#on the plus side my head has cleared up and once i get a break from all the work catch up...writing time ^_^

[foli-vora]

once again in your arms

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: mwahah, hello boys i’m baaack (10 points to whoever knows what movie that quote's from). took an unexpected break coz life, but i’m ready to get back on track. this was requested by a beautiful anon a while back (sorry for the wait angel), but i hope you enjoy! x

Request: hello! so this is kinda angsty: joel and the reader are married and have a baby (plus sarah, obviously). the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, birth and having a baby, domestic fluff, angst, pre and post outbreak, some spoilery things if you haven’t seen the show yet, heartbreak, loss of a child, apocalypse things, i sweat at the idea of caring for a baby during the end of the world, soft reunions, fluff, cameos of my fave oc’s made in a different series

It’s a fact you had learnt in the very early days of your relationship... the Miller men knew how to care for a lady. Whether it was Tommy sliding in to open the door for you before you could reach for the handle, or Joel draping you in blankets and taking on the responsibility of keeping your hot water bottle warm to fend off cramps for the evening, not a moment went by when you didn’t feel the constant reassurance of their care.

Especially now, fresh from the hospital and tender from your days of excruciating pain and an extensively long labour, Tommy quickly slaps the pillows into something plusher, hands gentle as they guide you down until you’re reclining into the armchair.

Joel keeps an eye on you from across the room, the brief wash of concern slipping away with the easy smile that grows along his lips when your eyes meet.

He rocks the wrapped bundle in his arms softly, a big hand dwarfing the small head that peaks from the blankets. His fingers brush through the light smattering of hair peeking out from the cotton burrito, his index running along the tiny peak of a nose and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“Dad,” Sarah whines with an eager smile, shifting restlessly on the couch, “come on, I’ve been waiting all weekend.”

“Oh my god,” Joel drawls sarcastically, “all weekend? Baby girl, how are you survivin’ right now?”

“Shut up,” her grin widens, “give me my baby brother before I explode.”

“Well, we don’t want that mess all in the livin’ room,” Joel quips, stepping over your weekend bags tossed on the floor and closer to the couch, “ain’t treadin’ your brain all into the rug—thing was damn expensive.”

Sarah shrugs, readjusting her body to sit straighter and holding her arms out expectantly, “Least I have a brain.”

Tommy snorts in amusement, grinning at his brother's expense, “That’s true.”

“Are you still here?” Joel side eyes him, barely fighting the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

They bicker, throwing their little snippy sibling comments back and forth before Sarah clears her throat, her eyebrows rising in impatience.

“Alright, alright. Here, watch his head,” Joel instructs gently, a smile playing along his lips, “that’s it, baby, you got him.”

It’s a beautiful picture, Sarah carefully bringing the baby closer and tucking him carefully into her arms, and the sentiment is shared with Tommy as the flash and click of a camera goes off. He removes the polaroid sliding from the slot and sits it on the coffee table to develop before instructing Joel to slide in next to her and smile.

Both Joel and Sarah are oblivious to his instruction, lost in the bubble that has overcome them. You find peace watching them, warmth spreading along your limbs by the sweet tenderness of it all. The love is clear between the three of them cuddled on the couch, and it’s almost too much for your heart to bear.

Sarah beams down at her baby brother, cooing soft words and stroking a gentle finger down Matthew’s cheek. Joel throws an arm to rest on the top of the couch behind Sarah, turning into her and answering her questions quietly.

8 pounds, 3 ounces. Smaller than you. No, he didn’t cry at all—gave me and the docs a damn heart attack. She sure did a great job. 

Your Joel was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the emotion shines from his eyes, bleeds through the lines in his face and it’s enough to bring tears building along your lash line.

“You okay over there?”

His familiar drawl brings your attention to him, and you smile at him, tired and fully at peace. It’s bliss, despite the ache of birth still hanging in your limbs. M

“I’m fine,” you respond quietly, lids heavy with exhaustion, “I’m just so happy.”

He fucking beams. His grin creases his cheeks and he nods softly.

“Me too, honey,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his children and playing with a strand of Sarah’s hair as he gazes down at Matthew, “me too.”

—

Four months later.

Chaos.

Matthew wails against your chest, the deafening sounds of screams, bullets, sirens and explosions setting him off into hysterics. Your arms tighten around him, keeping his face tucked closely into your throat so your scent could hopefully provide him some reassurance.

You crouch beside cars, you run until your legs ache. You take cover in stores, the soles of your shoes crunching over broken glass of the shattered windows. Every phone you try gives nothing but a dull tone. Radios are filled with static and emergency broadcasts play on the view screens you run past in your effort to escape whatever the hell is happening.

Worry stirs along the edges of your mind. Is Joel okay? Sarah? Tommy? You can’t call him, you can only run and hope nothing takes you down in your effort to get back to your car. You pass people crouched over others, blood smearing along their lips as they tear unforgivingly into the flesh of another.

It’s a nightmare, and it’s everywhere you look.

Almost there.

You see the sign of the parking lot and it only makes you run that much faster, even though your legs threaten to give out at any minute. You pass an elderly man crouching beside a woman, blood flowing from the open gash on her throat, and the ache clutching your heart only increases when his pleas reach your ears over the mayhem.

“Gloria,” he mutters in an aged rasp, “up you get, love. You’re alright, come on now—”

You can’t help it.

Somewhere in your mind you can feel Joel screaming at you to keep running, to get yourself to safety and not give a damn about anyone other than Matthew, but the image of this man cradling his wife’s wrinkled, bloodied hand is enough to get you advancing to him before anyone could hurt him. 

“Sir—”

He ignores you, too busy with brushing the woman’s blood soaked white hair from her face.

“Sir, we have to move—”

You wrap your fingers around his shoulder and shake firmly. His head gives a shake of denial as he clutches his wife’s hand tighter.

“No… no, she’ll need help—she has a bad ankle.”

Shifting Matthew unsteadily onto your hip, your fingers wrap under his arm and tug him onto his feet. He fights you, bats your hold away with an infuriated expression at your rough handling of him.

“I’m so sorry, but she’s gone—we have to run. I—I have a car, please… just come with me, please!”

“I won’t leave her—”

“Please… they’re coming! I—would she want this for you? To die like this?”

He blinks, his frown softening ever so slightly before screams pierce the air, much closer than you anticipated, and terror claws up your throat until you feel you’ll vomit.

You hold out a hand, relieved when his own rough, calloused hand finally takes it, and then you’re running, albeit slower than before, but you make it to your car with no issues.

You dive into the driver's seat, passing Matthew over to the stranger when he makes an impatient gesture to hold him and then you’re tearing out of the lot, running down the few rabid looking beings that advance on you with bloodied expressions of hunger.

You don’t think you take a proper breath until you’re past a military barricade that had seemingly been destroyed in the attack, flying down the highway and around other panicked drivers with sweat slicking your skin. 

Taking a deep breath to slow the brutal pounding of your heart, you look at Matthew, now calmed and looking up at the stranger with an obvious shine of curiosity. The old man is clearly softened by the baby, letting his small hand wrap around his finger and wiggling it playfully in his hold.

“That’s Matthew,” you mutter shakily, meeting the eyes of the elderly man before gazing back out the windscreen. You take another breath before giving your own name, tears biting at your eyes when you utter the name Miller.

Do you still have a husband? A step daughter? A brother in law? The unknown scares you, outright fucking terrifies you. 

The man nods in your peripheral vision.

“Harold,” he finally says, voice rough and tired.

—

There are people everywhere, screaming, crying.

People run, shout, wail over family and friends.

Tears have long dried on his face, his head thumping relentlessly with the remnants of his heartbreak. Tommy’s grip is firm on him, tugging him out of the way of people tearing down in their direction, pulling him to where a makeshift table is thrust under a tent as a reception of sorts.

He doesn’t care about the people already there asking about their family and friends. He shoves them out of the way, hands shaking as they clutch the edge of the weak table.

“I’m lookin’ for a woman… she’d be with a baby boy, not even four months old—”

His voice shakes. He can’t get it to stop. He struggles to get out the detailed descriptions of you both down to the clothes you were wearing, speaking your names through trembling lips. His stomach jolts at the thought of you somewhere, lying helplessly on the floor with your flesh getting torn into while Matthew screams in his car seat.

He’s a damn baby. He wouldn’t know what’s happening, wouldn’t know why his mama’s not there with him—

The woman gives a small expression of sympathy over the thin surgical mask covering her mouth, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had no babies that young come through, and nothing like that has come in over the radios.”

He retches. 

His body heaves, almost as if it’s rejecting the mere idea that you weren’t somewhere safe waiting for him. He had failed. Failed to keep Sarah safe, failed to keep Matthew safe, you—the vows he had made now meant shit. He hadn’t been there for better or worse. He’d hadn’t done what a father should have and kept his kids free from harm.

Sarah had died, terrified and in agony, in his hold. Her bloodied handprints remain dry and caked on his arms. Matthew had died, not even making it to six months. A baby, still fresh to the world, only just able to hold his own head up. You had died, not knowing where he and Sarah were, if they were even safe.

Tommy hauls him to a close trash can, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back as he chokes on vomit, tears soon streaming down his cheeks when his body eventually has nothing left to give. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering against his ribs and filling his ears until he’s unaware of the noises around him. 

“They’re gone,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching at the rim of the trash can in an effort to keep himself up.

“Now we don’t know that—”

“God damn it, Tommy, you saw what it was like out there!” 

Tommy sighs, his own eyes filling with tears. “We gotta keep hope, Joel—”

“Hope?” Joel spits at his brother, “What good is hope against that shit out there? She would’ve been alone, you know as well as I Matthew only would’ve slowed her down. They were in the city. We couldn’t even keep safe out here! They’re—they’re gone. My wife… my baby boy, my baby girl—”

The sobs tear from his chest, harsh and painful. He mourns for hours, unseeing of the flurried movement still happening around him, his sorrow mixing with the flood of agony filling the makeshift safe zone with every new unhurt civilian looking for someone familiar.

Tommy doesn’t take his arms away from around his brother until dawn starts to pierce the horizon, 

—

Two years later.

He still fills your thoughts daily.

Your life, your old life, would flash behind your eyelids at night when sleep would finally claim you. You’d feel his touch, kiss his lips, touch his face. It all felt so normal. The dreams would be nothing but memories, and somehow, it made them feel more like nightmares.

Mornings making breakfast with Sarah, dancing to the music falling from the radio. Family game nights, watching Tommy and Joel get more and more competitive with each game. Grocery shopping with Joel, simply wandering down the aisles and relishing in his comforting touch warming your lower back. 

You could never quite make peace with the possibility that he was dead. It didn’t sit right. The idea that your Joel had been lost to the disaster that had claimed the world just seemed impossible. Your heart rejected the notion, refused to accept that its counterpart wasn’t somewhere out there, living, breathing, surviving,

Sarah and Tommy, too.

They had to be somewhere, holed up safely and keeping well. They had to.

“They’ve established a quarantine zone close by,” you say quietly, mindful of Matthew sleeping on your lap, “it’ll be a lot safer there than out here. I think we should give it a go… find a more secure place to live. I’ve heard they have work available, good flow of food and medicine…”

Harry snorts quietly, shifting under his old, thick jacket, “That doesn’t mean they’re happy giving it out. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

You eye the long carved frown in his features and lean forward to fix the blanket covering his tired legs, “Don’t you think we should try at least?”

“Maybe they’ll put a bullet in me,” Harry grumbles moodily, “I’m old—I can’t work like they’ll want me to. Although, it’ll beat living through this bloody nightmare any longer.”

“Harold,” you chide softly, heart aching at the thought of losing the grumpy old man after spending so long by his side.

He’d quickly become a grandfather figure of sorts, to both you and Matthew. The little boy was obsessed with him, and had been since the day you had come together, and though he tried to hide it behind his usual icy facade, Harry was smitten, weak from the boy learning to call him pa.

“He’ll be safer in there,” Harry finally grumbles, gazing at the sleeping toddler. “This is no life for him out here. It’s getting worse and worse. Stability will do him good.”

“And you’ll come with us?”

He sighs sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine—I’ll come. But if they don’t kill me, I’ll be bloody upset with you.”

You snort in amusement, a grin curling your lips. “Fair enough. Now drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry. You have it.”

He shoves it away, pushing it in your direction, as he usually does. It’s a daily fight—him refusing food in favour of giving you and Matthew more, ensuring you both never went hungry despite his own hunger and rapid weight loss due to the sudden lack of food.

You give him a playful frown and hold the small cup out to him.

“Don’t make me force feed you, old man, drink it.”

—

The walls of the Quarantine Zone are a lot more daunting than you had originally thought they would be. They tower high, and the barely there movement of soldiers along the front and top of it have nerves start to build in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Surely they wouldn’t shoot without asking questions? Would they even give you a chance? What happens to you if the zone is full? Would they let you go on your merry little way?

God, you feel sick. 

The ice creeping along your skin doubles, and you tighten your grip on the baby carrier strapped to your chest. Matthew hums quietly against your back, his little fingers tracing random patterns along your shirt as he bounces with your each step. Harry walks somewhat steadily beside you, his cheeks reddening with the more distance you cover.

He gives you a reassuring nod when you look to him for guidance, and you continue forward, swallowing the lump building in your throat when you become aware of them yelling about your presence.

Their guns are raised when you eventually make it closer, and it’s automatic to throw your hands up in surrender.

“We’re not infected!” you shout, hoping they’d listen. 

A soldier steps forward. “On the ground, now!”

“Shit. Okay! Please, I—we’re not infected—”

“Get. On. The. Ground!”

“I have a kid! I have a—please, we’re not—”

“Get the kid out.”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You fight the tremble in your fingers as they raise to the clip across your chest, winding a supportive hand around to your back to keep Matthew from falling out of the carrier as it loosens from your torso.

After a bit of shifting, Matthew stands on shaky legs, his eyes darting between you and the few soldiers with their weapons raised.

“It’s okay, baby,” you soothe softly, “we gotta do what the man says, okay? Can you do that for mama?”

You continue to lower until your front hits the rubble covered ground, and you motion for Matthew to do the same, heart breaking as he cowers in fear and falls to his knees before copying your posture and hiding his face against the road.

More voices fill your ears, the obvious presence of more soldiers swarming from the gate causing your pulse to skyrocket as Harry lowers on the other side of the small toddler.

“Check ‘em.”

“Everything’s fine,” you murmur, keeping your gaze on Matthew and smiling when he peeks at you from between his fingers, “we’re okay. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It stings.

You automatically flinch away from the device someone holds at your neck, freezing when more weapons are raised in your direction. The device gives a small beep and the soldier gives a loud clear, before moving for Matthew.

He cries out at the pain, his chest heaving with his growing sobs. The guns move in his direction and you’re flying towards him before you can even think, yelping when arms pull you away from your baby before you can console him. His screams worsen. 

“Please,” you beg, “he’s just a baby—!”

The soldiers remain emotionless.

Another beep, another clear.

The fingers digging into your arms loosen and then you’re free, hurriedly crawling on all fours until Matthew’s in your arms, his tear stricken face pressing into your throat. You soothe him softly, murmuring how well he did and that he’s safe with you while the soldiers move their attention to Harry.

When the device gives a final clear, another soldier steps forward, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping forward until he’s only a step away, “but we can’t be too careful.”

It’s surreal being around people again.

For the longest time, it’s just been you, Matthew and Harry. The people left after the event had turned cruel, desperate for any remaining resources and resulting to violence left, right and centre. It’d been sheer luck that you three had escaped some of the nastier characters you’d come across during your treks. Sure, you’d lost a few supplies every now and then, but you were thankful you all were still here at least.

The man leads you into an office of sorts, with rusted old chairs to sit on while he goes about ‘registering’ you. You’re surprised at the process of it all, confused when he says you’re in luck because after this morning, there are new rooms available. What does that mean? Had something happened to the occupants?

Your stomach turns, but you dare not dwell on it.

Safety for Matthew, that’s all that matters. That’s why you’re here.

It feels like hours before you’re stepping into the sun again, lead out onto a relatively normal looking street with written directions to your new accommodation. The door bangs loudly behind you, fully closing you from the horrors of the outside world, and you try not to focus on the looks of curiosity, borderline hostility, as you start to walk further into the QZ, the height of the wall casting a large shadow over your path.

There’s a main square of sorts, filled with small stations of people selling various items. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of shitty looking food, desperate to eat something other than the random old bits and pieces you’d find through your looting, but you’d have to begin work to even afford a single half burnt bread roll. The two ration cards you had received at your ‘registration’ wouldn’t make a dent in what you’d need to afford any of it.

You pass the sellers, sharing a sullen look with Harry as he too realises he wouldn’t have enough for any of it.

There’s crowds, and you try to keep to yourself as you move, but something catches your eye, as if your sight had been automatically pulled to that direction and you’re oblivious to the people bumping into your frame.

For a moment, you’re sure you’re dreaming.

Did they end up shooting you at the gate? This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be unfolding right before your very eyes. You feel alive. You feel your pulse, your breath. You feel Matthew shift in the carrier, you hear Harry making comments about the people and the surrounding buildings.

You can’t look away.

You’re pulled in his direction, certain with every bone in your body that it’s him. It’s him.

The man turns, and his eyes are meeting yours through the crowds before you can even brace for it, and you see the moment it hits him.

He freezes, his eyes unblinking as if they don’t want to risk losing the hallucination his mind had conjured. He steps forward, and again, and again, slow in his movements, cautious.

“Joel?” You breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the bustle of your surroundings and the distance between you, but he must see your lips mould his name because then he’s running, ducking through the people and heading straight your way.

You start to jog, careful not to disturb the carrier holding Matthew too much, and then he’s there. He’s there and he’s real and he’s saying your name so sweetly, a broken rasp of disbelief and a tremble taking over his hands as they raise to cup your cheeks.

You sob at his touch. 

The tears flow from your eyes and you grasp at whatever you can on him, your fingers tightening around the jacket hanging from his frame as you attempt to pour two years of loss into your embrace. He cradles the back of your head, keeps your face pressed tightly against the dirtied skin of his throat as he mutters brokenly about how he thought you were dead and that he’d missed you so damn much.

“Oh baby boy,” he rumbles, noticing the baby carrier and the toddler within it with tears filling his lash line, “look at you.”

You hurriedly unclip the harness and sweep Matthew out of it, bringing him into the middle of your embrace. Joel runs a hand along Matthew’s cheek before sweeping down and kissing him on the forehead, his tears dropping over the toddler’s cheeks in obvious relief and utter joy. 

“How—”

You shake your head, nuzzling into the rough hand holding your cheek. “Later. We’ll talk later about everything, I just—god, I’ve missed you so fucking much, Joel.”

His head lowers until his forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes flutter closed. You feel it in the simple gesture, how much he had missed you, mourned for you. He gives a small nod, followed by a quiet okay, before another presence suddenly makes themselves known.

Your body jolts with the weight hitting your side, and you jump in fright before your eyes come across a slightly skinny looking Australian Shepherd desperate for attention.

His tongue lolls from his mouth as he attempts to lap at your cheek, and you chuckle through your stream of steady flowing tears at the cheerful dog.

“Chip,” Joel grunts in slight annoyance, shoving the fluffy beast away from where he tries to jump and sniff at Matthew’s cheeks, “down—down, boy!”

“You have a dog?” You ask in curiosity, reaching out to pet the animal. Your smile widens when he eagerly nuzzles into your touch with an excited whine.

“He was wanderin’ the QZ when I came in,” Joel replies, one of his hands leaving your waist to deliver a rough rub to the dogs head, “followed me home one night and hasn’t stopped botherin’ me since. Tommy said he’d be good for me.”

