#probably never ever get my hands on one ever but it was THERE.

[melminli]

Ddakji Man

summery - you were always struggling to make ends meet, despite having three separate jobs and you doubted that that would ever change. it felt like you were working out of your own casket and it would probably be more sustainable to invest in one at this point.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. reader

word count: 1,5k

contains: slight arguing, cursing but nothing too graphic tbh

"Are you sure that you don't want to come?" One of your friends asked you a little sadly since you were about to leave the group. They rarely got to see you anyway, did you have to leave so early? "You never come with us when we go out for a drink, we miss you there, you know?"

You smiled a little tiredly as you strolled casually through the streets. "I'm sorry guys, I just have to work tonight." you tried to explain. Besides, I'm fucking tired and just want to get some sleep before then. I miss my bed.

Your best friend pouted as she hugged you from the side and you welcomed it, even if it made walking a little more difficult. "It's always work this work that. Live a little for once, all this stress is not good for you. You need a break." she spoke up before a thought came into her mind that made her a little furious. "Don't tell me that you're using work as an excuse to cancel on us. We can do something else if you want to. I'll even invite you, come on!"

You took a tired breath. I don't have any energy for this. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to get drunk with you and I'm not being sarcastic or anything." you clarified. Besides, I wouldn't work this much if I didn't have to.

"All right." she gave in unhappy. "We'll catch you one of these days, I can feel it..."

You laughed softly. "Please do," you replied and stopped in front of the stairs that led to the subway. This was the place where you had to say goodbye to your friends and you did with a few more hugs. You enjoyed spending time with them and loved your friends with all your heart, but you were still happy to be a bit on your own now.

So you plugged in your cable headphones and played your current favorite song at the loudest volume before checking when the next train was going to arrive. Another twenty minutes? The last one must have just left. You decided to just sit down on a bench and wait while staring blankly around and quietly mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

A few minutes later, a person sat down next to you and you could see out of the corner of your eye that it was probably some kind of businessman or something. You didn't look closely out of politeness and turned your gaze somewhere else after checking the time on your phone.

"Excuse me." the unknown man tried to get your attention, but as expected, you could barely hear him over the booming music. He placed his briefcase in the space between you before leaning closer to your figure and looking towards you with a smile and finally, you seemed to notice his stare and turned in his direction. You took out one of your earbuds as you met his gaze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The man leaned back again. "I haven't said anything yet. I wanted to ask if I could talk to you, do you have a moment?"

You looked around a little uncomfortably as he maintained uninterrupted eye contact with you. "Ehm, well..." you stumbled slightly over your words. "I'm not religious or anything, sorry," you replied, having no patience for another discourse about Jesus and the church. This is the fourth time this week, lucky me. You thought to yourself as you were about to put your earplug back in.

The salesman held a hand in the air to stop you from doing that to keep your attention. You just looked at him uninterestedly and waited, it was going to be a while before your train arrived anyway. A smile graced his face after you were willing to listen to him again. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, I just want to offer you a chance."

Your face tightened a little in disgust and you were quite irritated by now. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer and didn't say anything else, so you had no choice but to interpret his words. He doesn't look like that kind of guy, but I guess it's always the ones who look the most decent. "Listen to me asshole," you said openly this time, all politeness gone as you pointed at his chest with your index finger. "I don't know you, maybe you're one of those men who try to talk in riddles to seem mysterious or something, but right now it just sounds like you're looking for someone cheap to fuck." you replied as you tapped his tie with each syllable and leaned a little closer to him as you whispered. "And I'm not cheap, so you might want to look elsewhere."

This time it was you who grinned as he looked at you in surprise and he let out a small grunt after you finished your sentence. The salesman straightened his tie while watching your figure before reaching for his briefcase and revealing its contents, "That's too bad, but also not what I was talking about," he replied as you looked at the money and colored paper in confusion. "Have you ever played Ddakji?" He asked you as he took out the red and blue paper. You just shook your head. "That's no problem at all, we can still play it if you're up for it." 

Your gaze alternated from his hand to his face. Oh, so he's crazy. You finally concluded. I guess he is too handsome to be just a normal guy, huh. You turned your head away from him, something about the whole thing just seemed perverse to you. "No thanks, I'll pass."

"You sure?" He asked again, knowing he'd convinced you as soon as he brought the money into it. These people are all the same, she'll snatch the paper right out of my hands after I start talking a language she understands. "Every time you win, you get 100,000 won from me." He began, watching the look on your face. "But if I win, you owe me 100,000 won and -"

You sighed and interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure. I still don't want to play with you, okay?"

This time the man looked at you with a cold, icy stare. A few minutes passed like this and you just tried to ignore his gaze, but then he started talking again. "All right. 200,000 won." he finally said, but couldn't seem to get your attention back. He tried again. "Is it because you've never played the game before? We can have a practice round if that would make you feel more comfortable." he tried again and got irritated when you continued to ignore him. He looked around the area as he considered his next move. Is she waiting for me to increase the prize money further? These people usually jump up happily at the first amount since they're so desperate. He tried to collect himself again. "500,000 won." he finally said. "I've got the money right here, you just have to go for it."

When is this stupid train coming. "Look, I don't want your fucking money, understand? I'm not a gambling addict or -"

"You may not want it, but you need it," he said, annoyed. This has never happened before, is she stupid? He then spoke out your name and described your miserable living situation as if you didn't already know about it yourself. "You also have quite a lot of debt for someone who is still relatively young, are you seriously going to turn down the money I'm offering you? For what, to prove a point or something?"

You didn't know what this man's fucking problem was, he should be glad that you didn't want to take his money, and how did he even know all this? You got up from your seat next to him when the train finally arrived and turned to face him one last time. "Fuck you," you told him and then went to the doors. You even looked out of the window at him as soon as they closed before you, to show him your the middle finger.

The man in the suit watched your figure irritated until it was gone and then, took the little card out of the inside pocket of his suit, that was meant for you. He turned it over a few times in his hand before closing the open briefcase with his other one. He had already played and lost a few Ddakji games in his life, which was the point of the whole thing - to recruit players for the actual game. However, the thought of what awaited them there meant that he was still in control of the situation. He was always in control of the situation. "I didn't loose, we haven't even played." he tried to reassure himself.

And yet the whole conversation with you left him feeling like he was utterly defeated.

[fftwy]

I moved through the little cul-de-sac with my head on a swivel. Ryegrass only gets to about two feet when left untended, but between my scavenged clothing and the grime that covered me, it made effective camouflage for crawling. There were no signs of people, but you could never tell.

You'd think four years into an apocalypse people would adjust, but a lot of these idiots really thought they were going to be part of the 1-4-4 when the day came, and they still aren't taking it well.

As an atheist--well, a former atheist, of course--it was very funny to me when they found out. Alas, it turns out that in a country with more guns than people, sudden widespread loss of faith can get pretty ugly.

There was a sound to my right, and I froze. The day was nice and still, and just as I'd started to relax, I heard it again. I couldn't quite identify it, but I had no doubt it was a living creature. Could be an animal. Could be a person. Either way, it was probably bait.

Instead of entering the church from any obvious angle, I crept around to the back and peered through a window. I don't know how I knew what I was looking at; I just knew. That was God, no two ways about it. In a cage.

He looked ... absurd. Short and stout, with broad shoulders and an unkempt beard. He wore some manner of tattered robe, but the fabric was the purest white I'd ever seen. Legs crossed, seated on the floor, idly stretching and muttering. Utterly human, utterly mundane, absolutely oozing Divine Grace. He really had created us in his own image--and apparently we're all variations of Danny DeVito.

I stared for a long time. Then I just stood, woodenly, and walked toward the front door, not even looking for threats. I could tell there wouldn't be any. The doors creaked open and then God was looking at me. The weight of the gaze was almost literal, and my temples pounded as I walked slowly down the aisle.

He stood up as I walked in. His expressions were easy to read, almost prototypical: first I was assessed as a threat, then evaluated as a potential savior. He leaned on the bars and smiled. It was every fake smile I'd ever seen on celebrities and politicians. It was perfect and utterly devoid of warmth.

"Greetings, human! It is indeed I, your Lord and Creator! you are burdened with the glorious responsibility of freeing Me from this detestable cage!"

I could hear the capitalization: uppercase for his pronouns; lowercase for mine.

My mouth was starting to get dry, so I closed it. My legs were kind of wobbly, so I sank into the nearest pew. His mighty brow furrowed. I thought wildly that he looked like a cartoon character.

"Lo! Only come forth and undo this latch that I might bless you with salvation! Surely you know that this is a rare prize, especially in this terrible age!" He chuckled at his own joke, as though the desolation that surrounded us was whimsical.

Finally I spoke, my voice cracking. "How long have you been in this cage?"

His eyes narrowed. "Since the final Seal was sundered."

"So like, half a decade?"

"Something like that. Look, are you going somewhere with this? Because I would really like to get Myself out of this cage. I can't even imagine how impatient the Raptured must be getting up in Heaven, and since they're kind of my core demo, if you know what I mean ..."

I did. God help--well, no. But the point is, I did know what he meant. But I focused, even though it was hard to do. I don't know if the constant reeling of my mind was biological, psychological, or supernatural, but it wouldn't stop even when I closed my eyes and shook my head. I opened them again and found God still staring.

"So everything about the world up to the actual ending, that was your hand on the wheel the whole time."

That fake smile again. "Who else?"

"So all of the horrible fucking things that happen in this world are one hundred percent your fucking fault?! Like, I already thought you were an asshole, but, like, you designed this!"

It seemed like maybe he hadn't been expecting that. "I work in mysterious ways," he began, but I was shouting again.

"My parents died slow, painful deaths, of cancer, too young, and they had to beg for medical coverage the whole time! The system was already about to go tits up even without your fucking rapture!"

"Ah ah," he tutted. "Render unto Caesar. Don't bother me with economics."

Then he ducked, as a chunk of stone I'd thrown bounced off a cage bar near his head. He stepped back, hands up in a placating gesture. "Whoa, hey now. You can't actually harm me, and you are definitely sinning right--"

He stopped as more rocks followed. There was a handy little pile where some statue had collapsed, and some of them were small enough to go through the bars. They didn't seem to cause any injury, but it was the best catharsis I'd had in years. Finally the pile was gone, I was panting, and the rage seemed to pass. My arms hurt.

I settled back into my seat and regained my breath. God was waiting with surprising patience. I cleared my throat and told him, "If you want me to actually flip that latch, you're going to have to answer an awful lot of questions first."

He assessed me for a cosmic instant that seemed to last forever, then gave me a glare that burrowed into my literal soul. "I am your God," he said slowly, incredulity building. "you were created in My image, to take My tests, and to be judged accordingly. your entire world is nothing more than an experiment that I set up. you think you have the right to question Me? To judge ... Me?!"

I looked at him blankly before I realized the question was not rhetorical.

"You created us in your image, buddy. Who the fuck else could give you useful feedback?"

You have survived the rapture for 4 years killing anyone to survive but one day you find God caged in an abandoned church

[azrielbrainrot]

The Sweetest Dream

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Warnings: pure fluff, not proofread

Word Count: 0,9K

Notes: Writing little drabbles to help with writer's block. This is prompt #15 on this list.

Everyone in the house is asleep as you sit by the fireplace, sipping your tea, lost in visions of hazel eyes and gentle smiles, the same ones that wouldn't let sleep find you tonight.

“Can't sleep either?”

The sound makes you jump on the sofa, too distracted to realize someone had walked into the sitting room. Your heart calms as soon as you turn to find Azriel standing close to the doorway, cringing softly when you notice the guilty look in his eyes. You shouldn't have expected anything else from the Spymaster, walking around silently out of habit.

“I didn't mean to scare you,” he murmurs, hiding his hands behind his back and bringing his wings close to his body. Trying to make himself look smaller perhaps? As if that was possible.

“You didn't, Az,” you rush to assure him, “I just didn't expect anyone else to still be awake at this hour.”

Azriel hums and walks closer to you, the faint light coming from the fireplace making him look even more ethereal than usual as it hits his carved body so beautifully. Warmth spreads to your cheeks as his shadows give way and you notice he was only wearing loose pajama pants, it seems he really had been trying to sleep before coming downstairs. The thought makes you tug at the hem of your nightgown, remembering you were in the same position as him.

“You didn't answer me,” he speaks up again as he takes a seat next to you on the sofa.

“Right,” you clear your throat, pushing away any impertinent thoughts. “I can't seem to fall asleep, no.”

“Did something happen?”

His concern for you is exceedingly sweet, truly heartwarming, and even though it's something any of your friends would show, you can't help the murmur in your chest as it comes from him. The fact that his hushed voice sounds like warm honey in the quiet room not helping your situation at all.

You shake your head, turning your body to face him, leg propped on the sofa as the empty teacup in your hands disappears at the house's command. He looked impossibly handsome with his dark messy hair and his half-lidded eyes trained on you.

“Just have too much on my mind, that's all.”

“Alright,” he whispers, blinking slowly down at you, “but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Of course, Az. I promise it's nothing bad.” He nods, eyes never straying from yours as silence falls between you once again. “Why can't you sleep?”

“I guess I'm just not tired,” he shrugs.

You know better than to pry, but you also know of the nightmares that often plague his dreams, and of the insomnia that won't allow him to get a good rest. Your fingers twitch, wanting to reach out to hold his hand, settling on biting your lip instead, your eyes darting back to the fireplace.

Ever since realizing your feelings for Azriel weren't exactly platonic anymore, you didn't really know how to act around him, entirely too aware of every movement and word, and what they could mean. It also didn't help that he seemed different with you as well, it made your heart get too many ideas.

“The sun is almost rising in the sky. We should probably give up on getting enough sleep,” he says, getting up from the sofa and coming to stand in front of you, holding out a hand towards you, one you don't hesitate in taking, letting him pull you up to your feet. “I know a good place to see the sunrise. Why don't I take us there instead?”

A smile spreads across your face as you accept his invitation with a nod, a smile of his own mirroring yours. Cauldron, how could you not fall in love with him? It seems more impossible to you that no one else was madly in love with the shadowsinger.

His hands fall on your waist unexpectedly, your eyes widening in surprise. “I'll fly us there,” he explains quickly, easily lifting you up into his arms, making you wrap yours around his neck. You've flown with him countless times, but now you could feel his body moving towards the window far too well, considering the lack of clothes between you.

“Azriel,” you call out his name just as he reaches the window, the way his eyes fall on your face taking your breath away for a moment. “Maybe we should get our robes or something before leaving.”

“No one will see us,” he assures, his shadows climbing up your bodies as if confirming their singer's words. “Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“If you don't feel comfortable with me-”

“I do, Azriel,” you murmur, tightening your hold on him, “Of course I do.”

“Alright,” he whispers, pulling you closer to him as the smile returns to his lips.

“Alright.”

Your lips were only a breath away from each other, and it seems he also realized this as his hazel eyes travel down to watch your mouth, the desire that briefly flashes through his eyes taking your breath away before he recovers, opening the window and letting the chilly early morning air kiss your exposed skin instead.

“We should hurry,” he says with a smile, watching the way you blink up at him. “We don't want to miss the sunrise.”

It seems your silly crush isn't as silly or one sided as you thought.

[palmerzy]

love your spencer blurbs sm!! if you can, please can you write a spencer blurb about him being obsessed with reader’s mouth/ being in reader’s mouth? thank you 🫶🏽

thank you anon! here you go! i love this, he’s so cute. definitely a sucker for a bj i KNOW it in my SOUL.

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes incl. brief mention of virgin!spencer.

to put it bluntly, spencer just fucking adores your mouth. your lips, your teeth, all of it. watching you speak is probably his favourite pastime, and he’s only willing to shut up his own ramblings if it means listening to yours instead.

any time you’re having a conversation, he finds his gaze wandering to your lips, watching them move with every phonetic sound you make. sometimes he can’t resist reaching out, brushing his thumb back and forth across your bottom one as you speak, his admiring gaze lingering on your cupids bow.

spencer has never been so infatuated with someone’s mouth in his life, especially as a germaphobe, but something about yours has him wanting to dedicate poems, songs, movies to the way you speak. he oftentimes can only think about how he wants to kiss you senseless, to feel your lips against his, to suckle your tongue into his mouth and claim it as his own.

frequently during sex, when he’s inside of you and your mouth is barren, he’ll offer you his fingers, wanting you to trace your tongue across his knuckles in that ever so gentle way you do. he loves pressing his fingertips against the centre of your tongue, feeling it slide between the crack of his fingers, muffling your moans as he takes you.

his thoughts are often innocent, and often not. on occasion, spencer finds himself staring at you a little too intently, his mind conjuring up images of you in a much more compromising manner. he replays over and over all the memories he has of your lips stretching around his cock, throat expanding to accommodate him, and he swears he’s never felt anything comparable to having your mouth on him in his life.

not one to pride himself on how needy he is, he mostly tries to hold back, especially when he’s watching you at work, talking to hotch or penelope or whoever, and all he wants is for you to be with him, under his desk, your mouth keeping him warm whilst he works.

that’s the main factor, he thinks. your mouth is warm. it’s comforting, and the most sensitive part of his body being submerged within provides him with the deepest sense of security he could ever get. what better feeling than knowing his girl is willingly on her knees for him, helping him feel so good in such an intimate way?

he’s certain he’ll never stop loving your mouth, the curves forming around your smile, or the way your teeth peek out when you bite at your lip. but most of all, spencer reid will never forget how good it feels each and every time your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, sucking him lightly into the hollowed crevices of your cheeks. he’s never felt such heights in his life.

it doesn’t help that you were the first person to ever give him head, back when he was merely a newbie at the bau, and you’d welcomed him with open arms and eventually a very open mouth. he distinctively remembers hiding away in a broom closet down an empty hallway at the headquarters, with you telling him to keep his mouth shut as he whined and whimpered, experiencing his very first orgasm at the hands of a woman.

so, spencer can’t fathom why he shouldn’t be so obsessed with your mouth. you’ve only ever done positive things with it, never even spoken a dull word to him, and he decided on that very first day to cherish every single smile he received from you, knowing it leads to so much more.

requests open! 🌶️

[scented-morker]

⇢˚⋆ ✎ Three Ways

The three ways sunghoon tells you he loves you before being able to utter the words… 1.6k words, friends to lovers, fem!reader

Park Sunghoon has never been one for flowery words and declarations of love.

In fact, they often made him quite uncomfortable, and he more often than not would be caught responding to the affection with a thumbs up and hardly concealed cringe.

Thankfully, you were plenty comfortable with the words, 'I love you'. An expert, even, at reminding your friends just how much real estate they took up in your heart.

You were the first person that Sunghoon ever truly believed when you said the words. Sure, he knew crushes were real and some girls probably thought their love was true, but you KNEW him. You knew him, and still deemed him precious enough for your favorite three words.

And even though he knew it was in a platonic way, being able to grin softly and ruffle your hair in response was enough for him.

He knew better than to try to reciprocate verbally, fearful of the avalanche that would come if he let himself be truly honest.

The first time Sunghoon said 'I love you' was with a straw wrapper directly to your forehead.

He'd picked you up early in the morning with a blanket in his car so you could nap as he drove the two of you to brunch at an old diner.

You'd been rambling about a new project when his phone rang the first time, and he was listening to you so intently that he didn't even notice it.

It's hard not to blush when you recognize the intensity of his gaze and the way his ringtone fell on deaf ears while watching you.

You're almost glad when it rings again, giving you a quick reprieve to calm your racing heart while he swipes to decline Jake's call.

Sunghoon lets out a sigh as his screen lights up for a third time, and the annoyance on his face is enough to make you let out a bellowing laugh before snatching it out of his hands.

"Today is my Hoon time, you got him yesterday!"

The amusement is evident in your voice, but it still has Sunghoon's heart doing flips.

The fact that you were feeling protective over your time with him, that you wanted no distractions from being in the messy diner with him while he stared at you and offered little to your conversation. It made his heart warm that even in these circumstances, you were focused on time with him.

A stray beam of sunlight chooses that moment to peek through the blinds of the window next to you and he swears it makes you glow like the only person in the room.

The words are on the tip of his tongue when you hang up on his friend, his mouth open like maybe he'll finally have the courage to say it.

You catch him staring, looking up with confusion in your eyes, the twinkle of amusement still there.

You raise an eyebrow at him as a couple beats of silence pass, only to get thwacked in the face with his balled up straw wrapper.

