#she has gums and three rows of teeth :)

[the-cactus-taco]

I have some constructive criticism on uzi’s new form:

And by “constructive criticism” I mean they did great with it and I just wanted to draw robotic flesh goop

[eddiesghxst]

cigarettes, coffee, and club-hopping

alrighty, she's here and i hope she lives up to the expectations! this is part one of...idk how many yet, but enjoy!

based on this idea I had 80 years ago

————

part one | part two | part three | part four

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: ex-bf!rockstar!eddie x lawyer!reader

summary: you're a divorce attorney in Los Angeles and your newest client is filing against famous rockstar, Eddie Munson, who is also your ex-boyfriend

contains: exes to lovers trope, mention of a past relationship, slutty banter, smoking, mentions of alcohol, a hint of mean!eddie, public sex (restroom), a sprinkle of degradation, eddie likes to kiss your neck, fingering, eddie licking your c*m off his fingers (bye), and eddie being hot <3

word count: 5.8k

-masterlist-

Eddie hates waking up early. 

He’s never been a morning person— in all his twenty-eight years of living, Eddie has never seen the letters ‘AM’ and smiled. This is partially why Eddie failed his first-period class in high school for two — almost three — consecutive years in a row. This is also partly why Eddie was fired from nearly every job he landed after graduating. You would imagine that Eddie has learned his lesson after all this time. Not quite.

Eddie is nearly an hour late to his first divorce settlement conference. One would think that Eddie would, for once in his life, wake up at a reasonable time to take a shower, grab his usual morning energy drink, beat LA traffic, and get to his appointment on time— as a mature grown man would do. Still, Eddie failed even to set an alarm to wake him up.

“You’re forty minutes late already— traffic is gonna make it even worse, and you don’t have another day to reschedule this for the next two months, so I suggest you get up, Munson!”

Eddie watches through sleep-fogged eyes as Kelly, his assistant, throws his window curtains aside to let the morning sun seep into his room. There’s a pounding kick drum beating behind Eddie’s eyes, a result of Eddie falling into Jeff’s sinister persuasion to go out. He should stop listening to that asshole— he’s part of why Eddie married his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Eddie’s bones click and crack as he stretches, sits up, and lazily swings his legs over the side of his bed with a sleepy groan. He can hear the rustling sound of Kelly picking up laundry from his floor— something he’s told her multiple times not to do, but she does it anyway, so he’s given up on fighting her. He runs a hand over his face, a yawn wracking through his entire body before reaching over to his nightstand, feeling around for the box of cigarettes he knows he left the night before. 

“I tossed them out,” Eddie glances up at Kelly, who is now grabbing the last of his laundry on the floor and leaving his room. “Go freshen up and get dressed; we need to leave now.”

Eddie’s doctor advised him to start weaning himself off the cancer sticks; something about it fucking with his gums, and that’s on top of the risks he’s running with the vocal strain it’s put on his voice. Eddie knows he should take it seriously, but he needs a lick of nic before spending the next three to four hours bickering with his wife about what’s his and hers.

Eddie drags himself out of bed, shuffling across the cool tile of his bedroom floor. He sleepily rubs his bare stomach, flipping the light switch and groaning, annoyed at the sudden brightness. He brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face before walking into his closet and sifting through the random pants and jackets strewn across the floor. There’s gotta be some smokes in here somewhere. 

He finds a nearly empty pack of Marlboro reds and wastes no time sticking it between his lips, lighting it up with the lighter on his nightstand before getting dressed.

By the time Eddie steps into the law firm, his headache has intensified by about 80 beats per second, and he’s gone through the old pack of smokes. It feels as if the back of Eddie’s eyes have a heartbeat of their own, throbbing with every direction they turn. Eddie can hear his attorney giving him pointers for the conference, but if Eddie’s honest, he doesn’t plan on talking much, so he doesn’t pay close attention to what the man is saying.

When they enter the conference room, Eddie is seated across the table from his wife and offered a cup of coffee, to which Eddie gladly accepts to nurse his hangover. “You could at least take the glasses off.” A sweet voice that’s grown to grate every one of Eddie’s nerves whenever he hears it. He glares at his wife from across the table, and though nobody could see his eyes behind his glasses, everyone could sense the distaste behind his words, “Fuck off, Nezza.”

A strong hand is placed on Eddie’s shoulder, his attorney’s, stiffly squeezing the thick leather jacket. “How about we get started then? Before things get… rowdy.”

“Great idea.” 

Now that voice—- that voice, Eddie could hear at any second of the day, any time of the year, and know exactly who was conducting that sweet song. 

Eddie likes to believe that the universe works in mysterious ways and that things really do happen for a reason, but sometimes he swears whatever god is up there behind the clouds just likes to fuck with him for fun. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could’ve prepared Eddie for the sight he sees when he flits his gaze from Nezza to the woman sitting next to her.

For a moment, Eddie is taken back to a time he remembers in golden dream-like clouds of smoke—- the spring of ‘83 when he fell headfirst in love with the woman sitting next to his wife. And for that moment—- for that split fraction of a second, Eddie is happy to see you. 

It’s surprising; after all this time he spent resenting you and spitting out the sour taste you'd left in his mouth, Eddie imagined he would never be able even to see a picture of you and not want to slam his head against the nearest surface he could get his hands on.

