiddles with the button of your jean shorts. Taking his time with each caress, murmuring words that strike flames within the pit of your stomach, a more welcome internal warmth than what the summer offers. 

He pauses once the shirt and shorts have been discarded, and you almost think for a moment, he might begin to pepper soft kisses across your exposed skin. 

He doesn’t. 

He grabs the styrofoam cup once more instead, keeping eye contact with you as he pulls an ice cube out. Before he formally places it between his lips, he pauses, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes as he instructs, “Think you can stay still for me, baby?” 

Funny how easy it is to turn to stone until someone requests it of you. 

The ice cube is slotted between his lips, pretty and pink as they wrap around the salvation that quickly starts to melt. A drip of water is already running down his chin by the time he’s leaning down over your body, not yet touching your spasming abdomen, just hovering as he watches the way your body fights against his instruction. 

No words are needed – even if he could speak with the ice in his mouth – as his eyes flick up to yours. Arson umber pupils that command you silently. 

Stay still, they whisper. And you try to – you really, really try to. 

The first drop of cold water hits your skin as it shakes from restraint, from stuttering breaths, from anticipation. He’s teasing you; he’s taking his time as he grows closer and closer to properly pressing the cube and his lips against you. You swear, for just a moment, this entire grand idea was doing the opposite of its purpose. Heat was radiating off of you in waves, with no plans of cooling down any time soon. 

And then his lips are on your skin. 

Sweet relief, chills racing down the spine, a sigh slipping past your lips as your back arches desperately. He’s pinpointed the exact center between your hips, just below your navel, with everything you’ve begun to crave. Lips losing their heat with every passing second and the tip of the cube trail around in a lazy circle as he keeps looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, corners of his mouth twitching with the temptation of a smile when your fingers tangle in the roots of his hair. You have half the mind to completely undo his already ruined bun – you have half the mind to guide him to exactly where you need him most. 

“Fuck,” you gasp out, voice barely a hiccup over the cicadas. It feels nice, it feels good. 

The stifle of the van’s air is all but forgotten as he just keeps trailing the ice along your skin, letting it slowly melt until there’s nothing left but the remnants of a chill on his tongue and lips. And he takes those frozen lips, quickly putting them to use as he lets them drag along a pathway to your left hip. No rush. You’ve both got all the time in the world as he presses a hard kiss to that hip, lips pursing and sucking a bit before he shifts to make his way to the right one instead. 

Teasing, taunting, relieving. 

By the time he’s made it to the other hip, the heat has begun to creep back up. 

“You look real pretty like this, you know?” he asks you, hand shooting out blindly to get another ice cube, “Just laying here for me, sighing all cutely and shit,” your fingers tighten in his hair, “Oh, do you like that, baby? Like me calling it how I see it?” 

It’s in his confident tone. The buzz shooting straight through your brain that drowns out the sounds of summer when he talks to you like this. Every syllable has you preening for more of his affection, his attention, his approval. 

You’re finally dizzy with want and need rather than summertime sickness. 

“You’re a fucking vision,” his breath is hot against you as he says it, waiting for just a moment before he lifts up and yanks his shirt off with boyish charm. When he settles back between your legs, he makes a point to lay the backs of your bare thighs against his naked shoulders, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin, “I would do anything for you. Fucking anything. Say the word, and it’s yours.” 

Right as he places another ice cube in his mouth, dropping cool fingertips that are wet with condensation to trail from the peak of your knee and down, you take him at his word.

You say the word. 

“Kiss me,” you beg.

“Where?”

Not a taunt. Just a clarification. The game is up, and you both know it.

“There.”

“We’re not teenagers,” he snorts, voice a bit garbled as he passes the ice from cheek to cheek, “Use your big girl words.” 

This time, your hand is his hair does remove the bun entirely, hairtie lost somewhere recklessly to be found later as thick curls wrap around your fist. “Jesus Christ, I want you to kiss me on my fucking pussy, Eddie. Is that what you want to hear? Quit teasing and-” 

“Your pussy?” he interrupts, eyes darkening ever so slightly, tsking slightly, “No, no. That won’t do. Because from what I can see, this pussy is mine, sweetheart. She’s purring for me right now, dripping like these damn ice cubes-”

“Then kiss me on your damn pussy.”

