#picking up on the e-string

[mitjalovse]

Some session musicians should have done more on their own thanks to the immense prowess they kept showing many times. Well, Carol Kaye, one of the best session bassists, sadly didn't do much on solowise, though we have to understand – she worked quite a lot. Still, one wishes she would've done more of her jazz trips, where she basically presented us with a major reason for her success. You see, she appears to be a jazzist at heart and this gave her a great playing field for her job. This also tells me one thing I must mention in our discussion here – the fact that session musicians are disappearing is terrible. They are probably another source of our listening enjoyment of the old pop chestnuts, their presence remains severely missed.

[thecosmickight]

Promises to keep.

Son Kihoon, at 20 years old, met his soulmate because of an accident. A wrong turn down a street during a grocery run led him straight to Jinwoo, or at least to Jinwoo's apartment building. Kihoon, now lost, hoped to find someone to get directions from.

Instead, he felt a tug on his left hand and found a 18 year old civilian at the end of his string. He is invited inside by an excited Jinah and an amused Park Kyung-Hye.

Jinwoo was cautious around Kihoon at first. He was worried about his mother being around a hunter, especially as high ranking as Kihoon. However, his other half blended into his family quickly. Kihoon was over nearly every weekend, Kyung-Hye made it clear she wanted him around, and Jinah was happy to have someone to help tease Jinwoo.

When Kihoon is asked to join the Hunter's Guild, the Sung family celebrates with him and his parents.

When Park Kyung-Hye falls to eternal slumber, Kihoon and Jinwoo fight. Jinwoo has awakened as an E-rank hunter and believes he has to shoulder everything. Kihoon wants to help the Sung family as much as he can. They were his as much as he was their's and he wanted to take care of them.

(Part of the fight is Jinwoo thinking his rank will drag Kihoon's reputation through the mud. He doesn't want to jeopardize Kihoon's future. Kihoon is, rightfully so, pissed when he hears this. He doesn't care what rank Jinwoo is nor what other people think. It takes a couple of days, and Jinah actually siding with her brother, for Kihoon to agree to keep quiet(with a handful of conditions).)

Jinwoo and Kihoon get married, with Mrs. Park's blessing, six months later. The records are sealed, and Kihoon is able to help with medical bills and chores around the house. (He tries his best to keep his family happy and safe. He promised his mother-in-law that he would watch out for Jinwoo and Jinah, and he would keep it to the best of his abilities. Jinwoo isn't the only stubborn one in the household.)

[waywardsalt]

tbh i might go ahead and put dungeons in as a part of the bellum x linebeck fic's plot since like. 1) struggling to actually figure out a main plot and having dungeons as sort of bit points to hit and be little bits of fitting exploration and bonding and 2) i do kinda want to do dungeons. i like thinking of them and again i do think its fitting.

[writtenbythemoonandstars]

Bedazzled

**This story contains discussions of injury, medical trauma, sexual harassment, and emotional distress. Please read with care!

Dr. Robby's carefully private life is exposed when his girlfriend arrives at the ER after a violent attack. Dana and Collins piece things together when he rushes to her side, revealing a side of himself they’ve never seen.

1.1k words

He never explicitly said he was seeing anyone but everyone in the Pitt knew Robby was at least getting laid.

Over the last few weeks he'd been less high strung. Not snapping at the residents or med students. "Whoever it is I just want to say thank you." Dr. Mohan, Samira, mumbles to Dana.

Heather, Dr. Collins, leans in. "We're talking about Robby's new girlfriend?" She asks. They both nod. "I think she-" Heather is cut off as a young woman, dressed in a tight short red bedazzled dress, limps towards them. A despondent look in her eyes. A hand pressed against her shoulder that oozes blood beneath it, matching the blood running from her nose down her chin. Her long pin straight dark hair messy like it had been pulled on.

Heather immediately jumps into action. "Are you alright?" She asks looking over the woman's body.

"I- I was stabbed." Is all she says. Dana helps guide her to a gurney nearby and she slowly sits down. Dr. Collins walks up to her, gloved up, and gently removes her hand from her shoulder. She winces but stays still. "We are going to take good care of you, okay? Can you tell me your name?" Collins cuts the strap of her dress to get better access to the wound though there wasn’t much of a strap to begin with. Dana supplies her with a blanket.

"Michael… uhm Dr. Robinavitch works here right?" She asks.

Dana and Heather share a look. "Yes he does. He goes by Dr. Robby here."

"Oh.. Uhm.. Okay. Dr. Robby. He-" She jumps when the antiseptic is wiped over her cut.

"Sorry." Heather frowns, continuing her work.

"Honey, can we get your name?" Dana asks, "for your charts. We wanna run some labs."

She gives them her name. "I'm 26." She adds. "And I wasn't raped." Her voice soft. Scratchy. She knew that was the "labs" they wanted to run, at least one of them.

"Have you had an STI check recently?" Dana asks, no judgement in her tone.

"Last week." She nods, "Can I… could I see Dr.. Robina- Robby?"

Dana looks up from the tablet. "I'm not sure he's here yet. Robby works at 7." It was barely 6:30am. "Do you know him?"

No response.

"When he gets here can I see him?" She asks. Biting her lip as tears fill her eyes while Collins stitches her arm.

"When I see him I'll let him know you're looking." Dana offers a kind smile and a gentle hand on her wrist. Then she quietly exits the room.

"What happened?" Dr. Collin's asks, cutting the string, turning to find a large enough patch bandage.

"Was walking home." She begins.

"Alone?" Heather knows all too well what it's like for women walking in the dark. Alone. Late at night.

"My boyfriend usually picks me up from work but he was busy… He didn't answer his phone." She looks down at her hands twisting together in her lap. "I don't live that far. There was this client of mine… I don't do private dances. Not anymore-" She explains. "He was upset that 300 dollars wasn't enough to bribe me after I said no-" There's no need for her to continue, even if the tears or choked sob hadn't cut her off.

"You're safe now honey." Heather reassures her. "You sure you don’t need the-"

"He didn't rape me." She replies sharply, "sorry I-"

"Don't be sorry." A shake of the doctors head. "You need a phone? Call your boyfriend again?"

A nod.

Heather hands her the landline. Then gives her some privacy.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes. Stop harassing me-" Robby's voice half teasing half annoyed when he answers the phone.

"Michael?" Her voice soft. She can practically hear his heart stop beating. "It's uhm-"

"What the hell are you doing in the ER?" He cuts her off.

"Well I- you didn’t answer your phone earlier when I got off- which is fine-" She's quick to excuse, "so I was going to walk-"

"Baby you know how I feel about you walking home alone." His voice sharp. Dominant. But not angry with her. Never angry with her.

"S-Sorry-"

"Fuck honey don't be sorry." He sighs. Guilt filling his body. "I'll be there in five minutes."

"Dr. Collins already stitched me up." She tells him.

"Stitched you up?" his voice tense.

"I- I was stabbed." She hears the mumbled curse words.

No one has ever seen Robby move so fast. Dana points to the closed curtain in the corner of the room. Just having intuition. So much for keeping his relationship, not necessarily a secret but, private. They don't need to know everything about him.

His hands are on her face before she even realizes anyone had entered the room. Her body immediately relaxing. His hands pushing her hair back in that way she knows he does to calm himself more than it calms her down. "Did you hit your head?" He asks.

"No." Her voice soft.

"No fractures?" Robby prods at her nose until she winces and he stops. Sending her an apologetic look.

"I'm not a doctor but no one has mentioned fractured nose to me." She replies.

"You tell the police who did it? It was the fuckin' guy whose been harassing you?"

"I haven't talked to the police yet. But yes it was. She nods.

He holds her hair gently, running his hands through it again. "I'm real sorry I didn’t answer the phone baby." He sounds truly guilty. You'd think he was the one that hit her.

"Not your fault. I know you worked a long shift.." Over time is what he worked. The emotional trauma yesterday caused on top of physical labor.

He sighs. "Can I take you home?" He asks.

Her discharge papers are held up to his face. "Don't you have to work?"

"Haven't clocked in yet. I can be a little late." A kiss is pressed to her head. She leans in to his touch.

"I've also got some clothes for ya." He looks down at her attire. The blanket Dana had given her covering the cut up dress.

"Okay." She nods. He grabs the things she came with before carefully helping her stand. The mild pain killers making her a bit wobbly but she can walk on her own. Except… the shoes she came in with her those God awful high heels.

Robby loves them, don't get him wrong, but not when she's walking around in them.

He throws a scrub top over her head. Letting it fall past her knees and making sure not to irritate her stitches. Then he throws her dress away. "I really loved that outfit." She pouts.

"I'll buy you a new one." He mumbles, helping her into some temporary shoes, carrying the heels along with her other things.

Dana bites her lip, as if she's trying not to say anything when they walk by. He shoots her and Heather a look. That he'll explain later.

He was not looking forward to it.

---

This is my first work on Tumblr (and Dr. Robby) so I hope you enjoy! This is not edited..

[seris-the-amious]

'Nom Noms' ~ HCs

// Yes, I as chewing on my ballpen, yes I thought of Zayne LaDs

Prompt: How the LaDs men would Indirectly kiss you <3

Warnings: Caleb is a bit of a FREAAAK

[Posted on 3-27-25]

Zayne has uncosciously inherited your habit of chewing/nibbling on pens while being deep in thought, specifically when he sees you writing your annual reports

There came a day you left one of your pens in his bag, the small one he brings during meetings, and it just so happens to be the one he pulls out

He.. hesitantly takes glances at it from time to time as he writes, taking notice of the small dents from you biting the poor thing just a bit too hard

Curiosity seemed to get the best of him as he paused his note-taking to just...

*nom.*

Theres a hint of stawberry-- a h ! It must've been the new chapstick you bought. He quietly fights a smile creeping to his face as he remembers your task for him earlier that morning

"Zaynie can you keep this for a bit? My Desk is too messy i'll get it before you leave" ..You d i d n 't

His gnawing becomes more and more obvious as if he's trying to salvage the left over taste of your lips.

Eventually he almost flinches at one of the Chief Resident's voice; "Everyone take 5, we will resume the meeting shortly."

Snapping out of his thoughts as he gathers his things, he wonders 'why the sudden break?' Until Dr. Greyson taps him on the back with the friendly smile

"The Chief must've felt bad for you, Dr. Zayne" he began "Everyone knows how diligently you work without complaints, but seeing you snacking on a pen during a meeting was enough for them to know you need a break." He chuckles, offering to treat Zayne at the cafeteria for today

Oh boy, who's going to tell him that all he was snacking on was nothing but the traces of his adoring lover? Not me.

He's now been making sure he has at least one of your chewed pens in his pocket/s, the fresher the better.

Lets be so fr here this man chews on all of your hoodie/jacket strings AND cuffs.

You both tend to share or swap hoodies whenever one visits the other in their apartment, you chew on the strings as you scroll while you nibble on the cuffs when you're hungry

Xavier was VERY quick to pick this up, so whenever he sees you nomming your cuffs he would order you take out or bring you to convenience store dates, but this isn't about that.

Whenever you go on business trips or missions in different cities, he would leave almost no hoodie un-chewed! >:l Once the strings go soggy he'll just put on another hoodie, and then another... and then he probably tuggs on the cuffs with his teeth too

Once you come back and he visits to return the abused clothing, you were deffinitely suspicious. "Xavier, why are my hoodies.. d a m p?" "I.. took them to the laundry this morning" "Xavi.. its pouring outside" "...exactly?" "X A V I E R."

He denies all allegations of devouring the garments during your absence, but how could you scold your sweet-and-innocent boyfriend when he pulls out his bunny face?

"You were gone for too long.. I needed something to remind me of you.." :(( he pouts, nuzzling himself onto you

You let it slide f o r e v e r n o w, but you tell him to buy new strings to replace the ones that have gone too far to save

[probably happens monthly-]

Here me out, M U G S. Champagne Glasses even. Sylus the man-he-IS✨️ would deffinitely taunt you whenever he drinks from the same cup/s you do

At first it was subtle, when it was your morning coffee time, he would brew his drink after you're done on the same mug you used

"Sy, is that my mug?" You stared. "Sweetie, dont you always tell me to get two of the same one so we can match?" He drawled, taking a sip without ever breaking eye contact from you.

A few minutes later you check the pantry aiming to get a glass for/of water-- ...The other mug is still there.

Whenever he invites you as his plus one in one of those N109 Zone gatherings and balls, he would purposely wait until you've grabbed one of the service champagnes or ordered from the nearby bar

Once you do, he strikes. "Having fun, kitten?" He crosses his arms at the sight of you swishing the half-finished champagne glass "Mm. It's alright, but deffinitely an improvement from the last party you went to" you tilted your head focused on the golden liquid

"I see." He nodded, before you could look at him he gently- but quickly lifts your hand holding the glass to his lips, purposely sipping from where your lipstick has stained

"S-Sylus!" You squealed, face erupting into flames "Careful kitten, your face might as well blend with your dress and I just might think im talking to a ghost." He chortles, almost breaking into a laugh as you slap him on the biceps.

He deviously licks his lips and basks in your flustered state "what's wrong? Isn't right I have a taste?" You flare up even more.

The people almost gape at the sight of Big-Bad-Boss of Onychinus being so carefree especially at the hands of his beloved, they dont dare disrupt their shared moment.

You take note to hide or finish your drinks faster, but that bastard always finds a way to get to you.

Utensils. This man loves the way you keep your spoon/fork longer in your mouth to savor his cooking.

"Hey pipsqueak, are you going to eat the spoon too?" He'd joke as you roll your eyes-- N O. Lies. This man is the one eating that spoon. Honestly he'd eat anything (minus Cilantro maybe) that you leave on your plate if he could like the puppy he is.

Caleb would usher you to go do whatever in your room whenever you tried to offer washing dishes as thanks. Once the coast is clear, when he finishes scraping the left overs(bones/fats etc.) off your plate and into the bin, he takes your spoon into his mouth to eat the remaining remnance of you food on the spoon

Like Xavier, he will deny all allegations of making out with- using your utensils saying things like "You know I dont waste food, pipsqueak" he'd say either winking or suspiciously innocent

On the less freaky side of things, when going to cafes he'd insist on sharing forks whenever you grab cakes, he enjoys the intimacy(and making you flustered-)

"Don't you know, pip? This is the equivalent of sharing kisses!" He'd chirp, to which you complain "Am I not giving you enough- scratch that, your fleet missions last wayyy longer than mine! I should be savoring this, not you" you huffed as he laughs

"Dont worry pipsqueak, my vacation comes soon" he winks, taking a bite from your shared fork

That was deffinitely the day you caught on to why you sometimes caught him using your spoons and forks, you blush at the thought <3

// I surprisingly had a harder time thinking about this than I thought-- I wasn't expecting Caleb to be easier than Raf

Perhaps he's a little bit of everyone. Whatever you put in your mouth goes in to his!

Your Pen:(cil?) "RAFAYEL PUT THAT DOWN I NEED IT" you yelled from the bottom of his riddiculously tall ladder "hmph! That will teach you that I come first before your reports." He stuck his tongue out to you, continuing to ruin the poor thing in his mouth

"Raf.. you do know I do what you're doing to that pen too, right?" He proceeds to throw a fit on why humans eat unedible things like they're aliens despite he himself doing so anyways "It's because im a Lemurian, not a Human" 🙄

Your Hoodie Strings: "What? Dont you humans do whatever this is? Eugh, I can still taste its conditioner" Then he proceeds to continue because he knows you've put your mouth into it

"Whats with that look? Shouldnt you be proud that im more open to trying your so-called traditions?" He'd stubbornly say "..Cutie? Wait- NO COME BAACK"

Mugs/Glasses: "Raf! I can't share mugs with you if im sick!" "Yeah yeah right, we Lemurians have better immune systems than your kind"

He got sick the next day. Blames it on working too much.