However, that feeling only lasts about .012 milliseconds before Eddie’s entire being is filled with every emotion he’d suppressed towards you over the last nine years. Eddie looks at you and sees the girl he loved and the girl that broke his heart. His last memory of you is so vivid that it almost outshines all the good from your past relationship. Almost. Like a python wrapped around his neck, Eddie chokes on adoration and hatred all in one breath.

If Eddie said it didn’t piss him off to an ungodly level that he has a sliver of excitement to see you, he would be lying. You had always known the best ways to wriggle under his skin. 

This one takes the cake for the cruelest way so far.

————

Eddie looks the same.

Not much has changed on him throughout the years apart from expensive clothing, healthier-looking hair, and a little more muscle on his arms to fill out the black leather jacket clinging to his frame. He still has a knack for jewelry, you note from the priceless rings hugging nearly every slender finger of his and the chain resting against his chest, hidden beneath his shirt. He carries himself the same way, confidently with a smear of carefree and chaos. You couldn’t get a read on him when settled down in his seat across from Nezza, and the black sunglasses shielding his eyes didn’t help you decipher him any further. 

He smells like Marlboro reds and a sharp cologne; dark scented and intense, easy to tell he’s the one wearing the scent. It’s a different scent than you remember from him. He’s swapped the cheap four-cent bottle of Brut for a more decadent scent— a mix of tonka bean, musk, and patchouli with a dash of something feminine you can’t quite put your finger on. The scent matches him better than Brut could ever amount to, but you find yourself reminiscent of the past.

Eddie doesn’t look your way until you speak, and either Eddie has mastered his poker face over the years, or he doesn’t remember you.

Not even briefly does Eddie’s expression falter from the bored look plastered on his face. The sunglasses do no justice either, and you wish the universe would strike them off his face at this very moment. You had forgotten what his eyes looked like in real-time and desperately wanted to remember— take a mental picture and shove it in the corner of your brain filled with essential memories, all things that make you smile, cry, and scream.

There’s a moment where you feel pained by Eddie’s unwavering reaction to seeing you. That feeling is quickly replaced with relief, relief that Eddie has matured just as much as you’d hoped he had. When you found out your client would be filing against Eddie, your high school boyfriend, you had initially panicked and paced the living room floor of your tiny studio apartment, thinking of ways to back out of the case. However, after a hefty glass of wine, you managed to persuade yourself that Eddie most likely isn’t still hung up on something as silly as a high school relationship. It happened nearly a decade ago; surely, you’ve both moved on, right?

With this indication, you feel the tension in your shoulders ease a little, hopeful that this process will be seamless, seeing as both parties want nothing to do with each other and Eddie holds no hard feelings against you.

Once the conference begins, you don’t look away in time to avoid Eddie’s gaze as he removes the glasses, your eyes landing on those dark pools of brown that you used to dip into each night. Vibrant and so full of life, full of untold stories and sights you’d missed out on in the last decade, a story unfolds beneath the glimmer of his eyes under the lights. They feel like home at first, but as you continue holding his gaze, your home becomes clouded by lightning and wind, dark storm clouds with a promise of a downpour.

As you gaze into Eddie’s eyes, you see nothing but the boy you left behind in the summer of ‘85.

————

Stomach growling and frustrated sighs indicate the need for a break at around 12:40 PM.

The conference had started on a good note, with seamless agreements between you, your client, and Eddie’s team. That was until your client decided to become rather difficult and demanding.

“We’ll pick up where we left off in ten minutes.”

The atmosphere in the room has become stuffy and tight over the hours, so you get up to stretch your legs on a short walk to the coffee cart in the hallway.

Your mind feels muddled, pushed to exhaustion from hours of reading documents and going back and forth with Eddie’s attorney. Nezza wants more than Eddie is willing to give, money-wise, property-wise, and everything else under the sun. You’re determined to get your client as much as possible, but it’s proving to be more of a struggle than expected; Eddie’s team is headstrong and unwilling to bend to your substantial advances. Oh, and Eddie’s been practically throwing daggers at you from across the table with each chance he can get.

As you stir in a sugar packet, you watch the dark brown liquid swirl in the foam cup. You fall into a short trance as you watch the tiny bubbles dance within your drink, but the sound of a throat clearing shatters the spell. You glance to your side where the person is standing and are surprised to be met with a leather-covered shoulder and dark brown curly hair. 

“Are you done with the sugar?” Eddie points towards your hand, and you blink, stuck as you stare at him for a moment. You know you should be professional, you’re an established attorney, and you’re in the middle of doing your job, but you’re also 100% fucking human, so— “I don’t know, are you done sending me death glares from across the table or do you wanna keep being an asshole?”

Eddie grabs the jar of sugar packets from your hand, “You wouldn’t have to put up with it if you just… quit the case.” Eddie shrugs as if his advice is a task as easy as folding towels. You take offense to his response, eyebrows pinching together as you watch him rip open a packet and sprinkle sugar into his cup, “I can’t just drop a case, Eddie.”

Eddie mockingly laughs, “Really? That’s weird; I mean, considering how you kind of just dropped everything and fled the fucking state, I’m sure you can drop a case just as easily, sweetheart.” 

His words hurt. As much as you wish he didn’t have that effect on you, it’s evident that he still does, considering how your neck heats up in anger. You don’t miss the pet name he slipped in; you hate that it makes your neck even warmer. “I didn’t flee the state; I went to fucking college— and how is that even my fault? I gave you the number to my dorm, and you never called.”