"You monster!" You gasp, and his laughter fills the air.

You're sick with the flu the second time sunghoon almost ruins your friendship.

He finds you curled up under the blanket he'd got you for your birthday last year, the one he got specially made with his face on it.

The sight is ridiculous enough that he would have laughed if you didn't look so miserable.

“I told you this was gonna happen. You should have stayed home yesterday.” He scolds, stepping closer to place a gentle hand against your forehead.

He frowns at the heat of your skin, your fever putting up a valiant effort against the medication you had recently taken.

You pout when he leaves, and it’s still there when he returns with a cold rag in his hand.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He plays it off as annoyance, but it’s really a cry for help because when you look up at him with shiny eyes and pouty lips it makes him want to say things he shouldn’t.

“I thought you were leaving me.”

His squeezes the rag in tandem with the clenching of his heart, and kneels down on the floor next to your bed.

“I’d never leave you like this.”

His voice is soft as his touch when he places the rag on your head, trailing a finger from your forehead down past your temple and along your cheek.

Your fever has you too delirious to question his actions, continuing to stare up at him like he was the cure to your sickness.

His breath falters as his index finger brushes against your lip, and he knows he needs to look away before he does something stupid.

He settles for poking against the corner of your mouth, pushing it up to resemble the grin you so often wear, and he finally succeeds in removing his eyes when you let out a breathy chuckle at his antics.

“There she is,” he whispers.

“Promise to stay?”

He nods, never having the strength to tell you no.

“Promise.”

It’s like a weight lifted off Sunghoons shoulders when you’re finally back to yourself, no longer “on your deathbed” as you’d so dramatically called it.

“You’re not sick anymore yn, so you have no reason not to come.” Jay says into his speaker, and sunghoon just knows you’re whining on the other side of the phone.

The boys had planned a get together for Jake’s birthday, and while you were plenty fond of the Australian boy, so were plenty of others. Which meant that you would inevitably be stuck in a room with FAR too many people for your liking.

Sunghoon always lets you stay by his side, but you could only take so much of sitting on the couch and pretending not to notice as fifteen different girls try to approach him while you pretended to be interested in literally anything else.

Not to mention, the past week had been so draining trying to get back into a routine and catch up on everything you’d missed while sick.

“No excuses, see you in ten!”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes as Jay hangs up on you, your groan being instantly cut off.

“Do you think she’ll come?” Jake asks, eyeing the man that knows you better than anyone else.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “yeah. that was her groan of acceptance that Jay just hung up on.”

Jay pumps a fist in the air as Jake laughs at the discovery that his friend knows you perhaps a little too well.

Fifteen minutes later you make your way into the living room, seeing your three friends sitting on the couch surrounded by people you don’t know. You’re not in the headspace to meet anyone new tonight, and a quick scan reveals the three boys were the only of your friends present.

You let out another groan, this one being in disappointment.

Almost as if he sensed it, you see Sunghoon’s head turn to where you’re standing.

The smile that graces his face instantly comforts you, and you return it with only slightly less enthusiasm.

He waves you over, and you steel yourself for discomfort as you approach the crowd.

However the only thing you hear when you get there is the sound of your best friend’s voice.

“I saved you a spot.”

You heave a sigh of relief as he scoots over to give you an opening right next to him, and he quickly flings an arm over your shoulders as you settle in.

You breathe in the smell of his cologne and melt into his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Anyone else probably wouldn’t be able to hear you, but Sunghoon has always been fine tuned to your voice.

“Of course.”

He lets you sit in silence against him while the boys continue talking and joking.

You’re on the verge of falling asleep right in the middle of the crowd when his breath tickles against your ear.

“Can I take you home?”

You blink up at him curiously, and he explains further.

“You made your appearance, your friend duties are fulfilled. Let’s get out of here.”

You grin and gladly follow as he takes your hand and guides you out of the room after a quick goodbye to your friends.

His hand doesn’t let go of yours even as he drives to your apartment, and you realize just how lucky you are to have him.

“I love you.” You tell him, voice quiet as he flicks on his turn signal.

His face lights up when you say it, and he gives you a quick glance.

“I know.”

You smile, but a part of you feels like maybe he doesn’t.

“I mean it. I love your smile and your laugh and I love that you’re kinder to me than I could ever deserve.”

Your words are getting faster, and you know they’re on the verge of being a confession but you can’t bring yourself to stop.

“You have this way of making me feel cared for and known and i don’t think I tell you enough how much that means to me.”

You don’t realize he’s pulled to the side of the road until you finish talking and realize both of his hands are now clasping your one.

When you meet his eyes you swear he can see straight through you, and you blush furiously while attempting to look away.

Your name on his lips stops you, and you drag your eyes back to his.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He doesn’t expand, but theres certainty in his voice and adoration in his eyes, and you know him well enough to know what he means.

[p0orbaby]

R thinks Alexia is embarrassed to be dating her because R hasn't met her friends when in reality she doesn't want the team to scare R away.

-

The first thing you notice when Alexia walks through the door is her expression. A mix of contentment and exhaustion, like she’s just finished saving the world but could still go another round if she had to. Her hair is tied back in that effortlessly perfect way that you’ve never quite managed to replicate, no matter how many YouTube tutorials you’ve watched.

“Hey,” she says, setting down a bag of groceries on the counter like it didn’t cost her at least fifty euros for whatever organic nonsense she’s insisted on this week.

“Hi,” you reply, the word clipped, your voice low.

She pauses, turning to look at you with that face. The one that says she’s already analysing the situation and will probably win whatever argument is about to unfold. You hate that she’s good at this. You hate even more that you’ve already lost, but you press forward anyway.

“So,” you start, trying for casual but landing somewhere closer to brittle, “I was just thinking. You know how we’ve been dating for, oh, six months now?”

Her eyebrows lift, just a fraction, but she says nothing.

“And how I still haven’t met any of your teammates?”

There’s the flicker of understanding in her eyes, followed by something that looks suspiciously like guilt. You press on, emboldened.

“Not even one,” you add, holding up a finger for emphasis. “Not Irene, not Keira, not even Ingrid, and she seems like she wouldn’t hurt a fly”

Alexia sighs, rubbing a hand over her face, and you know you’ve struck a nerve. “It’s not like that,” she says.

“Oh, isn’t it?” You fold your arms, leaning back against the counter. “Because it kind of feels like you’re embarrassed of me”

That gets her. She blinks, her mouth opening and closing as if she’s trying to form words but failing spectacularly. You’re on a roll now.

“I mean, it’s fine if you are,” you say, with a shrug that’s entirely too casual. “I get it. I’m not, like, a professional athlete or anything. I don’t even know what half those drills you talk about are. I had to Google what a rondo was”

“Cariño,” she interrupts, her voice soft but firm, and it derails you just enough to make you falter.

“What?”

She steps closer, her hands finding your hips in that way that always makes your resolve crumble. “I’m not embarrassed of you. I could never be embarrassed of you”

“Then why—”

“Because,” she cuts you off again, her forehead resting lightly against yours now, “my teammates are… a lot”

You blink at her, thrown. “A lot?”

She nods, her lips twitching like she’s trying not to laugh. “Yes. Imagine a group of very competitive, very opinionated people who spend way too much time together. Now imagine them interrogating you about every single detail of our relationship”

“I think I could handle it,” you say, but your voice wavers just enough to betray you.

Alexia smirks, pulling back just slightly so she can meet your gaze. “Could you handle Mapi trying to figure out your star sign within five seconds of meeting you?”

“I—”

“Or Patri asking you whether you think pineapple belongs on pizza?”

“I mean—”

“And then there’s Aitana, who will definitely ask if you’ve ever made me cry”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. She raises an eyebrow like she’s already proven her point.

“Okay,” you admit after a beat. “That does sound… intense”

“Exactly.” She presses a quick kiss to your forehead before stepping back, as if that seals the conversation. “I just don’t want them to scare you off”

“Alexia,” you say, grabbing her wrist before she can fully retreat. “I’m not going anywhere”

She looks at you then, her expression softening in that way that makes your chest ache. “I know. But you’re too good to deal with all that. At least not yet”

“Not yet?”

“Maybe next month,” she teases, a rare grin breaking across her face.

[tojislibrvry]

★ ︵ @ toji / reader , phone sex, corruption, virgin!reader, masturbation, voice kink, vibrator

you were young, the right age to be wild and fun. you saw your peers around you at midnight, as you swiped through everyone’s instagram stories. red heart coloured in as you tapped on every new post. red cups littered everywhere in the background, strobing lights manipulating the camera as your beautiful classmates flashed a charming grin or had their tongue out cheekily at their phones.

you wanted to be them so bad, yet you couldn't muster up the confidence nor the courage to get up and be yourself. 

this translated to your love life too. it’s not like you were a complete loser, you were friendly, thoughtful, and quite awfully pretty like that one song. there was just something that held you back constantly to go up and talk to the people you fancied. the inexperience made you insecure day by day.

it was not like you planned to be a virgin your whole life! the way things were progressing made you a little unsure though. you were also increasingly embarrassed that you couldn’t make yourself feel good. you would touch yourself in the dark whenever your roommate spent the night at her boyfriend’s. the coil in your stomach would begin to unravel but it would never snap. tears of frustration would bubble and there wasn't a day they converted to tears of pleasure.

and one normal tuesday, as you were scrolling through twitter a post caught your eye. huh?  there was no way something like that was legitimate. it was probably a scam, probably. curious enough you click on his profile and the image you are met with has your mouth watering.

stood a faceless man with his shirt off and presumably his pants off — the picture cut off below his achingly deep v line. his veiny arms, you are sure were twice the size of your head, were orgasm inducing. one of his hands held the camera while the other trailed off downwards…fuck.

ovulating and mind clearly way out of rationality, you texted the number in his post. if it was a scam, you would know — you could simply just block him. you weren't the brightest when it came to internet safety.

you closed the message app as soon as you were done typing out a cute "hii! is this legitimate? what’s your business model like? can i trust you? sorry for rambling. i've never done this before." and placed your phone under your pillow as you decided to sleep. 

the dreams you had that night were incomparable to the horniest porn you could have ever watched. the faceless man, held you against his warm body as he had you in the meanest mating press. your nails scratching his beautifully muscled back as you begged for more. your eyes rolled behind meeting your empty skull as he delivered a harsher thrust each time you mewled against his lips. as your dream self inched closer and closer to sweet release, you were thrown awake — your lonely beating heart ( and pussy ) your only company. 

you woke up cringing at the wetness between your thighs, the fluids of your insatiable arousal coating your thighs. you felt like a hormonal teenage boy who had nutted ( almost in your case ) in his boxers the very first thing in the morning. the discomfort and the migraine you developed from ruined orgasm made you get out of bed dragging yourself to the bathroom. your phone automatically flew to your hand like thor with his hammer as you scrolled as you brushed your teeth. 

everything was as smooth sailing as it could be until your eyes landed on a single notification that made you spit your toothpaste out halfway. you had actually texted that man in your delirious state. you glared at yourself in the mirror and clicked on the text expecting to see your usual scam test, something along the lines of "send me all your bank details haha promise i wont do anything about it!" instead what you are met with has you searching for a seat.

"so many fucking questions baby, why don't i call you tonight and you can see how legitimate my big dick is. you can pay me after i've shown you a good time. feel lucky. i don't do this for everyone, sweetheart." 

you spent the next thirty minutes trying to cool yourself down, splashing water on yourself to cool how heated your face had become. you sat down on your bed, pulling your knees up to finally answer the text. too embarrassed to text out a detailed reply you simply send him a thumbs up and wait for your racing heart to calm down.

the rest of the day went on incredibly slow, painstakingly slow. you had to sit through college lectures while your mind was clouded with thoughts about the nameless man you were going to talk to that night. you knew you were playing a dangerous game. you knew nothing about this mystery man.

sure, you could discern some of his features by stalking all the media from his x profile. he had raven hair that you could find in the reflection of one lucky post, his hair short and unkempt which did nothing but elicit more of your attention. another post had a little  bit of his face revealed, a salacious grin plastered on his face. you could see a scar run on his lips, the sense of danger it gave, had you turned on more than ever, making you wonder if you were going to discover more things about yourself from this ordeal.  

during your lunch break you had received another text from the contact, asking about the timings of your encounter. you had hastily agreed to 11pm, a time you knew very well your roommate would not be at home. 

if you were going to get dirty, might as well do it in a house with no one else. once you were back home, a quick eaten dinner with your appetite redirected to something else completely, you decided to unwind in the shower. you knew it wasn't a physical meet, this man probably had hundreds of callers before you yet deep down inside you wanted him to want you as much you did. silly as it was, you made sure to pluck and tweeze, shave and oil your skin making sure you smelled like a cupcake. you smelled good enough that the phone could pick up on your perfumed body if it were possible. 

the countdown had you pacing in your room, your lips were raw and red with the entire day spent with your lips tucked in your teeth. you were glancing at your clock every thirty seconds, watching the hands of the clock read 10:58. 

god were you wetter than ever before. you could feel the thrumming of your heartbeat spread throughout your body. taking deep breaths in you settled on your bed, legs criss crossed trying to pretend that the phone was not about ring any second. 

at 11.00pm, your phone rang. the marimba ringtone heard throughout your room, echoing off the walls. you had to remain patient. you didn't want the man to think you were desperate. well, you were! but he didn't need to know that. almost immediately, unable to wait any more, you picked up the call.

you were a smart girl, your grades were proof of that and even now, you had evidence of your intelligence by how you had your bluetooth already connected, so you could hear this man's voice as closely as you could, like he was ready to whisper in your ears. your nerves pooled in but no amount of adrenaline could have prepared you for what you could possibly describe as the sexiest voice on the planet. 

"heyyyy doll." it was a gruff voice, something that you would hear in the old cowboy movies your mother used to fawn over when you were a little girl. two words in and you could already hear the teasing tilt to his tone. 

"no greetings for someone helping ya out ?" he asked, bringing you out of your stupor. shaking your head like he could see you, you stammered out a quick, "n-no! fuck, im sorry mr...." you trailed off unsure how to address him. 

"want to know my name baby ? want to know what you should call out to when you are about to cum ?" 

you responded with a squeak, earning a chuckle from the other side of the phone.  you hear a quiet sigh as he whispers softly, goosebumps instantly painted on your skin when he says, "call me toji, i would love to hear you scream it."

before you could  thank him for his gratitude, you were interrupted when he surprisingly asked, "so tell me doll, what's the issue ? pretty thing like ya doesn't need my help getting off,  you must have those stupid frat boys drooling over you."

your eyes widened in surprise, "b-but you don't even know me! how do you know if i'm pretty !!?? or how do you know i'm in college !! are you stalking me ??" 

"ah, i understand the problem now." you heard him mutter, you were already tense, shoulders ready to cramp and your hands gripping the sheets so hard you were surprised they didn't tear by the sheer force. 

"you worry too much baby, do you think it's not easy to guess that someone that sounds as cute as you would be anything other than an inexperienced college girl. i might be exploiting my body, baby, but that doesnt make me stupid. i'm almost a lil offended." you could feel his sly pout through the phone. you only wished that you could feel it on you instead.

"...you are right, i am inexperienced." you said falling on your bed so you could stare at the ceiling instead. too embarrassed to look at the caller id. "i actually...." you tried to steel your nerves so it could be easy for you to admit it. taking a deep breath in you continued, "i cant..." "get yourself off? is that it sweetheart ?"

you sighed, nodding as you continued. "i've tried to, you know... touch myself, but i just can't!" you said exasperated. "you poor thing, you can't even get yourself off. of course you need my help. no one talks to me and goes unsatisfied." he stopped for a second, to let out a dry laugh.

"tell me, what are you comfortable with tonight?" he asked, letting you think for the first time. ten minutes on call with him and you were already too full of him in your mind, unable to think rationally. "i...i'm comfortable with touching myself and...there's something that i bought for myself, a toy to see if it would help me out. it didn't. i don't mind using that either." 

a low whistle. ""a toy? fuck baby, y'er killing me." you gulped at his shameless confession continuing, "i also like it when...when it's a little mean..." you flushed with heat as you voiced it out loud, "i like it mean, not a little— like a lot. sorry."

"awww baby, why are you apologizing ? if you want to be called a slut , i'll call you a slut. no need to feel ashamed for what you like." he pauses, "hm? maybe not ashamed but you do have to feel filthy for a mind like that." you gasped in surprise. "with such less experience, tell me how do you know what you like ?"

you blushed, cheeks feverishly hot now. "ah, i i just.." "just what baby? ya watch porn all alone in your dorm ? that is filthy." 

you tried to maintain a semblance of control. "tojiiiii m'not like that, i just—"

"awww, i'm playing, doll. i'm the last person to shame a pretty girl for trying to take care of her needs, no matter how bad she's at it." you felt yourself growing wetter with his words, thighs now spread apart as you laid on your bed, sweating on the sheets from his dirty words.

"silent now? can't hear you playing with your pussy either, waiting for permission?" you wished you could wipe off his smug smirk that is clearly translated through the shitty phone quality. realizing that you actually did not need his permission, your hands inched downwards.

"sweetheart, not yet." he said with a slightly terrifying tone attached to his elongated words. "tell me, what are you wearing?" you scoffed at him, "m'not wearing anything special." you lied. you were but it was too embarrassing to tell him that. "awww you are being a brat now? reaaaaaal cute." he paused, "quit playing,  we both know how you had your thighs pressed together all day because of me."

your eyes were already glassy with need. "toji...m'just wearing a babydoll dress, it's not that special i promise." 

"is that so sweetie ? all right then. why don't we start slow first? let's not rush into anything and confuse your pretty head." you nodded and quickly realized he could not possibly see you so you responded, "okay toji, i trust you..."

"fuck, you are going to kill me if you keep talking with that pout." he groaned, and you almost felt like he was itching to touch you the same way you wanted to touch him. 

"now, pull up your dress, get your tits out. no more than that." you carefully listened, obedience coursing through your veins. you pulled your dress up, freeing your tits to the cold room, nipples hardening immediately. "hah, can hear your heavy breathing through the phone, you are too fucking cute."

you left out a shaky breath at his words and waited for his next instruction. you could hear the sound of clothes rustling from the other side of the phone. "now, pretty, i want you to play with your nipples alright? tug on them baby, pinch them." you burned at his lewd comments but nevertheless followed his words to a tee. you were able to control your sounds till now, biting your lips to suppress the moans that bubbled at his dirty words.

you let out the softest whimpers as you pinched yourself, stimulating your already sensitive nipples. you began to feel hotter than you usually did. maybe it was the fact that you had an audience or maybe because the audience was him. 

“fuck, just like that. i wish i was there to see ya touch yourself, maybe even touch you myself a little bit. you would like that wouldn't you slut ?" you simply moaned in response, continuing the ministrations on yourself. "the way you sound like a goddamn whore, all i want to do is bite on your sensitive nipples for you." 

you couldn't stop the floaty feeling in your head flowing through your body, his words having an effect on you like nothing had ever before. 

"fuckin' slut, if ya can get turned on this easily by just having your tits fondled i think its time for you to touch your pretty pussy.." you immediately listened, wasting no time to bring your fingers to the valley of your thighs.

"fuck, spread yourself for me baby and let me hear the mess you've made for my voice." the simple act of you spreading your legs let out a sticky squelch, caught by your microphone and undoubtedly toji who practically moaned at that noise. "god. run your finger through your pussy, you sound fucking beautiful." you do as he said, letting the messiest sounds echo through the room. he groused loudly, "fuckin' hell, you have to be kidding me." you wouldn't believe your own body either. you had never been that wet before, never that aroused. 

"awww, my sweet slut got all wet from my voice, no longer my sweet baby hm? so fuckin' dirty." you could hear the sound of something being uncapped and a loud squelch that came from his side of the line. "it's a disgrace that i can't feel how wet your dirty cunt is getting on my cock. have to resort to lube instead." he muttered under his breath. "god sweetheart, your pussy probably tastes better than this shitty artificial strawberry despite it being so filthy." 

you began to inch your fingers closer and closer to your needy clit, which was already begging for your attention. maybe it was the praise along with his degradation that made you good because you immediately followed up with a "toj' can i touch my clit, please?"

toji growled at your innocent yet lewd request. "keep asking like that slut and ill give ya a baby too." you giggled at his words now actually touching yourself. finally, giving attention where you had desperately craved your touch had you arching your back off the bed, immediately crying out in pleasure. your bundle of nerves ached with need and being given the pleasure it needed all along, you could feel the black spots of pleasure already painting your vision. 