On other days he's just being a prick as usual "Let's see whats so important about this beverage that keeps you from being in bed with me-" "its water, raf." "Oh." "I knew that-"

Utensils: "..Just say you want matching silverware?" You say completely unaware of his true intentions

"Nuh uh, the food better this way." He shrugged as you sigh and go back to the kitchen to get another set for yourself

You later realize the implication and then thought maybe he wasn't so bad? ...until he starts using it more than you do so you just buy him a matching set much to his dismay

Conclusion: He's just a fish, leave him be. >:l

MASTERLIST

// I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THISSS, hope you enjoyed! Sorry I wasn't able to do our feesh much justice :((

[Had way too much fun writing Sylus's part and Imagining Zayne's predicament-]

[joonberriess]

3 D

p a i r i n g : jungkook x reader

g e n r e : pimp au.

t a g s : pimp!jk debut(!!!!), some degradation, jk watches videos and looks at ur nudes, masturbation, blowjobs, cum swallowing, head pusher!jk, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting(duh), phone sex(?), daddy kink but brief in some scenes, jk is whipped for his pretty gf :( , nasty dirty talk

w o r d c o u n t : 3.2 k

s u m m a r y : “I wanna see it in motion, in 3D. Cause you know how I like it, girl,” or: Jungkook wants the real thing and not some picture or video. Only thing is he’s on a business trip.

Jungkook tosses his phone off to the side with a quiet “fuck” under his breath. It’s only been three hours since he touched down in LA and not once did you leave his mind even during the long flight on his way over. He thought that after a much needed nap he’d wake up refreshed but it was quite the opposite. However, as soon as his eyes fluttered open he felt the tightness down below in his sweats—cock chubbing up and throbbing painfully through his boxers.

He tried easing the tension by rubbing his hand over the tent at first, he sighed quietly in relief as his hand slipped under his sweats and into his boxers. His cock sat hot and heavy in his hand, twitching when he ran a thumb over the leaky head. “Fuck.” He softly repeats while letting his head fall back on the pillow.

Jungkook’s eyes slip shut as he swallows harshly, he focuses on the hot pleasure boiling in his lower abdomen while slowly working his cock up and down with his thumb swiping over the tip. He pictures you in his bed after a nasty little pussy eating session laying there all fucked out with your thighs still spread and pussy out for him to look at. He swears he can taste you on his tongue just thinking about it.

His lips part as another breathy moan escapes his throat, he lazily flicks his wrist and strokes over his cock while more images of you flash in his mind. He groans out loud at a particular stroke, eyebrows pinching together in concentration as he struggles to keep the same angle and rhythm. Jungkook starts thinking about your ass—your soft, round, apple-bottom shaped ass.

God he just wanted to have his hands over both cheeks, gripping them tight and giving them a couple slaps here and there. His favorite thing to do was fuck you doggy just to watch the way your ass recoiled whenever he slammed in, the bounce was crazy as all he could do was watch in awe as you threw your ass back on him, doughy cheeks colliding against each other or his pelvis.

A low groan of frustration escapes him as he stops stroking himself all at once, slumping over in bed as he lays there staring at the ceiling trying to ignore the heat in his lower belly. He was not having it. He picked his phone up and immediately clicked on his private photos, biting his lip as his screen blew up with endless pics of you or some body part of yours.

He chewed on his lower lip while mindlessly scrolling through the pretty lingerie and ass pics you sent him almost a week ago. A low whistle leaves him, “Goddamn.” He muttered under his breath, he wanted the real thing but sadly these would have to do for now.

Jungkook palms his cock lazily once more, he wraps his fist around the swollen shaft and gives it a small squeeze. He’s even fucking harder now just looking at your pictures rather than before when he was just going off of by memory. He swipes and comes across a photo of your naked body only clad in a pretty g-string. He hisses low at the sight of the string swallowed up between your soft ass cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans in frustration once more, “this isn’t fucking working.” He stops touching all at once and tosses his phone away, a cold shower will have to do, no use in working himself up if he can’t jack off in peace because it’s not the same.

Jungkook sits up and looks off to the side, this is gonna be a long week without you (at least he had his videos though).

.

Two days. That’s how long Jungkook lasted.

After he finished up with his meetings throughout the day, he slipped into his hotel room and locked himself in for the night. God he missed you so much, he wondered what you were doing back at the club. Were you dancing? Playing? Were you missing him as much as he missed you?

Jungkook was half-tempted to call but he decided against it, while it was barely sundown where he was at, he assumed it was literally nighttime/the next day back at home with you. He settled for a hot shower, dimmed lights, and his phone. He went into the same private collection from before and clicked on one of the many videos he had in store.

He licks his lips hungrily and gets comfortable on the bed, hand dipping down to stroke over his hard-on sitting in his boxers:

“C’mere baby,” Jungkook lazily says, “daddy had a rough day.” He eyes you up and down appreciatively, admiring the way your new corset you bought looked on you. “Ah-ah, you know how I like it baby, why don’t you go on and make me proud yeah? That’s it.” He grins softly, watching as you drop down on your hands and knees, slowly crawling towards him with a devious smile.

“Like this daddy?” You softly say with a sway of your ass.

He groans quietly and nods, “Fuck yeah,” he man spreads invitingly while watching with hooded eyes, “those the new heels I got you baby?” He tilts his head to the side.

“Mm-hm,” you nuzzle into his thigh and press your cheek against him, “pretty aren’t they? Wore them just for you, don’t you think I look pretty?” You pout while giving him those sweet puppy eyes of yours.

Jungkook brings his hand down to cup your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek as he took his time to admire your beauty, “Course, my baby always looks so pretty.” He brings his thumb down on your bottom lip, “But she’d look prettier with a mouth full of cock, don’t you think?” He smirks. You softly moan with a nod and he gently tilts your head up by your chin, “Then why don’t you show me just how pretty you are baby?”

You stare back at him like you’re hypnotized, your small hands come up to undo his belt, the sound of his zipper being pulled fills the space between you two. Jungkook leans down to give you one soft peck on your lips before he’s sitting back like the kingpin he is, arms stretched across the back of the velvet sofa. He watches hungrily as your soft hand wraps around his swollen cock, the sight is obscene given that you can’t even fully close your fist around his cock.

“Go on baby,” he breathes out, “slip me in your pretty little mouth.”

You obediently lean forward, lips parted in a ‘o’ as you slip the head into your mouth. He groans quietly at the sight of your glossy red lips wrapped around his cock. You tongue at the slit of his cock, swiping your tongue over the head in repeated motions—left, right, left right. Your hand gently pumps the rest of his cock, you move slowly and twist your hand when you reach the base of his cock before bringing it back up with a nice grip.

“Fuck,” he sighs as he throws his head back with a hum.

You pull back with a wet pop and bring your hand over the tip, smearing your spit all over his cock as you use it to get the rest of his cock slicked up. After stroking him a couple of times you take his cock back into your mouth, this time pushing down until the head hits the back of your throat with a audible gag.

He swears under his breath and reaches up to bury his tattooed hand in your hair. You blink the tears away and bob your head slowly—swallowing messily around his cock. The noises he makes has your thighs pressing together in an effort to suppress your throbbing clit. Not to mention he looks so hot with his head thrown back and his mouth open.

“There you go baby, doing so good,” he pants softly, “tight little throat—’s like you were made for my cock, tight little cocksleeve.” He bites down on his lip and comes back to look down at you, “Love my cock don’t you?” He pats your head, watching in amusement as you moan and nod for him, “Course you do.”

You swallow noisily, slurping up the excess saliva you leave on his cock as you pull back to pop him out of your mouth, “ ‘s mine isn’t it daddy? No one else can have your cock but me right?” You pout while rubbing the tip over your lips, as if you were coating them in a shiny layer of gloss.

Jungkook nods, “Only yours baby.” He reaches down to grip his cock and guide the head back between your lips, “Nobody else does it like you,” he mumbles while watching you take his entire cock down your throat once more.

You reach up to cup his swollen balls in your hand, pairing it with powerful sucks as you hollow your cheeks. His lips part in surprise, a strangled groan leaving him when you begin massaging his balls while bobbing your head much quicker than before. He can’t help himself anymore, he reaches back down and begins pushing your head against his lap. Each push has you taking him deeper and deeper, until your nose is flush against his pelvis.

“Fuck..!” He moans out when you gag around him, your throat constricts tightly around his cock and it has him struggling to keep his composure. “Shit–gonna cum baby,” he breathes out while reaching into his pocket for his phone.

You hum in acknowledgment while bobbing your head to the best of your ability. Jungkook manages to record you sucking him off before he’s suddenly holding you still with a low moan as he cums down your throat. His cock throbs intensely as hot spurts of cum fill your mouth. “Fucking shit,” he shakily breathes out while running a hand through his hair and zooming in on your swollen lips that are still wrapped around his cock.

You pull back with a low pop, lips smeared in a shiny coat of spit and cum, “Am I prettier now?” You smile brightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he sighs in pure bliss while tossing his phone to the side, that was the meanest suck you ever given him.

+

Jungkook breaks on the fourth day.

“Jungkook!” Your happy little voice rings in the quiet hotel room, “I missed you lots, how’s LA like? Oooh can you bring me back something, pretty please!” You pout while snuggling into the many Kuromi plushies you begged him to buy you.

He bites his lip when he sees the state you’re in—practically naked with nothing but a white spaghetti top and your cheeky lace panties. He feels his cock instantly grow hard at the sight, “Hi baby,” he murmurs, “what’s my pretty girl up to hm? Heard about how wild the other night was for you.” He tries not to get jealous at the thought of so many men being around you, Namjoon had reported that the club was busier that night and it only progressed into something wilder when you came out to dance.

“Oh! Yes! Lots of people came the other night and it was just crazy in there, they literally had to use a broom to collect all the money I made during my dance. Joonie also had to tell ‘em I wasn’t available for private dances.” You blow a raspberry, “But anyways, it’s pretty boring without you here. I went shopping with the girls and today,” you ramble on and on.

He groans pitifully when his cock twitches in interest after you had rolled over laying on your tummy, he had caught a glimpse of your pretty ass and it was game over then and there. “Fuck baby,” he sighs, “you’re making it hard for me, ‘s not fair that I can’t have you here with me.” He mutters.

You giggled softly, “Awww, you miss me that much?” You coo softly, “Anything I can do to make it better? Hm?”

“Yeah, why don’t you turn ‘round and show me your pretty ass baby?” Jungkook bites his lip while reaching inside his boxers to stroke his cock.

In a heartbeat you set the phone up against the pillows and sit up on your knees, turning to show off the curve of your ass. “Like this?” You smirk softly, teasingly poking your ass out and swaying your hips side to side.

“Just like that,” he groans, “make it bounce for me baby, wanna see it,” he whispers while rubbing his thumb over the tip in quick little swipes. He nearly moans out loud when you bend over on all fours, ass bouncing just for him as your doughy cheeks jiggle from your movements, “Fuck I wish you were here,” he swallows harshly while keeping his eyes locked on your ass, occasionally his gaze falls down to your chubby little pussy which is kept hidden by your panties.

“Me too..’s not the same with my fingers,” you wiggle your ass and bend lower until your chest rests on the bed and your back is arched with your ass raised high. “Not even the vibrator you got me works.” You petulantly whine.

“Fuck, I promise when I get back I’ll fuck you as long as you want,” he breathes out while stroking his cock faster, “gonna have you pumped full of my cum, till you’re drippin’, you’ll be a good girl and clean it up won’t you?” He licks his lips.

You nod eagerly, “Course.” You reach behind to spread your cheeks apart, giving him a small little peek of your cunt. He groans loudly when he sees a small dark wet patch over the center, he just wants to bury his face between your cheeks and eat your pussy out till you’re crying and begging him to stop.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” he groans, “lemme see your little pussy, pull those panties to the side for me,” he watches as your fingers come down to hook around the fabric, he nearly blacks out when you yank them to side and show off your cunt to him. He swears he even sees a string of slick between your chubby folds.

Jungkook cums so hard he feels like his vision goes black. He slumps against the bed with a low moan as cum covers his fist and cock, some of it even landed on his pelvis—further making a mess of himself. “God I miss you,” he mutters, “just a few more days baby.” He licks his lips, “Then I’m all yours.” He grins.

“Can’t wait.” You smile dopily, “Sweet dreams.” You coo.

+

Jungkook can’t wait anymore. As soon as his plane touches down and the driver takes him home, he’s booking it straight to the bedroom. You had sent him a flirty message along with a picture of yourself in nothing but a thong waiting for him in bed with a cheeky little: don’t be late!

He stumbled through the door, eyes narrowing in on you. You licked your lips slowly and spread your thighs apart for him, “This what you were missing?” You teasingly slid your hand over your pussy, “I know you want me,” you softly whisper while pulling your thong to the side, “so come and get it.”

With that he climbs over on the bed, bringing you down as he slams his lips into yours rather harshly. You moan into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck, his hands are everywhere all at once. He goes from cupping your tits to cradling your ribs and then sliding down to your ass. It feels good to be holding your soft cheeks in his hands once more.

“I missed you so fucking much baby,” he growls softly, “thought ‘bout this pretty little ass and pussy night and day.” He lays kisses all over your neck and shoulder.

“Well now you’re here,” you moan softly.

Jungkook licks his lips, “Gonna show you how much I missed you,” he breathes out while sliding down the bed until he’s eye level with your pussy. He doesn’t hesitate to tear the thong off and toss it somewhere, he brings your thighs up and over his shoulders as he goes to town on your aching cunt.

He covers your entire pussy with his hot mouth, licking and sucking wildly at your folds, clit, and slicked up hole. You bury your hands in his hair with a loud moan, pushing his head down as you feed your cunt to him. Loud slurping noises fill the space between you two, his tongue runs over your clit in quick flicks going side to side. Your lips part as breathy whines and cries escape.

“Fuck right there,” you sob out while holding his head still, “w-want more..! ‘M too empty.” You buck your hips.

Jungkook isn’t in the mood to tease, he brings his finger up and prods at your tight little hole. Your mouth falls open when he opens you up with one digit, and then another. He hums as he takes your swollen clit into his mouth, harshly sucking on the sensitive little bud while he fucks his fingers into your throbbing cunt.

“J-Jungkook..!” You sob out while arching your back.

Your legs quiver from the harsh stimulation, you don’t know whether you want to beg him to stop or beg him for more. Jungkook however doesn’t let you think straight with the way he’s sucking on your clit and finger fucking you into another universe. His fingers perfectly strike your g-spot with each thrust making your pussy drip and gush around his fingers.

He pulls back to blow on your clit teasingly, “This is exactly how I wanted you—spread out like a little slut with your needy pussy in my face. Look at you,” he chuckles, “practically humping my hand with how desperate your little pussy is.” He leans down to press a chaste kiss over your clit, “Gonna be a good girl and squirt on my fingers?”

“Y-Yes!” You throw your head back, “ ‘m your good girl.” You weakly croak out while grinding your pussy on his fingers.

Jungkook laughs under his breath, “Go on then, cum on my fingers,” he leans down to envelop your clit in his mouth, suckling with a hint of teeth.

Your mind blanks out as you go stiff, your hands grip his hair tightly and you feel your cunt pulse wildly. Your orgasm hits you hard as spurts of slick squirt out from your abused cunt. You throb around his fingers and weakly try to push him away, “ ‘s too much..” You whine tiredly while shaking, “No moreeee,” you pout.

Jungkook pulled away with a smirk, “Messy little thing you are,” he says this as he wipes his lower lip/chin. You grumble back at him and roll away to lay on your side, “What was that, I couldn’t hear you.” Jungkook says while going over to lay on top of you, “What did you say?” He grins as he peppers your ear with tiny kisses.

“I said you broke my pussy, my leg keeps shaking.” You huff, “Get off you’re heavy!” You whine whilst wiggling around.

“Who did?” Jungkook just lives to annoy you.

“You did!” You whine louder.

“That’s right,” he smacks your ass hard, feeling accomplished with himself.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan

[lex-the-flex]

Soured Whiskey

Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: Your one night stand with a handsome stranger at the bar leads to a different endeavor.