And Eddie remembers that letter you left him. He remembers it like the back of his hand. He memorized every sentence, including that stupid number you left for him. “Yes, I did. I called you after every show for months, and you never picked up!” 

You spent eight years in New York, and out of those eight years, you spent four of them staring at an ugly green phone on the wall of your dorm hallway, waiting for it to ring so you could pick it up and hear his voice again. You asked your roommate to listen for a call if she was up studying late or if you went out and she stayed in. Now, you wonder if she failed you on her part because you would’ve never, in a hundred years, missed Eddie’s call. Never.

Before you can respond to the information, you are being called back into the room to resume the conference—  you’d almost forgotten that’s what you were here for.

You and Eddie let the man know you’ll be right there and watch as he walks back into the room. When you turn to Eddie, his gaze is no longer on you as he tosses the small wooden stirring stick in the trash.

Eddie is silent for a moment before he looks at you and gives a forced, close-lipped smile, “It’s nice to know you’re still full of shit.”

And then he’s gone. Eddie leaves you there, stunned and offended by his words. Eddie Munson thinks you’re full of shit— as if you were the only one to blame for your falling out. You feel stupid for believing in a better-evolved version of the Eddie you’d known. You wish his words didn’t affect you, but the conversation has left a bitter taste on your tongue. You glance down at the cup of coffee in your hands, and your stomach churns. You no longer have an appetite for the drink.

————

Late-night club hopping has never been your preferred way of spending a Saturday night. There’s a different type of energy in LA’s club scene than there is in New York. It was easy to have a good time in New York; the clubs are all close to one another and stay open nearly all night. In Los Angeles, it’s been a slow rise to liking the nightlife— clubs are more scattered, and on top of that, you learned the hard way that it’s difficult to even get into clubs when you’re not Madonna-level status. That last problem isn’t so much an issue now that you’ve settled in and made a few connections around the city. 

Tonight you’re celebrating a friend from work's birthday. Penny was the first person you talked to at the law firm; she instantly made you feel at home and offered to buy you lunch at a cafe next door. The two of you have been joined at the hip ever since. 

You’re happy to celebrate Penny’s birthday and glad to be tagging along with her in this new chapter of her life, but what you’re bothered about is the fact that you chose to wear the most uncomfortable shoes in your closet. You were under the impression that you would be eating dinner with Penny and a few of her friends, but somehow, dinner turned into a night-long clubbing adventure. 

Logically, you have no one to blame but yourself for wearing Steve Madden pumps, but if Penny had told you the night would be long, you definitely wouldn’t have worn these god-awful shoes.

You’re sitting on a bar stool waiting for your drink and thinking about what excuse you’ll give Penny to go home when suddenly, you feel someone walk up beside you, waving over the bartender. You glance at the person and immediately look away, preparing to run for it before they notice. 

Sadly, you’re not fast enough to escape his line of sight, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re stalking me.”

You turn to the man and take in the sight of him as you tilt your head. “Wouldn’t it be the other way around since I was… you know, minding my business until you came here.” You motion to where Eddie is standing, and he smirks, silently taking his drink when the bartender passes it to him.

“How’d you get in here anyways?” He asks. It’s not a bad question; sure, you’re a damn good attorney, but you’re of no celebrity status, and this club is one of the more difficult joints to get into. However, you still take offense to Eddie’s question.

Your eyes narrow slightly, debating whether you should continue entertaining Eddie or leave and find your friends. “If you’re going to continue to be an asshole, then I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me; I want nothing to do with you.” Eddie scoffs into the rim of his drink before taking a short sip. You roll your eyes, feeling like kids in elementary getting into petty fights. “What makes you think I want something to do with you?”

Eddie snickers over the rim of his glass, “The fact that you’re still sitting here says enough.” 

You scoff, looking away from him as you shift in your seat, attempting to make it seem like you want to get away from him, but it only scoots you closer to him, your arm brushing his elbow. You panic at the touch but act as if it was nothing. “If my feet didn’t feel like they were about to fall off, I would be miles away from you by now.” You grumble as you distract yourself by tugging down the hem of your dress. 

“I don't believe that.” 

You let out an exasperated breath, looking over at Eddie with an annoyed expression as you speak, “Not everyone is head over heels dying to be around you.” 

It might be the alcohol or Eddie’s sinister pheromones you’re breathing in paired with the sound of his ridiculously annoying laugh—- you’re not sure which it is, but you find yourself enjoying this back-and-forth banter. A big part of you is frustrated by Eddie’s insistent prodding at your nerves, but your other part is intrigued. Too stuck to grab your things, bid him goodnight, and leave.

You almost think you heard him wrong when he responds, “We’ll see if you’re saying the same thing once I get you in the back.”

You blink, momentarily silent, as you glance at him to watch him calmly sip his drink. Not a single hint of regret or shock flashes across his face, and you almost think you imagined it until you see a ghost of a smirk brush the corner of his lips. “Excuse me?” And like a child, Eddie’s response is quick and irritating, “You’re excused.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m willingly going anywhere with you that’s not a fucking law firm or courtroom.” 

Eddie laughs, glancing at you and nodding once, “Sure.” You hate how smug he is, and you hate that he’s so fucking right, but you swear you won’t fold for whatever stupid game he’s playing. “Sure?”