Another ice cube is slotted between his lips, one you hadn’t noticed him grabbing, and he does exactly as he’s told. 

The cold shocks you initially, nearly making your hips jump away from his touch entirely. But you can’t as his forearm comes over to rest across the hips he’d just worshiped, other hand tightly gripping onto the flesh of any thigh he can grab onto, pulling you tighter and closer to him. 

The same circles he had just trailed beneath your navel return in a new location, skimming your clit now. 

“Oh my God,” you whine, shoulder blades digging into the uncomfortable surface of the van’s floor below the makeshift padding of blankets, “Please, please.” 

He doesn’t tease you and ask you to spell out what you’re imploring of him this time. What small bit of the ice was left in his mouth slips out, slowly trailing down, down, down. Lighting a path of incessant mercy along its way as it skirts around your clit, ending up nearly slipping inside of you as it slows at your entrance. 

A cold, freezing trail of water left behind, and Eddie’s hot tongue is quick to follow it in reverse. 

He deliberately keeps it flat, avoiding filling you where you want it most. 

He’s still taking his time, moving slower than the cube has as he laps at your folds steadily. One long stride, and you’re squirming. The contrast between the heat of his mouth and the chill that the ice had left behind sends you whirling, stomach clenching as you let out more little gasps. 

It only eggs him on. 

He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue to finish his path, moving back only to take a sharp breath of his own before his lips wrap around it and suck. 

The steady rhythm of suction elicits countless moans from you, all trailing off into desperate whispers, both hands fully buried in Eddie’s curls as he has to fight harder to keep your hips pressed down. Praises of his name, pants of keep going. Your vision blurs in a way that doesn’t send panic through your bones, and you welcome the tunnel vision as he lets go of his grip around your thigh to press his fingertips against your entrance. 

He mumbles something, a reverberating hum that has you clenching around nothing, but he’s not willful enough to take his mouth off you long enough to properly enunciate. 

“What - ah - what was that?” you breathe out, hardly able to get the words out around your pants as you feel that pressure building between your hips, desperate for release. 

Willpower in overdrive, he pulls himself away from being buried against you, “I said, I want you to come for me, sweetheart.” 

To emphasize his point, he plunges in two fingers, curling them in a petting motion that spells out your demise. 

Your body reacts to the words before your brain can catch up. That pressure, the ever growing knot building, building, building – it snaps within a second of his lips finding your clit again. 

His fingers, knuckle deep in your cunt. His nose, buried in your bush. The cold, still lingering with a vengeance against the odds. 

The sensory overload does you in. You feel weightless, unaware of just how hard you’re tugging on his curls or the slight rhythm he’s built with his own hips against the blankets below. The high rushes over you, drowning out everything in its path and wrapping you up just as the summer warmth had previously. And he’s relentless, carrying you through every wave, never once faltering. 

You understand what he’d said earlier – you’re glad no one can hear you at this moment as you throw away any false God and only say prayers in Eddie’s name. 

White vision fades to black, and your entire body goes slack as your eyes flutter shut in exhaustion. The sweat covering your body almost offers some relief as a breeze wiggles its way through the van’s back doors.

He crawls back up your body slowly, coming home to the space you allot him as you further spread your trembling thighs and he peppers the lightest of sincere kisses up your ribcage. Warm lips you feel drawing roadways until he’s finally lining them up your neck, your cheeks, your own hot lips. 

“Still with me?” 

You only hum in response, hand feeling blindly to lightly caress his bare back. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, breath fanning out against your temple as he places a last few kisses, just because. 

When you finally force your heavy lids back open, you’re welcomed to the sight of whiskey eyes and a soft nose, shining for a reason only the two of you know. You swear, you can’t decipher if the pink smattering across his cheeks and bridge of his nose is from the heat, or from a  proper blush at the sight of you. 

It makes your insides melt more than any hot summer day. 

“It worked,” is all you laugh out, pads of your fingers still pressing softly into the smooth skin of his shoulder blades, a weak attempt to bring him closer. 

“It worked?” 

“You took my mind off the heat.” 

His lashes might be fluttering even more than your own, hips lowering against yours, heavy and bated as you come back down to Earth. You swear he’s never been prettier than he is right now, with you all over his mouth and bangs sticking to his forehead from the sweat. 

You almost card your fingers through them, expose the spanse of skin beneath just to offer the softest of kisses in return to him. Almost. 