Word Count: 2k

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, brief cursing, small moments of action and violence, brief drinking, Logan being protective, MEGA FLUFF, SMUT 18+ – Unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), oral (f! receiving), fingering, skin + body appreciation, Logan being a gentleman and the reader being lovely. (Basically distant soulmates).

A/N: I'm officially seeing Deadpool and Wolverine tomorrow and I'm so excited! But in the meantime, I thought I'd add to the pile of Wolverine smut.

Strings of ornately hung light bulbs decorate the bar, bringing a cozy old-school vibe to the modernized saloon. Closing the door behind you, the cold city atmosphere was instantly transformed into a quaint and warm invitation. You’re friends couldn’t stop raving about this new bar and that you all just had to go here and try the endless menu of cocktails and tapas. 

So through your busy work week, your friends informed you to meet at the bar on Friday once the sun started to go down. But much to your dismay, your friends bailed on you, even after repaying that they’d be there for you and help you unwind, to de-stress.

You got stood up. By your own good friends who you thought had your back. 

Sighing to yourself, it was too late to give up now. You were already here, so you might as well order a drink. 

Sitting at the bar, you sat up straight on the stool, not paying attention to who was sitting next to you. It didn’t matter. Patiently waiting for the bartender, the sight of someone sitting next to you crosses your peripheral vision. The man’s muscular arms lean against the counter, reaching for a couple of fresh cashews. 

“Hey there, what can I get you?” The bartender asks. 

“Just a whiskey sour, please.” You reply. 

“Got it, and same for you, sir?” He questions, pushing a singular whiskey glass to the person to your right. 

“Yeah, thanks.” The stranger replies. 

The stranger’s gruff voice takes you by surprise, but you pay him no mind. 

Rolling the coaster in between his fingers, the bartender places your bright whiskey sour in front of you. The refreshing yellow foamy drink is adorned with a lemon swirl and a dried cherry for garnish. Just the sight of it makes a well-deserved smile rise through your lips. Taking a sip of the cold drink, the bartender turns to the back wall with the more expensive bottles of liquor, and passes it to the stranger on your right. 

Getting a glimpse his way, the man finally comes into view. His masculine features take over your attention; the man’s full dark head of hair, beard, and strong jaw seem to put you in a hypnotic state. Glancing towards you, his light hazel eyes gaze into your e/c orbs, providing a somewhat welcoming gaze, however his stern and annoyed expression makes you turn away. 

Returning to your drink, the stranger lowers his arm next to yours, letting you see a freshly lit cigar in his hand. Blowing the smoke away from you, he silently watches you take another swig of your drink before checking the empty text message bubble once again. 

“Rough day?” He asks. 

Sighing into your hands, you jokingly squint your eyes at the stranger, and set your phone down.

“You have no idea. I‘be been craving this damn drink all day.” You reply.

Running your index finger around the rim of the almost empty glass. Smirking, the stranger raises his glass towards yours. 

“Name’s Logan.” He says. 

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you Logan.” You answer, clinking your glass with his. 

Finishing your drinks and dinner in a comfortable silence, Logan silently watches you, observing some of your mannerisms that stand out to him. The way you sit perfectly straight, how you wipe your mouth after every bite, and even the outfit you picked for yourself. Your light grey cardigan sits perfectly on your shoulders along with the casual white button-up shirt that was underneath it. The pair of black dress pants and ankle boots make you look professional yet comfortable and he liked that. 

However, this minuscule moment of peace didn’t last long. The scent of strong liquor and the hint of douchebag lingers in the air behind you and Logan. Taking another puff of his cigar, Logan glances your way, warning you to not pay these drunken idiots any attention. 

Polishing off the remainder of your drink, Logan waves for the bartender, and prepares to take your tab. 

“I got it, Logan. Don’t worry about me.” You advise. 

Placing his hand over yours, Logan stops you from using your debit card, motioning to the three men behind you. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about, darlin’.” He warns. 

“You shouldn’t worry about her, man. We can take care of her. We’ll take her off your hands.” One of the drunk men sneers. 

“No thanks, boys. I’m happy where I stand.” You state, looking at Logan, rubbing your fingers over his knuckles. 

Joining you and Logan, the bartender slams his hands on the counter. 

“I told the three of you that you’re not allowed in here! Get out before there’s trouble.” He orders.

“Or what, man? What will you do? We’ve been coming here since… this place opened.” The idiot spurs, stuttering to give a clear answer. 

Blowing off his friends, the young man stumbles to your left side, slipping on the way to nonchalantly lean on the bar, still desperate to impress you. Ignoring him, Logan watches the other two men leave the bar altogether, clearly done with their friend’s shit. 

“Lemme take you out and show you a good time, beautiful. Surely I can do better than the guy on your right. I know I can fuck you better than him.” He explains. 

Not noticing that he’s crossed your personal space line, you instinctively back up into Logan, who’s nearly at his breaking point. 

“Look, bub. She said no. So, take the hint and get the hell out of here. She’s with me.” Logan rebuttals, just as a wave of rage overtakes his voice. 

The sudden sense of feeling claustrophobic creeps out on every single inch of your skin. Glancing down at your hands, you discover that you’re now white-knuckling the edge of the wooden countertop, and Logan begins to ball his fist around his whiskey glass. 

Leaning closer to you, the young man tries once again, and fully crosses the line. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Let me treat you better.” He whispers next to your face. 

Suddenly, you see red. The stranger’s hand touches your mid thigh and you merely fly back on the barstool. 

“Get the fuck off me!” You shout, pushing the man away. 

Within seconds, Logan pushes himself from his own seat, and grabs the young man by his hoodie. Punching the man in the face, he falls to the floor with a streak of blood leaking out of his nose. Wiping his nose, the bartender manages to pull Logan away, before returning to tend to the young man. Tugging Logan closer, he subconsciously wraps his arms around your frame, making sure that you’re out of harm's way. 

“You alright?” He asks in a low whisper.

Silently nodding, the two of you refuse to move, and your hand is still lingering on his chest.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You answer.

*****

Within seconds of shutting your front door behind you, Logan was on you. Deepening the kiss between you both, you could tell that he wanted more. Pushing you against the door, a growl escapes from Logan as he picks you up and walks into the kitchen. Placing you on the marble countertop, his hands work quickly to rid you of the cardigan on your shoulders.

Gliding his lips down to your neck, you wrap your legs around Logan’s waist. Feeling a small moan escape from your lips, you swore that he might fuck you on the cold countertop. But he wasn’t that rebellious. Tearing his own jacket off, Logan carefully carries you through the apartment and down the hallway to your bedroom.

Sitting you down on the edge of your bed, he momentarily breaks the space between you and lifts your shirt from your body. Tossing it across the room, Logan bends down and takes your face in his hands.

“You sure you want this, darlin’? I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.” Logan advises, gently stroking your cheek.

“I’m sure. I want this with you. And only you.” You consent with a nod. 

Silently nodding, Logan slowly leans in and pulls you in passionately. His kiss is slow and steady, allowing him to relax at this moment. Feeling his heart swell, Logan couldn’t remember the last time someone wanted him in the way that you do.

Discarding the remainder of both of your clothes, you lay down on the comforter, melting into the soft fabric and Logan follows suit. Gripping his broad shoulders, your fingers press into his hot skin as his lips lock onto yours. Trailing his hand down your bare body, Logan’s fingers reach beneath the waistband of your lacy underwear and press against your clit.

Meeting your throbbing folds with his fingertips, you break the kiss and moan into his mouth. Staring into his hazel eyes, his orbs light up, fueling the sensation of your lust. Rubbing circles into your clit, Logan descends your body with a series of longing kisses to each part he passes.

Discarding the fabric from your core, Logan kisses the sensitive skin of each of your thighs, feeling you shake before him. His scruff makes you chuckle as he can hear your heartbeat ringing in his ears. Licking your folds, your breath hitches in the back of your throat as you watch Logan become more and more mesmerized by you.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” He whispers in the dark.

Connecting his lips with your clit, a moan escapes from your lips. Pushing his tongue past your entrance, Logan holds your hips in place to keep you from squirming. Gripping the thin comforter, you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to handle the heat rising in your face.

Watching you from afar, Logan continues to eat you out in a steady fashion, letting you enjoy the moment. Running your fingers through his thick hair, you can feel a butterfly sensation rising up to your core. Sensing your body working with his, Logan gently squeezes your hips, lifting you just a touch. Tasting your orgasm reaching its end, your toes curl against the bedding and you cum against Logan’s tongue.

Gasping for air, Logan crawls before you, and his entire physique comes to life. His strong muscles and veins don’t frighten you like so many others, but here everything about him brings you comfort. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Logan balances himself over you, still making sure this is what you want.

“I want you, Logan. All of you, I trust you.” You declare, wrapping your arms around him.

Your vow brings the thought of tears to his tortured eyes, knowing that he has truly deserved this moment.

Lovingly holding his face, Logan briefly touches the tip of your nose with his.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He responds.

“You won’t.” You advise him.

Leaning his forehead against yours, Logan rubs the tip of his cock in time with your folds, sending excitement through his veins. Sliding himself past your entrance, the two of you look at each other, sharing a loving moan. Thrusting his hips together, Logan longs to be deep inside you. He wanted to forget about the world and get lost in you.

Burying his face in your neck, Logan leaves no space between the two of you. Moving in time with his loving thrusts, the sensation of Logan’s manhood against your walls felt like a new stress reliever that you didn’t know you needed. Surrendering to this new wave of euphoria, your fingers run along the strong muscles along Logan’s back, touching the flexing fibers beneath his hot skin. Sinking deeper into you, Logan finds your sensitive spot, causing you to aggressively scratch his back. 

Clutching the back of his head, the new scars heal within seconds, whilst Logan slightly groans from the light ripple of pain. A burning sensation of heat starts to rise in your core, you could no longer handle the tension, and Logan continues to ride out the remainder of your orgasm in pure awe of you. Gasping for air, Logan surrounds his arms around your body, and rolls the two of you on your sides. 

Pressing his forehead on yours, Logan’s warmth cascades over you, giving you a blanket of warmth in the cool room. Shifting in his arms, he gently runs his fingers through your hair, just as you trace his dimples. 

“Well, thank you for a very interesting night, Logan.” You whisper. 

Smiling, the two of you share a loving laugh together, and Logan pulls the comforter over you, succumbing to the warmth beneath the blanket. 

wolverine taglist ~

@dreamliners

@miss1sarcasmo

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@foursthemagicknumber

[cheol-e-kat]

• 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮 •

morning mingyu / the very cute pg-rated one

clingy morning mingyu pulling y/n close and asking her to stay and be all warm and cuddly and kissing her softly, like shoulders and collarbone, whispering “please stay - you’re so cute right now - i promise i cook breakfast just as well as dinner”

y/n smiling, letting mingyu kiss her anywhere, murmuring little ‘mmhmms’ and ‘okays’, playing with mingyu’s soft hair while he kisses her teasingly

mingyu’s lips brush her ear, “you’re getting wet for me baby,” his voice is so warm and husky

y/n smiles through half-lidded eyes, “was i not supposed to?” she asks gently, tracing her fingers against mingyu’s upper arm, watching mingyu’s slow smile

mingyu bites his lip gently, “want help?” he waggles his brows cutely - same question he had asked y/n the day before, she nods though, her breathing picking up a bit at the prospect of anything mingyu might do, “yeah,” she whispers - mingyu’s fingers are already skimming low across her hip

a/n: errr just something quick ... like the quickest thing ever from me maybe??

♡ kat

♡ my [master list] if you want to read more

♡ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐞_𝐤𝐚𝐭

mingyu bingo reqs: lingerie + praise kink | bed sharing + big dick | praise + worship kink | vehicle sex + oral fixation | drunk pda + no underwear | enemies to lovers + tentacles | internet friends + blind date + size kink |

teasers: mingyuAI [ teaser i ] |୨୧| all but break your heart

drabbles: summer coworker | #kat_drabbles

angst: no blueberries master list (college au)

fluff: waiting to feel foolish (college au) |୨୧| never happened before (magical realism au) |୨୧| hoodies & candy (college au) |୨୧| no strings (magical realm au) [pt. 1]

smut: playing hearts (college au | camboy au) |୨୧| leave it open (monster!mingyu au) |୨୧| openly pining (stepbrother au)

[ taglist ] ☁︎ @syluslittlecrows [e] ☁︎ @gyuguys [e] ☁︎ @tinyelfperson [e] ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite [e] ☁︎ @livelaughloveseventeen [e] ☁︎ @codeinebelle [e] ☁︎ @ateez-atiny380 [e] ☁︎ @mingcouper [e] ☁︎ @hanniebub [e] ☁︎ @perfectiondazesworld [e] ☁︎ @scoupshawty [e] ☁︎ @peachytokki [e] ☁︎ @halavia [e - drab/one/multi] ☁︎ @haik-chu [e - one/multi] ☁︎ @gigglensnort [e - one/multi/priv] ☁︎ @ninigyuuu [m - e, b.f. priv] ☁︎ @starlit-rin [m - one/multi, b.f.non] ☁︎

[humanjarvis]

more sylus vs caleb thoughts

random little musings i jotted down during my workday lol. just my personal ramblings and interpretations, not proofread

preface: i don't think that caleb has an approach to life that sylus can appreciate. and i think that no matter their similarities, their dislike for each other ultimately stems from the fundamentals, which are what lengths are they willing to go to—what boundaries that sylus respects above all is caleb willing to cross. they have been traumatized and persecuted in similar ways but developed clashing ideologies after the fact

appearance: caleb doesn’t worry too much about his appearance as long as you like it. he’ll let you pick out his clothes and dress him like a doll. he keeps himself fit and well-groomed, both for pilot reasons and because he thinks it’s the best shape for him to be in, but that’s about as much attention he spares his own looks. it’s not that he doesn’t care, but as someone with little self-worth, it’s just not in his nature to ~waste his energy thinking about it. if you’re happy, he’s happy. sylus isn’t vain, but he’s more concerned with how he looks and more interested in fashion. caleb will wear whatever uniform he has at that stage in life—aerospace academy, daa, fleet, etc.— with indifference, but i’d like to think that sylus sees clothes as a way to express himself after years of not having the freedom to and is meticulous about his wardrobe. 

spending: now that i think about it, sylus’s clothes and other expensive tastes may be 1) a way to compensate for the lack of access he had to those things as a persecuted youth and 2) just. a reflection of his willingness to spend money on himself. he can surround himself with the finer things without hesitation or issue, without questioning if he deserves it. i feel like caleb is more reluctant to do so, e.g., when mc sent him safety tips because his hair dryer was damaged to the point of being hazardous and he hadn’t bought a new one yet. he’ll lay money at mc’s feet, for sure, but the concept of spending it on himself just isn’t something that really occurs to him. it doesn’t cross his mind much, but when it does, he might even find it wasteful

decision-making: caleb is happy to make choices for you. sylus will leave it up to you, question if you really want his opinion, and subtly give you his preference when you say yes

working together?: they’re both ambitious and goal-oriented. sylus is used to working with people he doesn’t like, and caleb is unwilling to be seen as, and feel like, the lesser man. so i think they could overcome their differences and work together quite well potentially, if they shared a common interest 

how their dislike manifests: sylus’s dislike is more muted, mainly because he’s a more emotionally secure character. he doesn’t actively hate caleb without a specific reason, and he’s too self-assured to feel jealous, really. he wouldn’t trade his life or appearance for caleb’s, but it would be nice for mc to view him with the same outright trust and comfort she views caleb with. caleb actively dislikes sylus (though he may conceal it). he sees sylus as a threat to his relationship with mc (it’s less that he doesn’t trust her and more of his own thought that he doesn’t deserve her), but also to his capacity to provide for her and his duty to keep her safe. because even if he thinks himself undeserving, her satisfaction and wellbeing are still his to facilitate, just as he thinks they’ve always been. which is why i am interested in how he’d react to knowing that sylus was pulling strings and protecting her when they were both children. because imagine the person you think you’ve kept safe for years and your reason for existing is only alive because of another man’s care

thrill-seeking: someone mentioned that sylus and caleb are both thrill-seekers, and definitely yes. in my head though i make the distinction that sylus's approach is more typical in that does it for the actual adrenaline, e.g., when he backflips out of the plane in freefall gambit just for the hell of it. but caleb does it to feel alive—because otherwise he does not. in one of his texts from when the player doesn’t log in for 30 days, he says he was critically ambushed by a wanderer but ended up being glad about it because battle is the only he still feels alive in mc’s absence. 