You watch Eddie tip back his drink and finish what’s left, placing the empty glass on the bar countertop before lazily nudging it forward. You shift back with an annoyed grimace when he turns to you and leans an elbow against the bar. He points over your shoulder, and you catch yourself before you follow his lead, gaze stuck on his face as you prepare for whatever bullshit is about to leave his mouth.

“I’m gonna head to the restroom to take a piss. You can sit here and bitch about everything under the sun, or you can quit being a pussy and meet me there.”

And without further explanation or interaction, Eddie gets up and leaves. You turn and watch in shock as he walks off, watching his back until it’s washed away by the sea of people on the dance floor. You turn back to the bar and gaze at your drink. For a moment, you think this might be some elaborate scheme Eddie has to fuck you over. Complying with this proposition, Eddie has now opened, could very well lead to you losing your job, something you’re not very keen on doing.

You glance towards the direction Eddie had walked off in and groan, briefly shutting your eyes as temptation washes over you. There’s no way this is real. There’s no way you’re actually thinking about going into that restroom with Eddie.

You take a deep breath, clenching your teeth in thought before muttering a curse. You’re fucking yourself over with this one, but you do it anyways. You toss back the rest of your drink, wincing at the bitterness, before hopping off the barstool.

Your adrenaline is so high that you don’t even feel the ache in your feet as you cross the dance floor, maneuvering through sweaty bodies and spilled drinks toward the bright neon RESTROOMS sign.

From the corner of your eye, you see Penny standing at her rented-out section as she tosses back a shot with the girls you’d arrived with. You should turn around and join them, return to celebrating Penny’s birthday, and forget all about your interaction with Eddie. That’s what you should do, but you don’t. You continue walking towards the restrooms, mentally going back and forth with yourself until you reach the door and wrap your hand around the handle.

However, the door opens before you can fully prepare to open it, and the scent of hand soap and Eddie hits you in the face. Your wide eyes meet Eddie’s glinting gaze. A smirk spreads across his lips, and he snickers, “I’d say I’m surprised, but that’d be a lie.”

Your gaze is hot and heavy as you stare up at him. The sounds of the club you're in seem muffled as you spend your last seconds considering what you’re about to do. You should really turn around.

You tilt your head up, silently sizing Eddie and daring him, a tipping point where you both know there’s no going back now—- especially not when you mesh your lips against his and stumble into the restroom. You plan to blame this on the alcohol.

Eddie makes quick work of turning to press your back against the door, fumbling to lock the door as you grumble a breathless ‘Fuck you’ against his lips.

“I intend to, sweetheart.” 

You hate how stupid and witty the response is, but it makes your stomach twist in need, nonetheless. Eddie’s hands are roaming and squeezing you wherever he can reach, hiking up your dress enough to slink a few digits into the hand of your skimpy panties, snapping them against your waist and smirking when you push up against him. Eddie manages to speak in between haste kisses, “I’m gonna be honest; I didn’t think you’d give in this easily.”

Eddie is now ushering you towards the sink, softly snickering at the gasp that escapes you when the cold marble digs into your lower back. “Are you trying to say I’m easy?” 

You can’t hold back the moan that slips from you when Eddie’s hand slithers between your thighs to press a thumb against your clit. “Maybe… also just pointing out that you clearly missed me.”

You don’t answer him, leaning forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss as your hips rock back and forth against his touch. You smooth your hand down his chest and over his belt to grasp the heavy bulge between his thighs, humming when he moans, “Looks like you missed me more, Munson.”

You giggle when he grunts in annoyance, fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties before shucking them down your legs and lifting the flimsy garment for you to see with a smirk, “Won’t be needing these anymore, will you?” 

You grimace in faux disgust as you watch him stuff the soaked material in his back pocket. “Gross,” you comment, although Eddie doesn’t answer, busying himself with pulling you off the counter, flipping you around to face the sink, and eyeing you through the neon-lighted mirror. “You’re a perv; you know that?” You add as Eddie wraps an arm around your front and hikes your dress to sink his hand between your thighs.

Your shaky fingers grasp Eddie’s wrist, hips squirming as he begins to rub your clit, dipping a finger lower to spread your sticky arousal. “If I were you, I would start being very nice to me.” His voice is low and gravely against your ear as you smile, gazing back into his darkened gaze through the glass reflection. You push back against him, and you both sigh in pleasure. “Just fuck me, Eddie.”

You gasp when he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt, slowly pushing it in and out of you to create a sinful twist in your tummy. You shake your head in protest, although your hips rock against his thrusts. “No, no, I don’t need it. I don’t need that. Just fuck me, please?” You repeat, voice teetering on the edge of a whine.

“God, you’re still a fucking brat. So used to getting what you want, hm?” Despite his comment, he doesn’t give you what you’d asked for. Instead, he slips in another finger, greedily squeezing at your chest with his other hand. Your thighs tremble as his fingertips delicately massage that sweet spot hidden between your wet walls, a shaky hand reaching up to grasp his hand as he fondles your breasts over your dress. “Not anymore, princess,” His voice is low and foggy with sex, purring against your ear with ease as he plays with you. “This time, you’ll earn it like a good slut. You’re going to have to ask me very nicely if you want it that bad.” “A-ah…Fuck you.”