“Tommy’s here? And Sarah?” You perk immediately in excitement, your eyes flying past his shoulder to look for his brother and the other part of your heart that’s been missing for years. “I’m so glad they’re alright, where are they?”

You don’t notice how considerably quiet he’s gone until you look at him. He’s defeated, guarded, his dark eyes drawn to the floor. He can’t look at you. Why can’t he look at you? What’s happened?

“Joel?”

“Sarah… she—she—”

He struggles to finish the sentence, the words stick uncomfortably on his tongue. His features twist in clear anguish and you feel the world around you shatter. Sarah, she… she’s gone? When? How?

Your heart sinks, weak and broken by the unexpected news. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the notion that you’d never see her again, that the last time you saw her was truly the last. 

Regret begins to build in the pit of your stomach. That last day… you should’ve hugged her tighter, kissed her forehead, told her how much she meant to you and how lucky you were to be in her life—

The tears begin again.

“Oh Joel, I-I’m so sorry,”

You both share the heartache, wrapped in each other's arms and breathing in the other. His tight hold doesn’t loosen for a second, and you attempt to put every ounce of energy in your tired body into returning it.

The world stands still, just like it did that cursed day.

How can you be so elated that he’s here, and yet be filled with so much pain at the same time? How long has he been lost, no doubt blaming himself for his baby girl not making it to where he is now? You mourn her, mourn him for being lost, stuck on a path of despair and believing he had lost everything for so long.

What had become of him? What had the pain done to him? Surely it would’ve been pure torture for the man who practically breathed family. 

Harry can wait. Introductions can wait. Food, drink, sleep—you care for none of it. Not now. All that matters is that Joel is here, truly here in the flesh, wrapped in your arms and holding the child he hasn’t seen for two years. All that matters is that you had found one another in the violent hellscape the world had become.

Peace, but that tranquillity will forever be tainted by loss, a void hanging in the midst of relief, never to be filled again.

-

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tags that have continuously not worked will be deleted from my taglist soon x

[endless-ineffabilities]

the other side of the door (1/2)

Ewan Mitchell x bestfriend!reader

a/n: so there was this, and now you have this. bish bash bosh.

main masterlist

The one wherein your best friend breaks your heart.

The cast has gathered in Tom's apartment for the night, drinks and conversation flowing freely. Ewan brought you with him, as he always does. You've been his constant plus-one — to parties, premieres, and even group holidays.

You've been around them so much, that the cast members already consider you as their good friend.

When they first met you, they had mistakenly thought you were Ewan's girlfriend.

But no, he profusely fended off such allegations, clarifying that you were his "bestfriend, and other half." Doesn't he know that calling you his other half kind of makes it worse?

Because you want them to be right.

You've been in love with him for a while now.

And he doesn't feel the same. Talk about the sob story of your life.

Not too long ago, you and Ewan were a tangle of limbs on your couch, covered in layers of sweaters and duvets to keep warm. A film played on TV. It used to be one of your favourites, but not after that night.

One glass of wine led to another—a kiss on the forehead, a peck on the cheek, brushes of skin against skin.

And suddenly, you were kissing him.

And he was kissing you back with just as much fervour. Just as much love.

Or so you thought.

"Wait, love," he panted, pulling away, his forehead still pressed against yours. His every exhale fanned warmth over your face, and he was all you felt. All you saw, all you smelled. He was all around you.

"What?"

"We can't," he whispered, and you strained to hear him. "We can't do this."

Your chest tightened, and judging by his worried expression, he can see the distress clear on your face.

"Why not?" you asked meekly, your hands still clutching his chest.

He smiled sadly, brushing your hair away from your face. "We're best friends, my darling. I don't want to ruin this. What we have—it's good. Don't we keep saying that it's forever? I mean that."

"I know," you replied, shaking your head slightly, "but we've known each other for years, Ewan. Did you never think... about us? And how we could be... We could be good together."

"We are good together," he insisted. "Which is why we shouldn't change this. We're only going to mess it up."

"But I—"

"And," he cut you off, "I don't think I want to get into something like that right now. My career's just taking off, and I want to pour my entire self into it." He laughed dryly, as if infusing casual humour into the situation and trying to make it seem like it's not a big deal would make it all better. "Hell, I can't even think about dating anyone."

But I'm not just anyone, you wanted to say, but you kept it in. You know Ewan, and once he has his mind set, there is no changing it. Not without great effort and cause anyway.

You did your best to avoid him for an entire week after that, ignoring his calls and his extensive voicemails, but he eventually wore you down, showing up at your door with a bouquet of flowers and a massive tray of your favourite dessert.

A peace offering. You're his best friend and he can't bear to have a rift between the two of you, he said.

He was right.

You want—need—him around. No matter what. Your true feelings can take the back burner.

This is meant to be forever, after all.

The hour is late and you feel exhaustion setting in. You think of heading home, but you can't find Ewan anywhere, and you have been searching for the last ten minutes.

"Hey, girly!" Phia cheerily says as she stumbles upon you in the hallway. "You alright?"

"Yeah, just a bit tired. Have you seen Ewan?"

"Oh, I don't know," she immediately replies. "He's not in the living area, last I checked. Maybe he's in one of the rooms upstairs? Taking a breather?"

"Oh, could he be?" He normally doesn't leave you all alone during these things, so if he's nowhere in sight, he must really need a minute to himself.

Before you can protest, Phia loops her arm around yours. "I'll come with you, love. Let's go and have a look."

Phia chats your ear off and you are grateful for the distraction, but nothing could have prepared you for what comes next.

You hear hushed voices from inside one of the rooms. As you near the one farthest from the staircase, the voices become clearer. The door is open just a crack, but the guest room is tiny enough that even the softest sounds are amplified in it.

There's a man's voice. Ewan's, as distinguishable to you as your favourite melody. Followed by a lilting, high-pitched giggle.

"I'm serious, Lou," Ewan says, raising his voice a tad, "I think I've had enough to drink."

Louise, the twins' cousin, groans playfully. You hear some shuffling. A mattress creaking under weight. "You're such a lightweight, Ewan."

"Hey! I'm not a lightweight," Ewan counters, humour seeping in his tone.

"Oh yeah?" Her voice drops to a sultry drawl. "So you're sober enough to come here and kiss me then?"

Your stomach lurches. You've only had one drink, yet the room tilts, and the walls seem to spin around you. You catch Phia's eye—her expression mirrors your disbelief, wide-eyed and incredulous.

She is about to push the door open, when you catch her wrist and shake your head vehemently. You whisper urgently, "Phi, let's just go."

"What? But he—" She pauses when the first smacking noises resound from the room. Louise moans against Ewan as she kisses him.

As he kisses her.

So much for him claiming he didn't want to date anyone. Maybe he just didn't want to date you. Let alone want you the way he clearly wants her—the way he's having her behind that door.

"What about the girl you came with?" you hear her ask.

"What girl?" He breathes, actually sounding confused. You feel nothing more than an afterthought. Just some girl he can't even remember.

Certainly not his forever. You're not even his 'right now'.

"Fuckin' hell," Phia curses under her breath.

"Oh," Ewan says, as it finally dawns on him, "she's... she's just my friend."

"Phia, let's go please," you repeat, more insistent this time. She hears the desperation in your tone and takes your hand comfortingly, pulling you along downstairs.

Fabien stands near the foot of the staircase, absently nursing his drink while scrolling through his phone. His gaze shifts when he spots the two of you, eyebrows lifting in mild curiosity.

"Whoa there," he says, his eyes scanning your face with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing—"

But Phia interjects roughly. "We're beating Ewan up later."

"Phia, come on," you mumble, growing embarrassed, "It's not a big deal. He can do whatever he wants."

"But he told me—"

"Wait," Fabien says, catching on, "Ewan's up there doing what with who?"

Before Phia can go on a passionate tirade, you exhale loudly, "Look, you guys. I just want to go home. I'll say bye to everyone and get out of here."

Fabien puts his drink down somewhere. "I'll go with you," he offers, without giving it much thought. "Since Ewan's occupied, and we hate him now apparently—"

Your brows raise, while Phia merely gives a thumbs up.

"—someone needs to see you home safe."

You smile gratefully. "You sure, Fabs? I don't want you to miss out on the rest of the party."

"Ah, don't worry about it," he smirks, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders as you head to the main room. "Knowing Tom, there'll be another one of these things next week."

Ewan stumbles down the stairs, his steps unsteady from the weight of too many drinks. But there's something else, a deeper unease twisting in his gut that he can't quite shake.

He needs you to make it all better, but where are you?

When he finds Phia pouring herself a glass of water in the kitchen, he asks for one too.

But she icily responds, "Pour yourself one."

"What?" He asks, but he doesn't dwell on it. "Do you know where—"

"She left," Phia shrugs, and Ewan wonders why she said that smugly, "not too long ago."

"What do you mean she left?" Ewan straightens, growing alert despite the haze of the alcohol.

"She was tired. Wanted to go home. She came upstairs to get you, but you seemed busy. So Fabien offered to accompany her, the sweetheart that he is."

The flood of information overwhelms him, but it's nothing compared to the hollow ache of your absence.

"I... I wasn't busy..."

"We heard you, Ewan," Phia says, disappointed. She watches the realisation dawn on his face for a full minute. The dread. The self-loathing. "I mean, it's none of my business. But maybe wipe that lipstick off your neck. It's bloody gross."

[honeycombwerewolfe]

//Bernie does not feel like celebrating it lol but I'll toast to it 🥂

Apparently it’s been 3 years since we all found out that Bernie was still alive

Serena feels like celebrating this 🥳🥳🥳

@honeycombwerewolfe

[laughingfcx]

kinich x fem reader ! celebrity au, .9k words PLUS exes to lovers, swearing, suggestive jokes + implied nsfw ( ? scene transitions from their conversation to "the morning after")

it's at a high-profile red carpet that you see him again — at least in person. kinich, two and a half years older, and much more mature, but exactly the same otherwise. there's even that stupid signature smile of his, lazy and smug, plastered onto his face as usual. you'd loved it once; now you despise it. or so you've tried to convince yourself.

he's not wearing anything spectacular, a dark unbuttoned suit and matching dress pants and a white shirt that deliciously accentuates the broadness of his chest. somehow he still manages to effortlessly knock the breath right out of your chest — and even more so when you notice the colour of his tie; it matches your outfit perfectly.

in the back of your mind, you know this has something to do with your mutual friends, but you can't be bothered to worry about that right now. not when he's grinning down at you, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for you to break the silence.

you jut your chin up defiantly; not today, kinich. he tilts his head to one side curiously, shit-eating grin widening. your lips purse; he blinks. it's getting awkward now — he's so annoying. you scoff angrily, and kinich has won.

"what?"

"what what?" you feel a sudden stab of pain — you've missed his voice.

"what do you want?" you get out through gritted teeth.

kinich is good at what he does, always has been. he's never been the type to hesitate, always straight to the point. now, too, it does not change. "come back with me tonight."

your first response should be something related to the fact that the two of you broke up for a reason. that going back right now will be suicide. but instead...

"what about her?" you hiss, jerking your head in the direction of (you hope) his hotel. a thoughtless gesture, asking about the woman he's been seen with after your very public breakup.

he laughs. "that? it was just publicity, darling. she means nothing to me."

then, softer: "please, i've missed you every single day since then; it's only ever been you."

"prove it."

never one to back down from a challenge, he leans in closer to you. "how 'bout i show you in my hotel room?"

smooth. aloud, you acknowledge it as such, too, but still. "really, kinich?"

"if you want, i'm sure we can find some privacy here," he teases.

you grimace, nose crinkling up cutely. "how do you know i even want this? what if i don't want anything to do with you?"

there is suddenly an air of triumph about him; you realise that you have made a big mistake.

"my love, those questions just confirmed it."

the unfamiliar nickname makes you bristle, but it's surprisingly not unwelcome.

he waits for your confirmation, and well?

(you end up in his bed anyways, so your answer should be pretty clear.)

you wake up in an empty bed; if he's intended for this to be a one night thing, you're going to murder him, you think. he walks back into the room a second after that, though, and now you're chewing on the inside of your cheek because of the very noticeable lack of a shirt on him.

"baby, we've gone viral," he grins.

"again? kinich, you suck!"

"that's not what you said last night when—"

"okay!" you cut him off. "shut up, i get it!"

he tosses his phone to you, where a video's playing, captioned: deaf woman lipreads conversation between kinich and y/n at the red carpet.

"oh god," you groan as it begins to play. one side of the bed sinks down as kinich climbs in next to you. his arm wraps around you as he pulls you into him; you nestle into his side and it's painfully familiar. you've missed him more than you thought.

"let me watch, i haven't finished it yet."

the woman on the screen begins to speak into the microphone she's holding up. so, kinich starts speaking. he wants them to go back to his hotel, but she's asking about a "her", who's probably chasca, AKA his ex. he says it was for publicity, and ooh— he just called her "darling"! he says it's only ever been y/n... woah... she's not buying it, she's asking him to prove it. he says he'll prove it at his place, wow, that was smooth, that's what she said, by the way, not me! she's still not impressed, now he's talking about finding somewhere private here, like at the event! i think he's joking, though, oh my gosh, he just called her "my love"! that's so cute—

you pause the video. "can she stop talking for a sec? this is so annoying!"

"i know, right?" he agrees. "can't even talk to my girl without some freak on the internet trying to listen in."

my— his— oh. your brain short circuits. "kinich."

"hmm?" he's not paying attention, leisurely tracing hearts onto your hipbone.

"what are we?"

he gets up, readjusts the two of you so your eyes. "married soon— i mean, in a relationship again, at least. be honest, don't you think we could try again? we've changed enough, i think."

"well, yeah, i guess. we were both stupid back then."

"we still are now," you correct him; kinich is not amused.

"you didn't answer my question, can we try again?"

"i think we can," you nod thoughtfully. "but what if it ends the way it did before?"

"naaah, it won't end at all," he laughs, and then he leans down to kiss you.

FIN

author's note :: this has been eating my brain for the past 48ish hours here u go xoxo lina

ps kinich come home im at 70 pity

[cobrakaisb]

humid summer

summary: summer rolls around, and for the first time in two years you find yourself outside the borders of camp half-blood but how long can you keep pretending to be a normal cruise guest on the princess andromeda?

featuring: BOOK SPOILERS (from here on out), multiple povs (reader, percy, and annabeth), plus more of reader and annabeth’s relationship, oh also angst

word count: 2.7k

series masterlist ||| previous ||| next

the summer heat combined with the florida humidity is stifling. you feel like you’re boiling in a pot of soup, as opposed to lounging on the pool deck of a cruise ship. even the ocean breeze does little to quell the heat. you almost feel bad for the other demigods — who you know are training on a deck somewhere on the princess andromeda — but you can’t bring yourself to that point. not when you, chris, and katrina offered for them to ditch too. 

“how long do you plan on tanning for?” someone asks, and you recognize the voice as your boyfriend’s.

“until the sun goes down,” you answer, holding a hand up to your forehead as you give him a once over. 

it is obvious that he hasn’t been training, not in khaki pants and a light blue polo, but he still has his sword hanging from a sheath around his waist. his arms are crossed over his chest, and he shoots you a disapproving glare. yet, all you can focus on are his muscles.

“you’re gonna get a farmer's tan, dude,” chris jeers, eliciting snickers from you and katrina.

“oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” katrina teases, elbowing your side as you get up from your lounger and walk towards luke. 

you lift up your shades, pushing them to the top of your head and smile softly at him. you’re trying your best to be apologetic, or at least seem apologetic, but you’re sure it isn’t working. your eyes flicker across luke’s supposedly serious gaze, but you can see the humor swirling in his eyes. 

“you’re not mad are you? we were really just taking a break,” you explain, a soft pout on your lips to try and sell your story. 

luke raises an eyebrow along with the corner of his mouth, and while you know he doesn’t believe you, he doesn’t provide a lecture or try to contradict your words. it’s clear to all the demigods on the princess andromeda that while you’ve aligned yourself with them — with his cause — your loyalties lie in the palm of his hands, a sentiment which isn’t lost on luke either. he has the ability to cradle it or squash it like a bug. there is no inbetween. yet, he continues to push his luck. 

even now as you laugh poolside with chris and katrina with his firm hand resting on your hip, he knows that you’d slip away from him if you knew what was going on in the brig. if you knew who was there and what he’d done to lure them right into his clutches, you’d flee. 

he clears his throat, demanding your attention. only when all three pairs of eyes are on him does he muster up the courage to actually be a leader: “i better see the three of you at training later, otherwise you can kiss those free nights goodbye.”

luke squeezes your hip once more before departing, walking back down the hallway he originally came from.  

*****

the continuous rocking back and forth is starting to get to percy. with each sway of the large cruise ship, he can feel the insides of his stomach turning. the sounds of the waves crashing against the strong hull should be calming, soothing even, yet they only increase his feelings of nausea. 

“don’t tell me you’re seasick, seaweed brain?” annabeth snaps, but there is a hint of sympathy behind her cold words. 

“ugh as if,” he answers, but promptly squints his eyes after a particularly large jolt.

“i knew this was too good to be true,” he mumbles, leaning his sweaty forehead against the cool metal bars in hope of some relief. 

“it wouldn’t be if you’d just accepted my offer. it’d make things a lot easier for the both of us,” another voice chimes in. 

percy opens his eyes, immediately reaching for the ballpoint pen residing in his pocket. he can’t help but stare at the older boy, the person he once called a friend, with nothing but resentment and hatred. luke is leaning casually against the wall across from their holding cell. his arms are crossed, sword sheathed, and he looks like he has all the time in the world. there even seems to be a flicker of annoyance in his brown eyes. 

“we both know things could be much easier. right percy?” luke continues, but he doesn’t make any moves or even reach for his sword. 

“what are you doing here?” percy asks, mustering up enough strength to stand from the floor of their cell. 

luke chuckles, shaking his head back and forth with a small tsk. “c’mon percy, you’re smarter than that. i bet even annabeth has this figured out. isn’t that right banana?” 

“don’t call me that,” annabeth growls, fists clenched at her sides. 

percy watches their interaction, an intense stare down. he’s only even seen luke partake in one, and he remembers how luke was the first to recede. you’re the only person who luke allowed to bully him into getting your way, and annabeth must remember that as well as she turns away from the boy she once called a brother. percy looks at annabeth, asking her a silent question, but she doesn’t even acknowledge him, simply keeping her gaze locked on a questionable stain on the floor. 

“hmm, guess not. makes this even more entertaining,” luke says, stepping away from the wall and towards their cell. 

percy doesn’t hesitate this time, swiftly lifting the cap off his pen with the flick of his thumb. his sword appears in his hands, and he grips the hilt so tightly that his knuckles turn white. 

luke holds his hands up in surrender, “no need for violence, percy. i haven’t even gotten a chance to speak yet.” 

“really? cause you’ve been doing all the talking,” percy snaps, his eyes never leaving luke’s figure as he searches for any impending danger. 

luke chuckles again, but it’s humorless. his eyes turn back to percy lacking any and all warmth. with a clenched jaw, luke looks him up and down. percy feels his breath hitch in his throat; he remembers all too well the last time he fought luke. he also remembers that he has more training under his belt than he did a year ago. 

“i’ll be honest with you percy, because i think we owe that to each other. i know my dad sent you here, hoping you’d convince me to change my mind, but it’s not going to work. we both know that,” luke starts. 

“you, on the other hand, still have time to join me. percy, join us and all will be forgiven,” he finishes, extending his hand to percy. 

percy stares at it, and without a second thought spits at the older boy.

luke grimaces, wiping the saliva on his white linen shirt. “well then.” 

he turns to walk away, leaving the two teens and their cyclops companion behind, but he stops suddenly. his black curls bounce as he whips his head around over his shoulder, brown eyes meeting annabeth’s watery gaze: “i’ve done a lot of things, banana, but associating with a cyclops isn’t one of them.” and then he’s gone. 