“Good,” he grins with a boyish mirth, looking overly accomplished, “Did you ever even doubt me?” 

“Maybe.”

Your teasing tone has him poking out a tongue that’s a few shades lighter of purple than before, him finally rolling his body off of the top of yours. 

“I’ll give you a minute,” he jokes, throwing his head back as your eyes follow. You can see a bead of sweat making its way down his cheekbone, slipping away into his hairline, “And then I’ll fuck that doubt away.” 

Your stomach flutters as your eyes wander, taking in his exposed neck, following the creases in his skin down his chest. The way his stomach shakes a little with each breath, and the way you zero in on each quiver of that dark line of hair starting at his navel and disappearing into the band of his pants. 

The very obvious, very strained bulge within his pants. 

Suddenly, an idea comes to mind. 

You sit up a bit faster than is smart, and you ignore the stars in your vision as you quickly situate yourself to perch by his hip. He starts to lift himself back up, hands already flying out to keep you steady, but you only swat them away as you lean over him to grab an ice cube out of the styrofoam cup. 

“I think I’ll need more than a minute,” you lie, pressing him back down fully, movements full of determination as he watches you with hooded eyes, “How about for now, I give you a taste of your own medicine, pretty boy?” 

The ice is slotted between your own lips, and the whine Eddie lets out is answer enough.

[badchoosey]

Home for the Holidays, Chapter One: There’s No Place Like Home

It’s the annual holiday party at Piquant Press in downtown Manhattan… But you’re at your desk, frantically finishing up the last of your work. 

Egg Just a few… more… lines…

Suddenly, a glass of eggnog is thrust into your field of vision!

Egg: Whoa!

Friend: Egg Joy, if you don’t stop working right now, I’m not going to be office BFFs with you anymore!

Egg: Bree, there’d better be rum in this.

Bree: There isn’t, but I did bring you the fun flask if you wanna spice things up a little.

Egg: Have I told you lately that you’re my favourite?

Bree hands you the glass, then hops on your desk.

Bree: Are you done with your edits yet? ‘Cause I’m ready to party!

Egg: Just give me one minute…

Your fingers fly over the keyboard as you make a few more changes to the paragraph on your monitor. 

Egg: And… done!

Bree: I’m sure it’s genius too. I swear, I don’t know why it took them so long to promote you from intern to junior editor.

Egg: I’m just grateful to have the position now, which is why I can’t slack off. 

Bree: It’s not slacking off if the whole company is partying. Even Nick is out there. And he’s looking fiiiiiine in that tux, don’t you think?

You follow Bree’s gaze to find your boss Nick talking to your other coworkers…

Egg: Nick is not my type. You know I don’t go for the strict, workaholic type.

Bree: Hey, I’d go for any type if they looked like Nick. 

Just then, people start to file up to the roof…

Bree: Looks like it’s time for Nick’s big speech.

Up on the roof, Nick stands on stage, calling for everyone’s attention.

Nick: Welcome to our annual holiday party. For those of you new to Piquant Press, I’m Nick Peralta, the editor-in-chief here.

Bree whispers to you…

Bree: And resident hottie.

Egg: Shhh! Someone’s gonna hear you!

Nick: It’s been a banner year for our little publishing company. We may be small, but we’ve held our own against the industry goliaths. 

A cheer starts to go up from your coworkers, but Nick raises a hand to keep them quiet. 

Nick: That means we must work even harder. I myself always find the perfect project to start the year off right, and I expect the same of my junior editors. Speaking of which, we recently promoted a select few to editing positions. Instead of praising the year we’ve had, we should applaud their diligence. Nic catches your eye over the crowd.

Nick: Ms. Joy, as one of our newest editors, is there anything you want to say to the group?

Egg: Me?

Bree: Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!

Bree pushes you toward the stage, and Nick hands you the microphone. 

Egg Thank you, Mr. Peralta. Uh… as you mentioned, I’m Egg, one of the new junior editors. I just want to say…. Umm… Merry… Christmas?

Nick So glad you could share those enlightening thoughts with us.

Nick holds his hand out for the microphone.

Egg: Right. Sorry. 

Nick turns back to the crowd as you hop off stage. 

Nick: We have a lot of work ahead of us in the coming year, so I hope you take this time to rejuvenate… Because come January 1st, the party’s over. 