Eddie laughs at your response, digging his face into your neck when you throw your head back, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your perfume. He presses a kiss to the base of your neck, and you hate how it makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching around his hand, causing him to pause. “Keep them open.” He warns, ignoring your pathetic attempts at rutting against his hand.

When you don’t obey his instruction, Eddie brings his foot in between your pump-clad feet, knocking the toe of his shoe against both heels, causing your legs to part, shaky limbs failing you as you stumble in his hold. Eddie chuckles, nipping your jaw as he sinks another finger into your soaking heat. Your moan is loud and pitiful as you reach forward to grasp the sink counter for stability. “Oh my god—” “Jesus, you’re fucking tight. Barely taking three fingers.” Your moans are high-pitched as you rock your hips against Eddie, nails digging into the skin of his flexing wrist as he fucks you with his fingers. 

The sloshing sounds from between your legs are just loud enough to hear over the booming music of the club barely, and if Eddie’s fingers weren’t fucking you so well, you would’ve felt ashamed. You hardly notice Eddie’s free hand traveling to the low neck of your dress, tugging the material down to expose your chest. He groans at the sight, palming one of your tits as his mouth latches to the side of your neck. His fingers pinch and roll your nipples, his tongue warm and wet as he licks up your neck, humming at the taste of you and smiling when he feels you tremble against his body. “I can feel you squeezing me, princess; you gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your ear, humming when you hastily nod. “I don’t think so.” 

He slows the draw of his fingers, softly petting at your walls to give enough sensation to have your eyes rolling but not enough to tip over the edge. You frustratedly huff, “Eddie—” “Good sluts ask to come, you know that.”

Your stomach twists at his words, hips squirming in search of more, more, more. You have a lot of pride; you’ve been told it’s your strongest and worst quality before— but here in this dingy club restroom, with Eddie’s overwhelming presence surrounding you and the incessant need to cum gnawing at every cell in your body, you find your pride quickly dwindling like a flame under water. The time when you need your pride the most, it’s nowhere to be found. 

“Please, Eddie.” You whisper so quietly Eddie almost misses it. He smiles, “Since I know how hard that was for you, I’ll take it— but I won't be so kind next time, princess.” He pulls his fingers out of you and urges you to turn around and face him. 

He nudges you back to sit on the edge of the sink, stepping between your thighs and opening them wide enough to see your glistening cunt, sticky arousal winking up at him beneath the dim neon lighting. “N-next time?” You take in a sharp breath as he hitches your leg around his waist

He chuckles, glancing at your swollen lips as you gaze up at him trying to fight through the hazy fog of arousal. Eddie runs three fingers over your clit before sinking back into you, a low hum rattling from his chest when your shaky hands grasp his shirt, fingers curling and wrinkling the material, “Next time.”

Your words get lost on you when he begins fucking you again, eyes fluttering shut as your legs subconsciously tighten around his waist. You can feel his breath against your top lip, and you fight the urge to seek out his lips with yours. You push up into him, mumbling incoherent pleas into the air. You lick your lips, pussy clenching when the tip of your tongue catches Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie doesn’t wait for you to make a move this time, his free hand reaching up to grip your jaw, fingertips digging into your cheek as he pushes his lips against yours. You both moan into the kiss, your hips grinding into the thrusts of his fingers.

You keep kissing Eddie until you can’t, too overwhelmed by the pending promise of an orgasm. You slide away from Eddie’s lips and nuzzle into his neck, finding solace in the soft brush of his hair against your face, the distant but familiar scent of his shampoo invading your senses. “I’m gonna come.” You whisper, nails digging into his biceps as your thighs quiver.

Eddie keeps his hand working between your thighs, thanking the many hours he’s spent playing guitar for training his wrist to maintain endurance. His other hand dances up your heaving back, dipping beneath the curtain of your hair to grip the back of your neck, softly squeezing in encouragement. “Let go, baby. Let me feel it.”

You nearly sob when you finally tip over, body tensing before melting against Eddie’s body in shambles of incoherent words and shaking limbs. You can hear the sticky wet substance of your release squelching around his fingers; you can feel it smearing against your thighs and dripping onto the cool tiles of the floor, and you almost feel ashamed when Eddie points it out, “Fuckkk, you’ve been saving this for me, haven’t you?” You hardly register his words, but you nod, mewling as you nuzzle deeper against him, thighs twitching when you teeter on the edge of sensitivity.

“I… Enough, Eddie, please fuck me.” You’re practically begging, pulling away from his neck to blink up at him blearily, sex-drunk hands fumbling to reach out for him. Eddie kisses you and chuckles against your lips, fingers finally slowing down. He pulls away with a lewd hum, leaning back to watch as he removes his fingers from your cunt, dragging the drenched digits up to smear your arousal around your clit, grinning when your thighs twitch.

You try to catch your breath as you silently watch him bring his fingers up to his lips, sinking them into his mouth to sinfully lick your cum from his fingers. He glances at you with a smirk around his fingers, and you squirm in your spot. “You’re being a tease.”

He releases his fingers with a pop before stepping away, “Sorry to cut this short, sweetheart, but I’ve gotta run, and I’m sure your friends are worried about where you went.” You watch in disbelief as he glances in the mirror and fixes a few unruly hair pieces. He looks your way and drops his eye in a wink, “I’ll see you later, princess.”

You silently gape in shock, watching him turn around and stride toward the door. Eddie can feel your eyes throwing darts at him, and he doesn’t bother hiding his smile as he opens the door and steps out. 