detachment and experiencing pleasure: i personally think there is something…hollow about caleb. and i’m not saying he doesn’t have the right to be with all that’s happened to him, but there’s this numbness and detachment in the back of his mind (even before the chip, imo). there are certain things he just doesn’t care about, certain social courtesies he doesn’t entertain. he sees an old friend whose name he didn’t care to remember, he speaks a little too harshly to non-mc people, he’ll sabotage others with no remorse if he sees fit. i think sylus is just able to derive joy out of more things, which is impressive considering all that’s happened to him. like watching animals in the park/on tv, reveling in the nightlife of the n109 zone, playing games with luke and kieran—he gets genuine happiness/enjoyment from those non-mc things, while caleb’s pleasure from the same activities would be a bit…stilted? there’s just something missing.

self-worth and motivation: sylus values himself outside of mc, caleb doesn’t. going back to the 30 days text, i truly think that if mc were ever to leave, sylus would recover because he has the intrinsic motivation to. he has hobbies, he has passions, he has onychinus, and he finds those things personally rewarding. it’s nice to share them with mc, but he doesn’t do them because of her. but caleb’s motivation is more extrinsic—he does things primarily because of mc, to win her smiles and avoid her tears. he might have so little intrinsic motivation that the lines kind of blur and his extrinsic motivation becomes that. mc’s smiles become personally rewarding. her happiness and safety become his own because, going back to what i touched on in my white blood cell comparison, he finds it hard to have an identity outside of her. he questions why he needs to. he thinks about himself in relation to her. so without her presence, without an adequate amount of any kind of motivation, without any kind of self-worth, i don’t think he’d last

pity: this one is interesting. going back to the hollowness—the extent to which they can feel and enjoy non-mc things—i think that if sylus and caleb sat down and shared their life stories with one another—gladiating, experiments, explosions, persecution—sylus would pity caleb. be genuinely sorry that he’s lived such a sad life. but i’m not sure that caleb would do the same. i think he’s so jaded from his life never really being his own that he hears about sylus’s misfortunes and he’s just like yeah, that happens. doesn’t even blink. that’s just the way the world is for him. and combined with the resentment and jealousy he already feels toward him i think pity would just be salt in the wound lol, he’d hate it

class differences, ethics, and the origins of power: caleb resents sylus for the ease with which & the extent to which he can provide for mc. but i’m wondering if he’d also look down on the way sylus amassed his wealth & power: crime and killing and illegal dealings. obviously with caleb being installed as the fleet colonel his hands aren’t clean either, but that wasn’t exactly his decision. pre-fleet, caleb was working summer jobs in high school just so he could buy gifts for mc. he also went through a rigorous flight school and excelled in it—which was because of his own love for flying and desire to be a pilot, but also fed by his need to be able to fly mc to safety if something were to happen. so sylus and caleb both spent their lives preparing for potential threats to mc, both dedicated time to learning skills and building what wealth they could to eventually make her happy, but there’s that difference in how they went about it. i feel like, at least internally, caleb would kind of scorn and delegitimize sylus’s success—not because he actually cares about the ethics of it, he couldn’t care less about sylus breaking the law (he’ll do the same if necessary)—but because that success is being used to provide for and protect mc. pre-fleet caleb was trying to make an earnest living and do everything by the book so he could give mc a sense of normalcy, and then sylus just swoops in with his motorbike and blood money and thinks he has the right to do the same? he’s busting his ass every day, but one shady deal and sylus has already exceeded everything he’s worked to attain? he resents that. he is somewhat jealous. but he resents it

hm. they both dream of a world where they can live peacefully with mc. but sylus’s world would have more than 2 people in it

this is too long and has no direction so i will cut it here ❤️

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 18!

in which i continue to ignore pretty much any and all 8x14-16 content and spent an impressive amount of time procrastinating. it's been a Week for sure. enjoy the fics!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

begin, then begin again | walkingthroughwindows | 7.4k | E

a fic about them relaxing enough to give each other what they already know they need. i love how this captures both buck and eddie!! so in character, and such lovely hurt/comfort <3

can't leave me alone | 42hrb/@exhuastedpigeon | 3.4k | E

“The DMV didn’t have a line,” Eddie says again, taking a step into the room instead of turning around like Buck is expecting him too. If Eddie leaves Buck can take the dildo out of his ass and they can maybe pretend this never happened, or at the very least ignore it for 6 to 12 months, until it’s funny to joke about. such a delight!! so hot, so beautifully written, just perfect!!

divide, conquer and propose? | yimooyi | 3k | GA

Eddie proposes to Buck in Stardew Valley co-op. Buck panics. this is so cute!! i love stardew valley and i love buckett and eds and i love this <3

i wanna be tied tied tied to your apron strings | sibylsleaves/@eddiesprius | 3.2k | E

Buck knows, okay. He doesn’t quite understand it, but he knows. Something about him in an apron turns Eddie into some kind of crazed sex fiend, desperate for Buck’s attention the way Buck usually feels desperate for his. buck wearing nothing but an apron is a vision and i'm so here for it!! love how this captures their dynamic!

in pursuit of good health | lightyears/@bisexualbellamyblake | 6.7k | M

Eddie and Buck start platonically kissing. i saw the summary for this fic and just went yeah you know what these are EXACTLY the type of idiots that would decide to kiss for health benefits lmao. such a wonderful premise for a lovely, lovely fic!!

invisible string, tying you to me | Bexism/@bexism | 17.6k | E

the one where buck and eddie's bodies are linked and they end up sharing injuries and... other things. i love a good body linking fic and this one is just brilliant!! i love the descriptions of how buck and eddie are linked, especially for those other things <3

lover, be good to me | midnights/@roosterseresin | 7.7k | E

in which oranges are picked, muffins are made, and lazy morning sex is had. this fic has the hottest smut but it's also so soft and sweet!! it just has that spring morning vibe, you know? just lovely <3

soy una vela prendida por ti | pairofraggedclaws/@pairofraggedclaws | 8.9k | E

“You cannot mean what I think you mean,” Eddie says. “For old time’s sake!” Buck says. “To remember how it all started.” He kisses Eddie’s hand again. this is part two in a series and part one is also excellent!! such hot fun sweet fics, both of them <3

symbiosis | mandolare/@rainscenes | 9k | E

Buck and Eddie get blackout drunk, and then learn something new about themselves. And each other. i LOVE a good tattoo fic and the premise of this one is just <3 so hot, so very them!!

the rush of slumber party kissing | butchdiaz/@butchdiaz | 3.3k | E

“Okay, Uh—“ he racks his brain for something else Buck has done that he hasn’t. “Never have I ever kissed a man.” Buck doesn't put his finger down, just cocks his head curiously. “Damn, six months without even a kiss, no wonder Tommy left.” Eddie mutters half under his breath. It causes Buck to snap out of his daze and give him a half-hearted middle finger. He’s still thinking, though, eyebrows scrunched together in that adorable way they used to whenever he tried to help Chris with his elementary school math homework. “What, Buck?” “Never?” Buck asks. this was a reread! i love how this captures eddie especially and the dialogue feels so true to character!! so good <3

tomorrow i'll be brave (you make me brave) | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 16.9k | T

In which Buck’s life in L.A. falls apart before it can even begin. He never expects an orange tree to be the thing that changes it all. oh, the way i DEVOURED this au... i love how the characters are written here and how everyone meets and interacts and it's just so, so wonderful!!

[lootandlore]

Licking, Tracing, Biting, Oh My!

These parts are possibly mentioned as they’re in the same universe, but not necessary for full enjoyment as a reader!

→ Stiles Stilinski x Goth!F!Reader

→ The reader is a simple woman. She sees a man being absolutely pathetic and can’t help but yearn to make a mess of him. It’s no surprise, to her at least, that he lets her. Melting like putty in her hands.

what to expect... (mdni)smutty smutty flirty fluff, stiles being an absolute mess for the reader, very subtle sub/dom vibes, sub!stiles, dom!reader, male receiving, hand job, oral, teasing him hardcore, taking him off guard, I don’t even know what to say.

More Stiles × Goth!F.Reader Here

IT HAD BEEN a month since she’d littered his face and throat with slick black kisses. Leaving trails of tingling warmth along his skin until he was practically melted into the floor. A puddle of what he once was waiting to rebuild as she left.

It had been a month, and she was going feral.

The way he’d stuttered and stammered. Falling apart under her lips touch. It made her blood simmer in a way that forced her to do absolutely sinful acts the moment she returned to the safety of her home.

It had only been her lips, on his cheeks and throat, that was all it took to mush his brain to the point of utter uselessness. She’d have been a saint to not think of how pretty and dumb he’d be if she were to use her mouth elsewhere.

She’d sworn she wouldn’t act upon it until she was absolutely positive this would last. That she wouldn’t jump into something sexual. Hell, she was never the type. So she couldn’t help but be surprised when her restraint was bordering on snapping all because of the way he was sitting.

Yes, sitting.

He’d invited her over to watch one of the several million Star Wars films. A new hope. He’d picked her up and on the way over she had to ride her mind of thoughts, terribly innocent thoughts.

Thoughts that had nothing to do with her climbing over the center console and riding him like a woman starved. Rocking Roscoe until the jeep threatened to tip like a tapped bowling pin.

She’d managed to compose herself, then they arrived. His father was working so they were able to snag the living room. Stiles stretching as he sat comfortably on the couch.

Her eyes strained as she watched his shirt lift, exposing the surprisingly toned abdomen. Thanking whatever entities crafted the world and allowed her to witness the rewards of his commitment to lacrosse.

She sat beside him and waited as he put the film on. Rolling his shoulders until one popped. Pulling a delicious groan from his lips. One that was so so innocent. So unintentionally, incredibly cruel.

For it snipped away at the last thread of composure she had. String ripping into two, slapping her in the face with a recoil that sent her head tipping back.

Stiles, obviously unable to see her metaphorical string, was worried she’d grown bored as she flung her head back. He paused the movie barely a minute in. Eyes wide with anxiety.

“A-are you okay? If you—if you don’t want to watch this we don’t have to” He reminded, offering her an escape.

Her head slowly lifted and she stared at him. Her pupils were blown and she felt her cheeks flush at the sight of him. He was stammering, puppy dog eyes wide and glistening.

“I want to watch it” she uttered, tone strained.

Stiles blinked, gulping nervously at the way she spoke. It was deeper than usual. As if she was holding back her words with force.

“Oh-o-okay” he nodded, not wanting to question her. Pressing play with reddening cheeks as she continued to stare him down.

“Stiles” she whispered. Leaning into his space with a blank expression. Eyes stuck to the junction between his jaw and throat.

He hummed shakily, knee bouncing as he tried not to look at her. Feeling her grow closer. Nearly choking on his own spit when she reached out to press a palm to his knee. Holding it still.

“Wanna tell me what’s happening on the screen?” She asked softly, an edge to her oddly sweet tone. It seemed fake. However he couldn’t help but feel lured in by it.

“I—I, I can?” He offered hesitantly. The question in his words lingering just enough to show he wasn’t entirely sure of what was happening.

She hummed and leaned into him a tad bit further. Pressing her lips to his skin. Tongue poking out eagerly to lick from his jaw to his earlobe. Nibbling before dragging down with a mix of teeth and tongue.

“T-theres—oh god—w-wha—“ His voice cracked weakly, his knuckles turning white with pressure as he fisted his fingers at his side.

“Use your words” she hummed, words slurred.

Spit slick lips biting the softest parts of his neck, tracing the mark with her tongue to soften the possible sting.

“Title card” he spat out hurriedly, eyes screwing shut as her hand traced from his knee up to his crotch. Nails scraping the seam of his pants.

She smiled against him as she hovered her palm above the prominent tent in his jeans. Biting her lip and moaning softly to herself at the restrain she was having to use.

“God you’re such a mess and I haven’t even touched you where you need me most” she whispered, raising a shocked brow when he hurriedly grasped her wrist in an attempt to force her palm downward.

“P-please I-I’m sorry I just—“ he stammered, eyes opening. Pupils blown wide, glistening with desire. He was beginning to get desperate. More so than usual.

She titled her head and slowly let up on her struggle. Allowing him to press her hand against his hard on. Pulling a strangled groan from his lips that sent her reeling.

“I-oh my g-god”

With calculated ease, she lifted up. Nearly straddling him with one leg extended between his thighs. Lips going back to their new found purpose. Decorating his neck in marks meant for just the two of them.

“Is this okay?” She hummed in between each nibble and lick. Her palm still grinding down deliciously on his crotch. Feeling just how solidified his need had become.

He nodded eagerly. Head falling back weakly, fighting off the urge to cum in his jeans at her touch. Although he found that to be an even tougher battle as she shimmied down to kneel between his thighs.

“Use your words” she reminded again, needing to hear him confirm his consent. Gently rubbing his crotch before hooking her fingers on his waistband.

“Y-yes this is—god—please this is perfect” he whimpered, jutting his hips pleadingly.

She hummed and tugged them down, his boxers slipping due to the pressure. Cock popping up to smack his lower abdomen. It was dripping with pre-cum.

Slowly, carefully, she spit in her palm. Cupping it as to not lose any before taking his shaft in her hand. Gently grasping it with just enough pressure as she began to pump.

“If at any point you want me to stop, you say that” she demanded, leaning forwards to kitten lick the tip. Spreading his spillage all around the sensitive skin.

“F-fuck o-okay okay p-please don’t stop” he whined, bucking up into her hand. Watching her with half lidded eyes as she finally took him into her mouth.

He cried out, eyes rolling back as she swirled her tongue expertly around him. Bobbing her head in perfect unison with her spit slick pumps. Fingers squeezing whenever he’d go to far and hit her throat.

Stiles felt himself lose control to the pleasure. Babbling incoherently with every swipe of her tongue. Nearly sobbing when she cupped his balls mid suck.

The various forms of stimulation were too much to handle. His stomach clenching as he fought not too cum too quickly. Which she couldn’t stand.

She bobbed faster, ensuring he went as far down her throat as possible. Gagging her repeatedly.

The sensation, mixed with her desperate moans vibrating his very core, sent him over the edge within minutes.

“O-oh you—s-sto—oh god oh fuck please I’m gonna cum—I’m gonna cum wait wait wait”

He gripped at her head, trying to pull her off, stammering out a warning only for her to shove his hands away and go even further. Swallowing every drop that left him the moment her throat clenched around his swollen tip.

Stiles bent instinctively forward, body trembling as she milked every last bit of his cum from his twitching member. His chest heaving as he held her close. Nearly passing out when she pulled off his cock, a line of spit connecting her bottom lip to his now semi-softened head.

“What did I miss?” She hummed innocently, wiping her mouth clean and glancing back to the screen. Knowing very well that stiles would be able to tell her from memory. Catching the spastic boy off guard.

“Y-you—what?”

Tag List 💋

@fiowerbeds @superlegend216

[thinkinonsense]

I CAN SEE YOU✰

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: curing, slightly nsfw, tiniest mention of blood

*mdni

wc: 900+

a/n: another one shot inspired by a song lmao. this time it is i can see you by taylor swift. thank you for all the love on my last one! this one is short n sweet too so i hope you enjoy <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It had been three years since you graduated from the school. Everyone was excited about your return. Storm and Scott picked you up from the train station downtown. It was an unexpected surprise when Professor Xavier reached out, asking you to teach for a semester. He has always been an important influence in your life; having brought you in as a troubled teenager. Being an X-Men changed your life for the better.

"You are going to love all the new students!" Storm smiles, helping Scott and you carry in your bags.

"I can't wait to meet them!"

Once everything was inside, you headed upstairs to your old room with a suitcase in hand. The room was located on the farthest end of the mansion, which was secluded and quiet; away from all the chaos. You never would've guessed what was on the other side of the door.