*****

the training room is already packed when you and katrina arrive. although a majority of the space is taken up by demigods, you can see some monsters hanging around the outskirts of the crowd. their presence is looming, much like their size, and you nervously adjust the bowstring strapped around your upper body. it feels like it’s choking you, a sensation only amplified by the lump in your throat. try as you might, you can’t seem to swallow it down, and it only worsens as other demigods focus their attention on you. while katrina leads you through the crowd towards chris, their whispers echo in your ears. it’s giving you deja vu. 

you blink, and you’re back at camp half-blood. the dining pavilion is silent as you walk behind luke, weaving in and out of tables to get to cabin eleven’s. they’re trying to be subtle, quiet even, but their voices are much louder than intended. not to mention, all their eyes are on you, making it fairly obvious who their target is. a young girl turns to her friend, whispering something in her ear while making direct eye contact with you. you hear every word. 

“and she gets to skip morning training for a pool day. like how is that fair?” an auburn haired girl whispers not-so-quietly to her friend. 

your gaze snaps towards her, lip curled in a sneer. her blue eyes widen when they meet your anger-filled irises. she takes in a shaky breath followed by a cautious step back. after giving her a once over, you recognize her as holland, a fifteen year old daughter of athena. 

luke’s hand grips your shoulder roughly, pulling you along before the situation can escalate despite your incessant protests that you can handle yourself and this girl. he’s not here to do that this time though.

“remind me again, holland, how many bullseyes you’ve hit? oh that’s right, none because you can’t even keep the arrows in the quiver, much less on target,” you ridicule. 

her eyes gloss over and bottom lip trembles, yet she still manages a comeback: “i’m just confused as to why luke’s girlfriend gets special privileges.” 

the silence in the room is loud. everyone was already eavesdropping, but now it’s blatantly clear; you can hear a pin drop. your nostrils flare at her words, and you straighten your spine. scanning over the crowd of demigods and monsters alike, all their eyes ask the same question: what’s your next move? 

“is that what you all think?” you ask rhetorically. 

“well, let’s put those theories to rest,” you continue, marching to the front of the room. 

silently, and with hundreds of eyes watching, you remove your bow from your shoulders. the quiver filled with a dozen arrows brushes against your right thigh as you remove one. the wooden shaft is light and pliable in your hands; if you weren’t so determined to make holland eat her words it’d probably be snapped in half. you load the arrow, inhaling as you pull back the string. on the exhale, you release; a perfect bullseye. 

“let’s see if i can beat holland’s record,” you taunt, already loading up for your second shot on the second target. 

it’s bullseye after bullseye, and the silence in the room only gets heavier with each shot. finally, you run out of arrows and targets. you turn on your heel, facing the crowd. it’s arrogant, but you bend over into a deep bow with your eyes focused on holland’s blue ones. 

“once you can do that, holland, you can skip morning training too,” and with that, you walk out the door. 

you barely make it three steps before someone stops you. it’s luke; you can tell by the way he holds your bicep, firm yet delicate, and the rough calluses on his palm. you shrug, easily wiggling out of his grasp. his eyes are burning a hole in your head, but you refuse to meet his gaze, keeping yours locked on the vast horizon. 

“what was that?” he asks, voice gruff. 

“your army is getting cocky. someone had to put them in check,” you snap, crossing your arms now. 

he scoffs, stepping beside you with his body turned so that he’s looking at you. he waits patiently for you to acknowledge him, but you don’t. the waves rippling out on the ocean are much more entertaining. 

“maybe they know they’re on the winning side,” he replies, voice oozing confidence. 

you’re silent. 

“and i think you need to remember that too,” he continues, walking away. 

“really? cause it feels a lot like camp. if i wanted to be judged, i would’ve just stayed there. i thought my boyfriend, camp half-blood’s golden boy, would understand,” you say. 

luke freezes, but he doesn’t turn around. “then go back there,” he mumbles, opening the door to the training room. 

you blink, registering his monotone voice and hurtful words. maybe i will, you think.

and yet, you still end up falling asleep next to him that night. whispering apologies to each other in between kisses and tangled limbs. 

*****   

percy promised himself that he would never see the princess andromeda again. turns out promises are meant to be broken. he thinks you might be starting to realize that too. 

“and poisoning thalia’s tree was just the beginning,” luke confirms, standing across from percy. 

sword at the ready, percy waits for luke to make the first move. his eyes flicker over to you, and he’s stunned by your confused expression. it’s clear that luke is the mastermind here, but percy always assumed it was more of a co-parenting situation with heavy emphasis on your involvement in the child’s — luke’s plans to restore the golden age — life. it appears, however, that he was wrong. 

“thwarted again luke. the golden fleece is already on its way back to camp. i guess clarisse can be good for something,” percy taunts, but he’s just buying time.

annabeth already has an iris message queued up, broadcasting his conversation with luke to the entirety of camp half-blood. percy’s sure that he’s never beating those seaweed brain allegations, not when he’s so obviously struggling to bait luke. yet, the older brunette clenches his jaw at percy’s words, anger flashing in his eyes. 

“kronos was right. i should’ve killed you when i had the chance,” luke yells, before going on offense. 

percy throws a quick, albeit sloppy, parry. luke grunts, and percy thinks that playing dodgeball with joe bob and his laistrygonian siblings at meriwether college prep really paid off. for one, it definitely made him stronger. and two, he was able to deal with all the chaos of the party ponies around him, much like he was able to win that final dodgeball game. 

in between percy fighting off luke, and the ponies demolishing anything in their sight, annabeth and grover get cornered. percy can see them, backs literally against a wall, as a hellhound growls in annabeth’s face. it’s not afraid of her dagger, and grover’s pipes aren’t doing anything to help the situation. percy turns, ready to jump in and leave his side quest with luke behind, (he’s sure there will be other opportunities), but he doesn’t need to. 

*****

you know it’s wrong. somebody from kronos’s army should not be protecting the so-called enemy, but you can’t help it. annabeth is the little sister you never had, and even if she doesn’t see you in that light anymore, you refuse to stand by and watch her get hurt. 

you whistle, and the hellhound fixes its beady red eyes on you. it probably expects you to run or cower in fear, but it only takes one swipe of your knife to turn him to golden ash. now, there’s nothing standing between the three of you. 

annabeth steps forward, her gray eyes cold and calculating as she tries to determine your ulterior motive. you never once break her stare, even though your chest is heaving, and you feel like passing out from all the new information you received today. 

“i swear i had no idea,” you say, voice breathless. 

annabeth’s gaze softens slightly, and you only know that because you know her so well. you can’t imagine that she believes you; you wouldn’t believe yourself. yet, there are only three people who have seen your true colors, the person buried underneath the mask of hera’s daughter, and annabeth is one of them. unlike grover, annabeth can detect the hurt in your voice. she sees the disappointment in your eyes, and that proves she can trust you. 

“leave with the ponies. i’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you,” you instruct. 

on her nod, you turn away, heading back into the craziness of the party ponies to stop a red boxing glove from punching out ethan nakamura. she pats grover’s shoulder, leading him towards a less congested area, and waits for their chance to slip out. 

true to your word, luke doesn’t follow them home.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo@hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @maraschinocherry3 @used2beeeeee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcilla @obxstiles @dracoslovergirl @vanessa-rafesgirl @l1a-pjosversion @vikimontethegirlblogger

[bandgie]

Agora Hills

Changbin x fem!reader

synopsis: You thought breaking up with Changbin was for the best, but he's here to remind you that's completely and utterly wrong.

warnings: MDNI 18+, suggestive themes, exes-to-lovers, rich!changbin, he's an asshole but means well, some angst mostly fluff, thats it lol

1.5k words

It's not as though you hated Changbin, quite the opposite actually.

He's caring, sweet, and would rip the shirt off his back if you asked. He would treat you well, spoil you like a baby. He's really the whole package...all for one thing.

As sweet as he is to you, he's too snobby with other people. You knew he had money, lots of it. Anyone with that amount to their name can let it get to their head, but Changbin loved showing off how much he had. You couldn't do it anymore.

The final straw was when you were out on a double date with your friends. The restaurant wasn't up to Changbin's taste, and he made it very clear he did not like it to everyone. You tried to awkwardly laugh it off, but it was hard not to when he said, "This is why I don't like hanging out with the middle class, no offense. You guys just have no taste."

You saw red. Here was your boyfriend belittling the class your family has had to work their way into. With clenched teeth you apologized to your friends, broke up with Changbin, and had your friends drive you home.

It's been two weeks, and he's been calling you nonstop. Text after text, call after call, voicemail after voicemail. When you weren't picking up, he started sending gifts to your door. Jewelry, bouquets of flowers, clothes you knew cost more than your rent. Changbin had a habit of showing his love through materialistic ways, but it was getting annoying having to return them back to his address.

"You should ask for a car," your roommate chirps. 

You only rolled your eyes and groaned in return. You slumped further into the couch before burying your face in your hands. 

"You're supposed to be helping me," you say frustratingly. 

"I am," she protests. "Your shit car is breaking down, again, and you and I both know damn well your little sugar daddy would love to buy you a better one."

Angrily, you place your hands on the sides of the couch and sit up. "He's not my sugar daddy! Don't call him that."

Your roommate tsks and shakes her head, "Whatever. Have you called him at least?" 

You shake your head back, "I haven't spoken to him since that night."

"Well, maybe you should," she reasons. "Some guys need to hear it more than once, especially if you just up and left him like that. Who knows, maybe you can work things out too."

"I have," you stress. "He's just so...ignorant sometimes. And plus, I can't take him back after what he said to you."

Rather than seeming upset, your roommate shrugs. "I've heard worse. Plus I don't think he meant it in a bad way, like you said, he's just a little ignorant."

Her aloofness makes you both on edge and at ease. It's good to hear that she wasn't as offended as you thought she'd be, but her being so nonchalant about your situation is irritating. 

In times like these, you wish someone could just tell you what to do. 

"I say you call him," she answers your prayers. "If he's an ass, it only proves that you were right to dump him. If he's not, then you either owe him a better breakup or another chance."

Finding resolution, you stand to your feet and grab your phone from the coffee table. "You say it like it's so easy."

"That's because it is."

-

Changbin picks up on the first ring. Not that it should surprise you, but the rehearsed words die in your throat when he answers with an overly excited hello?

When you don't answer he prompts you again, "Baby...are you there?"

You can feel the way your heart clenches at the pet name. It's only been a mere two weeks since you've heard his voice and you're already wanting to cry. 

"Don't call me that," your voice is small. 

"Why not?" He asks. You can hear how shaky his voice is, but you convince yourself it's the static. If he really cared about you, he wouldn't have said that in the first place. "Are you not my baby anymore?"

You have to chew on your bottom lip and look up to the ceiling of your room to keep yourself from crying. A few seconds pass before you speak, "I dunno...Changbin you really...you really messed up."

"I know, baby, and I'm so sorry. I'm stupid. I hurt you and embarrassed you in front of your friends. I would do it over again if I could, baby believe me. We can fix this, I can be better. I love you, you know that."

He's right, you do know that. There wasn't a moment in your relationship where you doubted his love for you. Changbin has been a little snobby before, but that doesn't compare to his overwhelming adoration for you.

"I love you too Binnie," you sniff. "I wanna fix this too."

You swear you can hear him smile behind the phone. "That's all I need to hear baby. You mean so much to me that I can't even explain it, you know that?"

Despite the tears on your waterline you laugh, "Yeah I do Binnie. You mean a lot to me too."

Changbin laughs with you. "I miss you baby...it's so lonely in my mansion."

Whatever tenderness you had filling your heart dissipates and is replaced with agitation. "Jesus this is exactly what I mean! It's those little stupid fucking remarks that-"

"No! Baby baby I didn't mean it like that! It's a Doja Cat song-"

"-and here I was really wanting to make things work and you just-"

The two of you begin to talk over one another, the previous confessions nearly forgotten. It takes Changbin profusely apologizing and begging for you to stop arguing. 

"Over the phone isn't gonna cut it. I'll send a limo and you can come over. Please baby, we can fix this."

You sigh heavily and collapse on your bed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Okay."

-

No matter how many times you enter Changbin's house, if you can call it that, it always leaves you breathless. Polished floors, high ceilings, with chandeliers dangling up above you. It's clean, not a speck of dust in sight, most likely thanks to the many invisible housemaids. 

He had ushered you to his room, sitting you on his couch as he remained standing. 

It felt good to see him, even if you were pissed. He was as muscular as ever, a black tank top showing his pecs and arms deliciously. He must've worked out before you came, he tended to use the gym as a stress reliever. 

"There's really no excuse I have other than I'm stupid." Changbin starts. 

You let a small breath of air out that mimics laughter, "You don't have to tell me that.

Changbin smiles at you, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah." He pauses. "At the dinner, I really don't know why I even said that. I didn't mean to hurt you, or your friends. It's was inappropriate and fucked up of me. We can go and I can apologize to them. Anything you want me to do, just name it."

Timidly, he gets on his knees between your legs and takes your hands into his own. "I love you. I love everything about you even if I complain like an idiot. I'm just not used to...some things, but I don't want that to be the end of us. I can learn, and I can change. Just don't leave me. Please."

God, if there's one thing Changbin is good at, it's begging. His hot breath fans over your bare legs, sending chills up your body. You can feel the heat of his body rolling off onto yours. He looks beautiful. His dark, messy curls that sit at the top of his head, the broadness of his shoulders, the way his lips pout. 

As big as he is, he's still a baby.

Your baby.

Gently, you untangle your hands from his, and his face drops for a moment. You quickly place them on his face, pulling him forward until his lips meet your own. 

Changbin squeaks at the feel of your kiss, but his initial shock turns into passion. He grips the side of your face with one hand while the other steadies himself on your knee. It's gentle, the way he pulls back for a moment before diving back in.

There’s nothing but love in his featherlight lips enveloping yours. All you can feel is him, his passion, his devotion to you. All the things he wants to say- no, he needs to say is conveyed through the kiss.

His hands snakes to the back of your head, pushing you deeper into his mouth. It doesn't take long before his lips don't feel like enough, and you're both opening your mouths to taste each other. 

It makes your heart swoon to know that he tastes the same. Familiar. Safe. 

Changbin grows bold, the hand on your knee moving up to grip the plushness of your thighs. 

"So, you forgive me?" He asks between kisses.

You pull back and pretend to think, "I don't know. Why should I?"

This makes Changbin smile, fully. "I can show you. Would that be better?"

The hand on your thigh inches to the hem of your shorts. The way his warm fingers caress your skin makes you involuntarily open your legs a little wider. 

"I guess that'll do for now."

a/n: this is a little different from what I usually post, but I like it. hope you do too! thank you @then-make-me for editing/proofreading!

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hello hello - please feel free to ignore if it's not your jam but I'm in love with future fic rockstar eddie/ non famous steve being sickeningly in love - especially outsiders getting jealous when eddie only has eyes for steve!

I got two rock star Eddie requests in a row so I had to break them up a little. I love the idea of Steve like surviving some of the worst shit to happen and then absolutely not able to deal with the crowd at a concert. He is clearly traumatized by what happened, and has to face his fears a bit, and it doesn't go so well. This could have been kind of a time skip thing, but I decided to make Steve suffer more because I'm suffering and that's just how the world turns. Thank you for this one! - Mickala ❤️

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

Steve’s favorite part of going on tour with Eddie was being able to watch soundcheck.

Eddie always put on a great show, and Steve watched from the side of the stage as often as he could, but he went to soundcheck because it felt more intimate.

He could stare openly, not hide the fact that he was one hip thrust away from drooling all over the floor.

The guys in the band just rolled their eyes, used to it for the last several years since Steve started coming with them.

They were all perpetually single, hooking up in some cities, but mostly just enjoying the ride as a group.

Steve could admit though, he was hesitant to go to actual shows, and that was the main reason he never missed soundcheck.

About a year ago, Steve was front row at a show, trying his best to just blend in. It was easier that way. But sometimes blending in wasn’t good enough, not for the hardcore groupies.

They recognized him, and while they didn’t know he was Eddie’s boyfriend, they knew he was special to the band in some way. They quickly got too close, much too close for Steve’s comfort, even for general admission at a metal concert. They crowded him.

He really thought they were just being overly friendly, trying to get backstage, tried to just suck it up and deal with it for the remainder of the show.

But then Eddie did his song. The song he wrote for Steve. He always sang to Steve, in the subtlest way he possibly could, which wasn’t very subtle at all.

He looked towards Steve the entire time. He would smile at him, sometimes even find his way to the side of the stage and blow him a kiss. With a crowd around, it would be nearly impossible for anyone to know who he was blowing a kiss to.

But for this particular show, the groupies surrounding him were almost completely blocking his view. If Eddie wasn’t elevated on stage, he wouldn’t have even been able to see the top of his head.

He knew Eddie must have seen him in the group, must have noticed his predicament.

The music stopped. Dead silence in a metal concert was never a good sign.

“Everyone take a step away from the person you’re closest to. Everyone’s pushing too much.”

Some people listened, but not the groupies surrounding Steve.

“If everyone in the front doesn’t take a couple steps back, I leave. Security will clear this place out, and we never come back. Got it?”

Steve felt the groupies to his left start inching away, and hoped the rest would follow.

Eddie was now standing right in front of Steve. He looked concerned, and Steve knew he probably looked a bit panicked.

“Stevie, give me a thumbs up if you’re good.”

Steve wanted to, he wanted the show to go on, and make this just a distant memory of one of his least favorite Corroded Coffin shows.

But the group around him didn’t seem to like the attention on Steve. Not when they wanted attention on them.

Plus, his arms were pretty much glued to his sides from how close everyone was to him, so even if he was feeling okay with the situation, he had no way to put his thumb up.

“Alright, sorry everyone. Some of you can’t listen, now all of you suffer, just like school. I need security to the front, my left now.”

The crowd was pissed, but once Steve was pulled from the crowd by security and set up on the stage, Eddie pulling him backstage, the rest of the guys following, almost as concerned.

Eddie never stopped a show, never canceled one, never postponed one, never gave less than 150% on stage every night. If he was doing this, it was for a good reason.

Once everything was explained, Eddie had security find out who it was near Steve, and make sure they got banned from all of his shows.

But they were long gone, and Steve obviously didn’t know their names, barely could have picked them out of a lineup.

He decided to stop watching shows from anywhere but backstage, and then it became only watching soundcheck.

But he and Eddie kind of loved that, loved having their moments without having to hide.

The guys would roll their eyes and complain, but they didn’t mean it. They were just happy to have some decent food waiting in leftover containers for them when they got back to the buses or hotels because Steve cooked while they performed.

Eddie would run through a few of the songs, always including Steve’s song even though he didn’t have to.

The venue for tonight was smaller than most of the rest of this tour, intended to be that way so they could go back to their “roots” and have a more intimate setting with fans.

Eddie asked if Steve would want to watch this one, maybe hang out by security at the front of the stage.

Initially, he said no. But Eddie seemed disappointed, even though he insisted he understood and he didn’t want Steve to be uncomfortable, and Steve didn’t want him to be disappointed.

So the day of the show, while watching soundcheck from a chair on stage, he yelled, “Got a ticket for me, big boy?”

He could do this for Eddie. It wouldn’t even be that many people in the crowd, and the chances of the same thing happening again were slim to none.

He’d been through worse.

The way Eddie’s face lit up at his words, his excited bouncing causing his guitar to sway around him.

‘I always got a ticket for you, sweetheart.”

One hour before the show, the guys usually ignored visitors, choosing to use their time to get hydrated and snack, sometimes smoke a bit if they weren’t focused right.

Steve was rarely part of this, even he knew this was a band thing he shouldn’t force himself into.