You have to take a moment to wrap your head around it, but once you do, you wind up more annoyed with yourself for falling so quickly into Eddie’s trap. You clean yourself up and make yourself look presentable again before leaving the restroom to find your friends. 

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Penny exclaims once she sees you. She gasps when you get closer, and she sees your neck, leaning in to get a better look, causing you to slap a hand over the sore spot. “Oh, my god. Who?” “What?” “You were definitely screwing someone in the back! Who?”

You wince at her volume, quickly shushing her, “Nobody, Penny, this is old.” 

Penny rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to say something, but you quickly cut her off, “I have an early meeting tomorrow, Pen; I have to get going.” Penny frowns but understands either way, giving you a quick hug and bidding you goodbye for the night. You leave her with a final Happy Birthday and make your way out of the club, already yearning for the comfort of your bed.

Before getting a taxi, you find yourself walking into a nearby store and purchasing a CD of Corroded Coffin’s first album, letting the CD burn a hole through your hands on the ride home. When you get home, you fall asleep atop your sheets before you can listen to the record. 

You spend the rest of your night dreaming of hazy summers in Hawkins with a young curly-headed boy you knew once upon a time.

————

a/n: aH, i hope this was good, next part will be a bit more angsty so this part was for the sluts <3

————

teeny taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @sidthedollface2, @peachysink, @hereforshmut, @duncanhillscoffeecups

[theelderhazelnut]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @aceghosts @nightbloodbix @cloudofbutterflies92 @cassietrn <3

I’m one hour late lol. Okay so this is what I have written so far for the first chapter of “Rise of Villains: The Shadow”. Atoosa (Ombra) has lost everything, and she meets Raiden for the first time. (Güney is a minor character)

Also, this is not proofread!

I had never truly felt it until that night when I was sitting beside the road. I had never wished to be anyone else, even that middle-aged man making tea for his customers, but this lost little girl. What did people do when their parents are suddenly killed in an airpalne shot by two rockets, and when they were suddenly left with nothing but an old luggage?

I stared at my fingers, trying so hard not to bury my face in them because then my life would magically go deeper into this abyss. What was I supposed to do really? A psychiatry student in a foreign country who had lost her financial support last week and her rented apartment this morning.

I went into my pocket to check the time, but remembered that my phone had just died. I took a deep breath to protect my sanity for just a few more seconds until I arrive at the restaurant, the temporary workplace I opt because I wanted to be this independent woman. The money it provided me for working there part-time would never heal any scars, but it was better that nothing. But now it was everything I had left.

I pushed glass door open after walking for fifteen minutes, and dragged my luggage behind me. There were only two couples left out of all the customers. Güney, the cashier, looked at me up and down.

“Where are you going?” He continued chewing his gum while his dark eyes were begging to be shut.

“Can I stay the night?” It was weird to hear my own voice after hours of silence in the pavement. Also when I was trying to hide the pleading tone shaking my voice.

“Uuum-yeah you can sleep in the kitchen, but why? Are you okay?” He raised his eyebrows in concern.

Güney was never the friendliest collaege to me, and I definitely did not need his sympathy right then.

“I-my landlord kicked me out I’ll just stay one night I promise I’ll fix everything and-“

“What do you mean he kicked you out?!”

“Because I didn’t pay the rent.” Even talking about what happened this morning made me feel ill and dizzy. I shook my head and walked up to the kitchen.

“You could stay at my place.” He offered in a low, cautious tone, standing awkwardly in the doorframe. Trusting a stranger I see almost everyday? Nope. Never.

I stared at him dead in the eyes. “I’m good. Thank you.”

He creeped out of the dark room with measured steps. And I was, once again, left alone. I sat on the counter for the next couple of minutes, staring at the distance while the fridge continuously beezed in my ears. I would lie if I claimed that I wasn’t scared to be all alone in a restaurant at midnight. Surely, the doors were locked, but my mind was a bastard who enjoyed visualizing diverse scenarios of a psychopath suddenly breaking in. Fortunately, the knives and axes were at reach, hanging gravely from the rank.

I tightened my grip around the edge of the counter. I could hear the already ruined house of my life collapsing into the deep abyss of misery. I would turn into a poor girl drowning in povert while she carries her dead dreams on her hunched shoulders. I would be useless. I would fail.

A vague, booming sound from afar rang in my ears. I found myself totally frozen when I only moved my eyeballs towards the door. I greeted my teeth as though it would magically create a shield for me. The sound was heard again; now three times in a row like knocking. I held my breath to hear every single noise resembling footsteps.

Knocking again. In utter silence, I picked one of the huge knives, and [walking silently] out of the kitchen. White knuckling the handle, my nails were penetrating my sweaty palm.

Before I knew it, a thunder striked just a few meters away. My eyes went blind and my ears went deaf for a brief moment, my heart skipping a beat. I stumbled, but maintained my balance by holding onto one of the tables. Gathering my mind, I aimed the tip of the knife to where it just exploded. But to my shock, evrything was in its place. Not even a single crack could be seen on the windows.

Instead, there stood a tall, masculine figure. Due to darkness I could only see the blackness of his robe and a triangle on his head. Two balls of blue light were shining intensely where his eyes supposed to be. Even though he seemed to be totally alright, tiny fractions of electricity lit up his fists, and occasionally connected the edge of that triangle to his neck.