Nick lifts his champagne glass. 

Nick: Happy Holidays. 

Egg: Happy Holidays indeed. 

You meet back up with Bree inside the main office. 

Bree: Is it just me, or did Santa leave coal in Nick’s stocking one too many times?

Egg: He does seem to have it out for Christmas. I wonder why…

Bree: Well, if anyone can figure it out, it’s you. 

Egg: What’s that supposed to mean?

Bree: Just that Nick totally likes you. The two of you would be so cute together!

Egg: Bree, he’s my boss. You know the rules. 

Bree: There’s no official rule in the employee handbook. And besides, bending the rules only makes things more fun!

Nick: Excuse me. 

Just then, Nick brushes by you and Bree. 

Egg: Sorry!

After he’s out of earshot, Bree starts to giggle. 

Bree: Ohmygod, do you think he heard us?

Egg: I hope not!

You watch as Nick disappears down the hall toward his office…

Egg: If Nick did hear us, he doesn’t look too upset about it. He’s going right back to work.

Bree: Yeah, rumor has it he still hasn’t picked his first manuscript for next year. He never waits this long to pick his projects. He’s even taking a business trip to Barbados to meet with a potential author. Can you imagine?

Egg A tropical Christmas, huh? I’d rather have a white Christmas any day.  Nothing beats fresh snow and a cup of hot cocoa!

Bree: You do paint a pretty picture. 

You turn your gaze back down the hallway, where you can just make out the light flickering on in Nick’s office. 

Egg: He must be looking for something really special for his first manuscript. 

Bree: Egg, this is the perfect opportunity to talk to Nick! You can convince him to take a break, relax a little… and get to know him better…

Egg: Bree, he might not even be single.

Bree: You won’t know until you ask!

Egg: He’s probably busy…

Bree: Exactly! Someone has to teach him work-life balance, and I’m volunteering you!

Egg: I don’t wanna bother him…

Bree: You could never be a bother, Egg. But if you’re not gonna try to get on Nick’s good side… I’m gonna take full advantage!

Bree grabs your arm and leads you out onto the dancefloor. 

Bree: We’re gonna jingle bell rock the night away!

Egg: I don’t know if that’s such a good idea… I have to get up early to drive home tomorrow--

Bree: The night is still young, and so are we!

Egg: I guess one dance won’t hurt…

The two of you continue to party late into the night…

The next morning…

Egg: I’m exhausted… I’m never staying out late with Bree again!

You’re about an hour outside of town when your phone rings. You answer it on bluetooth…

Egg: Hey Mom, I promise I’m not flaking out again, I’m almost there.

Mom: I’m not calling about that. I know you wouldn’t dare cancel on me again. Have you heard the big news?!

Egg: Mome, you know I never hear the town gossip when I’m in the city.

Mom: You remember Holly?

Egg: Holly Wright? My childhood best friend? Yeah, her name rings a bell. 

Mom: Enough of your ‘tude, missy. Turns out, she wrote a book!

Egg: Mom…

Mom: Her manuscript was just leaked to the whole town! Everyone’s talking about it. I was thinking maybe you could take a look…?

Egg: Mom, I can’t publish a book as a favor. I was just promoted to junior editor. I have to protect my reputation at the company. 

Mom: I know that, sweetie. I’m not asking you to publish it sight unseen. Just give it a chance once you get here, okay? I think the story will surprise you.

Egg: If you say so… I guess it couldn’t hurt to look it over. 

Mom: Alright, sweetie. I’ll see you soon. 

Egg: Wait, that’s it? That’s all you wanted to talk about?

Mom: Unless you want to talk about your love life?

Egg: Oh, wow, look at all this traffic. I’d better focus on driving! Bye, Mom!

You shake your head as you hang up the phone. You turn off the highway, and soon you’re zooming along the only road into town…

Egg: Deer!!! Aaaaah!

You grip the steering wheel and then you freeze, your mind completely blank, as your car barrels toward the deer… At the last second, the deer darts out of the way!

Egg: Waaah!

Finally, your body reacts, and you wrench the wheel to the right! Your car swerves into an embankment, and the trees overhead unload their snow your windshield!

Egg: Ooooof… Now what?

You try to open the door, but it won’t budge. You grab your phone… 

Egg: Mom… I need help!