But tonight, Eddie used the hour before the show to make sure he was taken to a good spot by the stage with security, had a water bottle and granola bar so he wouldn’t have to leave.

Since there was no one but security there, Eddie planted a quick kiss to his forehead before walking away.

“Enjoy the show, Stevie!”

“Always do, Eds!”

The crowd started trickling in only a few minutes later, excitedly getting up to the barricade, talking amongst themselves about the set list. A few people were next to him, but there was enough space that he didn’t feel worried.

He relaxed a bit, taking a few sips of water and smiling at the security guard.

As more people came in, they crowded behind him and next to him. He was somewhat pushed further to the side, but he didn’t mind. He wanted fans to get a great experience, and if that meant he only saw some of the stage, he could live with that.

The lights went down, and he felt a few people crowd in closer to him.

It was fine.

Until the guys took the stage, Eddie immediately bouncing over to his microphone stand and starting on the first song.

The crowd moved in more.

It couldn’t be possible that he was being shoved between people, but he was.

The room was closing in, literally, around him, and he had no idea what to do. The security guard was watching the front row closest to the band, not paying attention to the way Steve had been drawn into the crowd.

He took a deep breath.

Then someone yelled in his ear.

“Hey! You’re Steve right? Like, with the band?”

He managed to nod, but he didn’t want to have a conversation. This was a concert, a loud one. It wasn’t really the time to talk.

But the guy didn’t stop.

“Are you like an assistant? Or a tech guy?”

Steve shook his head.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Well, you go to all the shows right? What do you do?”

He wasn’t going to stop. Steve had to leave.

But there were now a few people in front of him, and he was completely surrounded by people having the time of their lives.

He just needed the security guard to look his way, he could signal him, and he’d be out.

“They stopped that show for you before. People kind of hated you for a while.”

Okay, Steve was done. He knew people kind of hated him for a while, he hated himself for a while. Hated that his reaction caused a whole 2500 people to miss out on half of a show they paid for.

But he reminded himself, the same way Eddie had for weeks, that it was Eddie’s call to end the show.

Any fans that wanted to blame Steve, could take their blind idolization somewhere else.

“I was there. Actually, right next to you. I doubt you remember me.”

He got that right, he didn’t remember him.

“I told everyone you and Eddie must have something going on if he’s willing to stop a show for you. No one believed me.”

Steve remained silent, his breath coming in short pants. He could see Eddie singing to a group on the opposite end of the stage.

“But that’s what it is, right? You two are together and he’s so whipped he ended a show because you can’t handle a crowd?”

Steve had to go.

The guy was touching him in most places, half of it out of necessity, but some of it not. His hand was wrapped around Steve’s wrist, much too tight for it to be accidental or just to get him to move.

“Let go,” Steve managed to say, loud enough to be heard, but his voice was shaking.

The guy did let go, but he didn’t give him any space.

“My friend fucked him once you know.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

Eddie had slept with two people before he met Steve, and he didn’t even remember their names. One was a guy at the bar in Indy he frequented, celebrating his 18th birthday in a way he regretted the next morning. The other was a girl, admittedly a test of his sexuality and she probably knew it from the way he fumbled around the entire time.

So whichever one of those people was this guy’s friend, clearly they were telling whatever story got them attention from other fans.

“Good for them,” he said, trying to focus on Eddie.

If he focused on Eddie, he’d be okay.

“Eddie promised to call him and never did. Kind of sucks to be left like that.”

Steve knew that too. That in Eddie’s somewhat drunken stupor, he’d gotten his number and said he would call him, but lost the paper at some point and never went back to the bar.

“Happens to the best of us.”

“Yeah, but not to you apparently.”

Steve started pushing forward, desperate to leave.

Eddie was talking to the crowd now, introducing the guys like he always did after the first two songs.

“You’re not even into this music. Why does he like you?”

Well, that’s certainly a question Steve asked himself often. Couldn’t help it, really.

Eddie, especially now, could have anyone he wanted. Any famous person would probably drop whoever they were currently with to have even a moment of Eddie’s attention.

Steve loved Corroded Coffin’s music, he loved the passion they all put into creating it and performing it, loved listening to Eddie at two in the morning furiously scratching down lyric ideas. He loved hearing some of their influences over the years, even going to some shows for Metallica because he knew it meant a lot to Eddie.

But it’s true he wasn’t a huge fan of this kind of music. He liked pop, he liked stuff you heard on any standard radio station driving down the road. He liked being able to dance along to it when he was cooking.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t belong here just the same as anyone else. He did. Anyone could enjoy this band, just as anyone could enjoy any band, even if it didn’t mesh well with their other interests. That’s regardless of the relationship status between them and the lead singer.

So Steve kept pushing forward, doing his best to get out of the crowd, away from this guy who was much larger than he was.

“Where you going? Can’t handle people knowing you aren’t worth his time?”

Steve’s heart was beating fast, so many sweaty bodies pushing against his on his way to the security guard who looked like he was finally noticing what was going on.

“Can’t believe he wrote a song for someone who doesn’t even watch his shows!”

That one hit Steve in the chest, hard.

This guy was why he couldn’t watch Eddie. He wanted to. He would be at every single show if he could.

But clearly that wasn’t in the cards for him.

He could feel bad about that later.

His focus was entirely on getting backstage for now, ignoring the shouts of everyone he was pushing through.

“Dude, you can’t just push to the front!”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Should’ve been here earlier if you wanted front row!”

Steve’s heart was racing, but he was trying to get to the security guard who was coming towards the barricade.

He reached him, but got shoved hard into the barricade.

The guy from earlier had managed to follow him through the crowd and just pushed him. If there were less people around, he would’ve fallen on his face.

He felt the edge of the barricade dig into his ribs, but it was a minor pain compared to things he’s felt before. He just wanted to go.

He stood up straight, took the biggest breath he could, and let the security guard lift him over the barricade.

Somehow Eddie must have seen it, and he immediately stopped playing.

“What’s going on? Stevie?”

Steve held his thumb up, hoping Eddie would continue and he could sneak out back without causing any more of a scene.

But Eddie must have seen the way Steve was hunched over, holding his rib where he’d been pushed into the barricade.

He was immediately on the edge of the stage, asking the security guard to help lift Steve while he pulled him up.

He was honestly too far into a sudden panic attack to even resist.

Eddie’s hands were on his cheeks as soon as he was sitting on the stage, his wide eyes looking over everywhere. The rest of the guys had all come over to see what was going on.

“Stevie, what happened, sweetheart? Are you hurt? Who did this?” He turned to the guys before Steve could even try to answer. “We’re done. Send everyone home.”

Steve was shaking his head. He didn’t want this to happen again, not because of him.

“People will hate me,” he managed to say.

“What? Sweetheart, no they won’t. You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine. Just let me go backstage.”

Eddie was watching him, trying to figure out if he was faking being okay.

He was, and he knew Eddie would see it, and he would cancel the show, and even more people would hate him.

“We’re done. If people hate you for it, they can hate me too.”

The guys all agreed, because they’re the best, and they know they can’t put on a real show without Eddie anyway.

Steve focused on the way Eddie’s hands felt on his face, his neck, his shoulders. He took a few deep breaths, managing to calm down enough to see the lights come on and the tech guys come out to start breaking down.

“Think you can walk or do you need me to carry you? Where does it hurt, love?”

“I’m okay.”

“That doesn’t answer my questions, sweetheart.”

Oh. Guess not.

“I can walk. It’s just my ribs. Not broken.”

“Who did this?”

Steve knew he could probably still find him in the crowd, had managed to glimpse enough of his clothing and face to point him out if he was still inside.

But it wasn’t worth it.

This would continue to happen. As long as people loved Eddie the way they did, as long as they didn’t like Steve, this would happen.

And Steve was okay with it, he had to be. He knew Eddie would take this harder than he did, maybe even the rest of the guys would too.

“Just a guy. He didn’t like that you never called his friend.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“You remember your 18th birthday?”

“Are you kidding me?”

Steve nodded.

“Fuck them. Seriously, fuck him for seriously thinking a one night stand was gonna go anywhere. Jesus Christ.”

Eddie kissed Steve’s forehead, forgetting that there was still a crowd of disappointed fans, though pretty much everything that had just happened made it pretty clear Steve was his boyfriend.

“Let’s go back to the bus, get on our way home. Wayne’s baking you a cake for the birthday you had to celebrate with us. Said there’s no way the cake we got you was as good as his homemade butter cake.”

“He’s right,” Steve smiled.

This is what it came down to, in the end.

Eddie loved him, loved him enough to come out on stage just to make sure he was okay. Eddie loved him enough to bring him home to his family whenever they could, knew Steve needed to see the kids, see Wayne and Robin whenever possible. Eddie loved him enough to make sure he had a special spot for every soundcheck, sang his song to him every time so he could get his own personal show.

Steve loved him enough to deal with the fans hating him, for some fans to hate them all for supporting Eddie despite the fact that he was queer. Steve loved him enough to let Eddie baby him even though he hated it, especially in front of others. Steve loved him enough to watch every soundcheck like it was a sold out arena show.

[hitlikehammers]

time for that age old question: is love enough to beat back the apocalypse?

Because Steve's right there to protect everybody like the self-sacrificing asshole he is help Eddie make the music he's not strong enough for yet help them all put Vecna in the ground for good this time, right?(!??!)

or: what's the song for your walkman, baby? does it even matter?

I Could Be Your Nurse (or something)

Or: Five Times Eddie Has To Ask For Help, Plus One Time He Doesn’t Need It Anymore (but asks anyway) ✨ for @penny00dreadful 💜

<<< three: sleep 🌗

🎧 🎹 four: play 🎶 🛡️

To tell the whole truth of it: it comes too quickly—Vecna’s last stand. Of course it does.

But probably, if he’s being fair: they’d never have been really ready. Not for this, and so maybe it’s best that they’re not fully healed, not at full strength when it all comes to a head, not least because that means Vecna and his petal-toothed brigade aren’t at full strength either. And that choice, for their side, is sloppy; the Party stands on the right-side-up against the attack because they have to. Vecna makes his move because—or else, Eddie’s fairly sure—because the sadistic ballsac is losing his fucking mind.

Which is terrifying, sure, but fuck if it doesn’t help their cause.

It’s actually over pretty quick, even compared to Spring Break which, while it felt like a lifetime for how much it changed Eddie’s own, it’s only been those handful of days—but it’s kinda like the grand finale at a fireworks show: everything all at once then, done. In the everything’s though: he might not like it, but Eddie’s not so foolish as to believe he’s not still too tender, still too deep in healing the finer points of being gnawed alive to be anything but a burden in the thick of it. He refuses to be sidelined, though, and he thinks it says a lot for the long-term health of this glorious impossible thing he’s…building? Yeah, he, umm, he, Eddie Munson, is building a real goddamn thing where he doesn’t even just let someone into his heart and treasures them there, no, he’s building a thing where he gives his heart and gets on new and soft and trembling in kind and they both get to work at the treasuring of something more precious than just their own vulnerable insides, but yeah, yeah:

Eddie thinks it bodes really fucking well for the hopes he has that lean hard toward forever, already, in Eddie’s chest at least when Steve looks his way as they’re planning the teams and he locks eyes with Eddie and Eddie doesn’t even get his mouth open to breathe, to plead don’t cut me out, don��t send me to Wayne to be ‘safe’ or ‘out of harm’s way’ or whatever, don’t leave me so fucking far from you my heart hurts just because it’s beating in the middle space unmoored and shaking around all bruised up with it for not knowing and I know I can’t do what everyone else can but it’ll be bad enough not being next to you please don’t push me far enough that I won’t know the moment you’re safe, just—

Steve meets his eyes, and Eddie’s breath catches before his heart trips, and then Steve speaks up—and he doesn’t, not all that often when the nerdiest among them are shoring up the battle plans—but he watches Eddie without blinking when he pipes up:

“Eddie’s on medical and audio, with Erica and Jon.”

And maybe it’s his tone—this almost wholly novel thing in Steve that’s steely and unquestionable but no one pushes, they nod and get back to work, totally seamless and, and…yeah. That’s all Eddie wanted. Best he could hope for. Just outside the gate they go through. Close enough to hold a hand on the way down, and reach for purchase on the journey back.

Steve swallows hard, and nods at Eddie before he looks away and starts gearing up, twirls his fucking nailbat so it catches the sunlight even thought the metal’s mostly rusted, now and just…Eddie hadn’t needed to say a word. And Steve wanted to send him to safety, the way his throat had bobbed made it real clear there was something heavy he’s held back but: he’d said what he said. He’d laid the line in Eddie’s favor. Eddie wants to hold him, wants to pull him close and feel him breathe, and—

Yeah. Eddie kinda feels like the way it goes is a really good sign for their future as a couple. A couple. Them. Together.

With an always on the other side of all of this that could be kinda fucking magnificent, maybe. Given the chance.

Point being: Eddie gets himself set up with at least a full ambulance’s supplies for first aid, definitely not acquired legally, and a stereo set up he really wishes someone had been kind enough to outfit him with in not-the-apocalypse, holy shit is it gorgeous, but since the strength in his hands is still a work-in-progress, he’s gotta be ready to crank up the noise as a distraction from arm’s-length. It’s actually driving him fucking crazy—or, was; it was, pre-active return to the regularly scheduled world ending—the whole not being able to make music, to translate the noise in his head into sounds on the strings but even that, even that’s been tolerable, survivable because of Steve—who he loves, he gets to love Steve Harrington holy fuck—but Steve’s not just there to be everything and more than the air Eddie goddamn breathes, to become the music just by existing, nope, he one ups that shit: he asked Eddie if it’d be enough to learn the chords he needs. So Eddie could match the words with the notes right, so Steve could be a—

“—kinda piss-poor substitute but,” Steve had shrugged for it with a crooked grin; “but even a bad translator gets a message across, and you’d know when it’s wrong so we can figure out how to fix it and—“

And Eddie’d grabbed Steve’s chin and yanked his mouth close to fucking consume that man like a soul goddamn starved.

“I’d be a shit teacher,” Eddie had mouthed against Steve’s lips after they were sucked well-swollen; “if I still can’t lift the fucking neck for more than a minute,” but Steve had heard none of it, just shot right back:

“You don’t think we’ve beat steeper odds than that?”

And in the face of that raised brow, those red lips parted, that pulse in that neck still a little bit visible like a tease: the fuck was Eddie supposed to do but dive back in and love on the man who’d somehow agreed to be his, and to claim Eddie of all people in turn?

Which is a whole other reason why everything’s gonna be fine: Steve’s gonna make music with him. Steve’s gonna be Eddie’s muse and the vessel for what he inspires. It’s gonna be like Greek fucking poetry, except it’s gonna be them.

So Eddie’s all stocked up, s’got everyone’s floaty-bone-breaky songs queued up on blast for immediate deployment as necessary, and Steve’s the last to go through—he always is, in Eddie’s experience, waits for everyone to be safely accounted for before he spares a thought for himself and it might kill Eddie one day but not fucking today, because it’s gonna be fine—

“Eddie.”

It feels a little like history repeating itself, the way Steve huddles him in a little. Henderson’s through, with Lucas and Hopper and the weird stray Russian, but it’s not like history repeating, because Eddie’s got different words to see him off with; so fucking different.

“Last time I didn’t have,” and Steve reaches, cups Eddie’s cheek, drags down to press on his chest as his voice strains hard: “and it almost killed me,” and Steve usually pinches between his eyes to keep his feelings in check but instead of using his free hand to hold back the tears he reaches for Eddie’s and laces their fingers as his voice cracks and he chokes out:

“Please,” and it’s for everything. For all the almosts from last time; for all the possibilities rife this time. For all the hopes Eddie thinks they share beyond how this shakes out.

“Exceptionally underqualified field med,” Eddie breathes, and squeezes Steve’s hand so, so hard like a promise, because it is; “exceptionally overqualified DJ,” and Steve chuckles, wet but real and it’s enough, because:

“I got it, Stevie,” Eddie bends his forehead to Steve’s to say better than with words that he’s not in this to be a hero, he’ll be right here the whole time, but that doesn’t mean he…that doesn’t mean he can help but to ask this time:

“Just,” and the breath in him punches out unexpectedly as he damn-near begs:

“Only bring me back the little things, yeah? That I know how to fix?”

And they both hear what’s said underneath it:

Don’t turn around and die down there, and kill me in kind..

And—if anyone’s keeping track—they turn out not to need it but: the way the kiss is a wholeass wartime farewell, man.

And then: Eddie waits, and fucks with the speakers for less than an hour before the earth shakes, and his heart drops, but then he hears it.

The fucking whooping of those shitheads echoing through the cracks.

And then he sees it, runs, grabs the first hand that’s clinging to the rope this time and pulls with strength he doesn’t have, is probably more a hindrance than a help but he steadies them each back on the ground and hugs them so tight, kisses more than one of them on the head or the cheek as he doesn’t pretend not to be sobbing through the laughter because they did it, they fucking did it, somehow it’s over and he loves these people and he’s so fucking happy they’re alive and safe and here and—

And the person he loves more, loves most, brings up the rear, a little bloodied, a little scratched up, dingy with the fucking air down there but smiling and Eddie…

Eddie falls into him so fucking hard they both hit the ground and just, just grab onto one another. Just hold and breathe and catch lips every few seconds like an afterthought because they feel each other’s heartbeat where their chests are pressed tight and it’s, they’re…

Steve’s got four broken fingers across both hands. None in a row. He’s basically giving a Vulcan salute by default for how they’re taped.

Eddie loves him so goddamn much it hurts.

And Eddie’d obviously known—once things start to settle in the days that’ve followed—that teaching Steve guitar with those Spock-y hands was on the back burner, but he does ask Steve to sit, and to rest, and to help hum back the tunes in Eddie’s head while Eddie jots lyrics with a hand that’s still shaky but steadying out more every day, and it’s kind of perfect, and Steve adds some things into the melodies either on purpose or by accident but they’re better for it every time and—

Muse and vessel, man. The light of Eddie’s whole goddamn life.

With fucking Vulcan hands still, though, so: excuse Eddie for being…bewildered when his boyfriend—boyfriend, that’s his boyfriend—but his taped-up-healing-Vulcan-handed boyfriend is propping the front door open and lugging in a long, not-recovery-friendly thing that looks close to dropping on his toes and—

“The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks with a little more panic in his voice than he’d hoped for as he rushes as best he can to where Steve’s kicking the door shut behind him, fluttering his hands around uselessly as Steve maneuvers past him, leans across for a peck at the corner of Eddie’s mouth and calls—“It’s fine, it weighs, like, nothing”—over his shoulder as he settles the, the thing down on the coffee table in the living room they’ve started actually using for, y’know.

Living.

Eddie follows him in, though, because of course, he’s half-a-dog on that man’s heels, whole-caught-in-the-gravity-of-his-everything: but Eddie follows as Steve tosses himself backward with something in his hand, rolls and rucks up his fucking absurd Hawking Middle tee across the sweet curve of his hips, the way the soft give of skin tempts Eddie to run his tongue over the trail of almost-curls, like baby-curls where they lead under the waist of his jeans: Eddie would happily volunteer to survive on the taste of that musky-delicate space until the end of goddamn time—

But then Steve’s huffing a breathless ha from behind a chair where he’d been stretched to reach and a light catches Eddie’s eye from his periphery where he’d been staring unblinking just at Steve: the big long black thing on the coffee table. It takes a genuine concerted effort not to keep at the Steve-staring—not an uncommon state of Eddie’s existence, in all fairness—and check what’s glowing on the table: something turned on. Was plugged in, right, that’s what had Steve rolling on the floor without Eddie on top of or being deliciously pinned down by him.

The something being the big long black thing that Eddie takes in for the whole of it, now: a keyboard.