My lungs begged to empty themselves, but even a small noise was deadly threatening. Was he an alien?

“Atoosa Aryan?” He called.

My heart dropped down to my belly. My thoughts stuck in a tight knot, and so did my tongue.

“I am Raiden, the god of thunder.” He lifted his gloved hand. “There is no need to be afraid. My mere intention is to save you.”

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting before him on one the tables.

“Do we know each other?” I mumbled weakly, afraid that if I blinked for a second, he would rip my throat out.

“I am certain that you have never heard of me untill this moment.” There was a soothing hint of patience in his nonchalant tone. “However, I have heard about you many times in the past two decades. I am well aware of your iron-bending power, Miss. Aryan.”

My heart skipped a beat. He knew too much about me, even the tiniest bit of control I have over iron which I had concealed even from myself. Was he really a god? No, it would be too stupid of me to believe him. He was probably a very professional thief who had taken his job a bit too seriously. What did he want to steal from me though? I had nothing.

He continued. “I am here to offer you a place among the defenders of the realm.”

If he wasn’t a well-trained thief, the he was definitely a psychopath. But that didn’t make sense considering how everything about him seemed too real.

In the next half an hour he took his time to explain about how those defenders defend our realm which he called Earthrealm. He was a god whose main responsibility was to protect this realm. And seemingly, one of his minor duties was to find miserable people like me - with supernatural powers - and train them to be fighters.

That was ridiculous. But a part of my heart begged my brain to believe it.

Writing Taglist(to be added/removed): @vivilovespink @scentedcandleibex @darialovesstuff @confidentandgood @spacestephh @takiisieju-moved @inafieldofdaisies @carlosoliveiraa @shegetsburned @bloody-arty-myths @zoetheneko @hi-thisiszira @admin-pipes @mitsuko-saito @malewifefirestar @krysta-cross @elderglocks @breakfwest @middlechildwhoescapedthebasement @ninibear3000 @sinclxirx @gavincruikshanksexhusband @voidika @orbitinytheworld @strangefable @bihanspookies @valyrra @simonxriley

[undermine-the-instinct]

With MerMay coming up I wanted to announce that I so far have three fic ideas!! They are as follows:

Merman!Kaeya x reader

"Your breath is slowing." You can only hum under your breath as he smooths his hand down your back. With more pressure now, as if to wake you up.

"You're too cold. You need to go back now."

"No. I don't want to."

"I know you don't, but you have to love."

"I'm just a little sleepy…"

His hands move to your waist, and he pulls you out of the water, even as you struggle to get back to him.

"No. Any longer you'll get frostbite."

"That's for snow and ice."

"Even still, humans need to be warm. You're not warm. You need to get out."

Merman!Kazuha x reader

"Strange is the music that rings, that fades in the Autumnal wood." You stare into the mirror like waters of the ocean, reflecting all the colors of the peachy orange sunset, spilling syrup sweet and slow into the encroaching dusk.

You want a few moments more, before the water shifts. You look carefully, and you see a pair of eyes staring at you from deeper underneath the waters. You smile–you know those eyes.

The waters don't even ripple when Kazuha rises above them. He grins back at you, slow and wide, his eyes twinkling. You stare at one another for a few seconds more, before chaos erupts.

His smile turns sharp and your breath hitches–part fear and part joy. You shriek and scramble back, but even on land Kazuha is fast. He pulls himself on land and shoots himself forward by his arms as you scamper back.

You slip and fall on your behind, and a wet hand clamps onto your ankle. You only have time for a single shrill shriek before kazuha pulls you both back into the waters, dragging you under.

Siren!Reader x Thoma.

"Thoma. Your mind is wandering." He jolts back again, and swings his head, left and right. The voice, it was definitely talking to him!

"A little over down. I'm right here."

"Huh?" He looks down, as told, and…there.

It looks like a woman, at least from the waist up. She smiles from her place in the shallow pools, chin in her hands and skin shiny under the weak Inazuman sun.

She smiles, and her smile isn't beautiful, it is bone colored and sharp with something like delight.

"How do you know my name?"

She tilts her head, but it is not endearing. She looks terrifying.

"I asked a couple of sailors if they knew who sang those lovely songs by my shore. Eventually I got my answer. Thoma."

Her voice is hoarse and rough but when she sings his name it turns into something beautiful. Despite himself he sets himself down, and her eyes follow him down.

"....You drowned them?"

"...Hm? No? I wasn't hungry. Just curious." She grins then, really grins, and iit splits her face into serrated rows of teeth with pink gums.

As you can see they are all Genshin, and I really want to write something for JJK and KNY. If anyone has any ideas or requests let me know!!

[thewritersaddictions]

Request: The Adults: Eddie Munson- Blessing

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham

Pov: Chrissy Cunningham

Warnings: Sleepless nights; Eddie!Daddy Mode; fluff; in love with each other; little family vibes; cuteness; babies first words; inner fears; talking.

Summary: A cute midnight moment between father and daughter.