"i want you to be slow baby, take it slow." he cooed at you, "make sure you rub the softest circles on her, hm just the faintest ya don't want to overwhelm her, pretty." you were hooked to every word that left his mouth and you definitely didn't miss the way he tugged on his cock. it had you growing so needy to be filled. 

"that's right my filthy whore, why dont ya give her a kiss with your vibrator. come on, turn that flimsy silicon on." you nodded along, pulling your vibrator from underneath your pillow to use on yourself. you turned the pink silicon and brought it closer to your pretty clit just faintly touching it, hovering almost just as toji had told you to. 

the minute you brought your vibrator to your needy clit, your body arched off the bed almost unnaturally. your mind was fuzzy with the pleasure it felt. you had never felt like this before when you had used that very vibrator on yourself. you began to mewl uncontrollably as your thighs twitched at the faint sensations. 

"fuuuuuuck, you sound so slutty sweetheart. no one could have imagined that such a naive girl would be shamelessly getting off to a stranger's voice." you were babbling, mind too far gone to actually answer him. 

"now listen carefully baby, i want you to keep that stupid toy on your clit while your other hand plays with your slutty hole alright?" you forced yourself to bring back some obedience so you could follow along to his words. "i want you to put a finger in yourself, sweets, just one. you can do that for me right baby?"

you nodded again, no longer able to form coherent sentences. "i need ya to use your words like a good fucking girl, else i'll leave you all needy and alone." your eyes opened in despair, tears streaming down your pretty face. "noooo toj' —" you hiccuped, "please, just wanna feel good!"

if you could have seen the sight that was on the other side of the phone call you would have lost your damn mind. sat on a leather couch next to a plastic desk, toji fushiguro had the sleaziest grin painted on his face as he listened to your desperate begging. the raven haired man had his sweats pulled down just enough to spring his cock so he could stroke himself to the little whines you couldn't hold back. the way you called out his name had him high on pleasure, the sticky strawberry lube clouding every sense of his. 

all the poor man wanted to do was be able to push your head onto the bed as he pounded you like you deserved, snatching up your virginity like a disgusting pervert. alas, all he could do was fist his obscenely hard cock to the thought of your fingers pushed deep inside your cunt unable to give you the pleasure— a minute with his tongue could.

he settled for making you cry instead, revelling in the way you wobbled with tears. he moaned at your mewls, trying to talk to you but you made it so hard for him to talk. 

"i want you to put another finger in, baby, oh? what was that? too tight?" he cackled at your words, "go slowly, don't wanna break ya doll." you sniffled, trying to put another finger into you slowly, and you felt so full already. 

"if you can't handle your fingers, how can you ever take a cock? thought you were a cock hungry slut ?" you cried, as you began to scissor yourself open, hands beginning to cramp up. your body was beyond stimulated now, you could taste your orgasm on your tongue. 

"toji, m'close, ah—i think so." toji felt his heart beat faster at your words. 

"awww you are going to cum baby? my sweet whore about to have her first ever orgasm ?" you nodded as you continued to push your fingers in and out of your sweltering heat, eyes rolled back and mouth open as you couldn't crave for something bigger. 

"sweetheart, i want you to increase the intensity setting on your toy and continue to finger that cunt okay? you'll listen right? i promise to make you see the stars." you couldn't help but cry out as you increased the intensity, body pushed beyond its limits. you could feel a warm sensation all throughout your body as you pressed the toy impossibly closer to your clit.

toji tried to match his strokes, his cock about to cum around the same time as you just as he continued thrusting into his own fist at the same pace your fingers thrusted into your warm hole. he couldn't help but tug faster as your moans became louder and your words became less comprehensible.

"let yourself go baby, you can do it. toji's right here with you." he nearly whimpered as he heard your desperate whines. you began to feel your cunt squeeze impossibly against your fingers and suddenly the coil in your stomach snapped. you felt a gush of liquid splash everywhere, dirtying your sheets. you could feel the slick ooze from you as you squirted for the first time in your entire life.

all those years of remaining "broken" as your best friend would call you was all worth it because at that moment all you could see was heaven. white washed over your eyelids and the softest buzzing sensation racked through your body. talking about buzzing, your vibrator remained on the side having its use truly fulfilled for the first time in your life. 

meanwhile toji could not believe his fucking ears when he heard his so called inexperienced caller squirt only because of his voice. it was enough to send him over the edge, his fist grasping his cock almost painfully as he came all over his abs, his cum painting his tan skin white and his happy trail a wet mess from when he had started. he  was beyond ecstatic, hearing your soft pants from the line. 

you heard toji's grunts directly in your ears and if you were not completely exhausted, you would have brought the vibrator back once again. as you heard him finish, you muttered a shy thank you for being the first to make you cum.

he simply chuckles at your words following it up with a, “it's all good doll, just make sure ya pay me double before our next session.”

fuck, you needed to get a part time job now.

[fanfickittycat]

****************************************************

Gimmie, Gimmie, Gimmie

****************************************************

Synopsis: When you and Sylus come across a pair of Aether core necklaces, dreams and reality start to blend together.

AKA a necklace makes you both star in each other’s wet dreams

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Pairing: Sylus x MC/Sylus x Reader

Read on AO3 | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

“And this one?” You pointed to the emerald cut rock resembling a protocore.

“You have a good eye!” The merchant grinned, as he began spinning lies to you about how rare it was. You knew it was a fake without even touching it, but you held off from correcting him immediately and instead pretended to listen. You could feel a strange sense of excitement bubble in you as you got ready to test the merchant, but a familiar rush of energy behind you put that excitement on pause, and you watched as the shopkeeper’s voice faltered. His face became ashen, as he looked above your head, and you could see the blurry reflection of a dark, imposing figure and red eyes bounce off the larger crystals behind him.

“I thought I told you to stop doing that” you said, not bothering to turn around as you examined the other pieces of jewellery.

“Do what?” His breath is warm against the shell of your ear and you can feel the tickle of his silver hair against you.

“To stop looming over my shoulder like that” you turn slightly only to be met with an amused smile “you’re ruining my investigation.”

“… Investigation?” The merchant choked out but you both ignored him.

“Maybe I wanted to look around too, did that ever occur to you?” Sylus said, straightening up and putting his hands in his pockets casually. He was at least a head taller than you and he never failed to remind you of that.

You scoffed and crossed your arms“as if you’d shop here. There are so many fakes on display it’s probably not even worth it to you.”

“Now, hold on-“ the shopkeeper protested but it fell on deaf ears again.

Sylus shrugged “you can still find a diamond in the rough if you look hard enough.” He stepped from behind you to your side to look at the display case in front of him.

“Although…” his eyes glanced at the artificial gems “this selection is lacking.” His eyes flick up to the merchant whose face is flushed with embarrassment and fear.

“I- I did get something in this morning. Something real.” His hand lowers slowly to the vault behind him, as if asking for permission.

Sylus sighs “well go on then. Let’s see it before Miss Hunter here brings you to justice.” He only chuckles softly when you elbow him in the side.

You both watch as the shopkeeper produces two small vermillion boxes. He opened them up, carefully unwrapping the layers of tissue paper to reveal a matching pair of necklaces, both holding a crimson stone. Your eyes widen as you feel the energy emitting from them.

“Is this…?” Your eyes transfixed “part of an Aether core?”

“My, my, I certainly wasn’t expecting that” Sylus murmured, equally dazzled by the pair of necklaces.

You couldn’t help but let your fingers reach forward to feel the smooth stone on one of the chains. It glowed in response to your touch, and the other mimicked it.

“Legend has it that a pair of lovers separated by the Great War crafted it so that they could always remain close to one another despite being physically apart. It’s rumoured that if your connection is strong enough, you can achieve a psychic connection like none other.”

You can practically hear Sylus raise an eyebrow at that.

“Wait” you frown “I know that myth, it’s from thousands of years ago. Surely this can’t be the same pair of necklaces.”

“What if it is?” Sylus asked, touching one of the stones and watching the other glow “stranger things have happened.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow “I didn’t take you for a fantasist.”

“Even I have capacity for romantic notions” he smiles at you fondly, making your cheeks flush. “How much for it?”

Just as the shopkeeper opens his mouth to answer you interrupt “I think it would be best for everyone if you just handed these over.” You looked squarely at the shopkeeper “I know the Hunter’s Association are looking for you - dead or alive.”

“Well played” Sylus murmured to you, looking at you with admiration whilst the merchant was left with no choice but to agree and pack the necklaces away.

Outside the market you prepared to bid Sylus a goodnight, and thanked him for taking you to the N109 Zone’s night market.

“Oh wait” you fished the Aether core necklace out from its pouch “come here.” He turns and approaches you, smiling when you roll your eyes and gesture for him to come closer.

“A kiss goodbye?” He teases and you try to subtly swallow to remoisten your dry mouth.

“You wish.” You fiddle with the clasp of one of the necklaces and loop it around his neck. The feeling of his cool skin wasn’t entirely foreign to you, but neither was it overly familiar. This was probably the closest your faces had ever been, though you had dreamt about it happening almost every week. The memories of your latest dream played in your mind, making you hastily click the necklace into place and pull away before his eyes could ascertain your desire.

“It suits you” you said, admiring the way the deep red tone sat against his pale flesh.

“Your turn.” And before you could blink he was holding the matching necklace in his hands. He swept the curtain of your hair over one of your shoulders as his fingertips ghosted the back of your neck, making you shiver.

“A ticklish Hunter? Isn’t that a liability?” He asked jokingly, only for you to huff in response. You could almost have sworn that his touch lingered but if you thought about it too much you were sure you would melt.

“There” he cupped his own pendant “now we match.” You gasped feeling the warmth of the gem against the delicate skin of your chest.

“This is purely scientific” you said, experimenting with holding your own Aether shard. The vibrations in your hand akin to a gentle purr.

“Oh, entirely” Sylus agreed “until next time Miss Hunter.”

It was well past midnight when you got home. The toll of the evening weighed on your shoulders, leading you to take a hot shower in an attempt to undo the knots in your back. Your mind wandered as you lathered up your body wash. The N109 Zone Night Market had yielded some promising leads on illegal protocore trade activity. You had some names and faces to run through the Hunters Association system when you went back to work on Monday, and you wanted to cross reference them with your notes from your last mission too.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you jolted when you felt the Aether core pendant react. Sylus? You gently stroked the stone, feeling a comforting warmth emanate from it. Was he thinking of you? Or just touching the stone? He had looked handsome tonight. Way too handsome. Every time you saw him you felt like you were being drawn in closer and closer to him. It felt dangerous. And exciting.

You could blame the heat of the water for the slightly dizziness but the way the warm sensation flooded south was something else entirely different. Your mind flickered through the moments you shared tonight. The way you could feel his tense muscles as you gripped him on the back of his motorcycle; the moment when he tricked you into trying a so called N109 Zone street food staple only for you to take a bite and hate it instantly, the sound of his laughter and the intoxicating way he slyly smiled and attempted to quell your annoyance by buying you a sweet treat instead, the way the moonlight had illuminated him softly…

Without even realising it, your hand had begun to wander toward your hardening nipples, imagining it was his fingers pinching the pebbled peaks. You pictured him kissing the point where your shoulder met your neck and whimpered at the thought. How good would it feel if he was pressed against you? Grinding his erection into your ass whilst he bit down on your shoulder. Would he sprinkle in all those little pet names he’d developed for you?

“Can’t wait to bury myself inside you kitten. Going to fuck you nice and deep like you deserve.”

You felt your breath hitch. Your fingers traversed downwards, running up and down your slit. Your mouth fell open.

RING RING

You frowned.

RING RING RING.

You groaned in frustration, hurrying out of the shower and towards your phone. Surely even Wanderers knew that they should give it a break at this time of night?! Your skin was still warm but you’d broken out in goosebumps from the sudden temperature difference. Your robe was tied way too loosely around you too, exposing your skin to the cool temperature of your room.

“H-hello?” You answered, you hadn’t realised that you were panting until you stood there. You attempt to clear your throat and repeat your greeting. You’re met with silence. You pull the phone away only to see it’s a hidden number.

“Who is this?” you hear the smallest sound, something akin to a breath and then the call ends. What a waste of time! You throw your phone down on your bed in frustration, and close your eyes for a couple of seconds. The call had interrupted your flow and you suddenly wanted nothing more than some instant ramen and your bed.

After changing into your pyjamas and indulging in some late night cup noodles (sorry Dr Zayne!), you settled into your night time routine and sighed in relief as you nuzzled into the latest plushie you’d won at the arcade. Sleep found you almost immediately, and you found yourself slipping into a dream almost instantly.

There had been problem after problem for the past couple of days, and whilst Sylus was happy to delegate tasks down to his underlings, there had been several particularly tricky issues which required his full attention.

‘So bothersome’ he thought, raking a hand through his hair, which no doubt, was a mess from the repeated action. The words had started to blur together a little and he took his glasses off momentarily to shut his eyes. Maybe he needed a break? The fire he had started when he first reached his study crackled in the fireplace, providing a source of warmth that was much needed on such a cold night. He resolved internally to at least work through the contract sitting on the top of the pile of paperwork on his desk before he called it quits, and put on the glasses again to scan through the fine print.

Not ten minutes later he heard a knock on the door.

“Enter.” He had expected it to be the twins, but blinked in surprise when you peeked your head around the door.

“You’re still awake?” Sylus’ expression softened as he set down the pen and leaned back on his dark chair.

“It’s hard to sleep when you’re not next to me. It’s so cold tonight.” You said, running a finger along his desk as you made your way towards him.

“Look” you shrugged off the silky robe he usually donned, letting the soft material pool on the hardwood floors at your feet.

“I have goosebumps.” You offered your bare arm up for him to inspect.

Sylus’ lips twitched, as his eyes hungrily drank in your near naked form. The crimson lingerie set he had seen in Linkon City just the other week had clearly stuck in his head more than he thought. The delicate lace of the bra looked so pretty against your skin; equal parts sensual and feminine. And despite you standing with only a small gap between your legs, he could already spy the silk framing the open crotch detailing of the panties.

“You do look chilly” he remarked, running his hand up your exposed arm before placing the palms of his hands on the back of your stocking clad thighs, urging you closer to him. You obliged, naturally, arching your back when his hands kneaded the flesh of your thighs and ass.

“Are you almost done with work?” You asked, your own hand finding his cheek to caress. His skin was still smooth from having shaved that morning.

Sylus sighs “hmmm not quite yet.” He pinches the top of his nose and closes his eyes for a second, before leaning into your touch.

“You’re tired” you murmur gently.

“I need to finish this.” He reluctantly nudges his glasses up the elegant bridge of his nose.

“You need a break” you chide and slip yourself in the gap between his form and the desk.

“Sweetie-“ but you interrupt him.

“Just ten minutes, Sy. Please?” He could never resist your puppy dog eyes.

“What do you suggest I should do?”

You lean in so that your noses are touching “leave it with me.”

You press your lips against his, silencing any doubt. He relaxed against your touch, letting your tongue languidly stroke his own as you mounted the chair to straddle him. He can already feel your molten core through his jeans as you begin to rock your hips experimentally against his own. It doesn’t take long for him to reciprocate, and you take it as an opportunity to pull your mouth away from his. He groans at the loss of your lips, which you drag to the column of his pale neck. You feels his heartbeat quicken when you ghost your teeth against his neck and playfully nip him.

“Harder” he urges, and you comply, sinking your teeth a little more into his skin to leave a mark. You lick at the same point as an almost apology, gasping quietly when he ramps up his thrusting. You’re soaking the denim of his trousers but he doesn’t care. He’s so focused on how your body quivers and pushes and pulls at his touch that he almost doesn’t notice you unbuckle his belt and slip a hand into his boxers.

Both of your eyes look downwards as you squeeze his length, running your hand up and down his dick.

“Fuck…” Sylus sighs. How long had he waited for this? He watches, hypnotised, as you spit into your hand and massage it into the head, just the way he likes.

“You’ve been working so hard lately” you murmur, continuing to work your hand up and down in a tantalisingly slow manner.

“I think my fiend deserves a treat for all his hard work.” Sylus tips his head back, closing his eyes as he becomes putty in your hands. He half opens them to watch you slip off the chair and onto your knees.

“What’re you doing kitten?” He mumbles, mourning the loss of your heat against his body.

“Shhhh” you reassure him before leaning forward to lick a stripe up his shaft. He groans as you press kisses onto his dick before opening your mouth and taking him inch by inch into your throat. One of his hands clutches your hair into a rough ponytail, whilst the other hovers at your jaw as he guides you to take more and more of him. The cavern of your mouth is hot and wet, and whilst he can feel your throat constrict you seem to want to take more of him.

“S-so good for me” he mumbles, and his thumb blots a tear running down your cheek.

“Ah, ah kitten, no need to get ahead of yourself” he gently chides, which naturally spurns you on more. Sylus’ head falls back again, mouth open as he shallowly thrusts into your throat. His eyes flicker open when he hears the wet sound of your fingers touching yourself as you pull back a little to concentrate on lavishing his length with your tongue.

“Fuck… is this turning you on, sweetie?” You hum in response and Sylus groans at the feeling of the vibration “mmm such a pretty little slut for me… taking me so deep in your throat like this. Ah- I guess I wasn’t the only one dreaming of this.” His grip on your hair tightens and you can tell from his desperate pants that he’s reaching his limit. You quicken your actions, ignoring how lewd you sound slobbering and choking on his dick. Your jaw aches but he’s so close that you can’t stop. Your own pussy clenches around nothing as you soak your thighs in your own arousal.

“Fuck I’m going to-!” You brace yourself for his cum to spurt down your throat, and-

RING RING RING

You groan and open your eyes as your alarm slowly pulls you out of sleep’s clutches. You lay there for several moments, half dazed as you acclimatise back to your surroundings. Your hand eventually silences the alarm but you struggle to move beyond looking at your phone blearily. You had slept all night but still felt tired. You made a half formed mental note to ask Dr Zayne why that was and moved the heel of your hand to your face to rub the sleep out of your eye.

Yawning hurts, you figure out very quickly, and you attempt to move your jaw a few times to loosen it. It aches. And your throat felt dry too. Were you sick? You slowly sit up and hiss at the slight grazes on your knees. Surely that wasn’t a symptom of a cold was it?

It’s only when you strip off your sweat soaked pyjamas for a shower that you notice that your underwear is soaked through and your thighs are slick. You shiver and observe your body in the mirror. It looks much the same but there are tell tale signs that something happened. Your sleepy mind tries to focus as you wash yourself but you can only concentrate on putting yourself through the motions of your morning routine.

Last night still lingers in your thoughts at work, though you choose to compartmentalise it for a later time. Your mornings are filled with training and you dispel some low level Wanderers who spawn on the edge of town, which makes it easier to forget but it becomes near impossible to ignore in the afternoon as you sit at your desk, rereading the last sentence of the report you just wrote.

“Here” a mug of something warm and citrusy is placed on your desk and you look up in surprise at Xavier.

“Thanks, how did you know?” You give the liquid a small sip, relishing its soothing warmth against your sore throat.

“Your voice sounds pretty bad. Are you sure you’re not sick?” Xavier’s hand touches your forehead as his blue eyes narrow.

“I’m fine. I think I just fell asleep last night without my blanket. I found it on the floor this morning, I must have kicked it off me at some point.”

“Were you dreaming?”

Images from your dream flood your mind and you look away, afraid your blush will reveal the nature of those dreams.

“Yeah” you cough awkwardly “I think I did but it’s a bit blurry.”

“Maybe you were fighting Wanderers” Xavier speculates “or trying to beat the claw machine again.”

“Ugh don’t remind me! I was so close to getting that Sunset Tomato!”

Xavier smiles and shakes his head “you’re at the arcade so much it’s making its way into your dreams. You should really take a break.”

“Maybe… Have you ever had a dream that felt real?”

You nervously look up at Xavier, half expecting him to be alarmed but he quietly considers your question instead.

“Hmmm… what do you mean ‘felt real’?”

“Like, it felt like you were there. Physically. As though your body and your spirit and everything wasn’t in your bed anymore but in a whole new environment.” Xavier’s face remains unchanged.