"Do you mind?"

There, lying in your old bed, a scruffy, annoyed, attractive man who looked double your age, smoking a cigar on his back. You freeze drinking in his appearance.

Who the hell was this man in your room?

"This is my room." You question if you opened the wrong door or took a left instead of a right. Nope, that was your old bookshelf and bedframe.

"I'm pretty sure this is my room." He replies, cocking his head to the side.

"No, you're in my bed." You bite back, growing more irritated with the stranger.

"This is my bed, sweetheart." He glares at you while his eyes linger down your figure.

He found your angered expression adorable. The way your nose scrunched a little and your hand found its way onto your hip. Your pretty short black skirt captivated him. If it wasn't for the stick up your ass, he would've been more than willing to let you stay in his bedroom.

"That's my bookshelf!" You pointed out. "And that is my bedframe!"

"Well, if that's the case, you need a new bedframe." His voice drops in a way that makes your stomach turn in a dangerous yet delicious way.

A small gasp leaves your mouth before you can catch yourself. Not wanting to see that stupid smirk on his face, you whip your head around and stomp downstairs to Professor Xaviers' office.

✰

It's been weeks since your first encounter with Logan. Ever since you had to move to a new room, you've avoided him at all costs. If what Scott has told you is any truth of Logan's character, then you knew he was trouble.

Despite your attempts to stay far away from him, Logan had other plans. Caught in every corner; stuck at every turn, he managed to capture you. He would go out of his way to brush past you in hallways. Even in crowded rooms, his eyes shamelessly burned holes into you.

The worst of it was when he would sit in during your lectures. Half of your mind focused on the lesson while the other half ran wild with the thought of him watching you.

If you weren't careful, you would cave.

Which was exactly what Logan wanted. He knew it was wrong to need you as badly as he did. You were so much younger than him yet you pranced around the mansion like you knew everything. He didn't want Charles to know about the feelings string inside of him. You had barely been gone three years, there's so much you hadn't experienced yet. The last thing anyone wanted was for Logan to taint you.

✰

On Friday nights you would stay in your classroom grading papers until the early morning hours. This Friday was no exception. It was almost two am when you scribbled a B+ on the final stack of papers. You stood up, leaving all your belongings in the classroom until Monday morning; desperately wanting to be in bed. Once you locked the door and turned down the hallway, you saw him coming up the stairs.

"What do you want, Mister. Howlett?" You glare at him. Logan's eyes darkened at the way you addressed him.

For such a mouthy girl, you did have some manners.

"You've been avoiding me." He states, following closely behind you. The clothing you wore drove him insane. Tight tops, unbelievably short skirts, and dresses. If Logan could die, he's sure it would've been at your hands.

"You've noticed? I figured you would have been too busy getting rejected by Jean to care."

The comment was supposed to sting painfully for him; instead, it backfired on you.

Of course, you noticed the way he shamelessly flirted with the redhead. It plagued your mind ever since you saw it happen with your own eyes. The way he gawked at her unapologetically, even with her boyfriend present. You would never admit it but it made you bitter, to say the least.

"Oh, I see..." Logan smirks.

"See what?"

"I can see you." His words make you freeze up. "You're jealous."

You roll your head back and laugh at his accusation; despite the truth it held.

Without hesitation, Logan grabs your hips and pins you up against the wall. You whine as your back makes contact with the cold grey wall. His grip tightens at the noise you let out.

"Not only can I see the effect I have on you..." Logan's voice is rough against the shell of your ear. "I can hear and smell it, sweetheart."

A flush of red creeps its way up your pretty face in the low light. Logan groans when he pulls back and sees it for himself. The second you are face-to-face, you pull him. A rush of teeth clashing into each other messily. One of your hands rests on his jaw while the other knotted itself in his hair. Logan's right hand slides up your thigh and under your skirt as he picks you up. You bite and tug on his lower lip; until you can taste the tiniest bit of blood. Both of you were desperate for each other.

"My room." You mumble against his lips. Logan chuckles, knowing that the only room on this side of the mansion is his current bedroom.

This will have to be your little secret.

[shybunnie20]

BFF!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

friends to lovers

★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie calls on you to help him plan his first date, and you wish that you were the one going on it with him.

Author's Note: This isn't quite as polished as I'd like it to be. But, I'm pushing through my last few weeks of college, so I'm working with the few brain cells I've got left lol. I still love how it turned out and the ending is worth all of the self-loathing, I promise.

No use of Y/N, est. friendship, ages aren’t specified but E & R are approx. in their early twenties & it’s an early 90s AU, Reader has never been asked on a date before. Mild angst with happy ending!

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: Reader dwells on poor self-worth & feels undesirable, acts of eating and multiple mentions of food, contains profanity.

Nestled in the quaint corner of Campbell Ave and 2nd Street, you’re engrossed in a call with a customer, jotting down an order for two bouquets consisting of pink-white lilies and snapdragons. Your eyes follow the effortless glide of your glitter gel pen across the paper, detailing their contact information.

Similarly to Goldilocks, you’ve found a place of employment where the pace is just right. You can handle whatever tasks Joan, the owner, asks of you. Sweeping the wood floors with a stiff-bristled broom, tending to the plants, and arranging flowers adorned with decorative ribbon and crisp paper are all within your grasp.

This place gets steady business, but the concept of a lunch or dinner rush is nonexistent. However, you do face a unique kind of rush occasionally. Now and then, a frantic lover bursts through the doors, bug-eyed, having realized they’ve forgotten a special anniversary or birthday at the very last minute. 

As you recite the customer’s order and callback number into the phone’s receiver, their confirmational “uh huhs” cut through the buzz of the line. Suddenly, your attention is diverted by the sight of a van pulling into the parking spot out front, slightly askew. A small smile teases the corners of your mouth as you make a conscious effort to refocus on closing the conversation at hand.

The plastic shell of the phone clacks as you hang up, and you watch Eddie hop out of his van, and round the front of it with an unusual pep in his step—more than you’d see his best days.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Eddie’s voice carries across the room, accompanied by a genuine smile that lights up his face. He strides to the register counter you’re currently manning, wearing a vermillion polo shirt embellished with the neatly embroidered String and Strum shop logo on the breast. His hair is pushed back from his face with a black bandana, resembling a biker-like edge, tied firmly to ensure no stray curls disrupt his work as he repairs guitars and sells instruments for commission.

In seconds flat, he’s already scrunching his nose like a bunny, sensing a sneeze on the horizon. Being in a room packed with fresh plants is nothing short of hell, but he’s willing to endure it for the sake of seeing you. While he can handle flowers in small quantities, the confined space never fails to tickle his system like nobody’s business.

Vision blurring with mild irritation, Eddie blinks hard to disperse it. “Hey, how’s today going?”

You shrug, suppressing a giggle at the wiggle of his nose. “As good as it can, I guess. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Eddie sets a grease-stained paper bag on the counter that separates you, along with a cup of soda. “Figured you could use a midday pick-me-up.”

“Must be my lucky day because I overslept and didn’t have time to pack a lunch. Well, that and I found a penny on the sidewalk.”

Eddie crosses his arms and tilts his head. “Don’t give luck all the credit. I have instinctual powers, y’know. My Munson senses were tingling and I knew you were in need.”

“My hero,” You exclaim, clasping your hands and swinging them to the side like a swooning princess. 

Eddie chuckles with you, watching as you wipe your palms on your apron and eagerly dig into the bag, pulling out a foam to-go box. As you promptly open it and take a bite of your lunch, you can’t help but groan and throw your head back in satisfaction. Your eyes meet his thereafter, causing him to twist his mouth to the side and momentarily look away.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask, your words slightly muffled as you continue to chew.

Minnie, Joan’s cat, gracefully leaps onto the counter to greet Eddie. She perches herself beside the cash register, allowing him to scratch under her chin. “Nothin, consider it a favor,” He says with a wet sniffle, the tingling in his nose unrelenting.

The silence that falls is comfortable for you, but he’s seemingly lost in his thoughts as he continues to pet Minnie. Then, he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I just so happen to know a way that you can return the favor.”

Having taken a sip from your drink and another bite of your food, the inflection of Eddie’s voice causes you to slow your chewing. “And what might that be?”

“Come over later to find out.”

Your shoulders slump, eyes widened with mock defeat. “No! I can’t stand here and wonder all day. I'll die. The suspense will kill me.”

Eddie pouts mockingly, his sweet honey eyes betraying his faux-frown. “Then I'll be sure to have the prettiest floral arrangement for your funeral. Only the best for you.”

Your brows knit together in an authentic pouting. The irony of needing to meet an untimely demise to receive flowers from a guy isn’t lost on you.

He motions toward the untrimmed bundle of carnations on the workbench behind you. “Actually, if you’re not too busy, could you string those up for me quick so they’re ready to go for your wake?”

“Ha-ha.” You leer at him, taking the next bite of your food rather aggressively. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“I beg to differ since I surprised you with your favorite from Val’s and all,” Eddie retorts, biting the inside of his cheek.

You grumble, “Yeah, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Eddie checks his watch and huffs. “Alright, I’ve gotta get goin’." He raps his knuckles on the countertop and beginning to walk backward. “See you later tonight.” He points at you before spinning on his heel and exiting the shop.

The bulky keyring on Eddie’s jeans jingles loudly as he steps onto the sidewalk. Abruptly, he stops in his tracks. For a moment he’s frozen, and then he braces himself against the nearby lamppost. It hits him like a brick wall and he sneezes mightily. 

Heads of nearby passersby turn in his direction, startled by the noise. As he straightens his posture, Eddie remains still, trying to find his center of gravity and regain his composure.

“You good?” You call out, your voice just barely reaching him through the propped-open doors. Taking a casual sip of your drink, you watch as Eddie steadies himself. Still clutching the street lamp with one hand, he manages to stick his other arm out and give a thumbs-up.

True to your word, you arrive at Eddie’s place straight after work. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow through the patio door onto the walls of the living room. The apartment is in its usual state of disarray, expectedly so, since it’s home to three guys who aren’t particularly concerned with tidiness.

Toeing off your shoes, you’re unphased by the subtle smell of dust in the air. What strikes you as odd is how quiet it is. Typically, at least one roommate is home, blasting the TV in the living room or music from their respective bedrooms. But the only sound permeating the silence is the erratic thumping and screech of the water pipes behind the paper-thin walls of the bathroom.  

As you snoop around the kitchen, hoping to find a box of saltine crackers or really anything to stop the gurgling in your belly. Having come up empty-handed, you turn your attention to the resilient plant that you challenged Eddie to care for—Keanu Leaves, as he so proudly named it. 

Finished with your fruitless search of the kitchen, you make your way into Eddie’s bedroom to settle comfortably into the chair that only you sit in; it’s your spot. While you get cozy, the beans rattle as they perfectly mold to your figure. You knock on the wall beside you, signaling your arrival to Eddie.

You resume the magazine left sitting open on the page you stopped on. You occupy yourself in the article about predicted spring fashion trends as you wait. After a minute or two, the pipes go quiet from the shower being turned off.

Eddie strolls into the room wearing nothing more than a clean pair of boxers. Droplets of water trickle down his toned and tatted chest. Harshly ruffling his curls with a bath towel, he smirks at you. “If it isn’t Little Miss Zombie, back from the dead.”

“Less than alive and in the flesh,” you reply, your annoyance at being made to wait all day still evident. You hold grudges better than anyone he knows, and Eddie is well aware that he’s not immune to being subject to it.

Your tummy rumbles loudly, the discomfort only emphasizing the sharpness of your tone. “When was the last time you got groceries? I didn’t see any preserved brains I could help myself to.”

“I’m definitely due for a restock,” Eddie says as he drapes his wet towel over the back of his desk chair. Then, he grabs the bottle of mousse from his dresser and dispenses a foamy dollop into his palm. “Funny you should ask, though. That’s sorta why you’re here.”

You flip the page of your magazine, not pulling your eyes from the glossy print. “You told me to come over to go grocery shopping?”

Eddie rubs his palms together to spread the product and then runs his fingers through his curls. “Not quite,” he starts, his tone cryptic. “I’ve been tasked with providing a meal, of sorts.” 

Finally, you look up at him. Watching him scrunch his damp hair with the remainder of the product that’s making his palms go tacky, you wait for him to elaborate.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the other side of the room, rather than meeting your awaiting gaze. “I have a date.”

You stare blankly at the back of his head, as still as a statue while your blinking intensifies. Dumbfounded, you struggle to survive the bombshell he just dropped on you. It’s as if a nuclear explosion has shattered your eardrums, leaving his continued words to sound muffled through the high-pitched ringing.

A million and one questions swirl in your mind, only adding to the disorienting whirlwind of emotions. Since when is he dating? Why all of a sudden? As you try to piece everything together, you note that he hasn’t had any recent romantic interactions, at least none that you’re aware of.

You always thought he’d confide in you if he was seeing someone, but now you’re not so sure; especially since you’re only finding out about this now. Without a doubt, Eddie has never had trouble attracting attention. But he’s always seemed so content with the ways things are. So why now?

Eddie turns to face you, a splash of desperation in his eyes. “I feel like doing this is the best way to know if she likes me back.”

Your mouth has gone dry, and you try to sound more curious than interrogative, but it doesn’t quite come off that way. “Who is this mystery woman, anyway?” A couple of names come to mind, some of the most beautiful girls in town—none of whom you hold a candle to.

His side of the room falls quiet when he’s hit with your question. Eddie’s eyes drop to the carpet. While it might seem like he’s lost in thought, it’s actually a glaring sign of evasion. You can’t help but feel a little hurt by his reluctance to tell you who it is.

A small smile forms as he leans back against his dresser, as though he can’t keep himself upright during his current daydream. Folding his arms across his pecs and rubbing his jaw, eyes still downcast, Eddie begins to gush about her. “She’s just- god, she’s something else. The way she laughs, it’s like... the sun coming out after a storm.”

“Sounds like quite the catch,” you mutter, trying to keep your tone neutral. You watch closely as blush tints Eddie’s cheeks and his smile threatens to grow. Without saying another word, Eddie walks out and returns to the bathroom.

You’re quick to follow, hopping up from your chair. “Do I know her?”

“Technically, yeah." Standing in front of the foggy mirror, he wipes it with the back of his forearm. Then, he starts rummaging through the counter drawer for his pair of shears.

You stand just outside the open door, the lingering humidity from his scorching hot shower kissing your skin as it disperses into the hallway. Leaning back against the wall, you cross your arms like he did moments ago, albeit far more tensely. Technically? It must be one of your ex-friends, then. That would explain why he’s been keeping you in the dark.

It’s your duty to be supportive, but right now, you could hurl. The thick nausea swirling deep in your gut is a storm raging within, overpowering your ability to stay present.

While trimming his bangs over the basin, the shears glint in the hushed light of the wall sconce. Eddie steals a glance in your direction, but his eyes dart back to his reflection too quickly to catch the discomfort etched on your face. “So you’ll help me, right?”

As you watch yourself anxiously wiggling your toes inside your sock, you mumble, “I can't if you won’t tell me who it is.“

“Sure you can, you’re a girl. You know how this stuff works.”

You scoff, your brows shooting up as your head jerks back. You open your mouth to object, but he promptly cuts you off.

“Ah, ah! Slow your roll." Eddie points the shears in your direction. “I’m not saying you’re all the same, but there’s gotta be some common ground of expectations, right?”

You don’t have the strength to argue, so you reluctantly allow for his generalization. “I guess so.”

“Like yeah, I could just study one of those lady magazines you’re always reading. But then I wouldn’t have a way of knowing what is and isn’t bullshit,” Eddie explains, his tone half-joking. “That’s why I’m going straight to the source, oh, wise one.”

Far too consumed with trying to narrow down who the chick could possibly be, you can’t be bothered to give him a huff of amusement through your nose. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Nope.” The shears hit the countertop, their metallic resonance echoing against the porcelain. He pivots to face you, hands resting on his hips. “Alright, Sherlock. How about you quit trying to crack the case and help me pick out a tie.”