You quickly explain what happened…

Mom: Don’t worry. I know the perfect person to get you out!

Later, you hear scratching and scraping outside your car as someone digs you out…

Egg: Hello?

Voice: Hang tight. I’ll have you out soon.

Egg: You’re a lifesaver!

The voice sounds comforting, familiar… Suddenly, you realize who it is.

Egg: Wyatt Hart? Is that you?

Voice: At your service. Your mom called me to help you out.

Egg: (I can’t believe my mom called my high school boyfriend to rescue me!)

A few minutes later, you see Wyatt grinning at you through the window. 

Egg: Wyatt… Don’t think this means I need to be rescued all the time. I’m not some damsel in distress.

Wyatt forces your door open, and you squeeze out. 

Wyatt Trust me, I remember. If anything, you’ve always been the one to rescue me. Come on, I’ll give you a lift back into town. 

Egg: But my car…

Wyatt: Don’t worry, I’ll tow it out later. Let’s get you home first. 

You look at Wyatt’s truck, which has Hart Mechanics emblazoned on the side. 

Egg: Well, if you’re sure…

Soon, you’re in Wyatt’s truck cruising through the outskirts of Winter Haven…

Wyatt: So, dare I ask how you managed to find yourself buried under all that snow?

Egg: There may have been a deer involved… But don’t worry, it got away.

Wyatt: Ah, that explains the angry herd of deer I passed on the way in. Good thing I got to you before them. 

You grin, comforted by the familiar rapport. You look out the window just as you pass by the town square. 

Egg: Wow…

Wyatt: How does it feel to be back?

Egg: Like I never left. 

Wyatt: And the Big Apple’s treating you okay? Your mom mentioned you just got a promotion. 

Egg: Of course she did. Yeah, I just made junior editor. Youngest in the company’s history. 

Wyatt: Wow, congrats. I’m surprised they could spare you long enough for a trip home this year. 

Egg Trust me, they’re not missing me just yet. Besides, I brought my laptop, so I’ll still be plugged in. 

Wyatt: I’m really happy for you, Egg. It sounds like all your dreams are coming true. 

Egg: Something like that… What about you?

Wyatt: What about me?

Egg: We haven’t seen each other in years! There must be something new in your life!

Wyatt: Nah, it’s pretty much same old, same old for me. 

You poke Wyatt’s shoulder. 

Egg: You know I can tell when you’re not telling me something, right?

Wyatt: Oh hey, remember when we used to sneak away to Sweetheart Lake back in the day?

You roll your eyes as Wyatt points out to the turnoff to the lake up ahead. 

Egg: Subtle. 

Wyatt: I know I definitely remember our late night rendezvous in high school. 

Egg: ‘Rendezvous’?

Wyatt: What? I thought it made me sound refined. 

Wyatt gives you a warm smile. 

Wyatt: We could take the long way home by the lake, you know. We just got some fresh snowfall, perfect for snow angels. And if Ms. Big City isn’t too busy, I’d like to get to know the new you. What do you say?

Egg: Maybe another time…

Wyatt: Oh? Do you plan to get your car snowed in again?

Egg: You know what I mean. 

Wyatt: Yeah. I do. 

Wyatt grins as he turns down the direct route to your house… He pulls up outside your childhood home. You take in the familiar sight… 

Egg: It’s good to be home… 

Wyatt grabs your bags out of the back of the truck. 

Wyatt: Hate to drop you off and run, but I gotta get back to the garage and then rescue your poor car. 

Egg: You’ll call me with an estimate?

Wyatt: Not on your life. Consider it a welcome home present.

Wyatt gives you a little salute. 

Wyatt: See you around. 

Egg: See you. 

You head inside… You find your adopted mother and brother in the kitchen…

Mom: Egg! You’re home!

Dylan: And alive!

Your mom wraps you in a big hug. 

Egg: Yes, yes, I survived my harrowing journey.

Mom You’re just in time for some of my world-famous apple cider. 

Egg: Mmmm… that sounds perfect. 

Your mom pours you a steaming cup of hot cider. 

Dylan: What took you so long?

Mom: Honey, at least let your sister finish a sip before you start the interrogation. 

Egg: It’s fine. He was born to be annoying. 

You reach over to ruffle your brother’s hair. 

Egg: I was just dealing with car trouble. 