“Forget it” you quickly dismiss “dumb question.”

“Not necessarily. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a dream like that but I remember reading something a while ago online about astral projection. Maybe there’s something to it?”

Xavier’s words stick in your mind long after you leave work. Could you actually be astral projecting into Sylus’ dreams? You try to Google it but the results are either too vague or sound too unfounded for you to take seriously, and you certainly weren’t feeling confident about searching ‘Can you astral project into your sort of enemy sort of crush’s wet dream?’

That was another thing. The dream was definitely his which raised hundreds of other questions in its wake - did he like you too or was it just a coincidence that the dream starred you? Did he dream about you often? In similar positions? And what was with the lingerie? You had never seen something that toed the line between obscene and elegant before. Was that the kind of thing he liked? You glanced at the laundry you had just hung up to dry - black, plain, utilitarian underwear - maybe it was better for everyone if your affair remained in the dream sphere…

[rezwrites]

First I want to say I am obsessed with your Agatha x Reader fics. They give me a lot of joy through my last shitty weeks. I adore you

Second, I have an idea/request so Dark Agatha, who for Reader is just her friendly neighbor, but Agatha has been keeping an eye on Reader since Reader arrived in the neighborhood. One night while Reader was returning from a party and decides to walk home in the middle of the night, Agatha drives her car ‘casually at the same time’ and offers to take Reader at home. Of course, Reader accepts… what could happen?

Dark + jealousy + possessiveness + obsession + dub-con

No pressure. Take your time 

I really glad you like them! Writing them gets me through my shitty days too.

Warnings: +18 MDNI, dub-con, alcohol consumption, fingering

Quite footsteps filled the silent night as you cautiously walked down the sidewalk. The humid air causing your skin to become sticky with sweat. The low rumble of a car engine grew louder as it drove closer. You tensed up hearing the slight squeak of the brakes.

“Dear?” a soft saccharine voice called from behind you. Upon seeing Ms. Harkness peeking her head out her window, you breathed sigh of relief, relaxing. “It’s late. What’s are doing walking about?”

Ms. Harkness has been an angel ever since you moved into the neighborhood. She was always a shoulder to lean on whenever you need it. Never judging, always listening. The most wonderful neighbor you could ask for. Heavy disappointment washed over you for letting her see you this way.

You tried your hardest not to slur your words in front of her, but failed. Even if your words worked you probably looked a mess carrying your shoes, walking without them. “I’..m just walking… home,” You point in the direction of your home.

A deep frown etched in her features as she exited her car, nearing you, “How much have you had to drink?”

“A few..” you trailed off struggling to remember. Cups, glasses, a few shots. There was so much alcohol flowing throughout the night, it was hard to keep track in your addled mind.

“Hun, you’re too drunk to be out here alone. Let’s get you home.” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders, guiding you to the passenger side of her car. Climbing back in her seat Agatha set the air conditioning towards you, making sure you’re comfortable before driving off.

Pulling into the driveway Agatha swiftly came around helping you out of the car. Eyeing the flowerbeds under the windows of the house you realized this wasn’t your house. “This is your house, Ms. Harkness.” You stated, confused.

“Yes, dear. It will be easier for me to take care of you here tonight.” She rubbed your back soothingly as she guided you to the front door, “Besides, how would your family react if you came home in this state?”

She’s right. Your parents- your father, really, would berate you endlessly if you came home this wasted.

Guiding you upstairs she kept a steady hand on your back, patient as you took your time up each step. “I’ll wash your clothes and bring you a fresh pair, honey,” Agatha assured, placing you on her bed. Agatha scurried over to her dresser, bringing back a light hoodie and shorts. Agatha disappeared into the connecting bathroom, you took that time to change. Pulling on the hoodie the soft material on the inside felt like velvet again your skin.

Falling back against the bed you listened to Agatha get closer, collect your clothing, then walk out the room. Hearing her footsteps gradually grow and stop next to you, you have her a bit of insight of tonight, “I thought she liked me, that we had a connection. Only to see her dragging the quarterback upstairs.”

She audibly sighs tucking her arms underneath you, adjusting your body back against the pillows, “See, honey. This is what happens when you mess with girls like that.” She runs her thumb over your eyebrows, smoothing them down.

She hated to watch you fall for girls that lacked any substance. Anger in her eyes every time she saw you with someone who would ultimately break your heart. Agatha always told herself that you needed stable woman, one that can give you structure and support. You needed her. “Perhaps you need to slow down from finding a relationship.”

“Mmm…” The plush bed felt like a cloud underneath you, the faint scent of Agatha’s hoodie comforted you further, “Your bed is so comfortable, Ms. Harkness.”

“I’m sorry about tonight, sweetie.” Agatha pressed herself at your back. She gave you a kiss ghosting the back of your neck, her fingers playing with your sides. The patterns she drew lulled you into a light sleep, not noticing Agatha’s hand had dipped lower. Not until your hips jerked, her digits landing on your clit. Agatha’s serene voice soothed you, “Feels good?”

“…yes..” your body moved on it’s own, seeking Agatha’s touch once more. Her hand went lower, palm now rubbing against your bud. The coil in your lower stomach began to tighten, as Agatha ran her fingertips through the arousal that started to leak from you. Agatha peppered kisses wherever she could reach, sinking two digits into your quivering hole.

The alcohol in your system made you very sensitive, burying your face to stifle your moans. Each trust and rub on your core sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“Not yet,” A groan fell from your lips as Agatha halted her movements, removing her fingers from you, “I want to start the new year off right. Hearing your pretty moans at the stroke of midnight.”

You both laid there for a minute before Agatha plunged two fingers back into your pussy, setting a merciless pace. Using her other hand to hold you still by your hair to prevent you from hiding. Agatha shoved one of her legs between yours using it to spread you open, giving her a deeper access to your needy cunt. Guttural moans ripped from your throat when Agatha curled her fingers in tandem with her thrusts, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot.

Your whimpers and moans were music to Agatha’s ears. Hot juices coated her fingers creating the squelch that emits around the room. “I know you’re close. Come for me, babygirl.”

“Ah- Agatha!” you cried, shaking in her arms. The coils snapped, shockwaves of intense pleasure reverberated throughout your entire body, reaching every inch of you. Agatha held you tightly fucking you through your orgasm, until you were limp from exhaustion.

“Mine.” Agatha claimed, sucking a deep purple mark on the crook of your neck as you were dragged into a heavy slumber.

[kaissatou]

at your service | chp1

navigation .*･｡ﾟ jjk masterlist .*･｡ﾟ

plug!choso x nervous!reader ♡ (i got the idea of plug choso from @blkkizzat thank you!!)

summary: you were never a heavy smoker. But if it means seeing that pretty emo boy, you might take it up.

warnings: mentions of drugs, no direct smut but is hinted, based this reader from how i interact with my dealer LOL except my dealer isn’t a cute emo loml

wc: 1.7k the other chapters will be longer i promise!!

part 1 part 2

You don’t know why you assumed he would be scary. actually, you did- Though you’d never actually supplied your own weed from the plug yourself before, always choosing to watch by the side lines as Gojo very meticulously visited every dealer in the area under a one week span (and rating each one from a scale of 1 to 10- usually being a 4.5.) He never let you do the ‘dirty work’ yourself, as he liked to call it.

The only real image you had of dealers had been created and cultured up by stereotypes. Big, mean men facing big, mean prison sentences (if they were ever to get caught.) Or in movies, as even meaner men, tattooed drug lords with affiliations to the Italian mafia. You didn’t want to fuck with that.

But here you were now, on the doorstep of Gojo’s newest plugs apartment; an apparent ‘family friend’ ,which you thought looked all too nice to be the reside for a drug lord, the healthy potted plants which looked freshly watered and the welcome mat helping to steer your views and give you peace of mind, if only it was just a crumble. You can’t even remember how you let Satoru persuade you to do this. Maybe it was the promise of him making it up to you, which you would use to your advantage.

He never clarified that this so called ‘family friend’ had no actual connection to him, rather being a boy, who you now knew as Yuji (or pink hair boy’s) older brother.

Fixing your tote on your shoulder and bundling up your sleeves into stretched out material into your palms, you brought a nervous hand up to the door, shaking the door knocker once (and then once more for good luck) before stepping back, beyond the welcome mat, which was giving you the opposing idea of feeling anything but welcome, and further into the cramped space of his apartment building hallway, looking down at your feet.

You felt shy. Why, you didn’t know. You weren’t usually a shy person, per se. Quiet maybe, but never shy. Until now.

The door flies open.

Oh. Oh.

Reading glasses perched on his face, slightly wonky and drooped down to the bridge of his nose, hair messy with tousled strands loose, joggers sitting low on his hips, a contrast to the (all too tight) black compression shirt riding up slightly, giving you a glimpse of his sculpted body. A couple tattoos adorned his arms, fading into the sleeves of his shirt. You wondered if he had any more that you couldn’t see. Oh.

And then he’s leaning on the doorframe to look you up and down, and if your brain wasn’t short circuiting his gaze would’ve probably been uncomfortable. He clears his throat, knocking you back into reality.

Suddenly it feels all too hot in the corridor. Is it too late to leave? Glancing back to the elevator, if you ran it would take approximately 10 seconds to leave before he remembers your face-

“Hi.”

Ten seconds too late.

“Hi,” you look down at your shoes, knowing you will never hear the end of this from gojo. “I would like to buy some weed, please.”

He looks you up and down once more for good measure, then hums lowly to himself- which must be in acceptance and he’s opening the door further, and walking back inside his apartment. You take this as a sign to follow, stepping inside awkwardly and clasping your hands together, standing closely to the wall so if you need to run, you can. Then you remember he probably wants you to shut the door. Stop being an idiot.

It’s much more homely than you expected. There are framed photos scattered all around the place, most of them noticeably of him and Yuji, both smiling with wide grins. Where there aren’t photo frames there are posters, some of which you recognise. Metallica, Pierce The Veil, is that a My Chemical Romance vinyl?

“What do you want?” He’s fumbling through a box on a cabinet side, which suprises you when you notice it is pink, a harsh contrast to all the blacks and blues in his space.

“Um, weed,” he stops in his tracks at your words, looking right up at you. God, it is hot in here. His unwavering expression makes you question your previous words. “Please.”

And then you swear you see the ghost of a smile on his pretty lips, and he’s signalling with his large hand at you in a ‘come hither’ motion. You’re quick to react, scrambling closer to him so he is in just arms reach.

“I know that,” his voice is softer, gentler this time. “What type do you want?” You’re beginning to think he’s caught on to the fact that you’re new at this, and he’s trying not to scare you off. Is it that obvious? He leans over closer to you, his body heat practically radiating onto you. He proudly displays the contents of the case to you, running his fingers over clear baggies. “Like the strain,” he explains.

“Oh!” You smile sheepishly and scratch your neck. His attention switches from the case and back to you, tilting his head up to you to watch you in detail as you speak, making you crumble under his gaze. “Gojo usually gets it for me,” his expression changes into something unreadable. “He, uh, was busy.”

“Gotcha,” He signals a thumbs up to you then moves his attention back to the drugs. “I know what he likes,” he puts the contents of what you know now as, ‘Satoru’s favourite’, into a baggie, and shakes it a couple times before making sure it’s secure. Then he suddenly stops and turns back to you. “You know how to roll?”

No. You don’t. You contemplate lying to get out of his hair, but by the way he’s already opening the bag right back up, you’re sure your expression has already given you away. You’re about to tell him not to bother, but he’s already opening another box, and pulling out (more? You think you see a pattern going on here) pink rolling paper.

And then he’s licking the wrapping paper, and you know you’re a goner.

“He your boyfriend or somethin’?” He suddenly speaks up while grinding the weed, rendering you speechless. It takes you a good 10 seconds to finally figure out what, and who, he is talking about. His tone is unrecognisable, his expression unreadable as he bends slightly over the table.

“What, Gojo?” You scrunch your face up. “Ew, no way,” which makes him gaze back up at you, his hands still working on autopilot. “He’s just a friend. No more.”

He hums approvingly, making your heart flutter. You don’t even realise he’s rolled 4 perfect blunts until he’s standing up straightened infront of you. He drops them into a baggie as you rifle through your bag for your purse. He stops you. “What’s your name?” He questions out of the blue.

“Y/n,” you murmur. “What’s yours? And how much do I owe you?”

He places the baggie in your grasp and shrugs his hands. “Choso,” you put the bag in your tote, hands itching to find your purse. And then he’s walking across the room, leaving you alone and confused. “Give it to me next time.”

“What?” You quickly follow him, stppping in your tracks behind him as he takes his reading glasses off and places them on a desk, ruffling his hair before turning back to you. He gives you a sly grin.

“Come to me next time, Kay? Not Gojo. Pay me back then,” your face blushes a sickening red, thought there’s really no need to. He’s not flirting. He’s just behind friendly. So why does it make your chest tighten and your heart fuzzy?

“Okay.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Can’t believe you’ve got the hots for Choso Kamo.” Satoru’s words are muffled as he shoves yet another candy in his mouth. But you can understand him perfectly.

Did you? Well, you couldn’t deny that he was indeed very pretty. But you didn’t know anything about him. You didn’t know if he had a girlfriend. Oh, you hoped not.

He seemed oddly put together for a dealer. At first it was the potted plants, and then it was the framed photos, and then it was the glasses. A part of you yearned to know the books he’s read, his likes and dislikes, his- stop. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Gojo passes you the blunt.

“I have not!” You sit up, slapping the candy out of his hand, the gasp he lets out making you grin. The look Satoru gave you made it clearly known that he didn’t believe a word you said. And honestly, you didn’t either. You snatch the blunt from him, trying to (unsuccessfully) block him out.

Your eyes are red and hazy, and in a trance after smoking a blunt, (which heavily reminded you of the pretty little dealer) you made the horrific mistake of bringing up Choso, now subjected to his teasing.

“He wants to see you again. That’s very clear!” He accentuated his words as he sat up on his bed, slamming his hands on the mattress hard enough to make you jump.

“He probably just wants sales.” You defend, dropping you head back onto a plush pillow. You scoff and brush him off, though his words leave an empty pit in the bottom of your heart. Did he?

“He didn’t even take your money!” His words bring a wide grin to your face, making you immediately bring your hands to your face to cover yourself from Gojo’s antics. “See!”

You roll your eyes. Gojo plucks the blunt back from your fingers, falling back onto the mattress beside you. A comfortable silence falls upon the two of you, the only sounds being the harsh breathing of Satoru as he takes another puff, and the consistent buzzing of the ceiling fan. Your eyes focused on it as it continued to spin in dizzy circles. 1, 2, 3-

Breaking the silence, you turn on your side to face Gojo again, red eyes blinking lazily. You speak, but no words come out. And then you try again. “Is he coming to your party?”

“Oh, you’re cooked.”

[viharbinger]

can i request a fred weasley x slytherin (maybe someone from black family) reader? thank u so much!!

๋࣭ ⭑ The Lion and the Snake

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Reader

plotline: reader is a Slytherin with a death eater family. You're kinda disconnected from them and gives valuable information to the order of the phoenix, letting you stay at Grimmauld Place— where the notorious troublemaker Fred Weasley is. not to mention his giant crush on you.

A/n: I would like to do Fred x reader from the black family but I can't because I think it's kinda weird I'm sorrey 😭

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence and also it's a bit rushed sorry I was writing until 5am and didn't even sleep plus it's a school night😭💔

Grimmauld Place was where you and Fred Weasley met each other for the first time. Surely as fellow Hogwarts students, you've met each other before once or twice, right? Nope! You were part of the Slytherin house and he was in Gryffindor and shared only one class together.

But you've definitely seen him before for sure, whenever he and his identical twin were getting detention or losing house points very loudly in class. Even when you've been ushered out of the library when it was starting to get late at night, you'd notice the twins sneaking off somewhere from their tower.

They'd never taken the initiative to talk to you, though, as they never really needed to. But Fred does notice the way you've been targeted for your family name. Even Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson might try to talk with you to join forces but you just ignore them everytime, earning some foul expressions in return.

Yet he can't seem to ignore the fact that you're breathtaking. He can't believe it himself that he's thinking of you in such a way.. And he definitely lingered his eyes on you a little too long one time during the Yule Ball. Eventually, he started asking people around what you're like, what you're up to if you left the class abruptly or who you went to the Yule Ball with— which was weeks ago.

He could never catch you alone though. You would somehow always blend into the crowd and disappear or just be too busy with something else to be talking to anyone.

Fast forward, you spent the last few months sharing information with your favourite teacher, Professor Lupin on some information about the death eaters' plans you heard from your family which granted you a spot in Grimmauld Place. Your family isn't exactly the kindest folk and will likely not even notice you gone for a whole summer.

Everything Fred's ever thought about you became old and he could learn everything about you all over again— properly.

"Fred, right?" That was probably the first time he's ever heard your voice. Well, the first time he's ever heard it clearly because he'd only ever hear you softly whisper questions to the teachers privately about upcoming tests. And he wouldn't lie... He liked your voice. He liked the way you said his name.

"The one and only." He jests, sticking a hand out for you to shake. You beamed up at him and proudly shake his hand. He had an eruption of butterflies all over his stomach there, but painfully ignored it.

"How come I've never met you in Hogwarts?" He questions, even though he perfectly knows why. The question colors your face into a darker hue, "Well, I just didn't really like talking to people." You shrugged.

"Not even me? I'm sure me and my brother have been quite the topic is every conversation these days." He boasts, to which you laugh at. "No.. I've just been a little busy with my own studies is all." A little busy? He's been trying to catch you at every opportunity! "Are you sure you're a Slytherin? Seems like you're an overachieving Ravenclaw to me." He teases, peering over the books you held up to your chest.

"I plan to do something big in the future." You smiled before walking off. That's definitely the most he's ever heard you say in one sitting. Has something changed you over the summer or what? Not that he doesn't like it of course.

Despite your efforts in telling the Order some truths and details, Molly wouldn't let you in on the meetings because you were too young. Like Harry, Fred and the rest of the group, they were frustrated about it!

๋࣭ ⭑

After a quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor, Draco Malfoy couldn't keep it in himself to make fun of the Weasleys. He got a little too far and started insulting Molly and the aftermath of it wasn't pretty at all. Draco got beat up by George and Harry, Fred had to be restrained by his teammates, and Umbridge started being unfair again.

She took away Fred, George and Harry's brooms and positions in their quidditch team permanently. This earned a foul mood from Fred the entire week, which even got you concerned.

You finally got him to alone one day outside the Gryffindor tower when you were on your way down to the library. "Hello, Fred. Fancy a study with me at the library?" All of a sudden, his bad mood seemed to falter. But he hates the idea of studying now that he's realised his dreams, honestly— which was to open up the joke shop with George. Not to mention he was planning to cook up some more products to ruin Umbridge's day at the moment. But this was the first time you've ever invited him somewhere and he wasn't going to say no!

At the library, you sat side by side sharing a book, awfully close to each other. "I've heard you lost your broom and can't play for Gryffindor anymore. I'm sorry about that." You whispered, not looking up from the book. "Sorry for what? It just gives me more reason to need to ruin Umbridge's life." He grinned, completely forgetting about the book in front of him.

"I saw you earlier, you looked like you were throwing daggers behind Malfoy's head—" You were about to say but was cut off by his words. "Let's not talk about that right now. I want to know more about you." He says suddenly, earning an eyebrow raise from you.

"What do you want to know?" You eyed him carefully, earning a nervous feeling from him. "I just wanna know what my favourite Slytherin is up to these days." He shrugged casually. "I've been busy reading up on the syllabus lately and decided to watch your game a few days ago." You start off.

"Fred, you've got to do something about her! She's driving me mad! I could barely take enough from the other Slytherins, let alone her!" You suddenly exclaim before he could form up a response to the first thing you said. He's never heard you be so worked up over something, earning a sharp glare from Madame Pince the librarian.

"Okay, okay. I was planning to anyway. Just hold on, because me and George are gonna give her hell." He whispers to you, earning a lovely smile on your face which he wants permanently etched onto his mind. "Promise me that. I don't want to see Ron get his broom taken away either." You held up your pinky to him.

Ignoring the temperature rising in his face, he hooks his pinky around yours. "I'll do it for your sake so you don't end up in Azkaban for something worse." He jokes so you wouldn't notice how giddy that childish pinky promise got to him.