“A what now?” You squawk, eyes widening in disbelief.

Eddie chuckles softly and rinses the hair trimmings down the drain, then flicks off the bathroom light. “I have to dress for the occasion. This is a big deal for me,” he elaborates as he strides back into his room. “For her and me.”

Once again, you find yourself on his tail, trailing close behind back into his bedroom. You unfold your arms and instead, start to rub the inside of your wrist with your opposite thumb. “Yeah, I get that. Just seems a bit out of character for you.”

Rifling through his closet, Eddie pulls out a hanger with a navy button-up shirt and nonchalantly tosses it onto the end of his bed. “Maybe, but at least she’ll know I’m taking this seriously." Eddie reaches for the high shelf to retrieve a tattered shoebox. Lifting the lid, he presents it to you. “Here’s what we’re working with.”

You step closer, your fingers deftly plucking out the rolled ties one by one, laying them flat beside the slightly wrinkled shirt. Side by side, your shoulders nearly brush. Meticulously comparing the patterns and colors, neither of you seems drawn to any particular one.

“Here, maybe it’s better to do it this way,” Eddie suggests, picking up and beginning to slip into the shirt. His thick fingers falter as he attempts to maneuver each small white button through its corresponding hole. Once halfway dressed—having tastefully paired his plaid boxers with a dress shirt—he smooths out the material from his chest to his belly.

Eddie grabs the nearest tie and lays it against his shoulder. He faces you expectantly, anticipation evident in his gaze, awaiting your feedback.

Your eyes flit between the tie he’s holding, the array laid out on the bed, and the hopefulness in his round eyes. “These are easily the three ugliest ties I've ever seen. No offense.”

He blows a playful raspberry at your harsh criticism and shakes his head. “None taken, they’re not mine. But Wayne might be a little hurt when I call him next and tell him you said that.”

Shooting him a pointed look, your brows furrow in skepticism. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I just might,” Eddie teases with a smile before turning his attention back to the bed. He tosses the first tie aside and reaches for the mustard paisley one. “What about this one, does it compliment my eyes?” He bats his dark brown lashes.

You clutch your chin in contemplation, carefully assessing the combination of hues. However, the richness of his chocolate irises captures you. You wade in their depths. The hot flash that envelops your body is enough to break the trance he inadvertently put you under. With a disapproving shake of your head, you dismiss this tie as well. “Nope, next.”

Eddie looks at you for a moment longer, even though you’re not doing the same. A faint frown creases his features as he tosses the vetoed tie aside, forming a rejection pile.

You pick up the remaining tie and drape it over his shoulder, admiring the harmonious pairing of the navy in the tie with the shirt, accentuated by its white and black diagonal stripes. While you ponder, Eddie watches your face intently, holding his breath.

You nod, a trace of delighted approval in your expression. “We have a winner.”

“Hell yeah, blue on blue it is." He wraps the tie around the back of his neck but struggles to recall the proper technique for tying it. Attempting a few different nonsensical loopings, he groans, his determination waning. “Stupid son of a bitch, wouldya just-”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Let me do it," you offer. Not receiving protest, you step closer to him.

Eddie uses one hand to gather his product-enhanced curls into a makeshift ball, allowing you to access the collar of his shirt. He juts out his freshly shaved chin, granting you ample room to work. Standing this closely, you catch the clean scent of shaving cream lingering on his skin.

You begin to effortlessly tie the knot. Without pausing to consider what you’re about to say, the words spill from your lips. “Why’re you asking for my opinion on stuff like this, anyway? You should be doing what you think she’ll like, not me.”

“You always know best.” Eddie’s expression softens to something more vulnerable. “When you’re taking the next step in a relationship, you want everything to be as perfect as it can be, y’know?”

It’s common sense to him. No one understands him like you do, making you the perfect person for navigating this nerve-wracking experience. But for you, it’s perplexing. You’ve never been on a proper, formal date. The idea of one remains an unfulfilled pipe dream. Yet, here you are, agreeing to help Eddie plan his.

Your only frame of reference comes from romance movies and horror stories of dates gone wrong recounted by your girlfriends. Of all the things you could be in the world, you find yourself an unassuming tree. Sturdy and dependable, sure. You serve your purpose. But you don’t captivate onlookers with blooming petals like flowers do. Instead, you take pride in your intricately branched personality, valuing it as your true strength that often goes overlooked.

Even so, it feels as though your traits fail to enchant others regardless; nobody seems willing. You go unnoticed, and you’ve come to terms with that.

Beautiful wildflowers get plucked from the ground and carried away to be cherished. Meanwhile, you simply exist, rooted in no man’s land, devoid of admirers. You may stand tall, but you’re easily overshadowed by what other women have to offer.

Perhaps this is why you like working at the flower shop. It’s somewhat cathartic to witness the delicate petals fall from time to time. It brings you a strange sense of satisfaction to hack away at their stems. The best part, though? While it’s a little twisted, you know that those flowers that dazzle in their pristine state are destined to wilt. They’ll shrivel and brown.

Whilst among your shared group of friends in public, you’ve witnessed Eddie getting nudged by one of the guys to direct his attention to a smoke show walking by. You watched as they bit their knuckles and exaggeratedly gawked. You don’t compare, it’s not even apples to oranges. It’s like… apples to rocks. A delicious, shiny fruit compared to you, mere clunky chunks of earth.

If life were an album, you’re the track that everyone skips within seconds of hearing the intro. Except for those rare moments when someone half-listens by accident and they resonate with you—that’s how you and Eddie became friends. He’d stumbled upon his new favorite song, one worth revisiting. What he sees in you is what everyone else overlooks.

Eddie is the only man on the face of the earth who treats you like you’re worth being around. Only an oddball would prefer to spend time lounging beneath the shade of a crooked tree instead of homing a rose in a crystal vase. That’s one thing you love about your best friend; he doesn’t make you feel like you fade into the background.

All fairytale cliché bullshit included, you want to be sought out in a crowd. You want to light up the room for someone. Much to your dismay, that can happen platonically too, and it has in this case.

If Eddie only knew how much the little moments matter to you—the ones where he makes you feel prioritized and valued. You know you’re not anything close to special or remarkable, but he always made you second guess that thought.

Obviously, you hadn’t meant to fall for him. It was kind of like catching a cold; one day, there was a tickle in the back of your throat that you didn’t usually feel. Unsuspecting, the days went on, and that sensation only worsened. You started to panic a little but ultimately continued to deny your worst thoughts.

Before you knew it, you were bedridden, bitten by the love bug. You didn’t go down without a fight. You thought that you could be strong and deny it access to your heart, but it had already invaded. So, all you could do was wait it out.

You tried to distance yourself, hoping to recover and act like nothing ever changed inside of you. But Eddie didn’t let you get too far away.

It wasn’t love at first sight, rather, a creeping plague. There was no swooning and giggling, no struggling to keep your hands to yourself. The change was undetectable. You were a frog in boiling water, unaware of the gradually rising temperature until it was far too late.

It wasn’t until your chest started to ache every time you said goodbye at the end of spending time together that you realized you were in too deep. You genuinely debated going to the doctor to get the pang checked out, but luckily you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d have wasted a good chunk of money to find out that you’re a lovesick idiot.

Unfortunately, this is an illness you’ve been stuck with since, and you’ve at least learned how to distract yourself from it. But when you fail to do so, your imagination wanders. Naturally, you’ve wondered if pressing a mere kiss to his cheek would burn everything to the ground.

The forbidden territory beckons, tempting you to envision breaking those unspoken agreed-upon rules that forbid things like hand-holding and cuddling. The two of you uphold mutual respect, adhering to the expectations of friendship. Both of you reserve that level of touch for expressions of romantic affection. Actions such as those have no place in a true friendship.

That’s the most confusing part of this for you. How did you manage to catch such strong feelings for him when you’ve not crossed any lines? Sure, he’s a tactile person; maybe that has something to do with it. Eddie makes physical contact with those he trusts, but it’s not like he’s hanging off of you at any given moment. You receive the same treatment as the others in his inner circle: a hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, and a brief gripping of the forearm to get your attention.

You’re not supposed to want the touches to be more frequent, much less of a different nature. The line has to be drawn somewhere, and it’s been plainly drawn in the sand. You understand and accept that. But why, of all lines in the world, does it have to be this one that you want to cross so badly?

Most of your days aren’t all that miserable. But there are those days that are more difficult than the rest, though it’s not his fault. Last weekend, the two of you were at a mall, and some chick waved at him flirtily. He returned it immediately, though playfully enough that it was almost mocking. He was fucking around and had no intention of entertaining the idea of approaching her. Regardless, it was humbling for you, to say the least.

In that moment, the world reminded you that there’s a reason you walk at his side at a respectable distance, not tucked under his arm. If anything, it’s for the best. There’s a sense of liberation in admiring him without the burden of articulating your feelings. There’s no pressure to meet a girlfriend quota or live up to a higher standard. What Eddie expects of you now is what you’re capable of, and clearly, all that you’re good for. You’re good for filling the void, but apparently not so much anymore.

You’re not lustrous and aching to jump his bones, and you’re certainly not desperate enough to kiss him on a whim by not allowing yourself to overthink it. But perhaps you are just desperate enough that a man simply paying your emotions, interests, and existence of any mind can shackle you to him. That has to be what’s done you in; Eddie gives a shit about you.

In reality, there’s more to it than that. Eddie is selective about who and what he lets in. He doesn’t care for conformity and lack of individuality. The idea of blending in with the majority of society repulses him. You find the flawed aspects of the Munson doctrine fascinating and raw. He’s not perfect and Eddie doesn’t care what others think of him, to a degree.

Not unlike you, he’s complex. Eddie is anti-establishment but still prefers a bit of structure over chaos in his day-to-day life. He’s independent and cynical as hell, but he’s also appreciative of his support systems and isn’t ashamed to rely on them. He’s not much of a rule breaker nor is he rebellious, but he’ll happily stir up a little trouble in good fun if given the opportunity.

Eddie is a hypocrite in some ways and a walking contradiction in others. You love that he’s unapologetic about being that way. He owns it for the most part, and you admire that.

His presence overstays its welcome in your thoughts. You’ve often yearned for him to call you in the dead of night, admitting that he can’t sleep without the sound of your voice. Many times, you’ve fought the urge to do that. He owes you sleep, countless nights of it. It’s a debt that will never be repaid, an outstanding balance.

Despite the attempts at trying to talk yourself out of it, you still can��t bring yourself to stop loving him. Even as he’s actively pursuing someone else, you’re unable to shake this. You could be paralyzed from head to toe, and you’d still feel the love you have for him in your bones.

Once Eddie is officially with someone, he won’t have much time or energy left for you. The anticipation of being thrown aside for something new and far prettier has shattered your heart before any changes have occurred. Yet, any fragment of his presence surpasses total absence. The greed isn’t worth it, and you know you should be grateful for getting any piece of him at all.

The phrase fizzles on the tip of your tongue like a smoldering ember, threatening to sear through the muscle… I’m happy for you.

You should say it, but you can’t. Because if you did, that would be a blatant lie. It’s not even possessiveness that has you so bitter, it’s envy. You wish you were in her place.

“There.” You adjust the knot with a delicate tug, ensuring its tightness before letting the material slip through your fingers. Unable to meet his appreciative gaze, you offer a sad smile and take a half-step backward.

Your sigh, cleverly concealed as a deep breath, escapes as you settle back into your chair with a plop. “So, um,” you begin, picking at your cuticles absentmindedly. “Where are you taking her? Somewhere fancy?”

“Nah.” Eddie meticulously revamps his curls one final time in the mirror, wanting them to fall just right. Then, with great care, he tames his bangs to lay perfectly in place. “She’s gonna come over here. I thought it’d be more intimate. Besides, I can’t exactly swing a reservation right now. I’ve been tight on cash this week.”

Your fingers come to a halt, the stinging sensation apparent. Looking over at him, your eyes meet his in the reflection. “Ya big dummy, you shouldn’t have bought me lunch when that money could’ve gone toward buying her a nice dinner.”

“Don’t start with that shit,” Eddie warns as he digs through his dresser in search of pants to wear. “I’m happy to do that for you,” He pulls a pair of dark jeans from the bottom drawer.

“It really did make my day, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Having donned his pants, he nears his desk where his black grommet belt lies on the floor. Eddie threads his belt through the loops of his jeans, the buckle jingling before he secures it in place. “I felt better knowing you were taken care of.”

It’s only now occurring to you what he’s implied, and you think how absurd it is for him to host a dinner when he’s culinarily challenged. “Wait, since when do you cook?”

“Oh, I don’t. But you do.”

“Hardly.” You scoff, downplaying your abilities. Placing your magazine back in your lap, you flip the page despite not having read it. Unexpectedly, you feel the urge to quell his enthusiasm, to set him up for failure by trying to poke holes in his plan. “I mean, food is one thing, but atmosphere is another. Aren’t the guys going to be here?”

Eddie moves the clutter on his desk around in a quest to find something. “I kicked them out for the night.”

Like a spear plunged into your chest, you swallow hard. Not only is he having a girl over for dinner, but he’s gone out of his way to guarantee privacy because he’s hoping to get lucky too. More than likely right there, on that very bed, feet away from you. The cramped twin-sized mattress, where they’ll inevitably be body to body.

He turns to you after locating what he was searching for, fastening the slightly fancier watch around his wrist; it only supersedes his Casio due to it being analog, as opposed to digital. “I’ve been wanting to try that dish you keep raving about. You can teach me how to make it. Two birds, one stone.”

“It’s not difficult, you could handle the recipe.” You shrug away the opportunity to cook with him because the domesticity of it would more than likely kill you.

“I wanna do it together.” His voice softens, genuinely asking as nicely as possible. “Please.”

“Sure, yeah.” You maintain your downcast gaze and slump back in the chair, wishing for a black hole to open and swallow you up. “What if she doesn’t like it, or what if you don’t?”

“If you like it then it has to be good.”

Eddie’s seemingly endless compliments cause no sense of flattery. Instead, you’re consumed with persisting nausea as you envision a stunning girl seated across from him while they share laughter and partake in unspeakable activities in this very room.

Abruptly, a wave of heat washes over you, causing the soles of your feet and your palms to grow clammy. The scent of newly sprayed Old Spice floods the room and you’re overwhelmed by it, struggling to draw a breath. “I’ll be right back.” You all but choke on your words, swiftly rising to your feet and hastily leaving. Eddie watches curiously as you do.

In the living room, you push the heavy sliding door aside, stepping out onto the balcony to catch your breath. You inhale as deep as physically possible, and the stirring evening breeze cools the hot tears gathered along your lash line. Cars pass by, and you distract yourself by watching a person leisurely walking their dog. You do everything in your power to divert your thoughts away from him and the impending date.

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from his room and slides open the door to the balcony, poking his head out to check on you. “Y’ready to go?” The shift in your energy is immediately evident to him, though he can’t quite pinpoint what’s amiss. He figures you’ve had a long day and you’re tired from your shift. Maybe you’re a little hangry, too.

With your arms folded on the balcony rail, you continue to look out into the neighborhood. “Go where?” 

“The store, duh. We’ve gotta get ingredients, do we not?” He says to the back of your head.

You nod meekly before turning to face him. “Right. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Eddie flashes a warm smile before sliding the door open wide enough for you to pass through. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand then, hot stuff. We’re losing daylight."

Arguably, you’re not losing daylight fast enough. You wish the sun would fall from the sky. That way, it would always be dark and you could hide in the shadows forever. You follow him inside and slide the closed with a subdued thud.

His car keys drag and jingle while he swipes them off of the counter. Once he reaches the entryway, Eddie drops the keys on the floor beside him as he kneels to put on his sneakers. A few seconds later, you’ve joined him to do the same. Eddie glances at you as he feels the evening breeze that slipped in finally reaching this side of the room. “It’s a little chilly out, wanna borrow a hoodie or something?”

Quickly tying your shoes to avoid prolonged eye contact, you get to your feet, hugging yourself as you do. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie snorts and stands, his shoes now tied as well. “I’m getting you one." He heads to his room, gesturing for you to follow.