Dylan: ‘Car trouble’, huh? Is that Wyatt’s new nickname?

Egg: It’s not like that… Wait, how did you even know I was with Wyatt?

Dylan: He owns the only mechanic shop in town… plus Mom called him… plus we saw you guys outside. Take your pick. 

Egg: How have you been, Dylan?

Dylan: Changing the subject? Classic. What do you wanna know?

Egg: Tell me about school, you enjoying your senior year?

Dylan: Eh. It’s alright. 

Egg: And your college apps? Are you staying on top of those?

Dylan: Yes, Mom. Did you come home just to nag me?

Egg: Pretty much. 

Mom: Alright, alright. Give your poor mother one afternoon without bickering, please?

Your mom refills her own mug with cider then turns back to you. 

Mom: Dylan’s right though. You and Wyatt looked awfully cosy in his truck…

Egg: Mom, not you too!

Mom: I’m just saying, he’d make such a good boyfriend if you didn’t already have one. 

Egg: What? I don’t have a boyfriend.

Mom: You don’t? But what about that man who called? He said he was from the city… and he seems like your type… And he’s coming here, so I just assumed…

Egg: Mom, trust me. I’d know if I had a boyfriend. 

Mom: If you say so…

Egg: Wait, are you talking about--?

Just then, you’re interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

Egg: I’ll get it. 

You open the front door to find…

Nick: Ms. Joy. 

Egg: Mr. Peralta?!

[vixxscifiwritings]

The Bias Wrecking of Cha Hakyeon

AU - Fanboys!AU Genre - Fluff/Comedy Warnings - None Word Count - 1214

Summary - In which Hakyeon has feels but would rather not thank you very much.

Find all parts here

Cha Hakyeon is the world's number one fanboy for 6Keys. Or so he claims. And while that is debatable, it is quite understandable that when 6Keys drops teasers for a new mini album Hakyeon has trouble breathing.

“AAJDHDAKALDGDKSLS” he garbles when his twitter explodes.

“AHSVEGWKAKALWLLL” Jaehwan agrees

“You're both extra” Taekwoon insults them causing them to be offended. But he's looking at the teaser pictures too and that just makes Hakyeon indignant.

“I think they have Ara as the main character this time. That's why she is in the centre” Jaehwan theorizes. Hakyeon nods thoughtfully. Jaehwan’s fan theories have known to be true in the past.

“I should share these with Wonshik” Jaehwan nods to himself.

“It’s a standard cute summer concept” Taekwoon says.

“Thank god. We had a horror concept last time. I'm ready for party times” Jaehwan said.

“The intro song still gives me chills when I listen to the album” Taekwoon agreed. Jaehwan nodded in agreement. He wondered why Hakyeon was not saying anything.

“Earth to Cha Hakyeon” Jaehwan said, poking the elder boy.

“Is he ‘dead’ because of how cute Haneul looks AGAIN?” Taekwoon asked. He loved Hakyeon but he could not take days of endless fanboying.

“You guys, is it just me or does Bora look extra cute?” Hakyeon asked, snapping out of his daze.

“Bora?” Jaehwan asked. Bora was the second eldest in the group and the love of every member of 6Keys. She wasn't the most popular in terms of number of fans but she had the most loyal fans. Often silent or sarcastic, the running joke in the fandom was that if you fell for Bora, you would be hooked to 6Keys.

Jaehwan guiltily scrolled up. He had just glanced over the other members’ pictures and gone to Ara’s since she was his bias. The 3rd teaser to be released was Bora's. She was wearing a simple red top and white skirt and relaxing by the pool. Her hair was light brown this time as opposed to black and she did look really pretty in the shot.

“Whoa” Hakyeon said trailing off….

“So… Bora looks pretty” Jaehwan started. Hakyeon nodded in response.

“She looks downright beautiful” he said with conviction. “I can't believe people have been sleeping on her. She's a talented singer and she is so funny and clearly very pretty. No wonder everyone loves her.”

If Taekwoon didn't know any better he would think Hakyeon’s epiphany was about to lead him to nirvana or something.

“Dude. Did you just get bias wrecked?” Jaehwan asked, laughing at Hakyeon’s antics.

“What? No!” Hakyeon protested. “I'm just admiring how talented she is!”