๋࣭ ⭑

Weeks go by and the school was taken over by Umbridge. Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy were giving you a hard time everyday for some reason. One day, you spoke out of turn with Pansy when she started probing you on why you never talk to anyone, earning a hard slap on the face.

Then, came the blood out your nose. No amount of tissues could help you out then. As onlookers go by, Fred was walking around with George when he notices your never ending nose bleed. He ushers George away before you could look up at them, earning a smug look from the other twin.

"What happened? You alright there?" He immediately sits by you, patting your back. "Pansy." You grunted, keeping the tissues over your nose. "That slithering...!" He was about to stand up but you pulled him down.

"Shut up and help me. I know you can fix this, that's why you're here, right?" You glared at him, your innocent and shy facade seemed to be replaced by a true Slytherin at the moment.

"Oh. Right." He quickly pulls out a purple coloured sweet from his pockets and hands it over to you. A few seconds went by and the iron taste in your tongue and blood were finally fading. "Perhaps I didn't take care of myself properly these days to be bleeding this much over a slap..." You muttered, fidgeting the wrapper and tissues in your fingers.

"Maybe you should put down the books for a change. I know our exams are coming up but you could use a little relaxation." He smoothly slides his arm over your shoulder, inching closer to you. "Your product really worked! You must be really clever to be able to pull this off. Is this what your mum gets so worked up about at Grimmauld?" You exclaim, examining the wrapper closely.

Perhaps the praises he was getting from you was making his stomach do flips. He was up close and personal with you now, to tell you something over the noise of the students walking by.

"Well... Okay, I'll let you in on a little secret. I—" He was cut off by a magical force that pulled you and Fred apart. "Remember the rules, children!" Umbridge tuts with her wand out, and walks past you both with her loud heels echoing in the hallway.

That interaction certainly made you both blush a dark hue, even though you weren't about to do anything... Were you? "I'll be seeing you then. Thank you for... This." You stood up to clear the tension, waving the wrapper to show what you meant. "Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it." He plays it off as you walked away.

He sighs and brushes his hair and mentally curses that god awful Umbridge. Why did she have to come by just then?

๋࣭ ⭑

Fred and George just played the craziest prank on Umbridge. They disrupted the O.W.Ls with their charmed fireworks- beautiful fireworks. They have always said they wanted to do something outside of their academics, so they wouldn't really care if they were expelled.

Their act of bravery became legend, they were now even conversation expressions. Students were now pulling pranks on Umbridge as well and saying "I'm about to pull a Weasley!" It was really funny. But you never got to see the twins after that because you were still stuck in school with your nose in books, dreadfully waiting for the next holiday break to see them.

The most dreadful day for the Order came. Sirius Black passed away from the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. And the announcement of Voldemort returning for good was grim. Everyone was dreadful and sad for weeks.

However, the opening of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes brought smiles upon faces and yours too. You've finally got the chance to meet your favourite Weasley twin.

"Thought I'd never see you come by, L/n." Fred says, puffing out his chest to show off his new outfit. "Fred, this store is amazing! And you're looking dapper." You gasp, looking him up and down.

"Oh, you make me blush." He plays it off. "Can we have a chat? I think George can handle himself for a little bit, no?" You tugged on his sleeve, slowly pulling him towards the entrance. "You mean I can get away from him? Don't mind If I do." He laughs, looking at George for a moment before following you outside.

The outside of the store was depressing. Not many shops were open and the mood was different compared to the inside. Ever since the attacks from the death eaters and Voldemort, everyone's been too scared to be outside.

You hugged Fred tightly the moment you got him out. "I missed you. Why couldn't you wait to get expelled till it was our exams?" You whined, swaying him back and forth.

"If I knew you'd miss me this much, I wouldn't have done it." He pats your back, dropping his head onto yours. "I loved those fireworks you did, it was brilliant! Smart! And your store... I can't believe you're really making it out there." You gush, looking at the store.

"Yeah, well... Me and George just thought people needed a laugh these days." He shrugs it off like as if his insides aren't fluttering right now. Has the weeks that had gone by while he was gone made you even more gorgeous?

"I think you're amazing with what you do, Fred." You lowered your voice. Was it just him, or was the street getting really quiet, too? The proximity between the two of you was getting closer. "I just did what I thought was right." He pretends to not notice the warmth from your body being so close to him.

"I'm sorry but would you mind if we... Kissed?" He quickly says, clearly frustrated by how painful the tension was. "Not at all." You replied, your face just inches from his. And the gap closed.

You were kissing... You and Fred were kissing! You couldn't believe it yourself. You reckon it was the quiet street driving you mad to start kissing this troublemaker. Your left hand were clenching his hair, the other on his cheek. His was on either side of face, like as if you'll run away if he lets go. The kiss was so soft and sweet, he wanted more. But you had to let go when George called out for Fred to come back.

"I'm not done with you, yeah? I know you've graduated, so you can certainly come back here anytime. So.... Come back here, soon?" He looks at your eyes with so much love. "Why are you talking to me like I'm not already dating you?Of course I will." You joked, beaming up at him before slowly letting go of him.

For the rest of the day, Fred was buzzing with excitement and excitedly promoted products to his customers with even more enthusiasm. George thought he's lost his mind.

© This is my works please don't steal or copy.

Like and reblog to help a girl out!

[mrcrawly]

Jayvik headcanons

hello jayvik nation im dumping these here bc im almost done with the second chapter of my fic and these have been stewing a while

Viktor

has the most beautiful curly calligraphy handwriting ever but it's so curly and fancy you genuinely can't read it

Ibuprofen allergy. source: my twisted mind

fidgeting with stuff all the time. paperclips, pencils, clips, rubber bands, the buttons on his vest

bonus to that one: he messes with his vest buttons so much that Jayce is constantly having to sew them back on when they come off

chronic nail biter

big sweet tooth

great cook but a shitty baker

"get even" kind of person; probably holds grudges from the second grade

doesn't cry very often but can be sensitive in the sense that he cares very much how his closest friends view him and internalizes their opinions

love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service

likes to be touched but not held (autism)

hates winter because it makes his joints hurt, summer is unbearably hot and he can't stand it, he has spring allergies; default fall enjoyer

animals really like him and strays tend to show up at the lab or follow him around

children like Viktor. Viktor doesn't like children back

kids will sometimes randomly talk to him and tell him things in public and he doesn't have the heart to be mean to them or ignore them so he just sits there like "mhm ☺️" while they talk until their parents apologize and walk off

probably has a pet reptile (a turtle or some kind of lizard methinks)

cold natured and wears seven hundred billion blankets to bed every night no matter the season

identifies as male in the sense that he was born a man and just never bothered to think much about it but doesn't fully grasp the concept or purpose of gender. could tell you what makes a man a man or what makes a woman a woman but doesn't understand why nor care

interested in jayce from the beginning but never felt as if he was in competition with Mel

sorry they can pry the JayMelVik love triangle out of my cold dead hands ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

not very affectionate because he doesn't know how to discuss his own feelings but very good at soothing other people

Jayce

dysgraphia (i think that's the term?) – not many issues with reading but not the best with writing

viktor is hyperlexic so it works out alright

AMAZING at drawing. like if he didn't have the passion for science he would be an artist. he draws out all their diagrams and blueprints and Viktor labels them

can cook pretty well but doesn't like to do it; if he stays at Viktor's place then Viktor always cooks for him

likes baking because he controls every single thing that goes in and it's very exact

both he and Viktor have chronic pain in their hands (carpal tunnel) from spending all their time taking notes and working with small delicate parts

he doesn't complain about his even when it bothers him because it feels silly knowing how bad Viktor's pain is every day 💔💔💔💔

10,000 step haircare routine but Viktor's looks better anyway

used to be prone to acne as a teen (if accutane existed in arcane he would have been an accutane kid)

(i was an accutane kid and im projecting)

shaved regularly pre-hexcore because his father had facial hair and he looks a lot like his dad anyway; he was always a little worried if he grew it out it would remind Ximena too much of his dad and make her sad

took entire days off of work and pushed deadlines back when Viktor got bad just so he could stay with him when Viktor was in too much pain to do practically anything

used to deliberately sleep in the lab because Viktor would stay late and he didn't want Viktor to be alone in case he passed out or something happened

love languages are physical touch, gift giving, and quality time

money doesn't exist to him when he's buying other people things. can't do secret santas at Christmas bc he constantly exceeds the budget

simultaneously one of those people who legitimately cannot accept gifts and feels bad when people give him things

was genuinely so in love with Mel; used to have dreams about marrying her and living somewhere quiet with her

most definitely forgave her for manipulating him on the council and understood her but it was just never the same

bottom. argue with the wall

OUGHHHH my shayla 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

guess my favorite character challenge level impossible (it's so unbelievably obvious)

[the-witty-pen-name]

Video Girl

Modern AU

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Youtuber!F!Reader

Summary: Eddie stumbled across your YouTube channel when you posted a review about Corroded Coffin’s newest album. Now, he’s binged all your videos and your channel has become his “comfort channel” that he has on all the time while he’s feeling lonely on tour. When they’re invited to perform at a convention he wonders if he’ll finally get the chance to meet you.

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: pining; fluff; angst; cyber-bulling/mean comments directed towards reader; kissing; slowish burn; eddie absolutely down bad; substance use; cursing

A/N: he convention is essentially VidCon- I’ve never been to VidCon or any other type of convention before. I have no idea what I’m really talking about but this is like my best guess as an outsider as to how conventions like these may look? Sorry in advance. I really loved the idea of the reader being a content creator but I don’t know the details on how being a creator at a con would work haha I did my best. 

Eddie falls asleep every night to the sound of your voice. 

When the tour bus is driving overnight as they head to the next city, he rests his phone on the wall of his bunk, watching YouTube videos with the volume low as he tries to drift off. One of your videos had played as a recommendation automatically and he was too tired to turn off his phone. He laid on his stomach, too tired to move but still not fully asleep. 

“Hey everyone,” you smiled, offering a wave to your video's viewers. “I’m really excited for this video- it’s been literally requested non-stop since my last Corroded Coffin video-”

The mention of the band, makes his ears perk and he opens his eyes again- suddenly not as tired as he just was a second ago. You’re holding up a copy of the band’s newest vinyl and talking about how this video will be your live reaction to listening to it for the first time. 

Eddie usually doesn’t watch or pay attention to reviewers- he doesn’t really care for typical critics. However, he just ended up watching it. He smiles to himself as you excitedly tear the plastic to open your vinyl, and you show your viewers a tour of the record sleeve, the photos inside, everything visual. You beam excitedly at the included square posters and the book with the lyrics. You hold up one of the posters. 

“Literally the hottest guy I think I’ve ever seen,” You smile bashfully, the poster showing Eddie playing his guitar at one of their shows. Eddie can’t help but blush. “You guys already know, Eddie Munson is my celebrity crush- has been for like years… ever since the EP came out like what? 6 years ago? He’s gorgeous. Anyways…” You get back on topic, focusing on talking about the visuals and the album's concepts. You provide your own opinions and interpretations and Eddie can’t help but just really appreciate how much you appreciate all of the effort the band put into every aspect of the album. 

Eddie can’t help as his whole chest swells with pride with each of your reactions. You practically jump out of your seat with excitement at the riffs, the way you head bang to the drum solos, the way you pause and take your time to absorb lyrics. It’s so endearing. He’s smiling to himself as you go on excitedly. 

From that moment, he watched everything you posted. Your channel was a bit eclectic- album reviews, gaming, vlogs… he watched everything. Your vlogs were probably his favorite. When he’s in his bunk winding down, it kind of feels like being on FaceTime with a friend. He loves watching just the normalcy of your life compared to his. Sometimes, his heart aches for simplicity like that. He can picture himself there, sitting with you in your car after you went through the drive through, taking you to the bookstore, helping you cook. He wishes he could have something like that. 

“Holy shit guys,” you smile, you cover your face with your free hand while you hold your phone. Using his burner account, Eddie is watching your most recent TikTok that’s been reposted to your Instagram story. You show a paparazzi photo that’s been taken of Eddie recently, you zoom in and show that under his flannel and his jacket, he’s wearing your merch. “Eddie Fucking Munson is wearing my merch! My merch! Shit, this can’t be real. That’s my shirt!” 

Eddie recognizes where that photo was taken almost immediately. He’s walking out of the hotel they stayed in last weekend after their shows in Toronto. He and the other guys were leaving out the back entrance, thinking they’d be safe from view. Of course, there was a pap with a long lens. 

He’d been up all night, and he looked like it. His hair was even more unruly than usual, he was sporting dark under eyes, and he was wearing the clothes he went to bed in- old sweats and your shirt. He was embarrassed to have a photo of him like that circling around the internet. No matter how often it happens, he can never get used to it. It always sucks. 

But right now, you are so happy and it’s all Eddie can focus on. You’re smiling so wide, and he’s the reason for it. Your eyes are big with excitement and it’s like your joy is jumping off his phone screen directly into his chest. He couldn’t even care less about the picture now, or how he looks. It doesn’t matter. He’s just happy watching you be happy. All of his initial worries just melt away as you talk to the camera. 

“I can’t even wrap my head around that one- Eddie Munson knows I exist. And two, he’s watched my videos? Jesus Christ, I don’t know if I’m more excited or embarrassed,” you flush. Eddie chuckles. He likes the story and puts his phone down so he can focus. Later on, the same warm feelings bubble up again when he sees that you tweeted that since that photo began to circulate, you’ve gained thousands of new followers and that your tshirt completely sold out on your site. You tweet at him directly thanking him. He screenshots it. 

Eddie originally wasn’t thrilled about the band going to perform at a convention right in the middle of their break on the tour. A beautiful month of doing nothing now suddenly interrupted. However, when you post that you’re going- he doesn’t mind so much anymore. 

Apprehension clouds his mind once he starts to think about it too much. You’ll probably think he’s a freak- some creepy stalker if he ever admits to you how much he watches your content. Despite you saying many times that he’s your celebrity crush, he can’t imagine living up to any sort of idea of him that you have in your head. He’ll fall short, you’ll reject him, and he’ll never be able to live it down. It’ll break him. 

You’re a nervous wreck as you look over the schedule- your eyes narrowing on the line-up of live performances. How in the hell did the convention center manage to book Corroded Coffin? You haven’t been able to think about anything except Eddie Munson since your friend had sent you that photo. Your mind races with questions. You want to know how many videos he’s seen- has he seen the ones where you essentially make a fool of yourself talking about him? Does he even know who you are or is it someone else’s shirt? Is he a subscriber? You can’t even fathom that you exist in the timeline where one of the biggest stars on the rise in some capacity knew of your existence.You can’t even think straight. 

Fans are screaming outside the convention center as the band arrives in a large black SUV. Eddie’s palms are sweating, and he is more nervous than he thought he’d be. The anxious feeling he’s experiencing has nothing to do with the crowd, the cameras, the performance- it’s all because of you. Looking at the building they will shortly be escorted into, all he can think about is how you’re here- after the months of pining from behind the security of his phone, he’s going to be at the same place as you. He can’t let the opportunity to meet you pass him by. 

Jeff and Gareth shove him to pay attention when he doesn’t look up from his phone when the car finally stops. They exchange a knowing look that Eddie deos his best to ignore. He got wrapped up in photos of you- watching your story as you post selfies with your friends as you’re walking around the convention center. Your smile is infectious to him. He resolved a while ago it was the prettiest he’s ever seen, coming to terms with the fact that he's helplessly smitten. He tucks  his phone securely into the pocket of his jeans, and follows quickly behind his bandmates as they are ushered into the building safely. 

“Corroded Coffin just got here,” your friend squeals, as she shows you a livestream someone is taking from outside. You watch Eddie on the screen as he quickly walks into the building. He’s wearing the goddamn shirt again. Your face feels overwhelmingly hot as this begins to feel all too real. He waves to fans with a goofy, wide smile- sticking out his tongue and throwing up the devil’s horns with one of his hands. You watch his laughter and it makes your heart ache. 

He looks good. You’d think he’d look silly with the pink shirt but he looks so undeniably hot. He’s wearing black ripped jeans, heavy boots, and your baby pink shirt with the sleeves cuffed accentuating his tattoos. Your channel’s name is splayed across the expanse of his chest and you swear you short circuit. It’s only then that you fully allow yourself to admit that Eddie Munson not only knows that you exist- and he’s a fan. 

Your friends chatter excitedly, freaking out about the situation- because duh. Who wouldn’t be? You can’t even think because your heart is beating so incredibly loud and fast, and adrenaline is making your head throb. It’s a sensory overload, and you feel like you can’t wrap your head around it. You physically shake your head to try to subside the feeling. You needed to be on- you had to finish setting up your booth, be ready to meet people who subscribed to you. You couldn’t let yourself get bogged down by this, at least not yet. 

You hurried to get your table ready- tablecloth with your logo displayed on the front, merch folded into neat piles, your business cards in a small tray. Your channel name was displayed on a banner behind you that you had made to match. Your friends helped you set up the portable POS system as you set up a rack that you filled with your stickers. You didn’t really care if people bought anything, you were just excited to meet the people you’ve interacted with online since you started your channel. 

Understandably, a lot of people who approached your table immediately started asking you about Eddie. It was a lot of the same questions over and over but you didn’t mind that so much. They all had asked the same things you had been asking yourself- and you wanted to know the answers as badly as they seemed to. 

“No, no. I haven’t met him.”

“No, I didn’t know he watched my videos.”

“Yeah, it’s really crazy.”

“No, I didn’t send PR.”

“Yeah, no. I didn’t pay him to wear it.” 

Eddie anxiously shook his leg, trying to figure out if he could sneak away. Unfortunately, most instances- it feels like his time isn’t his own. He wishes he could just walk around with Jeff and Gareth, but there’s no way to safely do that. Everything needs to be planned out, timed out and they always need security. He doesn’t want to complain- it’s that everything needs to be a thing. He can’t just go up and talk to a girl. He needs to tell his security, who also needs to coordinate with the building security. It needs to be added to the timeline of the day. Before he knows it, there’s like fifteen moving pieces that need to be put in place so he can walk up to you. 

He knows it’s easier to just ask for you to be brought to him. He feels like that’s cheating. He’s the fan- he’s the one wanting the experience of meeting you. It makes him feel icky- sending buff intimidating security guys to ask you to follow them blindly- taking you away from the fun and people just so he can say hello? Makes him feel like he’d look like a douchebag. He understands it needs to be you in your world- he doesn’t want you to be the one who feels out of place. But then on the other hand, he’s drawing all this attention towards him and inadvertently to you if he does this. He worries about the scene he’s inevitably going to cause and he hopes you don’t resent him for it. 

It’s towards the end of day one. Most attendees are making their way over to the auditorium for some of the other live performances. Since Eddie figured most people would be heading to that while the vendors were getting ready to partially break down their booths, it might be the perfect time to walk around. It ended up working out more perfectly than Eddie would have hoped. 

Jeff and Gareth wanted to check out the other acts that were performing, so they went to go watch the concert. Eddie was able to walk around the near empty convention halls with his head of security following a couple of steps behind. He can see you in the distance. He feels warmth bubble up as he just observes your actions briefly from a short distance.

You’re packing up your merchandise and putting them into boxes, tucking them under your table to keep it out of the way until tomorrow. Three teenage girls cautiously approach you and you immediately stop everything to offer each of them a hug. You smile and chat with them- taking your time to ask them questions and thank them for talking to you. You ask them if you can take a picture with them and they nod enthusiastically. You wrap your arms around them like you’ve known them forever as your friend offers to take the picture. You hug them all again, sincerely thanking them for coming over to talk to you. 

Without needing him to ask, his security lets him approach you on his own. He stands far enough back that Eddie can feel independent but still close enough he can jump in if he needs to interfere. Eddie’s been racking his brain all day for the best thing to say to you when he finally gets to meet you. Of course, he has nothing. He’s so nervous and he’s praying to God that you won’t be able to tell. 

“Hey,” he says shyly as he approaches. He walks with his hands stuffed in his back pockets. 

Your eyes widen in surprise, though you guess you shouldn’t be that surprised. You try your best to play it cool, but you're not sure you’re pulling it off well at all. 

“Nice shirt,” you comment, with a smile. 

“I’m Eddie,” he introduces himself. He’s so shy, not at all like how you'd expect him to be. You can’t help but find it endearing. You introduce yourself too. 