“I said I’ll be fine without one,” You opt not to follow, instead calling out to him to compensate for the distance and his half-open door.

“Shut up, I’m getting you one and you’re gonna wear it ‘cause I said so.” His tone drips with feigned amusement at your stubbornness. “Come in here.”

As you step into the room, Eddie offers you the hoodie, watching as you just stare at it. “Sweetheart, put it on. You’re gonna freeze to death if you don’t. Then, I’ll have no choice but to cancel my super hot date because I’ll be too busy defrosting my ice sculpture of a best friend with a blow drier. You want me to blow you all night? I know you-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll put the damn thing on,” you agree begrudgingly, take it from him. “Happy?”

“Try elated.” Eddie smiles from ear to ear and winks at you, content that you’re allowing him to do what he deems best for you, knowing you’re too stubborn to do so for yourself. He’s got your back, always. Even if it means enduring a bit of attitude in the process. Eddie likes that about you, he always has. With a final glance, he leaves the room, flicking off the light switch.

Left standing in the dark bedroom, you blindly navigate the article of clothing to locate the opening. However, as soon as you go to put it on, it occurs to you that this hoodie is not fresh out of the wash.

The distant floral scent left behind by dryer sheets mingles with his natural aroma, enveloping you as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. He grabbed whatever was at hand, inadvertently submerging you back into the very sensory experience you fled from. The spicy notes from his cologne turn you into a human lava lamp, effectively melting you on the inside.

The mingling of Old Spice, tobacco smoke, his unique essence, and a hint of spring meadow flood your mind. You consider the idea of keeping the hoodie. You could tell him that you forgot to return it, and he’ll forget about it. Eddie can afford to lose one hoodie, he’d survive.

“Let’s go!” He barks, impatience peaking as nerves gnaw at him with each passing minute bringing him closer to the dinner.

Exiting his bedroom, you find Eddie stationed at the front door, propping it open with his foot. Once within his view, you extend your arms and twist your expression to emphasize your annoyed compliance.

“One last thing.” Eddie withdraws his foot, causing the door to slam shut, its latch clanging twice against the wood from the force. He reaches out and pulls the hood up, adjusting it to cover most of your head. “There.”

You stick your tongue out at him, your grin eliciting one from him in return. “Alright, let’s-” He begins, but instead of turning, he fakes you out and grabs both drawstrings. Eddie tugs them, causing the hood to cinch tightly around your face.

“You’re an ass.”

“Yeah, well.” Eddie turns around to leave this time and holds the front door open for you. “You’re stuck with me.”

With a narrowed glare, you fix the hood and your hair on your way out of the apartment. Eddie is close behind, closing the door and locking it. You take the opportunity to collect yourself and adopt a supportive, cheerful demeanor.

These are gonna be the longest two hours of your life.

You can’t fucking believe it. You’re preparing a meal for another woman, and doing so willingly. You tried to guide him through the prep process, but he grew frustrated. Now, he’s on dish duty, conquering the mountain of dirty dishes piled up on the counter. 

She may be getting a delicious and intimate dinner, but at least you get moments like these. But soon enough, she’ll have them too. If everything goes to plan, the memories of these moments will be all you have left of Eddie. As you lose yourself in the sound of his voice, the ramblings about a sale he made at work eventually circle back to the topic of his evening.

As he excitedly goes on, his voice carries a boyish enthusiasm. Unseen by you, Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet while standing at the sink. Ten minutes seem to fly by unnoticed as you both focus on your tasks.

After taking the food out of the oven, his demeanor flips like a switch. “Oh, it’s time for me to leave apparently.” You barely have the chance to take off the oven mitt all the way before he’s practically pushing you out of the apartment. “Be sure to heat it up at 375 degrees,” you suggest, struggling to put on your shoes fast enough.

“Sure thing. I’ll let you know how it goes!”

“Looking forward to it,” You lie. Eddie waves you off before closing the front door. Left standing alone in the hallway, you feel foolish.

Finally arriving home, you crawl onto your bed. The weight of reality crashes down upon you, and you physically collapse under the weight of your emotions. The pain in your chest burns up the back of your throat as you sob. This was a harsh wake-up call, but it’s what you needed to finally confront yourself.

It’s better this way. Not having to reject you outright or politely turn you down, Eddie doesn’t have to hurt simply because you are. This is best because Eddie doesn’t have to feel guilty or pity you. Just as you’ve loved him in silence, you can grieve the loss of him in it too.

Ten minutes pass and just as you’re starting to drift asleep from exhaustion, your telephone rings. The ringing in the kitchen pulls you from your room. You drag your feet on the way there, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie sounds panicked. “Can you come back over? I forgot the most important fucking thing and-”

You cut him off. “Relax, I’ll be there in twelve." Abruptly ending the call without another word, you rub your sore eyes, blow your stuffy nose, and splash your face with warm water. The last thing he needs is for his night to be ruined because he notices how hard you’ve been crying. If your feelings get in the way of him having a good time with the girl he’s head over heels for, then you don’t deserve his friendship.

Entering the building and letting yourself back into his apartment, you’re caught off guard by how different the space looks. He worked his butt off to tidy the living room and make certain that everything is presentable. Besides being notably neater, you also notice the faint smell of air freshener.

The apartment is blanketed in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering flames of candles and the light from the table lamp in the living room. Hushed music emanates from the record player in his room. It’s a genre you wouldn’t have expected him to own, because of how slow and romantic it sounds. You wonder whether he bought it specifically for this occasion.

Upon hearing the front door creak open, Eddie halts his pacing in the living room. “Thank god, you’re here.”

You teeter on the heels of your feet, feeling out of place in the carefully arranged setting that isn’t meant for you. “I really shouldn’t be. It’s quarter to seven, she’ll show up any minute now.”

Eddie makes his way over to you, rounding the dinner table and draping his arm along the back of the dining chair farthest from where you stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about that, she’s already here.”

Your eyes flit towards the bathroom, expecting to see a sliver of light escaping from beneath the door, yet the hallway is pitch black. There’s no dolled-up gal standing in his room either. You look back at him with a furrowed brow, confusion etched on your face. “Where, exactly?”

He can’t think of a time he’s ever had to remind himself how to breathe correctly. Eddie holds his hand out to you, his anxiety mounting. With hesitation, you extend your hand and place it in his. He wraps his trembling fingers around yours.

Rarely have you been in this position, and in those instances, it was never an act with deeper meaning. It’s only ever happened in urgent moments, like darting across a bustling street to avoid being separated—a mere safety measure.

Eddie’s attention fixates on your hands, willing them to respond to his touch. Then he notices your puffy, reddened eyes. “What’s the matter?” He instinctively squeezing your joined hands.

“It’s stupid.” You pull away from him, retracting your hand to wipe away the smeared mascara beneath your eyes.

Rather than forcibly turning you to face him, Eddie gracefully moves around to stand in front of you once more. “I bet it’s not,” he says softly, his compassionate expression tinged with concern. He reaches for both of your hands this time, praying you can’t feel his pounding pulse through the contact.

Eddie delicately lifts your hands and peppers velvety kisses across the tops of your knuckles. The warmth of your skin against his lips sends a shiver shooting through his core, goosebumps rising across his body.

You emit a wet giggle from the shock, uncertainty, and embarrassment bubbling within you. “What the hell are you doing?”

He chuckles a little too, his eyes sparkling as they reflect the dancing flames behind you. “What’s it look like? This is all for you.” Eddie presses one more featherlight kiss to your hands before lowering them, but he doesn’t let go, keeping them securely in his own. “It’s our first date.”

You’re the prettiest little package of unusual. From the moment he first heard your song, he couldn’t shake you. Eddie couldn’t get your tune out of his system, but it’s not like he wanted to. Never before had anyone shown him such unconditional care; no one had ever gone out of their way to get to know him like you did. You’re the safest thing he’s ever known, but you’re also the scariest, in the best ways possible.

The thought of confessing how you make him complete, unlike anything he’s ever experienced, is nothing short of terrifying. Yet, the fear of not seizing the opportunity to love you outweighs the fear of rejection. There’s no turning back now.

Your eyes wander to the table, taking in the details: the thoughtfully arranged mismatched plates and silverware, the glasses filled with expensive wine. At the end of the kitchen island sits a teddy bear beside a bouquet. In addition to the flower petals, there are red, white, and pink balloons scattered across the floor.

You turn away before he can see your face contort, biting your lip harshly to suppress the sob rising in your throat. It’s all useless, though. A broken cry escapes your lips.

Eddie’s stomach lurches and pressure builds behind his own eyes. The change he just caused is palpable, the damage has been done. He releases both of your hands and plants his on the sides of his head, stepping away. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m such a fucking idiot. I read this all wrong.”

“You’re not and you didn’t. They’re happy tears now.”

His frantic expression mellows out, his arms drop to his sides, and the tension in his body gradually dissipates. “Happy tears?”

You respond with a soft hum and nod, a grin forming as you admire the table setting and gifts once more before looking back at Eddie.

“Oh,” he chirps, wearing a cheek-splitting smile as he brings his palms to your face. He wipes away your fallen tears with his thumbs. Eddie studies your expression intently. “I didn’t mean to make you cry sad ones.”

“It’s not your fault.” You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his fingers calmingly swiping along the apples of your cheeks.

“It is and I’m sorry.” Eddie inches closer, his toes now touching yours. “I wanted it to be a surprise ‘cause I thought spontaneity would make it more memorable.”

You look at him questioningly. “It’s not exactly spontaneous when you had me cook my own dinner.”

“Fair enough. You’ve got me there.” Eddie thought it was a foolproof plan. If you made the food, there was no chance that you’d hate it. “I went about this all wrong, huh? I should scrap the whole thing and start from scratch.” He becomes distracted, his train of thought shifting to how he’s going to clean this up and figure out a different approach.

“Don’t do that. Just ask me.” You grasp his forearm to regain his attention. “Ask me out and maybe I'll say yes.”

“Maybe?” Eddie scoffs airily, unsure if you’re teasing or genuinely undecided. He clears his throat and theatrically composes himself, gesturing with a downward motion of his hand in front of his face. “Okay, uh, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“No.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open.

“I’m fucking with you.” You smile devilishly and wrap your arms around his middle.

Finally, he can hug you the way he’s always wanted. Eddie brings you in close and tight, his arms encircling your head. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He murmurs into your hair, inhaling deeply to indulge in every aspect of you he can.

“A little.” You laugh. You remain in each other’s embrace for a moment longer before easing apart, though still connected by your pairs of lassoed arms.

Eddie’s laughter melds with yours, the relief in his tone evident. “Now that the cat's outta the bag, I can finally tell you that I absolutely love when you’re a crybaby.”

You pull a comical expression, raising your eyebrows and widening your eyes. “What, why?” You take in the scattering of freckles across his T-zone while he responds.

“Honest to god, it’s mesmerizing to watch you experience things so intensely. It’s fucking beautiful.” With nothing but adoration in his eyes, Eddie strokes your hair, relishing the way it feels against his skin. “Can I call you my crybaby?”

“No, you cannot!” You swat at his chest and attempt to push him away, but he laughs smugly and brings you back in close. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, surrendering to him entirely. Locked in each other’s gaze, time seems to crawl.

Eddie’s hands, having made their way down to caress your hips, settle on the small of your back. “How about just baby?” He nudges the tip of his nose against yours, his voice taking on an almost sultry tone. “You like the way that sounds?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, watching his eyes fall to your lips.

Eddie mumbles, “Me too.” His hands flex where they lay, tugging you slightly so that your bodies are flush and you have no choice but to lean against him. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes finding yours again, the chocolate pools of his irises swirling.

You nod, slide your hands up his shoulders, and wrap them around his neck. The air was stolen from your lungs, rendering your voice a ghost. Eddie leans in and his lips hover over yours, your eyes fluttering closed in time with his. Then, you feel the gentle pressure of his lips against your own.

For a few moments, you’re out of sync, a mere beat behind due to nerves. But after taking a brief breath, you find each other without trouble. When you slot your lip between his, it’s as though there’s a sunrise in his veins; a new dawn spreads through his body. You tug a fistful of curls at the nape of his neck, your lips clicking wetly with one another, chests heaving in unison.

When the two of you finally have to part to breathe, Eddie whispers, “Jesus Christ.”

“You can say that again.” You exhale, releasing the grip you have on his hair and soothingly scratching the area with your nails.

“I mean I could.” Eddie borderline purrs, tightening his arms around your waist. “But I’d much rather keep kissing you.”

“Hard to argue with that." You smile against his lips and give him a quick peck, which he happily returns. Then, your mind begins to wander. “You got me flowers?”

He can’t discern if there’s a trace of disdain or disbelief in your tone. Eddie knows that you consider flowers cliché and overrated; after all, you deal with them all day. But just because you see them that way doesn’t mean he does.

Eddie pulls away slightly to get a good look at you. “Yeah, of course I got flowers for my flower. How could I not?”

Truthfully, he’s bummed about not being able to find a bouquet as exceptional as you. You’re unlike anything from this world, resembling something from his cherished sci-fi novels. You’re resilient, showing up any old rose or daisy. You unfurled your petals solely for Eddie and allowed him to see you bloom. Nothing on earth compares to you. So, a regular bouquet would have to do.

You comment with a slightly teasing tone, “I had no idea you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“Too much?” Eddie bites his lower lip, afraid that you’re offended.

“No, not too much." You remove your one hand from his hair and rest it on his chest, drawing mindless shapes while you avoid eye contact. “Far more than I deserve though." You’re slightly taken aback when Eddie cups your face without hesitation, forcing you to look at him. Despite his assertiveness, his touch is tender.

“Sweetheart." Eddie’s eyes carry an intensity you’ve never seen, brimming with affection and sincerity. “You deserve everything good that this world has to offer. I can’t give you that, but I can give you all of me. That much I can promise.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

[littlebearbun]

Stanley Pines NSFW Alphabet

(Written for myself. lmao)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tbh I think this depends. If it's with a one night stand, he's pretty “hit it and sleep” or he goes to the Stanmobile to sleep if they're being clingy or he's spooked. A quick “thanks, toots” and a slap on the ass and he's out. If he's with someone he cares about, he's very clingy. Will give them a sip of his Pitt from the side table and lots of kisses and his hands are everywhere. Does not care about sweat or wiping anything down. Wants to be big spoon to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: His hands/arms. Knows he's muscley and knows his hands are huge. Also likes his crooked grin cause it's very different from Ford’s smile. Theirs: loves a good pair of thick thighs. Tbh I don't see him disliking any part of his partner but he loves them “with meat on their bones” as he says. More to grab and squish. (When they've been together for a while, will say he adores their eyes, too, but especially when they're looking at him.)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Comes a lot and it's pretty thick. Doesn't taste bad but not good either (his diet isn't great) Would prefer to come inside but is fine with it on their face/chest/stomach/ass/etc. He's not picky.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I could see him keeping panties in his pocket and randomly touching them or holding them against his face.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's…experienced in one night stands. Knows what he's doing but only when it's rough/fast/etc. If it's slow and sweet he gets flustered and is easier to overwhelm.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sitting against the headboard with them in his lap, their back to his chest, slow deep fuckin or using his fingers. Will whisper naughty things in their ear and watch his hand between their legs. Would never forget the image of his lover wearing his gold chain, riding him, the pendant swinging with their movements.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Once he's comfy, he can be both. I can see him teasing and picking lil fights and trying to make them laugh, but I could also see him just wanting their attention focused. Is very “keep your eyes on me”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Grey hairs around the base. Probably doesn't care about trimming it unless his partner asks him to, and will probably make a grumbly comment about the effort. He does not care if his partner shaves.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Again, depends if it's a one night stand or not. If it is, it's not romantic at all. He's there for one thing only, no strings attached. If it isn't, he's absolutely worshipful. Kisses stretch marks, moles, scars. Nuzzles everywhere he can get to tickle with his stubble. Calls them every pet name in the book. Says how lucky he is to have landed someone like them.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Probably doesn't do it much after he takes over the Mystery Shack, reminds him of how lonely he is. When he was drifting, he does it to forget but only if he can't find a willing partner to spend the night with instead. After he gets Ford back and has a partner, he would do it but only to a, tease his partner or b, cope with them being gone for a few days. Prefers them on the phone for it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Definitely into edging/overstimulation. Stealth collars, makes his chest puff up in pride.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His office or in front of a mirror. Or his armchair. Or his car. He has a lot of favorites, sue him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