“Jon picked it up for me second-hand from the place next to Fox Photo when he drove down for his camera, and Rob vouched that it’s a good brand and like, really good condition,” Steve’s raised up on his knees, now with his hands braces on his thighs as Eddie studies the keys, fingers the ends of a every few of the naturals.

“Rob helped with those, too, so I’d know the right, like, chords,” and yeah: they’re stupa of masking tape stuck to the keys with letters in blue, black, and red pen, alternating so they don’t get mixed up, some with and arrow, Eddie assumes, to indicate a sharp.

“I only remember like half of one song from when my parents thought it would look good to have me take piano lessons,” Steve huffs in whole-ass judgment; “my mom wanted the endorsement of the guy who was stepping down from city council, and his wife taught private lessons, so, y’know,” Steve rolls his eyes; “super convenient leading up to the election.”

“What song?”

Steve blinks, tips his head in askance for what Eddie recognizes very clearly as something closer to a croak than a question, his throat all tight. He tries to cough, to clear it.

“What song do you remember?”

Steve snorts at that, leans back on his palms, and fuck is he beautiful.

“Clair de Lune,” Steve grins crooked; “the one song I was allowed to pick, instead of just being assigned.”

“Why’d you pick it?” Not that Eddie doesn’t like it or anything. It’s more that…he knew Steve could more than just drum fingers on keys, if only just, and that a baby grand used to sit in the corner where there’s a stereo cabinet now, but.

But: see, there’s like a whole half of his heart that’s dedicated to collecting new knowledge about everything Steve: his favorite food when he was 12 versus the now. How his favorite color became his favorite color. The story behind all the polos. The nitty-gritties about why he’s in a big-ass house alone for approximately 360 days a year, and how long it’s been that way. Eddie’s whole heart is basically Steve’s but every day that half overflows a little, and Eddie’s only keeping it relegated to parts filled with Steve-lore so he can feel the collection break containment every other day, this grand and joyous bursting under his ribs as everything spills over again, and again, and again until it’s all just Steve, and his heart has to burst or stretch, or both.

Eddie thinks both will be amazing.

And right now, in the interest of building toward that amazing-both: he wants to know why Debussy.

Steve chuckles to himself—better music than any dead French guy by a country mile—and eyes Eddie almost slyly.

“Do you remember Claire Reynolds?”

Vaguely. Like, very vaguely. He remembers…uneven pigtails. Very actual-cult-like vibes about her family as a vague impression and now that he’s bringing it to mind he feels a new wave of indignation: those Children-of-the-Corn motherfuckers were just fine but Eddie liked a board game and he was probably a murderer.

“When we were in like, first grade,” Steve’s continuing on; “she asked me every, single, day, to come over and see her sheep.” Steve looks up at Eddie and bites his lower lip, lets his gaze dance and lets Eddie fall into it for a few dazed seconds before he spells it out.

“She had these crazy eyes about it, it was kinda unsettling,” Steve nudges, but Eddie’s doesn’t get it until:

“And it’s not like I do now, because obviously I don’t, but I definitely didn’t speak a lick of French when I was eight.”

It takes Eddie a hot second before he snorts hard enough to hurt:

Claire, da Loon.

“I was eight,” Steve protests Eddie’s laughter halfheartedly even as he joins in, reaches to slap at Eddie’s upper arm which honestly: just makes him laugh harder.

“Anyway,” Steve fights through the last of the chuckling as it peters out between them, drags himself to sitting next to the coffee table and taps his hand to the top of the keyboard.

“I know it’s not the same as learning guitar to help, and I can probably only get the top and bottom notes with these,” he lifts his Vulcan-fingers his a shrug; “but I was hoping that’d be better than nothing?”

And, like, how Eddie was talking about his heart having to swell, for all the things he gets to tuck inside of it that come with loving Steve Harrington?

He might crack a rib, just now, because—

“This is for me?”

Steve purses his lips, lifts a brow:

“Well, technically it’s for me,” steve singles his fingers, which looks absurd with the splints; “but yeah. To help you get the songs out. I mean, once these are free again, you can help me with the guitar like we talked about, until you’re—“

And Eddie cannot be blamed, see: he cannot be fucking blamed for tackling Steve to the floor and kissing him hard enough to bruise because…

“You got hurt,” Eddie half-breathes between kisses; “you got hurt and I was so afraid I was gonna lose you,” and Eddie reaches for those taped fingers and kisses them, too: so gentle and Steve’s expression softens so quick:

“I was scared, too,” he whispers between them, cups Eddie’s face with his unloaded hand; “you were as safe as I could make you within the fucking city limits but I was still so goddamn scared.”

Cue more rib-cracking for the heart-swelling, because Jesus fucking Christ.

“And you,” Eddie exhales, slow and shaky; “you’re hurt, but you went and got,” he nods to the keyboard;

“I know it’s not ideal,” Steve’s quick to, to what, apologize? For being insane and perfect and—

“Shut up,” Eddie says, voice low and watery and he’s still kissing at Steve’s fingers, holding his wrist delicate but also like a lifeline.

“You’re hurt,” Eddie maybe kinda moans it because he hates it, as much as he’s so fucking grateful that’s it’s just this, no worse than this; “and you still—”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

And that…that’s one thing Eddie’s learned beyond reproach; that even to his detriment, Steve keeps his goddamn promises.

And he’d promised to help Eddie get his words out, to place the lyrics to the notes and help unclutter his brain so he didn’t lose his mind.

Holy fucking hell.

“Steve,” Eddie starts, shakes his head, needs to find the right words. “You’re alive,” the most important thing. “You are healing,” another most important thing, for Eddie to oversee and make sure of, even as Steve keeps an eye on the last lingering threads of the long haul on Eddie’s road to recovery in kind, his beloved mother hen.

“This is,” and he runs his fingers too light to draw sounds across the keys, hopes he sounds as awed and grateful as he feels; “but you, you’ve gotta test, you have to,” and Eddie shakes his head and lifts his eyes to just fucking ask it:

“Why?”

And Steve: Steve just studies his face for a few seconds, reads what he needs before he smiles kinda exasperated, mostly fond and answers so simply, while also breaking a few more of Eddie’s ribs when he just says:

“Because I love you.”

And Eddie’s heart’s not so overfull yet of all of Steve, it’s not fair that it just bursts right then and there, Eddie propelled into Steve’s arms to kiss him deep this time, like he’s searching out Steve’s soul to taste and maybe he is, save that he needs his heart to not have exploded for feeling if he’s going to keep the memory of it safe in his chest for always, he needs to patch his heart back up first but he’s too distracted, too drowned in the way love actually fucking feels, fucking shifts his cells around and makes a new version of him, lets his heart grow bigger except it went and blasted apart with the unprecedented immensity of loving and—

And then Eddie’s got Steve’s taped up hands on both his cheeks, and he remembers that night, in the shower, where Steve ripped the seams from his shirt so taking it off wouldn’t hurt him; notices how Steve is wearing that same fucking shirt in this very moment, all in one piece, like it never split apart in the first place.

Master seamstress, tried and tested and true; truer than anything.

So Eddie just dives back in and kisses with everything in him, thinks maybe when Steve tastes the pieces of Eddie’s blowout heart under his tongue while Eddie goes diving for the sweet lick of Steve’s soul:

Eddie thinks Steve’s mouth might know how to stitch up torn things, too. Especially the kinds that are ripped at their seams wholly for the sake of loving that fucking hard.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson

divider credits here & here

👾 title credit here

💫 ao3 link here

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unmanageable 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Pete Brenner

Summary: your manager sets his eye on your (plus!reader)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You’re often the first one in office and unfortunately, the last one gone. That day is no different as you let yourself in through the back door of the bank and lock it behind you. You arrive at least an hour before opening to run diagnostics. Marska or her equivalent, Taylor, often cut it close to the starting time. You don’t mind so much as long as they’re not late.

The silence is soothing where to many it may be eerie. You leave your office door open as a scan runs on your screen. You blow over the open slot of your thermos and groan. You were up a bit too late playing Eldenring. The Godskin Duo gave you quite the headache.

The connection, despite being wired in, seems slower than usual. The last week or so, cell service has also been limited. In Hammer Ford, it isn’t entirely surprising. Sometimes it feels like the world forgets the backwoods village.

You yawn and take a cautious sip of hot coffee. You nearly choke as your eyes are drawn above the monitor by a blurred shape. You pull your mouth off the lid of the cup as Pete leans against the doorway, slightly bedraggled as his floppy hair droops down one side of his forehead and his eyes are ringed with sleep.

“Hey,” his voice is gritty and low, “you’re here early.”

“Same time every day.”

You note that he’s wearing the same jacket as the day before. You can’t see the rest of him past your computer but his tie is gone and his shirt is wrinkled and unbuttoned. You should be concerned but you’re just not. Whatever problems he has, you can’t imagine they’re not self-made.

“I smelled coffee,” he grumbles and scratches the side of his nose.

You put your thermos down softly, hiding it out of his view. You’re not sharing.

“Guess…” He leans back and looks into the bank, “I could make a pot… Marska usually puts one on… her coffee tastes better than mine.” He checks his watch, “how long till she gets in?”

You blink at him. Shouldn’t he know? He’s the manager. Your job is the computers, not scheduling. You look at him and shrug.

“Mm,” he turns back to you, “guess I’ll give it a try.”

His reluctance is clear as he sluggishly pushes away from the frame and drags his feet away from your office door. You have the urge to get up and shut your door but even you know that’s a bit much. His soles scuff as he barely lifts his feet and you listen to him grumble and sigh.

He clanks around loudly with the old machine. You’re always sure to bring your own. They only ever have the cheap brand in the office and when you brought your own, others drained the pot before you got any. This place is miserable. You wonder if they need a technician down at the library.

The shatter of glass breaks the morning lull completely. So much for a slow start. You hear Pete groaning from the next room. You don’t have to go out there, you don’t have to…

Damn it.

You get up and find him standing over the broken urn, only the plastic handle still intact. He hangs his head and grips his hips, pouting over the disaster. You cross your arms as you approach.

“I’m a mess,” he pushes his hair back as he shifts to look at you. “Sleeping in my office, wearing yesterday’s clothes,” he drops his hand emphatically and puffs out through his lips, “now this.”

“Did you cut yourself?” You ask, scanning his hands for blood.

He shakes his head, “no, I didn’t, just… I’m not doing well.”

“Right,” you stare at him flatly, “well, just broken glass. Nothing that can be cleaned up.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, “thank you.”

Then he walks away. Walks. Away. Leaving you in front of the scatter of glass shards. You watch him go incredulously. Does he really expect you to clean up his mess? As he enters his office, you’re assured that he very much does.

You close your eyes and take a breath. Technically, he is your boss. Well, truly, he is a man child.

You go to get the broom and pan and sweep up the glass. Not for him, for practicality. No one else should have to cut themselves for his clumsiness. You dump the glass in a box and put that in the bin. You’ll leave it to him to add the replacement to the supplies sheet.

Marska arrives as you put away the broom. Before she even slips her purse off her arm, she struts to the machine, not acknowledging you until she finds the burner empty. She tuts and faces you, blocking your path back to your office. Your safe haven.

“What happened?”

“Pot broke,” you answer bluntly.

“You broke it?”

“No,” you say.

She scoffs, “no? Well, what happened?”

You point to Pete’s office and shrug, shouldering past her without further argument. She sighs and clicks her heels towards the front desk. Her agitated mutters drone on as you enter your office and rub your forehead.

“Hey Mar,” Pete greets the teller buoyantly, “that’s a nice skirt.”

Absolutely no shame.

“Pete,” she purrs back, “what happened to the coffee maker, baby?”

They’re not as subtle or quiet as they think.

“Mm, yeah, accident,” he says, “you know what time that bakery opens? They do good coffee. You could run over, it’s never busy at open.”

“Pete, it’s always busy at open. That’s when all the old ones do their banking,” she rebuffs.

“Oh…” he sniffs, “I’m sorry, baby. Late night, I…” he pauses, “she knows.”

“What?” Marska’s voice cracks.

“I don’t know how she found out…” his voice trails off, “we should talk in my office.”

“Whatever, the other won’t care. I don’t even know if she understands me half the time,” Marska sneers, “you sure she knows what she’s doing? These fucking computers are slow as hell.”

“Mar,” Pete warns, “let’s go…”

“Well, I don’t have much time or any coffee, so make it quick,” she snaps and her heels tap across the floor.

You roll your eyes and close your own door. You don’t envy the mess they’ve made of their lives and you assume it won’t be long before Marska’s husband knows about it. What do you care? You don’t waste your time on all that. You’d rather get to the Erdtree.

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 7

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Fat shaming, name calling, kissing, angst. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 6.6K!!!

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi guys! I'm so sorry this took a little extra longer than usual. I've had a lot of ideas for this chapter for a long time and I struggled with putting it all on paper. I'm also on vacation 🤪 but I really wanted to get this one out there, especially before Halloween. Also I'm sorry if the spacing and stuff is crap, I did this from my phone/iPad while falling asleep at 3:30 AM. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

__________

You awoke with a start, your alarms blaring through the bedroom. Giving the snooze button a smack, you reach across your mattress, touching the sheets to find the other side of your bed empty.

It was still warm, but missing the actual body that you fell asleep cuddled next to. Blinking your eyes a few times, you called out into the bedroom. "Baby?"

You climbed out of bed, making your way down the hall to the living room, where you finally saw him on the couch. Sound asleep, eyes gently closed, a soft snore passed from his mouth. At the sound of your footsteps, he opened his eyes, giving a big stretch and wagging his tail.

"Good morning Skippy, my little sunshine! I missed your cuddles this morning. Why'd you move to the couch?"

He looked at you and yawned, his eyes closing once again. You giggled and headed for the shower to get ready for another day. Some of us have to actually work and get stuff done in this house!

_____

The day at work was busy, leaving little time to chat with Pedro. You couldn't help but smirk to yourself as your coworkers buzzed about your new album freshly released the day before. They still hadn't figured it out, but you decided you would continue to let it be your little secret a bit longer. They didn't need to know. Just you and Pedro could share this for now.

On your lunch break, you finally opened your phone to find a few text messages from him. "Good morning! I had fun video chatting with you last night. I'm so glad we listened to your album together, and it was nice to finally get to see you." His message made your heart skip.

Second text from Pedro: "Hey, I hope work is going well for you. I was thinking, maybe if you'd like, we could chat again later? If you don't want to video chat anymore, no pressure, but I enjoyed it and thought maybe if you wanted to, we could."

You replied. "Hey P! It's been a crazy day :) but a good one. Especially waking up happy after enjoying a lovely evening. I would really love to video chat with you again too."

Pedro breathed a sigh of relief at your answer. He couldn't help but feel nervous to ask you, despite having just video chatted last night, and he also didn't want to make you feel pressured; especially with someone as private as you are. But with your response, he smiled as he felt his stomach fill with butterflies at the thought of seeing you again.

_____

Later on, after work, the two of you were texting and deciding on the time to video chat again. However, before you called, Pedro texted you again. "Hey, I had a question for you, but I didn't want to ask it over the phone or video call and make you feel pressured. But, there's this Hollywood Halloween party coming up in a few days. I know you still want to keep your identity, but I thought if you'd like to, each guest is allowed to bring a date, and I thought you could mingle a little with some other musicians and actors. I can just tell people you're one of my friends from a set if you don't want to give your real name. You don't need to tell them anything you don't want out to the public. Plus I would love to spend some time together in person too, if you want to. I know it's a lot, so if you would rather not go, I understand. But I'd love to meet you."

The idea of going to a party filled with other celebrities, AND Pedro, had you filled with mixed emotions. Nervous. Excited. Terrified. Love-sick. Hesitant.

After a bit of thinking,you decided, and the answer seemed obvious from the start. The party sounded terrifying, and was completely unknown territory. But you also knew that if you didn't go, you'd surely kick yourself and regret this chance forever.

Finally you replied. "Okay! I'll go. I'd love to spend time with you, too, Pedro. Thank you for inviting me."

He replied again: "Really?! So, will boo be my date? 👻"

You: "That was a little too.. (candy) corny. I may have to ghost you. 🎃"

Pedro didn't miss a beat. "Okay, you're driving me batty. 🦇 Want to call and talk about our costumes?"

Oh shit, I forgot about costumes.

The two of you chatted, easily falling into the comfortable conversations you always do. Fitting together like two peas in a pod. Even though neither of you were dressed up fancy anymore, it didn't feel like you had to be someone else, or dress up. Things were comfortable. Easy.

Pedro suggested a matching costume, which made you want to scream and pace through your living room. Unfortunately, due to your camera situation, pacing and screaming would surely cause some alarm. After dancing around things like pirates, ketchup/mustard, and movie characters, you finally had an idea and suggested Cinderella and her prince.

"It just feels kinda fitting you know? Nobody knows who I am, but I go out for once, I meet this prince, and he lets me have this fun night. But then at the end of the night, everything goes back to normal, and I'm unknown again."

Until he eventually can't stay away and they both fall in love and live happily ever after… but that's neither here nor there. Totally not my intention.. pffft…

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. Should I send a carriage?" He joked with a wink, but you could tell he was a little bit serious. You couldn't help but feel like he would have reserved a carriage ride in a heartbeat had you said yes.

"Absolutely not. Way too big of a scene," you laughed. "In fact, I actually have work that day. Would it be possible for me to just meet you there after I get off work? I can just take an Uber across town. My work isn't too far from the party and I'm sure parking will be a mess."

Pedro agreed, although he felt bad you'd be taking a ride-share service alone and continued to offer a ride if you needed. He also felt a bit disappointed he wouldn't get to have any time alone with you beforehand, but he wasn't about to tell you that detail.

Either way, the two of you agreed on your plans, and as the days led up to the party, you grew more and more eager. You also felt more and more dread in the pit of your stomach.

But this will be good. It has to be. Right?

_____

The night of the party came quickly.

You got off work, took a quick shower, changed into your costume, did your hair, and added a little bit of makeup. The costume felt silly, but you kept telling yourself it was Halloween and everyone would be in costumes. Plus, you have a handsome prince waiting for you inside. As your mind and heart raced, the Uber driver pulled up to the curb, dropped you off, and you were met with a line to the entrance.

The line to the party was lengthy, filled mostly with eager fans, paparazzi, and journalists hoping to gain entry. Occasionally you'd see a celebrity pass by, but they were quickly ushered in once they were recognized.

You, however, were unknown by all. So you stood in line, surrounded by others who hoped desperately to meet their favorite celebrity. Not unlike yourself.

Having finally made it, you sent a quick text to Pedro. "Hey! I'm here :) sorry I'm late."

Your stomach twisted in knots. Sure, you were excited to meet Pedro. Especially with as much as the two of you have been talking over the past couple months now-

Geez, has it really been months?

But despite your connection, you still had that nagging self-conscious worry that he might not like you. Maybe he's just been talking with you to be nice, and the second you're together in person he won't give you the time of day. Maybe he will find you boring in real life. Maybe he will think you're ugly. Or weird. Or fat. Or -

"Next!" The bouncer at the door yelled after sending yet another hopeful fan away. Your stomach dropped and your mouth was dry.

"Hi, I-"

"NAME?" He barked, clearly done with this whole event.

"Well, actu-"

"Speak up princess, I can't hear ya when ya mumblin," the man said with a thick New York accent.

You cleared your throat. "Actually my name isn't on the list, I'm a guest of Pedro Pascal."

The man, towering over you, let out a bellowing laugh. "YEAH, I'm sure ya are, toots. You and every other woman in this joint."

"But I-"

"And trust me, I've turned away much prettier broads than the likes a' you at this doorway," he said while looking you up and down with an amused look as if he had just told the punchline at a comedy club.

Your heart sank. You always said things like that to yourself on the inside, but it wasn't often that people were that blunt to your face.