“I, uh, I just wanted to tell you that I love you videos,” he compliments bashfully. “I think I’ve seen them all- I’m a big fan.” 

“Thank you- um, same. I mean, I’m a big fan of yours too. Not of myself, obviously,” you ramble, “Your music! Not videos, but yes- I also love your music videos…” 

“Thanks,” he replies, and you’re relieved to be cut off before you embarrass yourself further. “Listen, um, I wanted to ask- could we get a picture together?”

You straighten your posture and nod enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah- of course,” you reply. You go to smooth out your hair, and tug at the hem of your shirt. 

“You look great,” he insists and you feel flush at his compliments. You feel giddy, as he casually wraps his arm around your shoulders. He holds up his phone, making sure you're both in frame. You both smile and he snaps a picture of the two of you. 

“Do- do you mind sending it to me?” You ask. 

“Here,” he offers his phone to you, “Do you want to just send it to yourself?” You’re stunned. He’s trusting you with his phone? You text the selfie to yourself, and hand it back. 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“Are you going to the concert?” He asks, “I was going to meet Jeff and Gareth… do you want to come with me?”

“My friends are waiting for me..,” you say, and you’re a little disappointed to have to say no to him. “We’re supposed to meet up there actually.” 

“Well, you can just have them meet us at the box if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly. He hears his security sigh but he couldn’t care less. 

“If that won’t be too much trouble,” you insist. He shrugs it off. 

“Nah, don’t even worry about it,” he’s doing his best to be nonchalant. “What do you think?” He asks hopefully. 

“Yeah! I’ll text them, they’ll freak out,” you smile. You lean over to the security guy. “In like a normal way, they are harmless. The worst thing they’ll be is maybe loud. I swear.” 

The man offers a closed lip smile and nods. 

*** 

“It was just hanging out,” Eddie argues exhausted. He slumped in his seat and crossed his arms. The band’s publicist scoffs, pushing her phone across the table. 

“No, it’s not,” she chastises, “first, you wear the shirt. The pink tshirt was great- did wonderful; the public really liked it. But, then you wear this shirt again at a public event where it was confirmed this person would be in attendance. Then, you’re photographed with this girl and you didn’t think there’d be speculation? You’ve essentially confirmed a relationship.” 

“Wearing a fucking tshirt and posting a selfie confirms a relationship?” He retorts. 

“Not in normal circumstances, but you already know that there’s never normal circumstances.” 

“We’re not together.” 

“Eddie, this isn’t about lecturing you. Stop acting like a spoiled little kid. This isn’t about you- this is about everything you’ve built and accomplished; your band mates and their careers. It’s about all the people you employ. You can sit here and act like your actions don’t have consequences- and this isn’t about whether or not she’s a good person, or if you are or aren’t dating- it’s about thinking about the impact you have and why it’s so important to think about and plan these things.” 

“Literally no one would have anything to worry about. Her reputation is spotless, she does charity fundraisers, she makes YouTube videos about Stardew Valley for Christsake.”

“This time? Sure, but this isn’t the first time you’ve been reckless Eddie. You can’t deny you’ve done worse- this is just the newest thing.” 

“Jesus…”

“It’s better for optics when the three of you appear single.” 

“What the hell? We aren’t even dating! We hung out once.” 

“Eddie…”

“You’re telling me that people lose their jobs and no one buys our albums if I go out on a date?” 

“It’s gradual Eddie..  have you even given any thought on how this is going to affect her? The microscope you put her under? The swarm of crazed fans, angry and jealous and spiteful that it’s not them… you’ve sent the poor girl out to slaughter.” 

He recoils, shrinking further into the chair. Had it been that selfish and thoughtless? He didn’t imagine anything this upsetting could happen. He does feel like shit now- he didn’t think about how this attention would affect you. Maybe he had been blinded by his own infatuation. It’s not fair to you. He wanted to see you again, but maybe now he thinks he shouldn’t. You were so sweet, he thinks back on that day. He couldn’t imagine anyone hating you, or wanting to inflict that kind of pain his publicist is talking about. 

He looks at the pictures she’s trying to show him. The both of you chatting near her table- obviously taken from a distance and zoomed in. He’s blushing looking at you- of course he was. You’re both smiling, looking at each other and not paying attention to anything else. Then, photos taken of the concert. Sitting next to each other, legs brushed up against each other as you chat- completely ignoring the show. He’s leaning in close so he can hear you speak. Then, you’re standing next to each other, cheering and clapping for the performance. Well, more so that you’re applauding the artist, and Eddie is standing next to you- looking at you like a lovesick idiot. It’s painfully obvious that he’s into you. Now, he’s more worried if you picked up on that than anything else. And if he wasn’t anymore obvious in his body language, just to really drive the point home- he was wearing the pink t-shirt on top of everything else. 

“This is just the one post ET made about it,” she says, opening the comment section for him. “Look at the comments- this was posted an hour ago.” 

He can do much better kind of sad actually 

Mid 

She is so annoying

They both make me sick 

She’s not even that pretty 

Who even is she gross 

Why is she even there

It's obvious she’s just using him to grow her channel 

Eddie blink twice if you need help

Clout chaser 

Hundreds of comments like that kept pouring in. Of course, for every negative comment there were hundreds of positive- but Eddie couldn’t help but focus on the hateful things people were saying about you. He wanted to reply to every one of them and defend you. Who were these faceless, nameless assholes with nothing better to do? 

***

You had posted a vlog about your experience at the convention- completely leaving Eddie or anything Corroded Coffin out. You shared videos of you meeting subscribers, and you meeting your favorite creators. You shared fun videos of your friends and you trying the convention center food. However, as you should’ve expected, all of the comments were about Eddie. On your little corner of the internet, your following was overwhelmingly positive and supportive. Occasionally, you saw a comment that was obviously left by someone who sought out your channel after the pictures were posted- but otherwise, you were fine. 

You figured you’d be better off not to go looking for the negativity because you knew for sure you’d find it. Blocking and deleting is very easy to do, you decided a long time ago when you started your channel. You’re used to the occasional hate comment, and you haven’t checked your social media notifications on other platforms in so long. You were impressing yourself with how you’d handled the situation honestly. You figured you’d just stay offline for a few days and everything would mellow and go back to normal. You grossly underestimated the persistent attention that would soon hit you. 

When you tried to live stream for your most recent let’s play, you ended up deciding to end the stream way earlier than you usually would. You anticipated people joining to ask about Eddie or ask about the photos, but you underestimated the influx of viewers you’d receive. Your moderators weren’t able to keep up and the stream was completely overrun with spam comments and hate. You usually stream for a few hours but this happened about a half an hour into your live, and you decided to shut it down. You needed to regroup. You were startled- it was unexpected to say the least. You weren’t sure where to go from here. Almost immediately after you ended the live stream, you got a text. 

You okay?

Eddie had been watching? 

Yeah, I’m okay. That was just a lot. I didn’t know what to do. 

I’m sorry. It’s my fault. 

Nothing is your fault. You don’t need to apologize. I appreciate you checking in.

Of course sweetheart 

Sweetheart? You could squeal- just collapse on your bed and kick your feet. You wanted to just scream into your pillow. It was like that one text canceled out all the bullshit you just had to deal with. Thousands of people can comment that they hate you all day long, but you are the one he’s texting. You're the one he just called sweetheart. 

While you’re trying to decide how to respond, your phone begins to vibrate. He’s calling you. Your heart leaps and your stomach excitedly ties itself in knots. You hadn’t spoken to him since a couple of weeks ago at the convention. You gathered the courage to answer right before the call would get sent to voicemail. 

“Hey,” you answer, trying to sound casual. 

“Hey,” he replies. 

Eddie’s on the tour bus- he’s in another time zone that’s a few hours ahead of yours. He can hear Jeff snoring in the bunk under his and he’s sure Gareth must also be asleep. He pulled the draw curtain to muffle his talking, but he still wants to keep his voice down. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asked. “How are you holding up?” He winces. He hates that this is a thing. He resents that something like this would happen to you and he feels incredibly guilty. He did this to you, and you never asked for it. 

“I’m good- really,” you insist. “I’m just logging off. I think I just want to deal with it all tomorrow.” 

“I wanted to call you way sooner than this,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck nervously before he starts to lay down. “I’m sorry I didn’t- I really wanted to, but I don’t know- I sort of convinced myself you’d want nothing to do with me after all of this press and attention.”

“I do feel like I’m under a microscope a little bit,” you giggle, “But that has nothing to do with you. I was hoping you’d call. I’m glad you did.” 

“Our publicist isn’t too happy with me,” he explains. “Nothing to do with you-” he quickly makes sure to explain, “She just likes to plan out everything and she gets mad when I go rogue.” 

“So it was a publicity stunt?” You gasp, faking shock. “I’m kidding,” you reassure him and you smile when you hear him laugh. 

“Trust me, it was the complete opposite,” he reiterates. “Listen,” he takes a deep breath, “I really want to see you again.”

“I’d really like that.”

“Good,” he replies, and he punches the air victoriously for no one but himself. “What are you doing next weekend?”

“I’m not doing anything,” you say teasingly, ��but aren’t you playing like back to back shows in Indianapolis?” 

“Fly out and meet me,” he proposes, “Come to a show and we can hang out after. We’re playing Thursday, Friday, Saturday- come to the Saturday show. Bring your friends if you want- there’s probably going to be an afterparty of some sort. Be my date. If you still can tolerate me after that, we can hang out on Sunday and do the whole like real date thing- I know this great breakfast place…” 

You bite your lip, of course you want to say yes. What girl wouldn’t? The guy whose poster is literally on your wall is calling you and wanting to whisk you away for a weekend. 

“Are you okay being seen with me?” you ask hesitantly, “Are we adding fuel to the fire, if we do this?”

“I guess so,” Eddie sighs, “but to be entirely honest- I don’t give a shit at all what people are going to say. I just care about you- I want to get to know you and see where this goes. That’s all that matters.” 

“I’ve liked you for a really long time,” he goes on to confess, “Listen, I’ve had like a really stupidly big embarrassing crush on you since like the first time I saw one of your videos. I don’t need any convincing- I know I want this. But like weird parasocial, celebrity crush feelings aside, I started to like you even more after I met you. To me, seeing if this goes anywhere is worth it. I don’t mind putting up with the attention if I get to spend more time with you.” 

“But,” he continues, “I know it’s asking a lot of you- and I know this isn’t easy. And you have to deal with so much added pressure. I fully signed up for the paparazzi and the crazy fans, it comes with doing what I love. I signed on that dotted line a while ago. I gave up my privacy and my anonymity, you know? You don’t have to be a part of that- it’s too much of me to ask of anyone.” 

“Can I think about it?” You ask and you bite your lip.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he reassures you, and you're so happy to hear he doesn’t sound upset or disappointed. You can tell he’s being genuine at putting your comfort first. “Here’s what I’m gonna do, text me your email if you’re okay with that- I’ll send you the plane tickets.”

“I can-”

“Nope. It’s my insane idea for a first date- I’m asking you out, so I pay,” he insists. “Look, if you decide not to use them, I’ll make sure it’s taken care of. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything. Please don’t feel like you have to use them, I know this is a big ask. It’s ridiculous. But I think you’re worth it.”

“I will think about it,” you say sincerely, “I don’t want to rush into anything. I just need a bit of time.”

“You can have all the time you need, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere until you say the word.” 

***

Eddie has resolved that you aren’t coming to the show tonight. He hasn’t heard from you since that phone call, and he’s realized he probably scared you away. He knows he can be dramatic, and he falls into things too quickly, and he’s convinced he’s ruined his chances with you. He’s heartbroken. 

But the show must go on. 

Despite feeling completely devastated, he still gives the show his all. No one would tell he was going through something to look at him. He was giving all his energy, giving the crowd back exactly what they were giving him. He could do it. 

You kept telling yourself over and over again to just play it cool. You tried not to lose it in the back of the Uber in bumper to bumper traffic. You watched the numbers crawl by minute by minute on your phone, knowing which song in the setlist you were missing next. You worried when the venue security questioned the legitimacy of your passes, questioning you until you felt dizzy. You finally made it as the band was finishing up one of your favorites. So relieved you made it before the end, you couldn’t find it in you to care that you missed it. You hung back, and followed the instructions of the tech crew carefully so you wouldn’t be in the way. You let yourself take a deep breath. You made it. 

“Miss, do you mind waiting in the dressing room after this song?” Someone asked you, “The show’s finale has some flames and other large visual effects. It’s a liability to have you back here.” 

Understanding, you nod and you promise to make your way there. As the song finished up, another crew member found you and brought you to a security guard, who then escorted you to a room with “TALENT” marked in bold on the door- a piece of plain paper with CORRODED COFFIN taped underneath. He held the door open for you and you thanked him, walking inside. 

You felt very out of place, amongst Eddie, Gareth and Jeff’s things without them there. You were apprehensive and took a few minutes to find a space where you felt comfortable. Obviously, they weren’t expecting anyone. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly, stage makeup still left open and messy on the rooms vanity, their duffel bags thrown messily on the floor. It felt like a piece of their world you weren’t supposed to see. A TV mounted to the wall was playing the show, so you took a seat on the uncomfortable couch and watched the rest of the concert. 

You tried to practice how you’d be sitting when Eddie walked in. You didn’t want to be slouched but you also didn’t want to look too forced. You opted to just sit with your legs crossed- casual but not too casual that you felt frumpy. 

For their final exit, the band was lowered under the stage. Crawling out from underneath the mechanics, Eddie hoped maybe he’d see you there waiting for him. His face fell after the high of being on stage when he realized he got his hopes up again. Jeff patted him on the back, not needing to even ask to know why Eddie was clearly upset. 

“Come on,” Gareth said encouragingly, passing him a bottle of water. Eddie nods his head as a thank you, and the three of them begin to make their way back to the dressing room, thanking staff for helping as they see them.

When Jeff is the first one in the door, he offers you a wide, knowing smile. You move to stand up and say hello when Eddie sees you. 

“You’re here,” he marvels.

“I’m sorry I was late,” you apologize, “I was stuck in the traffic outside forever and then when I got here they asked me to wait here-” 

Eddie strides over and envelops you into a crushing hug. You were tense but your body immediately relaxed. You hug him back, not caring about how sweaty he is from just being on stage. 

“I’m happy you’re here,” he mumbles into your hair before pulling away. 

“Me too,” you agree.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming,” he whispers, afraid the guys would hear and make fun of him for sounding so desperate. 

“Me either,” you giggle. It makes him smile again. His grin expands from ear to ear and all of a sudden, every little sadness he felt all night just evaporated. 

“We’re going to the wrap party,” Jeff interjects, pushing Gareth out the door with him. “We’ll see you guys over there.” 

“Wrap party?” You ask, intrigued. 

“Yeah, like the crew and everyone at this like after party thing,” he explains. “Should be kinda cool if you want to check it out.” 

“I’d like that.”

*** 

The music is blaring; the bass pulsing throughout your entire body and it makes your ears feel like they’d pop. Hundreds of people were crammed up against one another, and the smoke from a variety of substances wafted throughout the bar. Eddie held your hand, helping guide you through the hoards of people. He offered a head nod to people as you both passed- no one would hear him talk anyways. 

You travel up a few mezzanine levels until you’re both further away from the chaos. You can look down and see the crowded dance floor, but you are much more content with this calmer atmosphere. Leather couches and coffee tables adorn this floor of the club. Another bar is situated in the corner, with a line much, much shorter than the ones downstairs. You start to realize this is some sort of private area or VIP lounge of some kind. You see security positioned in all corners as the guard which led you and Eddie here takes his new position against the wall near the bar. 

“This is pretty much all crew, producers, management people, friends,” Eddie explains, “Just people who are close to us, you know?”

You spot Jeff and Gareth on one of the couches, in the midst of a heated discussion with another person you don’t recognize. Gareth almost spills his drink as he’s frantically using his hands to make a point, while Jeff is sitting with his back to him- talking to a girl who is seated on the arm of the couch. 

“MUNSON!” A voice booms over the chatter. Eddie looks to the direction of the voice. You watch his eyes light up, unapologetically happy. He drops your hand and you see him bolt to the person. 

“Harrington, you motherfucker!” Eddie exclaims, pulling the other guy into a big hug. “Shit,” he pulls away quickly, and returns back to you. With his hand on your back, he gently guides you over to the spot of the reunion. “Steve Harrington,” he introduces. Steve shakes your hand as you introduce yourself, and he smirks as he glances between you and Eddie. 

Eventually, Eddie introduces you to all of his hometown friends. They all attended the show- drove up from Eddie’s hometown to surprise him. Despite catching up with old friends, Eddie was so attentive to make sure you still felt included. He went out of his way to make sure you were introduced to everyone, and he bragged on your behalf about the success of your channel to everyone. He also made sure to fill you in if you got lost in the conversations. He’d explain the context of the inside jokes, tell you the bigger story that an anecdote was from… everything to pull you into his world, his real world. 

“We should get out of here and go to The Hideout,” Gareth said, “For old times sake.”

“I’m not abandoning top shelf shit for the skunky beer at The Hideout,” Steve scrunched his nose in disgust. 

“What’s The Hideout?” you ask Eddie as the group debates the next move. 

“A really, really, really shitty bar back home,” he whispers close to your ear. “It was where we used to play when we were just starting. It was actually awful,” he chuckles, reminiscing. “We’d play to practically no one on Tuesday nights at like 11pm.”

“You had the time of your life didn’t you?” you smile, knowingly. He nodded.

“Yeah, it was pretty fucking awesome,” he admits.

“Fine, not tonight,” Gareth concedes finally, “but we gotta get back there at some point.” 

“So,” Nancy says, changing the subject and turning to you. “Eddie didn’t tell us he had a girlfriend. We all had to find out on TMZ like the rest of the world. When did you guys meet?”

“Oh, um,” you begin, but Eddie places his arm around your shoulders. 

“This is our first date, actually,” he interjects, confidently. “So none of you assholes can say anything to make me look bad. I’m trying to impress her.” 

You bite your lip to hold back a smile. 

“So the whole t-shirt thing?” Nancy asks, directing her question to Eddie.

“My way of just trying to get her attention I guess,” he admits with a shrug, “Not that first picture though- I looked terrible. The second time though? Yeah, that was totally on purpose.”

Your face felt like it was on fire- you were overwhelmed with the way Eddie was so nonchalant. He was so honest, unabashedly so, with the way he spoke about his interest in you. You’d never experienced that type of attention, you didn’t know how to handle it. You don’t know how to play this game when he’s just put all his cards out on the table. There’s no guessing, no implications, no mind games- he just likes you. For the first time, in the craziest of circumstances, something you always found complicated is finally simple. 

He liked you. He pursued you. He got you. 

The drinks and the conversation continue to flow with ease. Eddie enjoyed sitting back and watching you fit in with his life. He loves the way it’s all just making sense. It’s like you’ve known his friends for years. You fit perfectly amongst them, and he just can’t help himself as he just admires you. He’s finding it so hard to play it cool, but he just wants to skip ahead to where this is routine. He wants you here, learning this side of him- engrossing yourself into his world. It just clicks and to him, it just all makes sense. 

When Jeff Gareth and him are inevitably pulled away to greet and talk with other people, he can’t help but keep checking back on you. He didn’t want to abandon you. He didn’t want to engage with anyone else here outside of the little circle he reluctantly had to leave. He should be paying attention to the names of these suits he’s meeting, but his mind is too preoccupied. He wants to just rush back to you, and intercept any embarrassing things he knows his friends are telling you. 

“I think you and Eddie seem really great together,” Steve discloses to you when the rest of the group is caught up in their own conversations. “He wears his heart on his sleeve,” Steve explains, “He’s not like how the tabloids and the news make him out to be. He’s always been misunderstood. I just uh- wanted to let you know that. He doesn’t do this, ever.”

Steve goes on to explain, “He’ll kill me for telling you this. But I haven’t heard Eddie talk about a girl since the whole band thing took off. You’d think he’d be like running wild and like getting all these girls- hell, that would be me. He’s very selective on who he invites in; he wouldn’t be doing all of this if he didn’t want this to go somewhere like for you two.” 