“You've practically been swooning at her picture. You haven't even talked about Haneul since the teasers released” Taekwoon commented.

“That's because Haneul is the love of my life and brightest shining star of the entire universe and that goes without saying!!” Hakyeon replied automatically.

“But Bora is beautiful” Jaehwan put in.

Hakyeon glared but his cheeks were red and that gave Jaehwan the answer he wanted.

“I'm not being bias wrecked” he told Jaehwan.

“No no” Jaehwan said, absolutely assured otherwise.

Hakyeon’s eyes narrowed. He knew that Jaehwan was the most persistent man alive and this was about to come bite him in the back very soon.

-x-

“Why aren't you panicking yet?” Taekwoon asked.

“I don't panic. I fanboy. Excuse you” Hakyeon said grumpily. “And I am not looking to my phone because that evil spawn of Satan Jaehwan has been spamming me with Bora's pictures” he added ruefully.

“Well you've just missed the release of Haneul’s pictures” Taekwoon pointed out.

“Haneul? Not Minah? I was so sure they would release Minah’s next!” he said, grabbing his phone. Sure enough, the 6Keys website had new pictures of Haneul at the beach as opposed to Minah. Hakyeon grinned. As expected, she looked very pretty.

“There's one of her and Bora too that she shared on instagram. She was very happy about having convinced Bora to take a picture with her” Taekwoon added. Hakyeon had already opened up instagram and found the picture before Taekwoon had finished that sentence.

“They are both so beautiful” Hakyeon sighed.

“Yeah. Doesn’t Bora look cute in this picture?” Taekwoon asked. Hakyeon glared at him before putting his phone away.

“I hate you. I hope you know that” he added for small revenge.

“I am well aware. You should check out Hongbin’s tumblr. He made some pretty cool summer aesthetic mood boards for the girls” Taekwoon said, scrolling on his phone.

“Really?” Hakyeon asked with a bright smile. Hongbin had one of the best 6Keys dedicated blogs around. He was well known in the fandom for his editing skills. Wonshik wrote the best fanfiction and Hongbin always made posters for him. The duo were legendary.

“Waaah. Red cherry lipstick, strawberry shakes… Haneul’s is totally on point” he nodded.

“So is Bora’s” Taekwoon told him.

Hakyeon scrolled down to find Bora’s mood board. It was a compilation of the recent pictures of her on the beach in a green sundress edited to accentuate the yellow. There was a mint cooler in the sun, pretty yellow flowers spread across the green lawn, a collection of books in dark green covers and vast forests. It was funny how each part could be a character trait. The mint cooler because Bora was a cool and chill person. Yellow flowers across a green lawn because when she smiled the world lit up. She loved to read so the books were always a given. And vast forests because she was philosophical.

Hakyeon sighed. Bora really was amazing. It made him giggle a little that they shared a love for books between them. It was a nice thought. A small cozy home with the biggest room being a library. They could compete to see who had the better book collection. He would steal her books sometimes but never admit to reading it. Or hot chocolate on rainy days where they passionately discussed plotlines and characters. Maybe someone would finally understand his love for misunderstood characters and take part in the feels.

His heart suddenly dropped.

Did he just get feels from a god damned moodboard?!?!?!?!?!

He screamed and threw his phone onto his bed, right next to where Taekwoon lay.

“Oh, did you get to the part of the new chapter that Wonshik uploaded where Haneul dies?” Taekwoon asked smugly.

“HANEUL DIES???” Hakyeon asked, sinking into despair.

“Oh shit. Did I just spoil the new chapter for you?” Taekwoon asked guiltily.

“I hate all of you” Hakyeon cried, jumping onto the bed and burying his head into his pillow. Taekwoon cried when Hakyeon accidentally hit him while flailing.

“Hate Jaehwan. He was the one who has been helping Wonshik with the new fanfic. And probably Hongbin because I saw you daydreaming at the moodboard. Coincidentally, under Haneul’s moodboard Hongbin also thanked Jaehwan for requesting a series” Taekwoon told him.

“Why is he out to get me?” Hakyeon cried into his pillow.

“All Aries men are evil” Taekwoon said, trying to console Hakyeon by patting him on the back. Hakyeon cried in reply and Taekwoon just soothed him over by saying “There, there”.

But to be honest watching Jaehwan bias wreck Hakyeon unintentionally was the funniest thing to him.