The man sneered while smacking his gum and arrogantly moving it to the other side of his mouth with his tongue. That gum. You wanted to punch him if you had to hear him smack it one more time.

"Back a' the line, kid. Y'ain't gettin' in here tonight, but I appreciate the self-confidence," he said, laughing at his own joke.

Disheartened, you didn't even care about meeting Pedro anymore. Your mood was dampened, your ego was hurt, and all you wanted to do was go home, get out of this stupid costume, and cry on your couch. With a short nod, you bit your lip to choke down the tears, turned, and headed towards the exit.

"Hey!!! There you are- wait where are you going?"

You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Pedro.

You turned around, swallowing down your emotions and putting on a fake smile, despite the wave of hurt and anxiety pooling in your stomach and chest. "Hey, Pedro! You found me."

Pedro smiled at the guard and snuck past, telling him "hey, she's with me." Fans in line squealed, which he greeted with a kind wave and charming smile. At last, he reached you and gestured for the two of you to head inside to the party. You gave a nod and a small, half-hearted smile.

You didn't want him to know how upset you were. Not only did you feel pathetic and slightly agree with the bouncer, but you also didn't want to ruin Pedro's night.

As the two of you entered the crowded party, you looked around at the decorations. Filled with purple and green lighting, the Halloween music blared and monsters danced the night away. A bowl of green punch sat on a table to the side, surrounded by bowls of candy and platters of snacks. An open bar was on the back wall, providing both normal booze, and Halloween themed drinks topped with gummy worms or syrup made to look like blood. To the right of the bar was a door to the large rooftop balcony which held tall, dark-green potted hedges, perfectly trimmed and shaped underneath rows of charming fairy lights. Beyond the shrubbery, the deck had several nice patio tables and chairs, a few people catching their breath outside or chatting, and a gorgeous view of the city below with the sparkling sky above.

Back inside and off to the right of the patio door, away from the dance floor, was a door which you assumed was the restroom, based on the long line of women.

"I'd like you to meet some people, if you feel up to it," Pedro yelled to be heard over the booming music from the dj.

"Okay!" You yelled back.

He led you over to a couple of people off to the side of the dance floor, one you recognized as his friend Sarah Paulson, who was dressed in a shimmery witch costume.

Pedro introduced the two of you. Sarah was very sweet, and while you talked music and acting, Pedro touched your shoulder and spoke into your ear to avoid yelling. "I'm going to grab a drink, can I get you anything?"

"I'll just take a soda, thanks!" Although some alcohol might help your nerves, you wanted to maintain a clear head and maybe not do or say something to Pedro that you might regret.

"You got it," he replied, turning on his heel towards the bar.

Once he had left, Sarah gave you a look.

"What?" you laughed.

"You know, he talks about you all the time. I know you already love some other guy based on that hit song of yours, but I gotta say I think he might be smitten with you."

"Oh please, no he isn't. We're just friends!" You smiled at the idea, but inside, you kept hearing the bouncer's words on repeat. There's no way Pedro could have feelings for you. Even if you wanted him to have those feelings more than anything, it couldn't be.

"Whatever you say," she said with a smirk.

A pause before she added "just… don't hurt him. I know you love someone else, but he's a good guy," she pleaded, letting her protective side show.

On his way back from the bar, Pedro ran into Oscar, whom he tagged up with and headed back to your small group. "This is my friend Oscar," said Pedro, introducing you to Oscar as his friend.

Friend. Remember that. Friend. That's all. All you'll ever be.

"Nice to meet you Oscar!" You gave him a cherry smile.

"Nice to finally meet the woman of the hour! Pedro here just won't shut up about you," he said with a smirk, looking at Pedro mischievously. Pedro blushed and looked into his drink cup, taking a sip while trying to hide himself.

"Yep! It's always 'she said this, she said that, can you believe she can do that? She's so smart, funny, sweet…' yada yada yada," he said, smirking again and taking a side glance at Pedro, who choked on his soda. "Shut. Up. Oscar." He quietly threatened through clenched teeth. But despite his quiet tone and a loud party, you heard him.

I mean, I say kind things about my friends that way sometimes. It's nice he's so appreciative of his friends. Because that's what I am. A friend.

Sarah chimes in. "That's what I was telling her! But she claims they're just friends," she air-quotes around the words 'just friends.'

Pedro's heart sank. He knew deep down that's all you were to him, but hearing it second-hand from you still hurt. Just friends… he thought.

"Yeah right," Oscar rolled his eyes, talking to Sarah as if the two of you weren't standing literally right next to them.

"Believe what you want Oscar, but it's true," Pedro answered with a shrug.

Now it was your turn to feel heartbroken. Just friends… you thought.

You cleared your throat, "anyway, I'm going to go get another soda. Can I get anyone anything?" They all answered no, and you headed for the bar.

Deep in your thoughts, you walked over to the bar when a woman slammed into you. She spilled her red, bloody Halloween cocktail drink all down the front of your costume. "Watch where you're going, fat bitch," said the woman, appropriately dressed in a devil costume, her skin-tight red dress barely covering her ass and breasts.

You sighed. At this point you decided to skip the refill and head toward the bathroom to clean up your now wet front. You looked back to see the devil herself headed right towards Pedro's direction. Typical, you thought with an eye roll. She wants him and is mad I was talking to him.

You turned away from that scene and reached the line to the bathroom. It was lengthy, but luckily it was moving fast. Once inside, you finally could let your emotions out a little bit. You wanted to put on a brave face for Pedro and not ruin his evening, but ever since the bouncer made his comments, you couldn't get them out of your head. And now with that woman spilling her drink on you, you had another reason to be upset. You felt undeserving to be here to begin with, and their comments really solidified the imposter syndrome.

Despite wanting so desperately to see Pedro in the flesh, you hadn't even been able to really make eye contact all evening. Your nerves about meeting him were still there, but now you were just upset about the whole night. Even though you wanted to look at him, really see him, you felt like you didn't deserve it; and your nerves warned you not to look or else he'd figure you out.

If he realizes I like him, it's game over. It'll be like that guy I liked before. He'll eventually say it's weird. Weird for me to have a crush on him, weird for me to touch him, weird for the two of us to talk about relationships or sex. It's 'weird' with you.

You really started to hate that word; weird.

Perhaps you were destined to be a single hermit forever. Or maybe just become a nun.

Cleaned up and having let enough tears out for a couple more hours, at least until you could go home and really cry, you walked out of the bathroom. Heading back toward Pedro, you saw a tall, thin, beautiful woman wearing a tight black dress with a slit down the thigh and skeleton makeup on her face.

The woman was standing close to Pedro when you saw her touch his bicep. Slowly running her hand down his forearm, she batted her eyelashes and twirled her hair with her other hand. She said something to him you couldn't hear, but the two of them began to smile, Pedro's eyes growing wide with his grin. He said something to her and they both laughed, him throwing his upper half forward in a classic Pedro laugh.

That's it. I can't do it. I can't be here and see this.

Turning on your heel, you made for the patio door. The crisp air hit your face, urging the tears to fall immediately.

_____

Pedro laughed as the woman, Tricia, held up both hands in defense. "I SWEAR, Pedro. That's what she did. She touched my arm like that, twirled her hair, batted her eyelashes, and said "hey baby. Come here often?"

Pedro laughed, "oh man, that's so cheesy."

"I know!" Tricia laughed, holding her stomach.

Pedro raised an eyebrow. "Okay, you agree it's cheesy, yet I feel like every time I've seen you two together tonight, you're the one that can't keep your hands off of her," he stated with a sassy smirk.

"Alright, you caught me," Tricia replied with a laugh, right as her girlfriend Sam walked up in a matching skeleton costume. Sam handed Tricia a cup of purple liquid and asked what they were laughing about.

"I asked how you two got together," Pedro replied with a chuckle.

"Oh, gosh, I can only imagine how she's spun the story this time!" Sam replied with an eye roll and a quick kiss to Tricia's lips. Seeing the two love-birds kiss made Pedro long to experience that with you.

Where did she go? There's no way she's still getting a drink.

He excused himself and headed towards the bar, but you weren't there. Then he walked towards the bathroom to check the line. Nope.

Finally he looked to the left and saw you, leaning against the balcony which overlooked the city.

He pulled the sliding door open, slipping outside into the cool October night. The patio was mostly empty, apart from a few stragglers on the far side of the rooftop, sitting at the patio furniture underneath a heat lamp. Most of the guests had gone inside when the temperature began to dip. He walked towards you, saying your name to gain your attention, but you didn't turn. Too deep in your thoughts.

"Are you okay? What are you doing out here all alone?" He touched your shoulder gently.

Startled, you tried to quietly sniffle and wipe your wet eyes without him noticing, careful to avoid smudging your mascara.

You turned to face him, planting another fake smile on your face. "Yeah I'm fine, just needed some air, that's all. You?"

"I can tell you're not okay. What's wrong?" He frowned, stepping closer to you and eyeing the red stain on your dress. Confusion laced across his face.

You stepped back a half-step away from his touch. "It's nothing, it just seems it isn't my night I guess… but you look like you're having fun. Get back in there and dance with Sarah and Oscar," you said with a gentle smile. "I think I might head out. Skipper is probably wondering where I am, anyway."

"I'm sorry you're not having a good time. Let me at least give you a ride home," he pleaded with his brown eyes. This was the first time all night you had actually made eye contact with him, finally seeing just how handsome he really was in person.

Yeah. There's no way he'd go for me. That's for sure.

"No, no please, you stay, I'll just get an Uber. It's fine! Thank you for inviting me tonight though, Pedro. That was really sweet of you."

"I'm not letting you take an Uber home when I'm right here."

"No, dont. I don't want you to miss the party…" you added.

"I've partied enough tonight. Come on, I'm taking you home. No arguments," he pressed, puppy dog eyes unwavering in his demand.

Seriously this man could get away with murder the way he looks with those eyes.

"Okay. Fine, if you really don't mind," you finally agreed, not that it was even an option.

He gave a quick explanation to his friends with a brief wave before the two of you headed out the front door. You scowled at the guard as you walked past.

Thanks for ruining my night, asshole.

After receiving his car from the valet, Pedro pulled open the passenger door for you, gesturing for you to climb inside.

Nobody has ever opened the car door for me before, other than my dad.

What a gentleman...

Just because you were upset didn't mean you weren't zapped with a feeling of adrenaline and love at his chivalrous action. Whoever ends up with him is a lucky person.

You climbed in the passenger seat and he went around the car, entering the driver's side.

Not only did you feel like you ruined the party, but you worry you may have ruined your shot altogether. Why would Pedro want you after you didn't even talk to him your first night out together?

_____

*Pedro's POV*

As he climbed into his seat, buckling up and starting the ignition, he couldn't help but wonder where the night went wrong.

Did I say something to offend her?

He began to replay all the conversations you'd had tonight, trying to figure out when your sadness began and what could have caused it.

The party conversations? The texts? The phone calls?

Nothing came to mind, which worried him even more that he could be so ignorant to have said something hurtful without realizing.

Pedro looked over at you in his passenger seat. You were curled toward the side, arms scrunched toward your body and looking out the window. Silent. Just the occasional sound of a sniffle, or a road direction for him to take toward your house.

He wanted so badly to reach over and touch you. Hold your hand and rub his thumb over your fingers to comfort you in any way possible while driving. Then, he'd pull you into his arms the second you two got out of the car.

But he knew he couldn't. You weren't his to hold.

Was her crush at the party too? Could he have hurt her somehow?

He felt anger flare into his system at whatever could have made you cry. You deserved the world and he wished he could spend every day trying to prove it to you.

_____

*Back to your perspective*

About 20 minutes later, you quietly said "this is me."

Pedro put the car in park, and told you to wait. Confused, you sat, but he ran around the car and opened the door for you.

What. The. Hell. Is he real?

You stood from the car, fluffing down your ruined princess dress. "Thank you Pedro. You really didn't have to give me a ride, I feel bad you went out of your way. I'm sorry if I ruined your night."

"Hey, whoa, don't apologize. There's no way you ruined my night, and don't worry about the ride. I feel better knowing you made it home safely from me than some taxi service," Pedro placed his hand on his heart.

"Well, thank you either way. It was nice getting to finally meet you in person…"

"It was nice meeting you too," he shifted his weight, awkwardly wondering how to proceed.

"You should go. Get back to your party before you miss anything else! I'm sure Oscar and Sarah miss you," you prompted.

"Oh, I'm not going back. I'll just call it a night and head home. It's not as fun without my date, anyway." He smirked, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was flirting with you. Probably just being nice.

"You aren't going back??"

"Nah, I'm good. But…" he rubbed the back of his neck with his palm.

"What?" You felt nervous.

"Can I ask why you're so upset? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. It's just… if I did something or said something to upset you… I'm so sorry," he said, and you could actually feel the genuine sadness in his voice.

"Oh, Pedro. No. You did nothing wrong. It's just," you sighed. "Do you want to come in?"

You worried about asking and seeming too forward, but now that it's out there it can't be taken back.

Friends go over to other friend's houses. It's totally fine and normal.

"I, uh, sure," Pedro stumbled over his words. "I'd love to. If you don't mind." He seemed nervous and a little surprised at your invitation.

You unlocked your door and the two of you entered. Instantly, you were greeted by your boy, who was all too happy to have a new friend. His tail wagged, smacking against nearby surfaces.

Pedro's face lit up instantly, and he crouched down to Skip's level. Letting Skipper get a good sniff, you heard Pedro gently coo to your dog. "Hi buddy!! I'm Pedro. I've heard so much about you." He scratched behind his ears.

Your heart swelled. Here they were, two of your favorite boys, bonding like old friends.

Pedro stood up again, giving a final scratch to Skipper's head before turning to you. "So, do you want to talk about it? What happened tonight?"

You ushered him to the kitchen table, asking him if he would like a drink. "Sure, thanks. Just water, please."

You poured two glasses of water and sat at the table near him, finally delving into the events of the evening. You told him about the bouncer and the woman with her drink. "I also saw that one girl talking to you and being really touchy and flirty and I felt like I was intruding."

I was also really fucking jealous…

"Wait, what girl?"

He repeated the evening's events through his mind. He wasn't flirting or being touchy? Who were you - Oh. Tricia, when she was describing Sam. Were you jealous of her? He allowed his mind to wonder, slightly hopeful that you might want more.

"I guess I just… I don't really feel like I fit in here. I don't look like I fit in here. I don't act like I fit in here. I honestly don't even know why you're as nice to me as you are. I wonder why you want to be my friend. Not that I'm not happy about it, because I am, but-"

He cut off your ramblings. "Whoa, whoa, hey. Sweetheart. You belong here. People just don't know you yet. That bouncer was totally out of line and a complete asshole. That woman, who spilled her drink on you, was rude, offensive, and nasty; and I don't tolerate that kind of behavior. Especially towards those I care about. The second she came over, I could tell she was a snake. I didn't give her the time of day. And lastly, the girl you saw being touchy was my friend Tricia. She was describing how her girlfriend picked her up in a bar," he laughed.

"Oh," you listened to his words, still not making eye contact, looking at your hands on the table.

"And as for you," he prompted, "I'm nice to you because you deserve it. You're sweet and funny, and I'm so thankful to have met you. I talk to you because I like talking to you. I enjoy spending time with you, whether it's on the phone, or, even better, when I get to see your face. Although I have to say I hate to see it crying." He brushed away a tear from your cheek, and you gave a small laugh, wiping the rest of your face.

"Thanks Pedro. I'm sorry if I brought down your night. I just really wanted tonight to be special, and it felt like my carriage turned back into a pumpkin before I even started." You gave another defeated laugh.

"You didn't ruin my night. If anything I'm just disappointed you didn't say anything, so I could help cheer you up or we could go do something else." He paused, brushing your hair from your eyes. "By the way, I never did get to tell you how beautiful you look in that dress, princesa."

Your cheeks heated under his gaze. "T-thanks Pedro. You look pretty handsome there, yourself," you answered nervously. It was the first time you had truly looked at him all night, and he was more beautiful than you ever could have imagined. Even pictures didn't do him justice. Dressed in a white suit with golden epaulets and golden buttons on the jacket, he was the most charming prince you'd ever seen.

Pedro rubbed his neck. "Thank you." He smiled. "But, hey, just because the night didn't go your way doesn't mean we can't turn it around."

You smirked. "That's true. Do you wanna watch a movie or something? Because if so, I think I might change out of this costume real quick," you began to stand.

"Whoa, not so fast princesa," he grabbed your arm.

You turned and gave him a confused look.

"Not before I share a dance with you in that dress. I've been waiting all night," he held out his hand.

"Really?" The grin on your face lit up, and you pulled him towards your music room where you stored your records.

"Wow. This is amazing. You have so many records and instruments in here! Is this where you write your music, too?"

"Yep! Here's where the magic happens," you answered with a laugh, pulling out an old record filled with slow love songs of the 50's and 60's. You placed the needle on the record, hearing a soft crackle as it began to play.

Pedro pulled you into his chest, grabbing your right hand with his left and gently placing his right hand on your waist. You slid your left hand up to his shoulder and smiled up at him as the two of you gently swayed to the music.

One song turned into two. Then three, and finally four; the two of you holding each other, silent except for the soft music turning from your record player on the desk. At some point you took the risk and decided to rest your face on his chest while the two of you swayed. His head rested on top of yours, both of you breathing softly, eyes closed, with you listening to the rhythmic drumming of his heart in his chest.

The record crackled with the end of the first side and the two of you looked at each other. You didn't miss the quick glance he stole from your eyes down to your lips, and you began to slowly lean closer.

Is this it?! Am I finally going to have my first kiss?!

You continued leaning closer, both his and your eyes gently closing. You could feel his breath fanning across your nose when-

Clunk clunk clunk. Pant pant. Whine.

You and Pedro opened your eyes, confusion painting your expressions as you turned your faces away from each other towards the sound. Still held in each other's arms, you peeled your eyes away from each other to see Skipper looking at you both with a big doggy grin on his face. His tail smacked the table with a thump thump, and he let out soft little whines and coos for attention.

The two of you laughed, the moment over, as you both kneeled down to give pets while Skip wedged between the two of you. Although you were disappointed the kiss was interrupted, you can't be mad at such a cute face. Still scratching your dog, you looked across to Pedro on the other side of Skipper. The two of you shared a soft look and smile, filled with so many unsaid words and feelings.

"So, uh.. how about that movie?" Pedro asked, still smiling.

______

You changed out of your princess costume into a comfier movie watching outfit and he changed out of his prince costume. He had some clothes in his car, which he changed into, looking handsome as ever. He wore a navy blue sweater with jeans, both fitting him perfectly. The two of you settled on your couch and turned on a movie. Although you sat next to each other, you kept a friendly distance, neither of you wanting to push the other too far.

As the movie rolled on, you had a hard time focusing on the plot with him so close. He looked so cozy and soft, you just wanted to climb in his lap. You wanted him to hold your hand. You wanted to finish that kiss. He smelled nice, he looked nice, and you wanted him more than anything else in this world.

Without realizing it, you gravitated closer. Your body inched toward him, and without him realizing it, he inched closer as well. It wasn't long until your leg was brushed against his. Just the slight touch of his leg on yours was enough to send an electric feeling pulsing through your body. The tension was as tight as an electrical cable, slowly fraying until it eventually snaps into sparks.

Pedro's fingers twitched at his side, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Your eyes kept sneakily darting over to him, his doing the same at opposite times. Your hearts were racing, breathing quick and shallow. The movie finally ended, neither of you able to tell someone the storyline if asked.

You nervously turned towards Pedro, rubbing the back of your neck. "So that was some movie…"

"Yeah, that ending… it was-" his eyes darted to your lips. "Something." He looked into your eyes, hand settling on your thigh as the two of you once again began to lean in closer. You had just shut your eyes, noses brushing together, when he pulled away.