“I can tell he really likes you,” Steve continues, “I just wanted to make sure you know how good of a guy he is. In case you know, like, you had any doubts or anything. He’s not like that kind of guy. He’s probably the most sincere, loyal person ever- I just, you know, wanted to hype him up to you a little bit and vouch for him. And also just to ask you, to please not break his heart- don’t make him have false hope if you aren’t serious.”

You nod, understanding where Steve is coming from. 

“Back,” Eddie announces, jumping over the back of the couch to settle himself between you and Steve. “That was so fucking boring,” he jokes, wrapping his arm around you comfortably. “Best thing at this party is right here,” he gestures around the circle of his friends with the stem of his beer bottle, starting with Steve and working the neck around to you. He offers an incredibly cheesy grin and you laugh at his antics. You rest your head on his shoulder as he settles back into the group conversation, and you both miss how Steve smiles watching the two of you. 

***

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, Jeff and Gareth sit quietly on their phones in the middle row of the large car while you're cuddled into Eddie’s side in the far back row. Eddie doesn’t dare move, too terrified that he’ll wake you up. Your head rests on his shoulder and your body is flush to his. He silently curses every pot hole and sharp turn begging that you stay like this for as long as possible. 

Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be anyone waiting outside for them. The driver pulls around to the back door- the plan is to sneak you all in through the kitchen. The band’s body guard opens the car door. Gareth and Jeff climb out and scurry into the building quickly. Eddie softly nudges you awake. 

“Keep your hood up, sweetheart,” Eddie instructs as you pull your jacket tighter around you. You put your hood on your head and pull it down to cover your face- just in case. Eddie helps you out of the car- also with his hood on. “Head down, okay?” he whispers, and he guides you as you walk with your head down. 

You scurry through the kitchen and you use the elevator towards the back of the building to travel to the higher floors. 

Eddie arranged for one of the assistants to bring your bags here while you were out. He set you up in the room across the hall from him. He wanted to make sure you had your own space. When you get to the rooms, Gareth and Jeff disappear to their own rooms, offering very tired “goodnights.” Eddie walks you to your door.

“I had so much fun tonight,” you sleepily admit. “Thank you… thank you for trusting me.”

His eyes soften. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep,” he smiles, affectionately grazing your jaw with his thumb. You lean up and his heart skips when he watches your eyes linger- looking between his eyes and his lips. You press your lips to his and this delicate kiss feels like enough to make his entire body melt. 

It’s soft and perfect. A first kiss that you only see in the movies. Kissing you made Eddie feel like he’d never kissed anyone before. Nothing that came before amounted nearly as much as this. He feels like he’s in high school again all of a sudden. This, he decides, should have been his first kiss. Because none of them ever felt as good as this. He makes up his mind then and there, that you’re the only person he wants to kiss for the rest of his life. It’s a thought he won’t share until much further down the road.

[ghostgirl-22]

stanford era art having a bad day (maybe he failed a test or something, nothing too serious) but he gets really upset (like he’s gonna cry) so when he gets back to his dorm patrick is there (cuz he’s visiting) and patrick wants to take care of art, see what art needs but art is like “please just fuck me” or something along those linessss

Hello my love, thank you for the prompt <3 This got crazy long for some reason. Just needed Art wandering about feeling sorry for himself lol

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

It’s frustrating, he’s never ever failed a test before. Particularly in math. It’s not like he wants to be a math major or an engineer or anything but he’s been in advanced math since he was 14 years old, he should be able to handle this.

He tries not to cry as the professor goes over the results of their calculus based physics exam and the other students in the class are answering questions, demonstrating their work like it’s easy. Meanwhile he’s struggling to understand it. He talks to the professor after class and the professor is understanding but he explains, “these are the basics, the class is only going to get more difficult. So I suggest you withdraw and retake it after you take a more fundamental calculus course?”

Art nods and forces a smile, his throat burning as his professor pats him on the arm.

“It’s okay, plenty of students go that route and still become architects and engineers. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Art is barely aware as he treks back to his dorm. He’s never flunked out of a class. And yes, math is one of his more challenging subjects but he’s always been able to work hard enough to figure it out. Working hard is his one talent. It’s how he ended up as one of the best students at Mark Reballato, salutatorian. He used to be the one to tutor his classmates. He aced every AP and Honors course. He’d studied so hard and done so well on the SATs and yet these kids at Stanford are actual child prodigies and geniuses…and for some of them it’s like… it’s like they don’t even have to try.

By the time he gets back to his room his eyes are full of tears. Why can’t he fucking excel at anything? Why can’t he be the prodigy for once? Why does he always have to try so fucking hard?

He knows his roommate won't be home until evening and he’s so ready to throw himself on his bed and sob like a loser but as he pushes open the bedroom door he remembers Patrick is visiting. He’s there on Art’s bed watching The View, of all things, and talking on the phone with his sister.

He waves, grinning but pauses when he sees Art’s face. Art can’t even hide it, it’s too late. Tears spill from his eyes and he drops his book bag in his chair.

“Hey Tor I’ll call you back,” Patrick says, into the phone.

Art wipes the tears away quickly, angry that they’re there in the first place.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” Patrick asks.

Art shakes his head. “Nothing.”

”Seriously? You look like a kicked puppy. Come on, tell me what’s wrong. Is it your grandma… or… or tennis?”

”No Patrick, you just… you wouldn’t understand.” He knows Patrick wouldn’t take this seriously. Patrick’s just another prodigy. All their coaches telling him how brilliant he’s been at tennis since they were 11. And Tashi too, a once in a generation talent, that’s what they’re calling her.

“Try me,” Patrick says. Art stares at him. He’s lying across the width of Art’s single bed, back resting up against the wall. He’s in his boxers still, legs open, his muscular thighs spread out. Hands folded inside the Stanford t-shirt he borrowed from Art. His penetrating gaze is resting on Art and he looks concerned. And so fucking hot.

Art rubs his eyes again. He’s frustrated and angry but now he’s feeling… horny. He probably should’ve thought twice before having sex with his best friend. Everything is all silly now. He’s not sure why he did it. Well actually, he was trying to fuck with Patrick, see if he could ruin his relationship with Tashi.

He didn’t even think Patrick would go for it, just mentioned it casually on Patrick’s birthday but he came back a couple days later with all these different kinds of lube and condoms and they spent a long rainy afternoon trying to figure it all out. Exploring different positions, techniques, playing with each other. Now they're doing it all the time and the whole thing backfired because Art’s the one craving it. He walks between Patrick’s legs. “Can you fuck me?”

Patrick raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

Art shrugs.

Patrick sits forward. “Yeah. Sure.” He says, the ghost of a smirk on his mouth. “It’s so early for you. You usually like it when I buy you dinner first.”

Art digs the heels of his palms into his eyes as stupid tears drop down again.

“Art, seriously…are you okay?” Patrick asks, tentatively. “I can help… tell me how to help.”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Art says, and he climbs onto the bed. Straddling him. “Just fuck me.”

Patrick grips him by the waist. “Mmkay, I can do that.” He says, unzipping Arts pants. He tugs Arts jeans down over his thighs and Art steps out of them. Then he’s lifting his t-shirt over his head and climbing back onto Patrick’s lap.

Patrick touches his face, rubs a thumb along the wet space on Arts cheeks. “Did someone hurt you?” He asks softly.

“No, Patrick please, I don’t want to talk about it.” Art whines. His brain is freaking out because of the tenderness and the last thing he needs is to freak out over his feelings for Patrick too.

“Alright,” Patrick says and he kisses Art. And kisses him again. Art licks at his lips and pushes his tongue inside.

He can feel Patrick getting hard underneath him as they make out. It’s so much and it happens so fast, Arts dizzy for it. “That’s a neat trick,” Art whispers. Grinding his hips against the sensation.

“That’s what you do to me,” Patrick sighs against his lips.

Art smiles. Maybe he sucks at math now but at least he’s still good at this.

“Need you lubed up,” Patrick hums. Art gets up and crawls over to his bedside table. He can feel Patrick’s large palm rubbing on the swell of his bottom as he’s bent over. Art’s got all this stuff he has to hide when his parents are in town now. He pulls lubricant out and while Patrick’s putting it on his cock Art lingers on the bed, playing with his waistband, watching while the ladies on The View are arguing about something.

“You can turn it off, my sister wanted me to watch Phil Collins perform or something,” Patrick says, distractedly.

“Okay fuck me while he performs or something.” Art says.

Patrick smirks. “Fuck, you really need to cry don’t you?”

Art takes a breath.

“Okay sorry,” Patrick says gently, “Can you lay down?”

Art settles onto his back. Keeps his legs open as Patrick crawls between and takes his boxers down. “Mm, what time does your roommate get back?”

“Later,” Art says.

“I don’t have to keep you quiet then,” Patrick smiles.

Art chews on his thumb as Patrick lines himself up to press it inside. He’s all lubed up but Art is just used to the fact that it’s always going to feel like a lot at first. He breathes through the stretch and watches amused as Patrick rubs his at Art’s pelvis. He always does that, trying to feel his own cock penetrating from the outside. “You’re always so fucking tight for me baby. Feels like I didn’t even take your virginity.” Patrick says. It’s all for his ego. He moves down to rub Art’s cock and Art moans. Wraps his legs around Patrick’s waist, wiggling his hips.

“I know, relax, I’m gonna fuck you,” Patrick breathes. He starts sliding it in and out and out and in. Patrick’s had him in so many positions but this is Art’s favorite, he can feel Patrick sinking so much deeper inside him this way. Sees stars on every other thrust and his head empties out quickly. Once he came so hard he swears he had a second orgasm two minutes later. Patrick says he just wasn’t done.

This time it feels blindingly good. He’s feeling so good, he bites down on Patrick’s shoulder to relieve some of the tension. He wonders if Tashi ever notices his marks, the way he notices hers. Sometimes when he’s really turned on he bites where she scratches.

After a few minutes he thinks he’s listening to Patrick moan but realizes belatedly that it’s him. His mouth is watering so much that he’s drooling. Patrick is grunting as his hips slam into Art at a ridiculous pace. Art feels so fucking full, he loves the feeling of Patrick warm and solid inside of him, breaching him. His body lit up like a raw nerve as Patrick hits that delicious tender spot over and over and over. He’s gonna pass out. It sounds so fucking obscene over the sound of the bed springs squeaking and Phil Collins in the background.

Art loses it first, sticky ropes of pearly white shooting out of his cock, covering Patrick’s stomach, dripping back down onto Art’s body. And then it’s too much, Art can feel everything and he’s squirming trying to get away as Patrick picks up the pace.

“No, no don’t run away… two fucking seconds stay here,” Patrick groans, gripping him tightly. It feels insane. It feels so fucking good but it’s too much and his eyes are watering again. Art swears he can honestly feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness. He’s coming again, he knows he’s coming again as Patrick finishes inside him, filling him with wet, heated, sticky cum. Art clenching on him. Keeping him inside.

Patrick’s shivering. “Fuck,” he whispers, collapsing on top of Art like a warm heavy sticky blanket.

“Mm,” Art sighs, rubbing Patrick’s back gently, to calm him down. Patrick groans and rolls off of Art onto his side right next to him. He curls his fingers into Art’s hair.

“You feel better?” Patrick asks, softly.

“Yeah,” Art says quietly. He didn’t really do anything but put it out of his mind for 30 minutes. And now he’s coming back to the reality that he’s only in his second semester of college and he already has to drop a class.

“Feel like telling me what’s wrong?”

Art rolls his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid. I failed an exam. I studied so fucking hard and I just— everything on the test looked like it might as well have been written in a foreign language. I thought the whole class would have done poorly but it was just me.”

”What class?” Patrick asks.

“Calculus for physics,” Art sighs.

“Sounds really fucking hard,” Patrick says. “You should tell them to fuck off and come with me on the road.”

“I knew you wouldn’t get it,” Art mutters. “You don’t take any of this seriously. I’m not as good at tennis as you are. I’m not fucking good at anything. Like the one thing I thought wouldn’t be difficult which is school work and I can’t even fucking do that properly. I’m gonna have to drop and I’m not even done with my first fucking year.”

Patrick doesnt say anything for a minute, he’s still fingering Art’s curls. Then he takes a breath. “You’re good at a lot of things, Art. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up. I mean… I get it. You were top of your class in high school but all these dorks at Stanford were the best in their high schools too. I was one of the best players but now I’m on tour facing off with the best players in the world and a lot of them are fucking kicking my ass. Just… you know… Tashi always says to have a little perspective. You’re here for a fucking reason. Don’t psych yourself out before the game is over.”

Art hadn’t really thought about that, Patrick has been having a hard time on tour, Art feels a little softer for him now. He rolls over to face him wrapping a leg over Patrick’s thigh. “You think I should stay in the class? Prove them wrong?”

Patrick smiles. “No, what the fuck do you need calculus with physics for anyway?”

Art laughs a bit. “I mean… if I decide to go to med school I’ll need a physics and a calculus class… but I guess I don’t really need this specific course unless I was going to become an engineer.”

“I’ve heard you talk about being a doctor before, never an engineer.” Patrick says, “Fuck that class, find something better to do with your time.”

“Yeah…fuck it,” Art says thoughtfully, he can play with his teammates on the indoor courts in the mornings. He feels so much lighter actually. Patrick is right, he really doesn’t need this course at all. He was just so used to high school, thinking everything put in front of him was something he needed to ace. In college, none of it mattered except for what he needed for his major. Patrick’s tracing circles idly along Art’s thigh. “Mm, something better to do with my time….” Art says, smiling, “You think we can fuck again before my roommate gets home?”

Patrick smirks, “Oh absolutely.”

[cupidbedsy]

▷ we'll be okay ; the film effect

➪ summary: two weeks after their fight, gabe and will still aren't talking which leaves everyone around them worried and annoyed. with molly's help, gabe finds a way to apologize to will and he knows they'll be okay, or at least he hopes

➪ warnings: gabe and will's fight, gabe being insecure and self-conscious of his feelings, will being mad still... i think that's it

➪ word count: 6.0k

➪ file type: au (the film effect) fic

➪ cupid's notes: yay they made up ! anyway, this is probably one of my favorite things i've written and i really hope you guys like it <3

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

Gabe had all but thrown himself into hockey these past few weeks. If he wasn’t in class, he was at the rink, if he wasn’t doing homework, he was at the rink, if he wasn’t eating, he was at the rink. It had seemed like the only thing in his life that he could control right now and he was going to take advantage of that. 

This had been the longest time he had ever gone without talking to Will, two weeks. It had been two weeks since he had blown up at Mack with his boyfriend and girlfriend watching, two weeks since he’s fucked up the most important thing in his life, and two weeks since he’s felt like he’s lost two of the most important people in his life. Two weeks of nonstop hockey and nights that consisted of 3-4 hours of sleep if he was lucky. 

Will himself couldn’t think straight even when he was at the rink. The words he said were engraved in his mind, closely followed by words he had heard. It was all beginning to overwhelm him. Which made ignoring people seem like the safest choice, he wouldn’t fuck up any more than he already had and nobody could get mad at him for doing something, so that’s what he did. 

He felt guilty each time he swiped away a text from Molly, each time he declined an invitation to hang out with Mack, each time he had said no to a team dinner or celebrating a win. Still, that guilt slowly just became another numb feeling he had, one that he shoved into the back of his mind. 

Molly, on the other hand, has had two weeks of nonstop worrying and annoyance. If it wasn’t Will she was worried about it was Gabe, if it wasn’t Gabe it was her grades, if it wasn’t her grades… well it was legit anything else that the universe had decided to throw at her just to fuck with her. And she, quite frankly was over it. 

She had spent a great deal of time sending text messages to her boyfriends, most of which went either unseen or unreturned. And if she was lucky enough that they had replied, it was a short and to-the-point text that consisted of ‘I’m fine. Have practice in an hour, talk later’ to which, they never really did talk later. 

She was starting to lose her mind at this point, if the two of them couldn’t figure this out on their own and wouldn’t accept help to figure this out, she wasn’t sure what that meant for the three of them. She wasn’t sure if this would be the end of them. Maybe she was being dramatic, but she had a right to be when Gabe and Will stuck her in the middle of their drama. She wasn’t about to pick sides, but it sure was a hell of a lot easier to get Gabe into shape when he was just down the street. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The rink was colder than she had remembered, she hadn’t stepped foot in one since the fight, too many memories that she didn’t want to recall. She wrapped her jacket tighter around her, navigating through Conte Forum like it was her second home. 

The sound of skates on ice and sticks against pucks welcomed her as she got closer to where Gabe was in the middle of the ice, shooting pucks relentlessly at the net. When she found out he had been here, she hadn’t really been shocked, it was the same answer she had been getting any time she texted one of his teammates or stopped by his place. 

After the tenth shot at the net, she called out his name, halting his movements. She could see the way his body went rigid when he heard her voice, watching as he shook his head before going back to shooting as if he had only imagined it. 

“Gabe, please. Talk to me.”

He ignored her, continuing his movements. Despite knowing she could get in trouble by walking with her street shoes over the ice, she did it anyway, making her way towards him with slow movements, trying not to fall. It took her a minute to reach him, stopping him just as he lined up to take another shot, hand resting on his shoulder, “Baby.”

Her touch, or the nickname, caused him to stop completely, resting his stick by his side and head dropping down to look at his feet. The way he turned around to face her was like he was physically restraining himself from doing so, but her gentle touch and soft coaxing voice made him cave quickly. 

He still avoided her gaze as he came to a stop after turning around, looking quite literally anywhere but her face. He let her take his hand in hers, let her press a kiss to his cheek, let her eyes wander over his body searching for any signs of injury or exhaustion (which he knew she found plenty of), but when her fingers gripped his jaw, he did not let her turn his head. 

“Don’t,” He tried to make his voice sound stern and forceful, but it came out weak and cracked like he was gasping for another breath of air. 

“Look at me, Gabe.” 

He had to admit, she had done a much better job of making her voice sound stronger than he had. His eyes finally trailed over to her, crumbling as soon as their gazes met. She watched as tears brimmed in his eyes, reaching up to rub her thumb across the dark circle underneath one of them. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry since that night, and her bringing him into a hug made him break down fully, stick clattering to ice as he practically went limp in her arms. 

They stayed like that for a while, Molly’s hand in his hair and his arms wrapped around her waist as best as he could. The hoodie he was wearing felt so baggy on him that he was sure he had lost some weight over the past weeks, but that was just another thing he would worry about later. 

When he finally calmed down enough to pull away and wipe his tears, he could feel the cold seeping into his bones, shivering slightly as he removed himself from her warmth. She gave him a small smile, bending down to grab his stick, “Let’s go back to mine, yeah?”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

A nice hot shower and a change of clothes later only made Gabe feel marginally better, but it was progress. That was what he told himself as sat on her bed, feet dangling off while watching her ruffle through draws until she found two Wii remotes and turned to him with a grin, “For old times sake?”

“Yeah.” He reached for one of them, moving over so she could sit next to him as he watched the Mario Kart screen load, clicking buttons until the character selection screen popped up. His cursor hovered between Mario and Luigi before he finally clicked on Luigi. 

The hesitation caused a slight crack in Molly’s heart, maybe she was expecting him to pick Mario, he always argued with Will over whether or not who was who until he gave in at one glance at Will’s puppy dog eyes and let him pick Mario. 

She clicked Donkey Kong, her favorite character for some unknown reason but she played as him every time and she had no intentions of stopping now. She let him pick the first course, and she wasn’t surprised when the familiar opening to DK Summit popped up. No matter how many times they played, they would always do the same order; DK Summit, Luigi Circuit, Mario Circuit, and then Rainbow Road, which they can all confidently say that they haven’t gotten first place yet, but it’ll happen… one day.

They played for the next hour, doing the same four courses over and over again, as they sat in silence beside the music and sounds of the game. When Molly crossed the finish line of Rainbow Road for the fifth time, she set the remote aside, looking over at him, “Ready to talk?”

Everything in Gabe’s mind screamed no, but for the first time in a while, he felt like he could breathe without sending himself into a panic attack. While one small step at a time was good for some people, he just wanted to get it all out of the way as quickly as possible. Why stop when he had so much motivation?

He gave her a small nod because even though he was ready to talk, he wasn’t sure how to start. She took his controller from him, setting them both on her desk before climbing back up on the bed. She smiled when his hand reached for hers, letting out a sigh of relief that went unnoticed by him. 

“What did you say?”