For most of his life, he's only in it for himself. Likes when his partners beg and make him feel important. Later, when with someone for a while, domestic shit gets him. They brought him a Pitt and kissed his cheek and he's hard???? Still really likes feeling like the “big man of the house” tho.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doesn't like handcuffs on himself, they remind him of prison. Doesn't like if he can't see/hear/move his hands. Will never involve another in the bedroom. His self esteem is too low for that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers to receive I think. Again, makes him feel in control. Much rather use his hands on his partner so he can look at their face easier and see their expressions.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally rougher for sure. Sensual is a once in a while thing if he needs reassurance.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Often. Hell yes. He loves em. Wants to see how quickly he can get them off on a back closet, or his office, or in the shower. Power trip.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experimenting sure, I could see him trying a lot. Risks, depends. Doesn't want the twins to see. Doesn't want Ford to see. Doesn't want anyone to see, really.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s good for one round himself, but he's more than willing to use his mouth or hands until his partner is satisfied. Doesn't mind if that takes a while. Would absolutely lay in bed all lazily while fingering them after he's finished.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Some of them?? More into using them on a partner than himself. Would love collars, nipple clamps, maybe a flog. Would be strangely intrigued if they had different kinds of dildos. (What shape is that?? Let me watch you try it)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Merciless tease. Whispers naughty shit all day. “I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, babe, say it again? Louder?” Touches everywhere but where they want most.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He grunts and groans a lot. Will not shut up, talks for the entire time.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If you say he's a “good man” it breaks him. He still has a hard time remembering some things sometimes (can wake up missing pieces). Sometimes the bad things come back first and he needs kind words and to be reminded he's safe

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Huge arms, very very strong. Prominent gut, obviously. His legs are skinnier than the rest of him. Very hairy. Brand on his back and maybe a few tattoos from his gang days, but nothing too serious.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Once he has a partner he loves? It's high. Wants them constantly, even if it's just their body near his. When he was drifting, I think it was only if he wanted a place to sleep or was really lonely. Sometimes he felt worse after.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes the after sex cuddles, so he stays up a bit. Will tease them about the sex in a rough, quiet voice.

[gunilslaugh]

i was watching xdiz with jaejoong and I NEED a fic with Jooyeon teaching reader how to play the bass and i know u can turn this idea into an amazing fic 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Here you go! This turned out longer than expected but I had so much fun writing it!!

Lee Jooyeon Summary: Jooyeon teaches you to play the bass and both of you too can feel the tension. (idol/non-idol au) WC:~1.3k Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

“You make playing the bass look so cool,” you say. Jooyeon and you are both sitting on the floor of his bedroom. He’s strumming away on his bass, showing you a new song. His long hair flows in his face. His pick strumming against the strings, sitting between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Because I am cool,” he remarked. You let out a light scoff, shaking your head. “What? You don’t think I’m cool?” he challenged. 

“Mmm I think…you’re Jooyeon,” you respond. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, setting his bass aside. 

“You’re cool when you’re playing the bass, but once you set it down, you’re kinda a dork,” you said. 

“Aye, at least I know how to play the bass. That makes me cooler than you at least,” he argued. 

“Teach me to play the bass then,” you told him. 

“Do you really want to learn or you’re just trying to be cooler than me?” He gave you a skeptical look that evokes a laugh out of you. 

“I do actually want to learn. I’ve kinda thought about it for a while. I just don’t think that I’d be that good at it,” you truthfully reply. 

“Don’t doubt yourself before you’ve even tried. Come on.” He picked up his bass, motioning for you to come over. You slide over next to him and he places his bass in your arms. Looping the strap over your head and helping you hold it properly. 

“Place your fingers here.” He comes around behind you, using his hand to guide yours to the strings. “Press down,” he tells you. However you’re having trouble focusing on his words due to how close he is. When you brought up him teaching you, you didn’t take into account that he would be so close. 

“And now use this hand to strum.” His other arm cases around you. Sending a shiver down your spine. He’s essentially back hugging you now. One hand holding yours at the neck of the bass, showing you how to press the strings and the other guiding your hand on how to strum. You can smell his cologne. You recognize it as the one you got him for his birthday last year.

“Are you listening?” His voice rang through your ears, gaining your attention back. 

“I-” You turn your head to the side. He was so close, too close. Your noses only millimeters apart. “I-I mean what chord did you say this was?” You turn your head back to look at the bass again. Your pounding heart wanted you to run away, but you had nowhere to go. Trap between his bass and his body. 

Jooyeon smiles seeing you flustered. Though he’s not really doing any better. The feeling of your body so close to his. The tingles he feels rushing through his fingers with every touch and brush of them against yours. How if he pressed his chest against your back you would probably be able to feel his heart beat. Not to mention that mere seconds ago if he just leaned in a tiny bit more his lips could have been on yours. It all had his head spinning. It was hard enough for him to remember how to play the bass right now. 

“E, this is an E chord.” He pressed his fingers against yours once more, igniting more sparks under his skin. You really were trying your best to listen, but seemed like all you could focus on was how close he was. 

“Jooyeon.” You turn your head to the side again, which once more proved to me a mistake as Jooyeon turned his head too. Once more your faces are entirely too close together. It makes your head feel like a fog. 

“Yeah?” he asked. 

“I-is..is this really the best way to…” Was it really so hard to form a sentence? Apparently it was as you felt like your brain short circuited. Though a bigger question arising in your head was, since when did you like Jooyeon this much? Since when did he have such an effect over you? 

Maybe you always had a bit of a crush on him. It was nothing major though. Just a small heart flutter when you first see him or maybe your heart rate picked up a bit when he was affectionate with you. Maybe you looked forward to seeing him more than your other friends and maybe you didn’t rest your head on their shoulders like you did with Jooyeon. Maybe you don’t like socializing after 10pm, but if it’s Jooyeon then it’s fine. In fact there’s a chance you slept better on the nights you fell asleep while talking on the phone with him. Ok, maybe you spend too much time picking out gifts for him when he’s “just a friend”. You know what sure there was that one dream you had where you two kissed, but that was just a dream. Dreams don’t have to mean anything, they can just be weird dreams. Except maybe you wanted that dream to be real. So, maybe you liked Jooyeon this much for a while and maybe he’s always had this effect on you. 

Even though you couldn’t complete your sentence Jooyeon knows what you were trying to say. Was this really the best way for him to teach you how to play the bass? Truthfully he could have just sat criss-cross in front of you. He would still have to lean in close to show you properly, but no, he didn’t need to be this close. He didn’t have to be holding you in his arms, but wanted to. Because Jooyeon liked you. He’s not entirely sure when he fell for you. Maybe when you bandaged his fingers after a long practice where he forgot his pick. It could have been when you picked out the vegetables from his order at a restaurant. He didn’t even complain about the vegetables either, he didn’t have time to. Right when the waiter walked away you were already plucking the vegetables from his bowl. Mayhaps his heart started beating to the rhythm of a love song from the moment he first saw you. He knows the moment he realized he liked you though. He just got home from a concert. It was late and he was exhausted, yet he could only think about calling you. It was while he was on call with you that realized. He didn’t think he would have been able to sleep without calling you. Because it seems that he could only find restful sleep when he called with you. Because you made him feel at peace and calm. Because he liked you. 

“Even if it’s not, it’s the way I want to,” he told you. The air around you both feels heavy. There’s an obvious tension lingering in it. You want to say something, but you’re unable to form any words. “Because I want to hold you. I like having you close like this.” He kept speaking instead. Almost as if to prove his point he brushes his nose against yours. 

“Jooyeon,” you finally speak. 

“Yeah.” He now rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m never gonna learn the bass like this.” Your eyes flicker down to his lips. A smile pulls at his lips as he notices the change in your eyes.  

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” he says, leaning in a bit closer.

“Huh?” Your eyes shift back to his. 

“Maybe I just want to be your cool bass playing boyfriend.” Now his eyes are the ones shifting to your lips. “Can I?” He looks back into your eyes.

“Yeah,” you breathe out with an imperceivable nod. Jooyeon smiles before leaning in to close the very slight remaining distance between you two. His lips pressing against yours. Playing a love song on your heartstrings. 

The two of you break away due to smiling too much. Jooyeon helps lift the bass off of your lap, carefully setting it down beside you two, so that he can now fully trap you in his arms. You suppose you can always learn to play the bass some other time. Feeling all too content with being wrapped up in Jooyeon’s arms. Your cool bass playing boyfriend’s arms.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin @junhanism

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[childrenofcain-if]

Will we be able to write songs with D? I want to be on that Daisy Jones and Billy Dunne beat like 👀

dust motes swirled like confetti in the amber glow of D’s open window in their dorm room. a half-empty coffee cup sat cold on the floor beside a sprawl of crumpled lyric sheets, their edges stained with frustrated scribbles of ink.

D was perched on the edge of their bed, their old yamaha acoustic guitar balanced on their knee, fingers absently plucking a chord progression that had gone stale hours ago. their brown hair fell in a disheveled curtain over their face, pale skin flushed with agitation, grey eyes narrowed at the notebook propped open beside them.

you sat on their desk, your back against the chair, a dog-eared copy of ‘dead souls’ by nikolai gogol cracked open in your lap. but you hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes. how could you, when D had been muttering curses under their breath for the past hour, tossing guitar picks at the trash can (missing every time), and sighing like a mediaeval peasant sentenced to the gallows.

finally, they slammed their palm against the guitar’s body, the sound a dull thud.

“this is such bullshit,” they lamented, voice frayed with the gravitas of an emmy award winner. “my creativity’s completely left me. you might as well kill me now and arrange the flowers for my funeral.”

you glanced up, biting back a smile. “drowning in self-pity? that’s a new look for you.”

“don’t even get me started,” D said with a groan. “all i’m doing is playing a sad little E minor and G like some washed-up loser in a dive bar trying to play wonderwall while everyone boos.”

you raised an eyebrow. “that’s oddly specific.”

“it’s a gift,” D said, waving their hand. “hyper-specificity happens to be my expertise.”

you snorted in amusement before setting the book down on the desk and tilting your head at them. “want help?”

there was a beat. just long enough for six full seconds of silence to settle, for you to wonder if it was the right thing to even offer.

“you want to help me write a song?” they asked, a little slower this time, like they were testing the words on their tongue.

you shrugged, trying to look casual. “i mean, i’ve already sat through an hour of you beating yourself up over this. might as well help you get out of your slump.”

a slow smile crept onto their face, lazy and crooked, but delighted all the same. “huh. alright. let’s do this.”

little did you know that D hated co-writing. their bandmates had complained about it to anyone who’d listen—how D would bristle, huff, and leave the room if anyone tried to suggest a lyric. songwriting was a refuge that they wouldn’t let anyone share alongside them.

but for you? they’d made an exception. of course, that was one of many exceptions D had made for you since you’d met—letting you stay until morning in their dorm room. letting you nap on their shoulder even though they hated it when other people did it. waiting to light their cigarette until you weren’t around because you said the smoke made you dizzy.

they couldn’t name them all. couldn’t count how many times they’d happily let you in past the walls they never let anyone even scale. but that didn’t matter right now.

you reached for the keyboard on the desk—a little synth D had barely touched in weeks—and switched it on. they watched you skeptically, but didn’t protest when you tapped a tentative melody—a minor key, wistful and slow, like smoke curling from a dying fire.

you hummed, the tune catching in your throat, your brow furrowed the way it always was when you were trying to fish something delicate out of your mind and set it gently out into the world.

D’s smile deepened as their fingers resumed plucking at the guitar strings, softly, just a counter-melody behind yours.

“and the tennis court was covered up…” you hummed, testing the cadence.

“with some tent-like thing...?” they muttered, a little unsure before brightening up at your encouraging nod.

“and you asked me to dance,” you continued, your voice gaining strength, “but i said, ‘dancing is a dangerous game.’”

D blinked once, then twice. then: “oh. oh. how the hell are you so good at this?”

you laughed, cheeks warming at the unexpected praise. “am i? i’m just winging it.”

D nodded, almost reverent. “winging it better than i’ve been trying for three days.”

you chuckled, shaking your head and continuing as the lyrics formed in your head like a bunch of threads being tied together.

“oh, i thought this is gonna be one of those things…”

the melody started to build underneath your fingertips, a natural kind of belonging threaded in each note which matched the longing in D’s grey eyes. their chords caught up to yours almost effortlessly, harmonizing without stepping on the lines. it was like you’d found a secret corridor, somewhere between you two, where the song already lived for decades before you found it together.

you looked at D. “now i know...”

“i’m never gonna love again,” D sang as they inhaled slowly, eyes still fixed on your face.

“i’ve got some tricks up my sleeve,” you continued, “takes one to know one.”

D’s voice followed yours, low and rasping and so beautiful it made your stomach twist pleasantly. “you’re a cowboy like me...”

their guitar picked up, louder now, catching momentum like a river current.

“never wanted love, just a fancy car,” you smiled as you sang it, because it sounded just like them.

“now look who’s the one getting specific,” D quipped with a smirk.

you laughed, but the music didn’t stop. your voices layered together, overlapping like sheets of glass. the story was forming, piece by piece, between your fingers. a story of two people too clever for their own good. bandits and cowboys. lonely grifters who fell in love because they saw themselves in each other.

D shook their head in wonder, like they couldn’t believe this was happening. like you were magic. like you were prometheus handing them fire and not asking for anything in return except companionship.

“it could be love,” you whispered-sang, trying your best not to make it sound too real in D’s presence. “i could be the way forward only if they pay for it.”

D followed up as their expression turned even softer, “you’re a bandit like me, eyes full of stars...”

it was then that you’d come to the realisation that you were both singing to each other rather than making up something about two fictional people. you didn’t know if D had a similar epiphany but you revelled in this quaint little process.

a strange sort of ache filled your heart, it was like falling in love with a ghost, or dreaming out loud. how you longed to reach out and cup their cheek, never breaking your gazes and only closing your eyes when you feel the brush of their lips against yours.

your longing was spelled out as you sang, “now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon...”

D’s fingers stumbled on the frets. their throat worked, eyes flicking to your mouth as if the words had physically pulled their attention there.

“i’m never gonna love again…” D’s voice cracked on the final line as the guitar rang out with a hum.

you sat in silence afterward, breathing hard, as if you’d just ran a marathon together.

D set the guitar to the side with care, and turned towards you. their eyes were softer than you’d ever seen.

“that was…” they started, then stopped, shook their head, and tried again. “where had you been hiding all that talent?”

you smiled. “being in the presence of a good songwriter helped a lot.”

D laughed almost in disbelief before the room went silent again. they then nodded once, as if agreeing with something only they could hear.

“we should do this again sometime,” they said as they looked away, although it sounded strangely like a plea more than anything.

you frowned, worried about their sudden change in tone. you dragged the chair closer to side of the bed until your knees touched. “of course. anytime.”

D lifted their gaze back to you, looking a little too vulnerable for their own comfort. at the moment, they felt as fragile as the spiderwebs clinging outside their windowpane. slowly, as if moving through honey, their left hand reached out and traced your cheekbone before tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. their fingertips lingered, calloused and warm.

“no one could ever compare to you,” they whispered in reverie.

“takes one to know one,” you whispered back, quoting the song you two had just written.

a smile took over your face as they leaned in to rest their forehead against yours. “you know, we actually forgot to write the lyrics down.”

you pulled away with your jaw on the floor. “what?! and you’re reminding me just now?!”

D couldn’t help but laugh as you got more agitated.

“it’s not funny! we didn’t sit here and do all that for no—”

you and your thoughts were promptly shut up by the feeling of D’s warm, plump lips on yours. it was a distraction you didn’t mind having after all.