What the heeeeeeeellllll??? Whyyyy!?

You couldn't help but let out a whimper as you opened your eyes after the second failed kiss of the evening.

Pedro sat with his elbows on his lap, holding his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry…"

"What? Pedro? Why are you sorry? What's wrong? Did I - did I do something wrong?"

Do I smell bad? Does he not like me? Was this some sick joke?

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sorry. I let my feelings get in the way, and I shouldn't have done that. You're in love with someone else. I can't steal your first kiss. You deserve to have it with the man you really love."

"Pedro-" you tried to pry his hand from his face.

"No. I'm sorry if I ruined things. I should probably leave-" he began to stand up, but you grabbed his forearm and pulled him back down.

"Stop. Pedro," you begged.

He sat back down, looking into your eyes guiltily.

You continued. "Please don't apologize. I wanted you to kiss me…"

"But that guy in your song. You deserve to be with him. I've been letting my feelings take over and stealing all your time away on the phone and text, video chat, and now in person. I almost stole your first kiss from you twice tonight and-" he rambled on, once again throwing his hands over his face before you interrupted him again.

"Pedro.." you pulled his hand away from his face, leaving yours to hold his cheek instead, but he still avoided your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you figured it was time to take the plunge.

"It's you, Pedro."

His eyes glanced up to yours. "What?"

"It's you. It's always been you. You're the one I like."

"Wait, so you mean-"

"Yes. The songs, the interviews, our chats… I've been talking about you this whole time. I really, really, like you."

Pedro gave a gentle smile, leaning his face into your hand. "I like you too, baby," he whispered.

His hand moved from his cheek to yours and the two of you leaned in. Closing your eyes, you brushed your noses together before you whispered "please kiss me.

You could feel a soft smile as he pressed his lips to yours, first gentle and soft, then stronger and more desperate. Although the kiss was still very tame, you could both feel all the emotions you've been harboring for each other for so long.

Breathless, the two of you pulled back, falling into a gentle laughter. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for that kiss," you spoke softly, wanting to keep the words as quiet as possible, heard only within the tiny bubble you currently shared.

"Me too," he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips.

"I think you were worth the wait," you pecked his lips.

"I think you were too," he rested his head on your forehead with his hand on your neck, lightly stroking over your hair.

"I like you." You giggled.

"I like you too." He grinned. "But, you know, if I remember correctly, 'like' wasn't the word you used in your song…" he teased.

Your stomach flipped. "I don't want to scare you off too soon, P."

"You won't, sweetheart. You couldn't if you tried. I feel the same way." He kissed your forehead.

You looked at him, and feeling slightly nervous, yet calmed by his deep brown eyes, you told him those important words that have been spilling from your chest in silence.

"I love you Pedro."

"I love you too," he grabbed your face, once again pressing a kiss to your lips, this one much deeper than the others, before pulling you into his arms. The two of you were finally together. Finally you had love. All the things you wanted were coming true.

Turns out you got your happily ever after tonight after all.

__________

To be continued...

That's all for now! I hope you liked this chapter. I've received a lot of kind messages and DMs saying how much you guys relate to the reader and I just want to say thank you. It really means a lot to me that people are finding something to relate to. I'm essentially just using this fic as my diary, because she is pretty much just me. So to see others feeling the same way, it makes my heart so full! I send hugs to all of you.

Next Chapter! Here!

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!) If I forget to add anyone, I'm sorry!

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl

[contentloadingandstuff]

Ah. I didn't finish the last one, so you could discard that one. Maybe a few girls of your choosing plus Yelan with a super nice, caring, and gentle S/O that doesn't want to have sex and the reason to that is because he has a 4 inch pp. Maybe he feels insecure that when they found out they would leave him? Maybe some reassurance from the girls that they wouldn't leave him or something.

Powerful Genshin girls comforting a small S/O

A/N: I hope you like it, anon!

Characters: Yae Miko, Yelan & Ningguang

CW: Male!Reader, smutiness.

Miko narrows her eyes as you speak. When you're done, she keeps still, staring you dead in the eye. Then, she blinks once. Twice. 

"You can't be serious."

You look down, ashamed. But before you can apologize, Miko quickly steps towards you, aiming her finger at your chest. Her eyes glimmer pink with Electro. You instinctively raise your hands and start backing up. With every word she jabs your chest. Not nearly enough to hurt you, but painful all the same. 

"You are telling me you didn't bed me because you were insecure about your dick? Is that right??" 

You nod shyly. "Yes…" 

"And…" She looks you square in the eye. "... you were scared that I would leave you for a dick???" 

"I… yes…" 

You're against the wall now. Miko growls, and pins her hands on the wall on the sides of your head. 

"Oh, this is not only idiotic, but downright insulting."

You look down, blushing slightly in embarrassment. It really was stupid of you to think that. You open your mouth to apologize, but she immediately covers it with her hand. 

"You've said enough. To think so low of me… Hm! Let me make something clear, Y/N." She points at your crotch. "This? The appeal of this is that it's attached to you, and not the other way around. I don't care if it's microscopic or monstrous, because as long as it is yours, I want it. Did I make myself clear?" 

You nod. 

"Good." She grabs your chin with her hand, forcing you to look in her eyes. "Now… I want to take you, you big idiot, for a test ride. You'll be lucky to have a single thought after what I'll do to you, my dear."

Yelan smiles softly. 

"Oh? Is that right?" Yelan chuckles. "That's a relief, actually. You got me thinking that you want to break up, or you don't really like me."

"Well… sorry."

Your girlfriend raises her brow and smirks. "For what exactly?" 

"For being this way, I guess. For not being able to satisfy you."

“You're really quick to make assumptions, aren't you? What makes you think that?"

Yelan moves behind you, dragging her fingertips over the curve of your back."I… well, if it's small there's no fun, right?" 

She laughs, and snakes her hands around your stomach. You feel her chin rest on your shoulder. 

"You're so cute, you know that? And a little oblivious as well…" She caresses your chest, scratching at it lightly with her nails. "You can use much more than just your shaft, hm? How about those hands? They give the best massages I've ever experienced… You're also a great kisser with a more than agile tongue… Oh, just look at me. Daydreaming about just what mileage I can get out of your body…" 

She slowly pulls her hands and face away. Before she fully retreats, she gives you a small kiss on your cheek. You turn around, blushing. “Yelan…?”

She laughs, mockingly, but there’s no bite to it. 

“What? Now you want it? Oh Y/N…” She stretches out her hand towards you. “Alright, but no more of those pointless anxieties. I love you no matter what you have or don’t have. Can you do that for me?”

You take her hand.

“I will… thank you, my love.”

“No problem. Now come on, there’s no time to waste. I need some… answers.”

Ningguang inhales her pipe calmly, looking at you with her signature, expecting expression. She exhales the smoke, and shakes her head. 

"You men are all the same, aren't you?"

"What…?" 

She sighs. "It's all a competition for you. Even the stupidest things. Like who has the biggest salary, status, cock. It's so infantile."

She raises from her seat, and approaches you slowly. Her every step echoes through the Jade Chamber. She stands before you, hands crossed over her chest. 

"It's foolish because you never compare what actually matters. You never compare what's here." She places her hand on your chest, right over your beating heart. "You never compete over how big your heart is, how beautiful and colorful your soul is. Loyalty, passion, devotion… Do those not matter to you?" 

You avoid her eyes, embarrassed. 

"I'm sorry for bothering you, Ningguang." 

"No, don't be. It's a natural concern. Does it make you feel any less of a man, perhaps?" 

You don't answer right away, instead taking your time to think over her words. Before you can answer, she continues. 

"A man's value doesn't lie in what he carries between his legs, my love. It lies in what he holds dear, in his values and his personality. You are caring, loving, protective and loyal. You know how to treat me right. Is that not enough proof of your validity?"

"I… suppose you're right. Thank you Ningguang." 

She smiles, and sets down her spent pipe. She places her hand on your cheek, and closes in for a kiss. 

"You're welcome. Any time you feel like you're not enough, come to me and I'll remind you of just how valuable you are to me. Alright?" 

"Alright."

Your lips meet in a soft kiss.

Thanks for reading!

[vodika-vibes]

Congrats on 800 followers!! You deserve all of that and more!!

Could I humbly ask for Corn Maze + Tech? Perhaps NSFW if you feel up to it 👀

-cc--2224 💚

Fearless

Summary: You invite Tech to come with you to a corn maze, it’s something you’ve always loved to do and you want to introduce it to him too. Plus, you really want some alone time with him.

Pairing: TBB TEch x F!Reader

Word Count: 924

Warnings: Smut, oral m recieving

Prompt: Corn Maze

A/N: It is not easy to write proper smut in until 1000 words, so this is not proper smut, sorry. I hope you like it anyway.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

“A corn maze?” Tech looks from you to the maze, and then back to you and you can’t help but shift nervously, “Do people really find this amusing?”

You glance at the maze, and then at Tech, “I’ve always enjoyed it,” You admit, honestly, “But if you’re not interested we can leave—” Sure, maybe it’s a bit simple, but for you, it’s always been more about the company than the maze itself.

But, if he’s really not interested you don’t mind putting it aside for something more his speed, though there’s nothing here that will catch his attention. 

You jump when light fingers tap your cheek, and you look up at Tech surprised that he’s suddenly so close. “Do we need tickets?” He asks.

“Um…yeah, right over there. It shouldn’t be too expensive.” He turns to head to the desk, but you quickly grab his arm, “Tech, if you don’t want to do this, I don’t mind leaving.”

He looks at you, and a small smile crosses his face, “I want to spend time with you. You want to do this maze. This way we both get what we want.” Tech moves your hand from his wrist and threads his fingers with yours.

Fifteen minutes later, you and Tech are in the maze, and you’re eagerly tugging him away from the mass of people who entered at the same time as you.

Tech allows you to tug him in the wrong direction for a few minutes before he stops and tugs you into his arms, “If we want to complete the maze quickly,” he says as he bumps his forehead against yours, “We need to head in the other direction.”

You smile up at him coyly, “I know.”

“So, you are intentionally leading us the wrong way?” He asks.

Your grin widens, “Yup.”

“Why?”

You tug his hand to make him follow you around a corner, “Well, because we don’t get to spend a lot of time alone lately.” Tech pauses, and you turn to look at him over your shoulder.

His lips are slightly parted, and you watch as he stares at you. 

You’re clever boyfriend isn’t dumb. He might not completely understand what you’re implying right away, but he’ll get there. Your smile widens as your free hand comes up to play with the topmost button of your shirt.

His gaze snaps to your fingers, and he has to cough to clear his throat, “We are going to get caught,” Tech warns, but even as he says so his gaze remains locked on your fingers and he moves closer to grip your hips tightly.

“Hm, not if we’re careful,” You tease. You move to stand on your toes, and brush your lips against his, “Of course, if it’s too risky for you, we can head to the exit—”

You don’t get much further than that, as Tech leans in and crashes his lips against yours. In truth, he’s been just as frustrated as you at the lack of privacy the pair of you have been subjected to these last few weeks. He just hides it better than you do.

Tech walks you toward a pile of hay bales, and he sits you on one without breaking the kiss. His hands slide down your sides and move to the waist of your leggings, but you stop his hands with a gentle touch.

You pull his hands to your mouth and press feather-light kisses to the pads of his fingers, “Cyare,” Tech’s voice is a low murmur, “Do you not want—?”

“Oh, I want,” You reassure with a small smile, “More than I can put into words.”

“Then why—”

“I want to suck your cock more,”

Tech stops and blinks at you, slack-jawed, for almost a whole thirty seconds. “I…okay.”

“Is that okay?”

“How could I possibly say no?” Tech asks once he’s managed to reboot his brain.

You grin at him and slide off the hay bale to rest on your knees in front of him. Patiently, you wait for him to unfasten his jeans and tug his boxers out of the way, and you release a pleases sigh when his half-hard cock bounces free.

You lean in and press a light kiss to the head of his cock, before you grip the base and you take him in your mouth. He grows harder under your touch, and you release a happy hum as you hollow your cheeks and suck hard.

Tech releases a groan and his hips jerk a little bit, pushing his length farther into your mouth. At this point, Tech knows what you can handle and what you like, and if the pair of you weren’t stealing a moment alone in a corn maze, he’d be properly fucking your face.

But that always leads to several hours of fun, which isn’t possible right now. Tragically.

Tech’s hands settle on top of your head and, “When we finish here,” He murmurs, “I am taking you somewhere private and I’m going to spend the night ruining you.” He says it like it’s a promise, and you can’t help but shiver.

You pull back to trail your tongue down the side and around the base of his cock, and then you peer up at him. “Well, then. I’d better hurry.”

Tech laughs softly, “Well, you don’t have to hurry that much,”

You toss him a small grin and then lean in to take him back in your mouth. This is exactly what you wanted from today, and it’s only going to get better.

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

[yumiblogs]

How about Felix is a huge Thigh lover and can’t get enough of Fem Readers thighs? Like he loves to mark them, snuggle into them- also he loves to squeeze them while he eats her out ? 👀

Thigh Lover

Masterlist

“Y’all sorry about that, I know I said I was going to rent 2 cars but they didn’t have any available” everyone looked at the big truck that was parked outside of the dorms (the truck has 8 seats; 3 in the back, 3 in the middle, and 2 in the front). Reaching over searching through the black bag that wrapped around Bangchan, he took out the keys and waved them in front of him “it’ll only be a few hours so one’s gonna have to sit on top of someone” everyone looked turned their heads at your direction “oh come on.. fine, just because I wanna continue my series asap” you grabbed your bag as everyone cheered “Let’s go then, there’s only 8 seats so you’ll sit-”

“I know” you smiled at Chan then he nodded as he made his way towards the drivers seat. “Here” Felix handed you a pillow “um.. why?” Reaching over you looked at Felix as you grabbed the pillow from his hand “so you’ll be comfortable, it’ll be like a 4-5 hour long drive, don’t want your legs to hurt, plus you insisted on wearing a dress so I don’t want it to roll up” smiling you leaned towards Felix and gave him a peck in the lips “cute” you said and Felix’s cheeks flushed, you smiled as you searched for your earphones in your backpack.

Changbin walked over and hit Felix on the back of his head mouthing “cute” trying to mimic the way you said it, Felix squinted his eyes glaring at him and Changbin threw his hands up in defense while walking to the middle seats. Everyone chose their own seats, you were glad Felix chose the back window seat which made it easier for you to get in and out considering you were the only one that’ll be sitting uncomfortably throughout the car ride.

Felix patted his lap, you placed the pillow on him as made your way on top of him. “Seated? Alright let’s go!” Bangchan said as he started the truck and drove off towards the cabin.

.

Almost two hours in you were starting to feel numb on your thighs, not wanting to halt the steady and smooth car ride, you kept quiet. Once in awhile Felix would grab your waist as a turn would approach, not. Wanting you to fall from his lap. You’d smile and hold his hands showing appreciation for his gentle care.

“Okay, well take a 10 minute break, grab some snacks and use the restroom” Chan drove into the gas station, from the back seat you watched as Lee Know pulled out his credit card “dumbass you didn’t even put gas in the car” Chan scratched his head from embarrassment as he took the card from Lee Knows hand and got out of the car.

You chuckled slightly and quickly got out of the car almost tripping as your legs got used to the normal circulation they were used to. “You should’ve said something” Hyunjin said behind you while looking at your legs “i just wanted to get to the cabin on time” you looked down “we’ll rest up cuz we’re burly halfway there” Hyunjin waved as he headed inside the gas station. You decided to take this time and lay on the back seat, just clearing your mind as you waited for the boys to come back. They’ve been working pretty hard all year so the company forced them to take a week off, as you knew them pretty well, Chan was going to still work on some tracks as well as some other members like Lee Know dancing or Seungmin studying. You suggested to go out to the woods, knowing they’ll be no service unless you’re connected to a hotspot which is beneficial since it’ll force them to not use their phones or electronics while being on vacation.

Suddenly you felt a wet and cold sensation on your right thigh forcing you to lift your head that was laying on the pillow Felix gave you “ready?” Felix wrapped both of his arms under your thighs from the sides and pulled you towards him until you were on the edge of the seat, groaning you lifted yourself up and grabbed the cold drink “no” you whined earning a smile from Felix. The members one by one filled the car, you looked down as you still felt Felix’s hands resting on your thighs, slowly moving up and down making a circular motion. You looked up realizing he was between your legs causing you to blush then slowly come to the realization that you were wearing a dress so you quickly closed your legs. Felix looking down as he realized why you closed them “don’t worry, I was covering you” Felix said while taking a step back to let you out of the car, Felix watched as you made your way out of the car so he could sit.

Instead of sitting on him facing forward, you wanted to get into a more comfortable position so you sat on him from the side facing the door, the good thing about this truck was that the seats weren’t directly next to the seats so your legs could dangle on the side of the seat as you faced the cars door. You were right, this is way more comfortable than how you sat before “but the pillow…” Felix said “i’ll use it as a table” you placed the pillow on your thighs as you grabbed the bag of chips and sandwich Felix bought for you at the gas station. Felix placed his right hand around your lower back and rested it on your waist not wanting you to fall incase of a turn as he used his other hand to close the door of the car.

Everyone was sat and ready to go, this time Lee Know took the wheel, Bangchan protesting but still lost the argument since Lee Know locked him out of the car leaving him no other choice than to sit in the passengers seat. Han making fun of Chan as Seungmin called him slow for not noticing Lee Know taking the keys from his back pocket while he was putting gas to the truck.

Pulling out of the gas station and onto the road, Felix still held you by your waist as he placed his other hand over your legs for more support, bot minding since he’s your boyfriend, plus he always like physical affection. Feeding Felix some of his own chips since his hands were occupied, time passed slowly but surely.

.

“Almost there!” you cheered with the rest of the members, jumping in place. You felt Felix the hand that rested over your legs to squeeze your outer thigh making you turn to look at Felix “stop moving…p-please” not knowing why he said that you just figured his legs were numb or something. “Dude here! Turn right!” Jeongin pointed to the road that was slightly hidden. “Fu- Jeongin tell me in advance!” Lee Know glared at Jeongin through the mirror and as responce Jeongin stuck his tongue out at him.

With the sharp turn Felixs hand slid between your thighs just grabbing your inner leg as he held you close to him. Wrapping your arm around his neck for support as the car went back to its steady pace. After a minute or so you both still didn’t move, feeling Felix’s thumb cress your inner thigh as he squeezed lightly once in awhile. Leaning your head on his neck as you sighed out of tiredness. The truck started to slow down as it entered a rocky area, feeling as Felix squeezed again and again as the rocky road made you bounce, directly under you you could feel him getting a little hard. Being fully aware at the fact that Felix’s weakness was your thighs you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs a they wrapped around his hand that was between them. Looking up at him you could see as his lips parted a little bit while watching the actions you were making.

“Were here!” Lee Know got out of the car the second he turned off the engine, watching as the members got out of the car, you reached over opening the door. Before getting off of his lap you looked directly at Felix as you slid your hand and placed it where his hand was between your thighs and applied pressure as you gave one last squeeze using your thighs making sure his hand would not move while you slightly circled your hips that were obviously on top of his now hard crotch.

Giving him a smirk as you pecked his lips and got off of his lap making your way to the back of the truck to get your bag leaving him sitting there to gather himself. “Dang it.. Jeongin that was the exit not the entrance!” Lee Know slapped himself on the forehead “hey, we got here didn’t we” in Jeongin defense… he’s not wrong, you all made it to the cabin Bangchan booked last minute.