He closed his eyes for a minute, a little piece of him still trying to figure out if there was a way out of this but he quickly realized that there was no turning back. So taking a deep breath, he started talking, “Told him that I was annoyed with Mack being around all the time and that I thought he was trying to steal-”

He cut himself off, just the thought of Will’s name made his stomach churn. She nodded, “And what did he say?”

“Told me I was a child, was acting like a spoiled kid who wasn’t getting his way, and that I wasn’t trying to be friends with Mack, but he’s right I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t, yeah. But that doesn’t mean he also had to discredit your feelings.”

“But-”

“Gabe, let me tell you something. You have every right to feel how you feel, how you feel is appropriate to feel, I am a strong believer in that. But that also means that Will does too, and maybe it’s time that both of you start seeing it from each other’s point of view. This is not just a one-sided thing, both of you were wrong and both of you were right. Both of you said harsh and mean things, and both of you didn’t say a lot of things you wanted to say. 

“There is more to this than just you being jealous and Will being frustrated. There are many layers and it is going to take time to go through every single emotion you and him are feeling, but I know you love him and I know he loves you, and I know both of you would take the time to talk it out.”

Her words raced through his head, trying to cling to every single piece of information she was saying. It made sense, he knew that. He knew that there were things he could’ve said, maybe should’ve said but didn’t. He knew that Will’s words were right but also harsh.

“He won’t even talk to me.”

“And how do you know that? Have you tried texting him?”

“No.” He mumbled, pink coating his cheeks as he lied. He had reached out to him but didn’t want to voice that Will hadn’t responded out loud. It would make the rejection all too real. 

“That’s what I thought. I am not saying that you have to put more effort in than he does or vice versa, but maybe that’s what he needs to know you’re serious about this.”

Gabe bit his lip, that sounded like a good idea, but what could he do to make it up to him? He wasn’t about to send him a shit ton of flowers or gifts or fly to California with a script of words he wants to say, for two reasons. 1. He wasn’t the type of person to do that and 2. Will deserved more.

“Maybe you could… I don’t know, talk to Mack? Apologize, tell him you want to be friends, and move past this.”

He did feel bad for what he said, that was never okay and he knew it as soon as the words left his mouth but anger clouded any form of judgment he might’ve had in the moment. The past two weeks had given him time to reflect and he knew every negative feeling towards Mack had felt wrong and unjustified.

Will had never given Gabe a reason not to trust him, so the moment he said Mack wasn’t trying to get with him he should’ve believed him. And he should’ve seen the blatant attempt of approval Mack was seeking every time he would talk, or try to talk to him. He knew he was a jerk, a dick, every single synonym on this planet for ‘dumbass’ and ‘asshole’ was what he would use to classify himself right now. 

He would apologize to Mack, he would make it up to Will and Molly, and he would make it up to himself. Well, the first two were objectively more important, he could get around to making it up to himself. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The next day Gabe sat with Molly in the student center, Gabe anxiously fiddling with his phone as he deleted and added words to his ongoing apology to Mack and Molly sat with her knees tucked into her chest, planning out a new film idea for class. 

She looked up at him, eyes growing fond as she saw him, “It doesn’t have to be perfect, baby. Why don’t you just start by texting him hi, I don’t think Mack really wants to get out of practice to see over 200 words of you rambling.”

“Oh ha ha, you’re so funny. You should be a comedian if being behind the camera doesn’t work out for you.”

“Actually, I think I’ll make it my part-time job, but I have two years to figure that out. Plus why would I need to be a comedian when I’d have two rich NHL boyfriends?”

He stared at her, looking back down at his phone, “Yeah if I haven’t scared one of them off already.”

Her smile had turned downwards, a frown across her face now as she reached out to hold his hand, “He still loves you.”

“I know I just-” He fiddled with his phone case, pulling the corner off before putting it back on. He wasn’t sure how to express the doubt in his mind, if that was even what he could call it. Maybe if he denied the feeling long enough it would just go away and he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. 

“That’s another thing you have to stop doing.” It was like Molly could read him from the inside out and he didn’t know if he was supposed to be grateful or terrified about it. 

He glanced up at her, “Doing what?”

“Shoving everything to the back of your mind. I know you don’t always want to share what’s going in that head of yours, but that’s what we’re here for.”

We’re. She said it so casually that it dug into him the slightest bit, he didn’t deserve Will’s obsessive worrying and him caring about him, not after everything he said to him. 

He looked back at his phone, swiping into his text messages to send Mack a ‘hi’ like she had told him to. She was right, she always was, but he wouldn’t tell her that in fear of her ego inflating more than it already was. 

When he clicked send, he placed his phone down on the table, watching her as she continued going between writing things down and editing footage on her laptop. He had missed being in her presence, he shouldn’t have shut her out, she did nothing wrong to deserve it and he and Will had placed her in the middle of them, again.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked up, pushing her glasses onto her head as she fully abandoned her work now, “I already told you you didn’t need to apologize-”

“Not for the fight, I mean yes but- fuck. I’m sorry we put you in the middle of us, you shouldn’t have to deal with us both being grade-A assholes and shouldn’t have to choose between us. We’re your boyfriends, not your friends who are fighting over you. And for shutting you out these past couple weeks, I should’ve come to you and talked to you but I just- I felt like I wasn’t allowed to, or at least that’s what my brain was telling me.” 

He trailed off, unsure of how to continue his apology. When he looked back at her, he saw the soft expression on her face and knew that he said enough, or at least enough for her to grasp what he was trying to say, and at that moment, he knew at least the two of them would be okay.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

It wasn’t until Gabe and Molly were at lunch that Mack responded to him. His phone lit up with the notification and Molly was the first to notice it, nodding her head towards the device. He opened the phone to see the text, it was just as short as he had been, a simple ‘Hey’. He was surprised when another text came through quickly after, ‘Everything okay?’

He should’ve expected it, he had never texted Mack on his own accord. Scratch that, he had never texted Mack, period. If he needed something from Will and he wasn’t responding he would make Molly text Mack and ask if he was asleep. 

Molly watched as her boyfriend’s face went through the five stages of grief before she talked, “What did he say?”

“Asked if everything was okay,” Gabe murmured, setting his fork down and taking his phone into both hands, staring down at his lap.

“Just send your mini essay. It’s going to be fine, Gabe. I promise. Mack understands already, trust me, he would want nothing more than to put this all behind him and actually be friends with you.”

He nodded, but that was it. She went back to eating as he copied and pasted his rant from his notes into the message bar. After rereading it 10 times, he thought it was decent enough to send, it wouldn’t make up for the countless times he had ignored him and what he had said the other day, but it bridged the gap in their soon-to-be friendship. 

He put his phone back down, shoving it under his leg, knowing Mack would spend at least two minutes reading everything he had spilled to him made him anxious. He took a bite of his food, trying to continue his conversation with Molly in the meantime. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

If Gabe had a dollar for every right thing Molly had said today he wouldn’t need to sign an NHL contract to be a millionaire. Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration but it was true, she had said so many right things today that he didn’t know why he didn’t listen to her in the first place. 

He had spent that last hour texting Mack about random things and becoming friends after Mack had written an extensive text about how he wasn’t totally upset but was grateful for his apology. Maybe they were more alike than he thought they were. 

However, the distraction Mack was providing slowly faded away when he got his newest text from him, ‘Have you talked to Will yet?’

Thankfully, Molly had been next to him when he got the text and gave him a comforting smile, “Would it be easier to talk about it out loud?”

He nodded, yeah she knew him too well. So Molly called Mack from her phone, propping it against her pillows as the two sat on her bed, waiting for him to answer. His face lit up the screen seconds later, and from the space behind him, he was in his apartment. 

“Will’s not here,” his voice was soft as he got himself comfy on his bed. “He went out with some of the guys earlier.”

Molly’s hand wrapped around Gabe’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze that urged him to talk, “I sent him a few texts, sometime last week but he never responded and I haven’t tried since.”

“You did? I thought you said you didn’t.”

“I did, but- it’s not important right now, Molls.”

She gave him a hesitant nod before turning her attention to Mack, “I send him a couple a day, only replies with short answers, can’t get much out of him.” 

“Yeah he doesn’t talk much but he acts like everything’s okay. I know the team knows something's wrong, Logan’s tried to get him to go out with them and this is the first time he accepted it.” 

“I don’t know what to do.” Gabe’s voice was small, like a child who was admitting that they broke their parents' beloved vase. “If he won’t talk to me, and he’s barely talking to you and Molls…:

“I think you guys should come out here, this weekend. I know you got a game Friday so I guess after that or Saturday? You could come to the game and then you can talk it out, plus it’s our last game before Four Nations so then he could always go back with you guys.”

The two thought about it, it did sound like a good plan. But would it work out, the two had no clue. No risk, no reward. The thought echoed through Gabe’s mind. He knows he said he wasn’t the type of person to just fly out spontaneously, but that was before he apologized to Mack.

“We’ll be there.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

When they stepped into SAP Center, their nerves heightened. Even though Will was however many feet away from them they felt as if he just knew they were there, and that made unease flow through them naturally. 

Gabe had spent the past few days preparing for what he was going to say tonight, and even now he still didn’t know what he was going to. But once again, that was a thought for later, all he wanted to do right now was enjoy watching the game and enjoy having Molly by his side as she had for the past week since she set him straight. 

Despite what he told himself, he did think about what he was going to say almost the whole game, during play, during intermission, during timeouts, it was a constant battle of trying to watch the game as he typed away on his phone. 

“You know, if you keep stressing about it, it’s only going to make it worse. It might not be as bad as you think it’s going to be.” Molly’s voice cut through all the screaming and cheering after Toffoli scored a goal. 

He only answered when the crowd settled again, “I know. Kind of hard to convince my mind of that though.”

“Trust me, I know it is. But sometimes you have to override that thought, Gabe. It’s not going to get easier if you don’t stick up for yourself against yourself.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be a writer or some shit?”

“Yeah, almost failed English in high school. Which is why I just come up with the ideas and let my friends write them. Not my strong suit, I just work the camera.”

He gave her a half-smirk, “So you’re the behind-the-scenes guy?”

“Mhm. Always plotting.”

“M’sure you are.”

More cheers rang out and the two turned their attention to where a group of blue jerseys swarmed together on the ice, the clock had ticked down faster than they thought it would, faster than they wished it would.

They sat, watching as most of the fans made their way out of the arena and back to their cars. By the time they found the will to move, only half the arena’s seats were still filled and they were both sure it was just to watch the interview that was happening on the ice. 

Will had gotten first star of the game after two goals and two assists, beaming as brightly as he could. The two could tell from where they sat that there was dimness in his eyes, tightness in his voice as he spoke to the interviewer, and stood with a tense figure as he tried to make it through. 

It was nice to hear his voice, it was the first time they heard it in person since that day, strictly relying on old voice memos and videos if they wanted to hear it. They hadn’t realized how much they loved getting those from him until they stopped. 

They got up out of their seats once he left the ice, making their way down to the tunnel to wait for him. Mack was the first to come out and both of them couldn’t help the disappointment that covered their face when they didn’t see the usual blond mop of curls trailing behind him. 

He gave them a small smile once he saw them, bringing Molly into a hug and giving Gabe whatever weird handshake thing boys usually did. Molly let herself smile at the interaction, it was just a step closer to working everything out, and she was proud of him for it. 

“It’ll probably be a few before he comes out, he’s just been sitting in there after games until he absolutely has to leave and then he’ll start getting ready to go.”

Gabe let out a low hum in acknowledgment, eyes fluttering back to where he knew his boyfriend could walk out at any minute. Then they fell into an easy conversation, mostly about what they had been doing the past few weeks and other random things that had come up. 

“Mack didn’t know what a date was.”

“Like going on a date or…?”

“You two I swear to god. The fruit!”

“Oh. There’s a fruit?”

Will wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not as he turned the corner, stopping when he caught sight of the three who were laughing about something he couldn’t figure out. Blinking steadily, he pinched himself on the wrist and when the small burst of pain shot through him, he knew for a fact that his girlfriend, his best friend, and his boyfriend were all talking and having a good time like nothing had happened. 

He was sure he was angry, but again he didn’t know what he had been feeling these two weeks, everything he felt would just turn numb in the hours after he acknowledged it. He gained the courage to walk the few steps towards them, closing the gap. 

Molly saw him first, biting her lip and falling silent as she looked at him; dark circles, eyebags, exhaustion, everything was the same as when she saw Gabe earlier in the week. Gabe and Mack didn’t take long to recognize her silence, following her gaze to where Will stood, clad in his suit and hair wet from the quick shower he took. 

“They flew out this morning,” Mack’s voice was soft, like every other time he had tried to speak to Will since everything had happened. 

He gave a brief nod, letting his eyes go from Molly to Gabe and then back to Molly and back to Gabe, before settling on his friend again, “I’m ready to go.”

Both Molly and Gabe’s hearts cracked at his cold tone, feeling as if he didn’t care that they were there. Mack placed a handout, stopping Will from walking any further away from them, “Hear him out please.”

“And you know what he has to say?” He kept his volume low, trying not to let the emotion that flooded his voice show. 

“He texted me earlier this week, Tuesday,” Mack started, he hadn’t told him about his conversation with Gabe and Molly, or at least until now. “Apologized, for everything. And then we just talked. He really is sorry Will. I don’t think he would’ve reached out to me if he wasn’t.”

Will took in the information, trying to process it but it just floated around in his head like a fly he couldn’t catch. When he looked back over to the two, his tone had softened but he still kept his guard up, “You coming?”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The car ride to Mack and Will’s apartment was all quiet, no one spoke as turns were made and lights were passed. They pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex, sitting in heavy silence for a few minutes before getting out of the car. 

Molly and Gabe took the stairs while the other two rode the elevator up. They got two flights of stairs in when Molly murmured, “It’s going to be okay, we’re going to be okay.”

“Mhm, I know. Or at least I hope I do.”

They reached their floor a couple of minutes later, walking out of the stairwell to see Mack and Will deep in conversation with each other. It didn’t take long for them to notice the two, letting them follow them to their apartment. 

Mack stuck his key in, turning and unlocking the door before pushing it open and letting the three step inside. The four kicked their shoes off and then just stood there awkwardly. Frustration grew in Mack’s head before he eventually was over Gabe being too scared to admit his wrongs and Will being too stubborn to let him speak, “Okay. I’m done with this.”

Eyes fell on him but he ignored their stares and wrapped a hand around both of their arms before leading them towards Will’s room and shoving them in there, “Do not come out until this shit is fixed. You two aren’t the only ones suffering because of this.”

Will and Gabe turned to Molly who stood there nervously, fiddling with her hands and rocking back and forth on her heels. They softened simultaneously, Mack was right, they had put her through enough and it was time they fixed that and made it up to her, but they couldn’t do it without talking it out with each other first. 

The door closed and left the two alone in the confines of Will’s bedroom, hoodies and shirts were lying on the ground, takeout containers shoved in the overflowing trashcan, and a heavy, musty smell took over their senses. 

“Sorry about the mess.” Will started picking up shirts and throwing them in his laundry basket, his need to stress clean overwhelming him. 

Gabe’s hand grabbed ahold of his wrist, stopping him from moving, “Don’t do that, not now. Please.”

He didn’t face him, not yet, staring at his crumbled sheets from when he didn’t even attempt to make his bed this morning. He felt Gabe’s hand move down to his hand, lacing their fingers together. That was when he turned, looking over his face and seeing the tiredness that was written over it, he was sure it matched the tiredness on his own. 

He gave him a nod, allowing him to go on, “I’m sorry- I know I’m sorry doesn’t fix anything, let me speak, please.”

Gabe knew that when Will opened his mouth he was going to let out something along the lines of ‘sorry isn’t going to cut it’, he always did. He guided him to sit on the bed before he sat next to them, keeping their fingers intertwined. 

“I know what I said was wrong and hurtful, I never should’ve said what I said to Mack and I never should’ve said what I said to you, even though I did mean it, a little bit.” Gabe’s thumb started absentmindedly running over Will’s knuckles, a habit he had gained whenever he had started to become restless or anxious, “And while I am sorry about how I chose to… display my feelings, I’m not going to apologize for how I felt. 

“For a while, it was easy to pass the feelings off as jealousy and whatnot but the more and more the two of you hung out and the more and more the two of you were in videos together, I think it made me realize how much I missed just having you as a teammate and how different it was not to have you around. 

“You’ve never done anything to make me feel like you would cheat on me or whatever and I should’ve recognized that a lot earlier. I also should’ve acknowledged you’re point of view on this. I know Mack has been there for you since the beginning of the season and I know how much he means to you and I shouldn’t have let my feelings and insecurities get in the way of your friendship.”

He took a deep breath, unsure if he had said enough or if he should keep going. But before he could let his mind spiral into more thoughts and choices, he heard Will’s voice and the soft squeeze of his hand, “I’m sorry too.”

Will was overcome with emotions from Gabe’s apology and honestly, he didn’t even have to say all of it to know he meant it, from the moment he found out that he had reached out to Mack on his own accord he had forgiven him, maybe even before that. 

“I know that no matter what I say is going to live up to that,” the two let out wet chuckles before he continued. “But I am sorry for saying that you were acting like a child. I also should’ve seen things from your perspective and I didn’t, and it probably would’ve made a lot more sense if I had.”

He let himself reach up to run a hand through Gabe’s hair which made him instantly melt into his touch. He listened as Will continued speaking but most of the words fell deaf upon his years. He should be listening, he knew that, but he was just so grateful to actually talk to them that the topic at hand didn’t really matter. 

Meanwhile, Mack and Molly sat in the living room where Molly was critiquing a shitty movie he had put on, it was one of her favorite stress-relieving tactics. 

“How’re you holding up?”

She sighed, nibbling on her bottom lip, “Okay.”

“You’re not.”

“I know.” She curled her knees into her chest, fidgeting with her earrings, “Do you know how hard it is to make two 19-year-olds speak to each other?”

Mack laughed, bringing her into a side hug, “Do you know how hard it is having to deal with a mopey and frustrated Will?”

“Probably the same as dealing with an insecure and guilt-ridden Gabe.”

They heard the click of the door, heads snapping towards it to see the two walk out of the bedroom still hand-in-hand. When she saw it, she smiled and let out a sigh of relief, making her way over to them. She brought them into a hug, her grasp firm, “Please tell me you two are okay.”

“We are sweetheart,” Gabe’s hand brushed the strands of hair that fell into her face behind her ear, pressing a kiss to her head, “We are.”

“I’m sorry we put you in the middle of this, we never should’ve done it and-”

“If one of you apologizes to me one more time, I’m seriously going to lose my fucking mind more than I already have. And if you two ever and I mean ever fight like that again, I’m breaking up with you.”

Will nodded, kissing her temple, “I don’t doubt it, sweet girl. I don’t.”

Mack stood from the couch, making his way to his room to give the three their privacy. He only made it halfway before a call of his voice stopped him in his tracks, turning to see Gabe staring at him. He raised his eyebrow in question, “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He just nodded in response, continuing his trek to his room. Will watched the exchange before looking back down where Molly stood, bringing the two of them closer together. At that moment, for the first time in two weeks, all three of them knew that they were going to be okay.

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[agentrouka-blog]

It’s very unserious that one of the most significant writing techniques GRRM plays with is the POV trap, and yet people take Jon at face value when he says he totally doesn’t want some willowy maiden brushing her hair in a tower. Like, sure Jan. The lady doth protest toooo much.

Val: Getting out to find Tormund was refreshing. Anything else I can do to help?

Jon: 😍 In my head I just assigned you blue eyes and reddish hair instead of grey and blonde so actually this sounds like a great plan. Your fake princess status probably translates into the kind of diplomatic disposition I associate with princesses. Unattainable princesses that somehow eerily resemble an actual character in this book series with her hair brushing, chivalric romanticism, tower-residing and using words to achieve results. A "warrior princess" is totally attainable and Even Better.

Val: Selyse, if you make us kneel we will rise again sword in hand and never stop fighting.

Jon: Wait--

Val: Also, Jon, I would have that little girl euthanized ASAP. I am not some southern lady, you dolt, I am a woman of the free folk.

Jon: But. You were supposed to be a princess. I am totally flabbergasted that my princess expectations were not met. What shockingly violent inclinations. Assigning soft qualities based on what I would like to see in a female person somehow never goes as it should. No one is ever just pretty, blue-eyed, red-haired, clever and kind. And loves Winterfell. Woe.