The cabin was beautiful, the view was exactly as the flyer and it even had a complimentary basket filled with firewood and snacks with drinks. “Okay people, we got 1 master bedroom and 3 guests rooms so what we’re going todo is draw-” before Changbin could finish, all you heard were Han, Hyunjin and Seungmin sprint upstairs “damn it- YOU’RE ALL GETTING THE MASTER BEDROOM” Bangchan yelled and all you could hear were groan from the boys upstairs while the rest laughed. “We’ll get a room together” Felix grabbed your hand “obviously” Lee Know wiggled his eyebrows “Oh shut up” you reached over the couch and threw a pillow at his face but he quickly moved out of the way.

Chan quickly wrapped his arms around Jeongin, watching Jeongin struggle you laughed “I choose you pikachu” Chan said as he rocked Jeongin side to side “well ill get my bag, you got yours?” Changbin said to Lee Know as they both walked outside.

.

Rooms: (Hyunjin, Han and Seungmin) (Bangchan and Jeongin) (Lee Know and Changbin) (Felix and you)

.

After a long day everyone hung around the cabin, either outside or inside, some hung in the living room or kitchen as others gave up on playing volleyball and switched to soccer even though they only had one ball which obviously made it difficult to play. Soon one by one they’ll head to their room leaving Felix, Changbin and you to clean up their mess. “Good thing Im not the only one that was left behind to clean” Changbin said as he washed the dished. “No problem, plus we can finish faster like this” you said as you patted Changbin on his shoulder.

Felix was drying and putting the dishes away as you picked up the trash on the counters and table. You obviously finished faster than both of them so you grabbed a rug and helped Felix dry the dishes. The three of you standing next to each other (Changbin, Felix then you). Taking advantage the second you saw Changbin concentrated with the dishes you grabbed the pan Felix was drying from his hand making him turn to you in a questioning look. You turned your back at him and bent over all the way opening the bottom cabinet to place the pan inside making sure you brushed against his leg.

The second he placed his hand on your waist you lifted yourself up “I’ll head to bed first, night Changbin” you waved as you made your way to the stairs “night” Changbin said as he finished the last cup.

.

By the time Felix got to the room you were already in bed under the covers on your phone, changed into one of Felixs shirts not even bothered to wear any shorts or sweats. “Are you serious?” Felix made his way to the closet as be changed into some sweats but stayed shirtless. “What do you mean?” You said as you tried your best to look as innocent as possible. Felix’s head turned at your direction stopping in his tracks “the car ride and in the kitchen… you cant be doing th-” he was caught off guard as you removed the blanket that covered you “so you want me to put on something else?” Sensing Felix’s eyes travel your body as he’s slowly making his way towards you.

Grabbing your knees and spreading your legs as he got between them, leaning over you as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. Smelling his scent fill your senses, you soon felt warm inside… safe under his touch. His hands traveled down your sides to your hips then rested on both sides of your thighs as they wrapped under them. Moving himself away from you as he leaned and placed gentle kisses above your knees making his way to your inner thigh. Softly moaning from the sensation, Felix never looked away from you as he took in the pleasured look on your face.

A smile appearing across Felix’s face, squeezing your thighs leaving love marks with his mouth all over them. “God why- how are you so perfect..” Felix murmured under breaths as he placed kisses over your clothed clit making you bit your lip from the sudden sensation between your legs. Placing his palms on your waist removing your panties, feeling the cold breeze as your bottom half was now exposed.

His middle finger running over your slit as he started to eat you out, using his free arm to get a grip on you by lifting one of your legs up and over his shoulder, getting harder as he felt the heat your thigh brought to him as it pressed on the side of his head.

Gripping the sheets, you couldn’t help yourself but to grab the back of his head and guide him just how you wanted. Licking you up and down not letting you go as you squirmed into place. Sliding in his middle and ring finger in you slowly, throwing your head back as you clenched around him. Fingers going in and out of you, panting in place you arched your back Felix takes the opportunity to let go of your thigh and slide it under your back as he brought you closer to him making his fingers go deeper and deeper.

The loss of contact and pleasure came over you as Felix pulled his fingers out before you could release around them. A whine left your lips, watching as Felix lifted himself up and took off his sweats and boxers letting them fall on the other side of the bed. “You bring any condoms?” You watched as he stroked himself in front of you. “Damn-no..” you let your head fall back “i got an idea though” before you could answer Felix closed your legs as he placed them over his right shoulder, confused by his actions you stared attentively, holding your breath as you felt his tip slide between your thighs right above your clit.

Moving himself forward rubbing over you, you both moaned out of pleasure “fuck your thighs feel so good around me” felix threw his head back as he started to thrust between your thighs. “Language” you reached over and slapped his arm earning a smirk from his. Both of you moaning together, listening to eachother as you both reached your climax. “f-felix im gonna” you could feel your high get closer as Felix’s cock rubbed over your clit faster and faster.

Reaching over you, he grabbed your hand and held it as he nodded towards you signaling you to cum. You released under him making Felix thrust a few more times then pulled himself away from between your thighs making sure to cum over them “I still dont know why you like them so much…” you panted as you traced your finger over the cum from your thighs that Felix released. “They’re just… perfect” hiding the now flushed cheeks he got up and grabbed wipes from his bag, walking towards you and cleaned you up.

.

Getting into the covers, Felix wrapped his arm around your thighs, laying his head on your stomach as he held you close, playing with his hair you closed your eyes as your mind slowly began to become blank.

“You’re perfect” Felix said placing a kiss over your shirt on your stomach… you smiled softly as you both drifted off to sleep.

Masterlist

[ranchracoon]

Mine

Resident Lover Donna x Fem Reader

requested by: Adatchi_Mitsura

NSFW Warning: Fingering, strap, top Donna

The bell of the flower shop dings to announce your arrival. You look around the empty store for someone in particular but they're nowhere around. Approaching the counter you lean over to peak behind, not seeing her there either. With a huff you go around toward the back and finally you see the person you've been missing. She has her back to you, completely engrossed in her task of organizing a new shipment of flowers. You bite your lower lip and sneak up on her, wrapping your arms around her waist and squeezing as you feel her tense beneath your grasp. She turns around once you release and you smile up at her. Donna Beneviento. Her ebony hair shines in the florescent lights of the shop, her grey/blue eyes looking back at yours. You reach up and swipe away some hair blocking her scar over one eye, you hate how she hides it. 

She smiles warmly at you, her lips curling up and exposing her dimples that you can't help but pinch them between your fingers. Donna snickers and reaches up, enclosing your hands with her dirty, gloved ones before giving the back of your hand a tender kiss. You swear sometimes you can see a literal heart in her eyes when she looks at you. You bite your lower lip looking her over, she's wearing the brand-new collared shirt you got her; a dark blue that goes well with her black gardening apron. She has her sleeves rolled up to her elbows exposing her forearms which flex every time she moves her arms, you can't help but stare at how defined they are. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure amore mio? Is Angie giving you a hard time again?"

"Hm?" You look up at her, shaking your head to clear yourself from your daze, "no she's behaving. I wanted to come see you and, maybe take you out for lunch."

"I wish I could, but my shipment came in early so now I have to re-organize everything to make room, plus I have a huge wedding order-" her eyes slant and her smile fades as the worry creeps back. 

"Hey," you cup her face with her hands still firmly on top of yours, "thirty minutes. That's all."

"I promise I'll make it up to you tonight."

Donna kisses your head lovingly and moves your hands down as she returns to her former task, she should know by now that you hardly take no for an answer. You slump down on a nearby bench, watching her count when you start shifting around to catch her attention. She sighs heavily and stands upright, removing her gloves and tossing them down firmly.

"Is there something else?"

"I just couldn't help but notice you're wearing the shirt I got you, and might I say you look absolutely ravishing in it. However, it would look far better on the floor."

Donna's eyes darken, she knows exactly what you're getting at, yet she cannot help the feral urge to jump you. Her eyes glance toward the clock then back at you, as you lean back on the bench with your legs open and a cheeky smirk on your face. How can she resist someone like you? The answer: she can't. She approaches you and hovers over, her lips catching your heatedly as you moan into her mouth and wrap your arms around her neck. Donna pushes you backward until you're laying down with her perfectly between your legs. She runs a hand up your shirt, her calloused fingers lightly scratching your skin before she dips them beneath the waistline of your shorts. 

You moan excitedly, she has barely touched you and already you're heart is hammering in your chest with excitement. Donna rubs your cunt through your panties, she chuckles lowly at how wet you are. You weren't going to take her to lunch, you were going to be lunch. How insatiable you are. She moves your panties to the side and wastes no time plunging two thick fingers into you, with her thumb instantly at your clit. You break the kiss to toss your head back and moan but she uses her other hand to cover your mouth. 

"Oh no no mio caro, only I get to hear you."

You moan into her hand and rotate your hips into her fingers, she thrusts hard and fast while her thumb continues to stimulate your clit. Gods you love how she feels inside you. Your walls clench around her fingers and your clit swells with arousal as your orgasm steadily approaches. Your hips desperately ride her fingers and your abdomen starts to tighten and coil, your hips lift off the bench and you tighten around her fingers. Just as you're about to come undone the bell to the shop dings and Donna stops, you groan loudly in frustration into her hand, biting down on it gently to keep her there. You open your eyes and lock them with hers as she looks away toward the clock. 

"Merda! I forgot about the interviewers."

"Don't. You fucking. Dare." You growl, your words muffled by her hand. 

"I'm sorry. I really have to go."

She gently pries her hands off you and gives you a quick kiss before grabbing her gloves and making her way to the store front. You lay there panting softly, the frustration quickly dampened by embarrassment because of the mess now in your underwear. 

*          *          *

True to her word, once the shop was closed for the night Donna went to a local shop and gathered locally made ingredients for dinner. She handmade the noodles, and the sauce for your favorite dish, and for dessert she stashed a little extra surprise. Once you walked through the door she greeted you cheerfully and motioned to the dining room table, she knows exactly how to butter you up. How can you stay angry with someone this adorable and kind to you? You sat across from her and ate the meal in peace, it was divine as always. Donna smiled at you lovingly, all your frustration from earlier melting away. Fine. You can forgive her. 

You take the plates from the table and gather them to take to the sink, since she made dinner it's only fair you clean it up. As you wash the dishes Donna approaches you from behind, her arms slithering around your waist in a mirror movement of what you did earlier. You smile and lean into her, her hips pressing into yours, and with it, a familiar bulge pressed into your backside. Your face rushed with heat as you gently grind against her, the bulge pressing deeper into you as you bit down on your lower lip. Donna reaches out and turns off the water to the sink, and carefully sets down the dish you had in your hands before turning you around and hoisting you onto the kitchen counter. You wrap your arms and legs around her, pulling her into you and kissing her deeply as your hips scoot forward to find friction. 

"Tell me what you want." She orders. 

"You. I want you. Please." You beg. 

Donna kisses you once again, this time scooping you into her arms and carrying you through the kitchen, through the dining room, and down the hallway to the bedroom. She sets you down onto the bed and you instantly shift around to get comfortable as she wastes no time undressing you. She rips off your clothing until you're down to your panties and underwear, then she sits up and removes her own clothing. Gods how did you get so lucky? She slowly and sensually undresses for you, she undoes her tie carefully before tossing it aside. Then she unbuttons her shirt one, painfully slow button, at a time before she untucks it from her pants. The shirt falls to the floor, exposing her braless, perky breasts. You grind your legs together as you bite your lip but she forces them apart with a tsking sound. 

"Sii la mia brava ragazza (be my good girl)." She orders. 

You moan desperately, her speaking Italian ignites hundreds of sparks over your body and you can't help but squirm under her touch. You whimper slightly and settle yourself before she continues her undressing show, this time removing her belt with one swift motion. She takes the belt and gently using it to slap your thighs. 

"Keep these open, and I won't tie them down."

You nod your head and keep your legs spread wide, the cold breeze from the room brushes against your soaked cunt and makes you shiver. Donna drops her trousers and the erect strap comes free. She climbs on top of you before an idea strikes her and she sits beside you, motioning for you to sit up. 

"Show me how badly you want me."

Without a second thought you spring onto your hands and knees, kneeling in front of her and unclasping your bra. Then you shimmy your underwear off and hold them up so she can see how wet you are. Donna reaches over and takes a bottle of lube, getting her strap thoroughly lubed up for you. Your underwear join the mess of clothing on the floor before you straddle her lap, grinding your soaking cunt along her shaft. 

"Look at you, so desperate for me. Do you want me to fuck you?" She asks. 

"Yes. Please yes. Fuck me until I can't walk." You moan. 

"Hmm, I don't know if I should. You've been awfully naughty today. Interrupting me at work. Sending me naughty messages and videos all day. Perhaps I should tie you down instead and play with you until you're an incoherent mess."

The thought alone makes you tremble, Donna's firm hands grasp your hips to keep you from moving further. She lifts you carefully so you hover over the strap, your dripping cunt quivers in anticipation. Donna looks up at you, her darkened eyes staring through your soul as you look down at her, your face flushed with arousal. 

"What do you think?" She asks. 

"I promise I'll be good. I won't distract you at work anymore, I just miss you so much. I need you inside me."

"Well, I didn't say that, but you twisted my arm."

Donna pulls your hips down and the strap slips fully inside you with no resistance. You moan loudly and wrap your arms around her shoulders for support, your breasts perfectly in line with her face. 

"Show me how sorry you are."

You bite your lower lip and begin riding her, your hips bouncing on her cock as her mouth finds your breast. She takes a nipple into her mouth and sucks it as her hands release your hips and wrap around you for additional support. You ride her hard, moaning each time you slam down and she fills you deliciously. Donna releases your breast and moves to the other, meanwhile she takes one hand and stimulates your clit. You throw your head back moaning and bounce on her faster, it doesn't take long before that heated coil winds up in the pit of your stomach. Donna grasps your hip once more, her fingers flicking your clit just how you like, and her cock sheathed deeply inside you sends you over the edge. You slam down on her one more time and the flood gates open; you tremble and convulse as your orgasm rushes over you, your entire body relaxes and is greeted with warmth. You legs shake and clench tightly onto Donna's as you ride out your orgasm, rolling your hips on her strap until the shakes stop. 

Donna looks up at you and you lean your head down to kiss her heatedly, she returns the kiss, her hands traveling up your backside and pulling you closer. Then she bucks her hips and rolls the two of you over with you on the bottom and her on top. She breaks the kiss and smirks down at you, you instinctually lock your legs around her waist as she braces her knees under your thighs. 

"Don't think you're getting out of it that easily."

She thrusts into you once more, the only sounds in the room are your broken moans and the lewd slapping of her hips on yours. She doesn't stop until you are past the point of over stimulation. She fucks you hard and deep, with numerous orgasms. The final round is you on your hands and knees, her grasping your hips and hammering into you with her other hand firmly holding your hair. You've lost count of how many orgasms you've had, but after this one you collapse onto the bed, drenched in sweat and cum. Donna rides out her own orgasm with a few final thrusts before she pulls out, making you moan from the loss. She kisses your head tenderly and tucks you into the bed with her cuddled up right beside you.  

[correctproseka]

Been thinking about absolutely strong An has been through this event.

- Finds out her aunt died from her uncle after he said her team would never beat RAD Weekend in their lifetime

- Watched her colleagues (EVER, Arata, Kotaru) get decimated in a singing battle SECONDS AFTER by the same uncle who broke the sad news to them (Arata especially getting Shredded from Taiga’s remarks about carrying dreams since he carries Soma’s dream of becoming the best singer ever)

- Later performing against said uncle with her team WHILE STILL PROCESSING NAGI’S DEATH, WHAT TAIGA IS DOING, and other thoughts racing in her head, only to get eviscerated by him sINCE SHES GOING THROUGH A LOT AT THE MOMENT MENTALLY (“Your Aunt’s dead, your team wont ever beat me, lets have a rap battle now!!” - Taiga)

- Seeing said colleagues leave seemingly forever because their dreams have been shattered, only having her own team

- Her father finding them and telling her the whole truth, which included the reason why until now everyone had been LYING TO HER FOR YEARS about Nagi’s condition

AND THIS HAPPENS ALL IN ONE DAY

AND SHE GETS RIGHT BACK UP AFTER A FEW MOMENTS OF GRIEVING NAGI’S DEATH

She gets back up, thats true, but lets make a few things clear.

She only gets back up because she has her team and her dad. If anyone in her team had given up, i dont think she could've handled. And as much as she is rightfully angry at her dad, he is also a good reason she can stay as confident as she is.

Plus, we know that whatever happened was NOT acceptance, well, it kind of was, but also not. You know the stages of grief are.. weird. An skipped denial (or we can count those three years as denial), right into anger- and she unleashed that anger while singing, and is angry at her town and at her dad- and in between anger she has depression, i would say they're both so intertwined you can barely see which is which. She can't bargain, or maybe she's bargaining at herself, she cant fully break down in front of Taiga, or until she learns of everything.

And once she does, more at side cards than in the actual story. Here comes the acceptance, alongside again more depression. You just know she possibly cried herself to sleep that night- if she slept at all. But also, yes, An is strong, but we cant just ignore the fact that she set her feelings to the side enough to cry at a safe place- and that she has her team to lift her up.

Because for one. Nagi is right. If An knew about it before she met Kohane, and before they formed Vivid Bad Squad, An would have given up on music all together, not that she wasn't strong then, she would have gotten over with that situation, probably EASIER without yknow. Knowing it three years later. But also the main reason she was into music would be gone, so what was the point? Now she has more people- and more reasons- to be into music.

Just adding salt to the wound yknow.

Also my headcanon is that after An was. Like yknow, not fighting tears just because of Nagi's name (which took like a full week), Ken took her to the cemetery where Nagi is, which made An cry all over again but helped her mourn since she never had the chance to, he walked away to give them a bit of privacy while An talks to the grave to give Nagi updates about her life and in the end, she feels more determined than ever, she leaves a little drawing of the vbs logo on top of it and goes back more at peace than when she came in.

[buddiesmutslut]

hey, it's Team! sending some spooky vibes and ✨️shift and 🪩 game for the Halloween prompts. (side note, what do u want me to call u?) thanks for playing! - @team-118

Hello my beautiful friend, guess what I forgot to do 😭 My brain has betrayed me, so I'm a little late, but here we are!

Also, call me Tay 🫶 Although, I probably should do one of those introductory posts on here so people know more about me, shouldn't I?

(Anyway, I'm not exactly sure what drabble is, so I think this might be a little long, but I hope you like it anyway 💚💚💚

The moon is full and so is Buck’s jeep as they drive through downtown LA, sitting through traffic on the highways until they hit the winding road that leads out of town, and then the path into the woods. 

Buck parks and they tromp through the underbrush, bunnies and squirrels scurrying away from their boisterousness. 

Chris is hyped up - the full moon mixing with all the candy he’d eaten after trick-or-treating, and Buck isn’t much better. 

It hasn’t been long since Buck shifted for the first time, and the excitement of these nights still gets under his skin and leaves him acting like an excitable puppy instead of a fully grown, hundred-plus pound wolf. 

They finally break through the tree line to the clearing they always shift at, and it’s seconds later when his mate and son both start stripping down, falling to the ground with laughter and excitement as they try to wrestle their shoes off first. 

“Last one to the creek is a rotten egg!” Chris challenges once he’s done, his spindly wolf immediately coming forward as he staggers towards the other water about a mile away from them. 

Buck cries in faux-outrage at the “head-start” their pup had gotten, but he’s smiling so widely that his teeth nearly glow in the darkness before he shifts too, bounding after the smaller wolf. 

Eddie glances at his tia, looking for fond commiseration, but she only winks and joins in herself, shifting mid-step and taking off with a howl. 

Realizing he’s about to lose, Eddie can only laugh and let his own human side fade away, landing on four legs and throwing himself into the game. 

And if he tackles Buck right before he touches the water, making Chris the official winner of the race to the water, well - 

All’s fair under the call of the moon.