A/n- firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 1.2k

Requests Master List // Stranger Things Master List // The Adults Master List // Chronicles of Eddie M. & Chrissy C. Master List

The cries are somthing that more books don't prepare you for. The crying never stops until your kids starts to grow up. Needing you less and less until once day they're grown up and leaving for college. Though Eddie and I are far from sending Charlotte off to college rather we just started this journey.

tired it putting it gently. My body aches, and as much as I want to ignore the somber moans coming from the baby moniter I just can't. I hadn't thought that the baby moniter was that loud, but when I shifted to leave the bed a large hand was wrapped around my elbow. "You need beauty rest my love. I will get her." Eddie murmurs, sleep still on his eyes. He pulls the sheets back, and I watch as his boxer butt walks from the bed to the doorway and off to Charlottes room.

I can't rest. My eyes shut sure, but sleep doesn't come. The worried mom part of my brain won't shut up. I just need to check, and it's not that I don't trust Eddie with Charlotte. I just can't help myself. I throw the covers off my body. I can the quiet mumbles of talking as I push up from the bed pushing through the doorway.

I walk down the hallway. a slight sway in my hips as I wrap the belt around my waist and tie it into a knot. When I get out of the darkness of the hallway. The lights in the living are streaming throughout the house. I look over to the kitchen stove. It's nearly three in the morning.

When I look back over to the living room. There's Eddie with Charlotte on his lap. His hand tucked under her armpits holding her upright. Eddie doesn't look up right away, so I make my way toward the couch. Taking a seat next to both of them. "I told you not to come out here," Eddie says quietly while he continues to look at our daughter. She's a spitting image of him. Black hair that has only grown longer than when she was born, brown eyes that beam with excitement almost every morning, evening, and night.

Charlotte is babbling mostly to herself. She hasn't said her first word yet. I push away the stinging feeling in my chest that something might be wrong. I had read a lot of parenting books, and tried to learn all you can before a baby comes into your life. These books that now sit on the books shelves never say anything about the first words.

"You're such a pretty girl," Eddie says softly to our daughter. She smiles a goody one-sided smile. A few teeth sit on the top row of your gums, but nothing yet comes in on the bottom. "A silly pretty little girl." I say to her grabbing the fat on her thighs. She giggles, watching as the two of us make an effort to make her laugh.

The sounds of all of our giggles surround the living room space. Lightening up all of the dark spaces around us.

It’s clear as day, or I guess it’s clear as night considering the time when the words come out of her mouth. She looks between the two of us, eyes with excitement and wonder. “Mama, Papa.” She says. It’s so clear that neither one of us catch the words at first. Until I watch Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Wait what…” The words are rushed out of his mouth as he looks over at me, then looks back at Charlotte.

“Char, can you say that again?” Eddie asks her. There’s a dubious look on her face in a matter of seconds. As if she knows that her father and I want to desperately hear her say the words just once more. She shrugs, and her facial expression matches Eddie in every single sense. Eddie groans in frustration, and just how much his daughter is not only a spitting image of him but dare I say even has the same feisty attitude Eddie has.

“Oh please for Papa!” Eddie pleads with his one year daughter. I watch as the interaction only gets funnier by the second. Charlotte is making at her father, and Eddie only encourages the actions by giving her faces of his own. “Please Char, if not for me then for Mama.” Eddie says pointing towards me on the couch. I smile sweetly at the both of them as they take a good look at me. “Yeah for Mama.” I repeat Eddie’s words. I see her sign a little like she’s done with this shit already.

“Mama, papa.” Charlotte repeats her last set of words. Looking at us, my cheeks burn from the long smile that has taken root on my cheeks. My eyes burn from the tears that have yet to fall. “Good job sweet girl.” Charlotte yawns as Eddie wraps her up in his arms. He get’s up reaching out a hand for me to grab. With Eddie’s help, we walk hand in hand to Charlottes bedroom. On the walk charlotte is lulled back to sleep, so when we make it to her room the little night lamp gets turned on.

Eddie’s hand drops from mine as she maneuvers to get a better, safer grip on Charlottes heavy body. Her mouth is gapped open just a little bit, eyes closed tight. Eddie moves her down and into the crib. Resting her head gently on the small pillow. Placing the stuffy in her clammy small hands. Drawing the blanket over her small frame. Charlotte snuggles up tot he blanket and stuffy automatically.

Eddie shuts off the night light, but leaves the little plugged in outlet on. A unicorn that’s lit with a rainbow, and a white light. He grabs my waist as I rest against the doorframe. “What are you thinking about Chris?” Eddie asks me. I look at the crib, our sleeping daughter cuddled up to her things, and all to the effort of Eddie. The tears fall. Eddie wipes them away, “Come on Chris let’s go to bed and you can tell me as we walk to the bedroom.” Eddie says releasing my waist, and grabbing my hand to drag me towards the darkly lite bedroom.

“You… I was thinking about you Eds.” I whisper into the darkness. Eddie hums in the darkness. “I was just thinking that if I hadn’t come to you when I did. That we… we never would have this family. We’d never have Charlotte.” I say a underlining tone of sadness leaks into the words. “Oh baby.” Eddie goes to say, “You two are the most important things to me. You don’t know how great full I am that you and her are apart of my life.” I say, swallowing down the tears and fears that bubble up in my chest.

I can feel Eddie’s smile as I shift in the bed, throwing the robe off into the chair besides the bed. The bed dips as Eddie grabs me pulling me towards him. I slide easily on the sheets, My head rests on his chest. “Chrissy baby. I know that some things were as conventional as some people would have liked for them to be, but I know that I’m overfilled with joy that I got you in my bed every night. And now it’s even better because you gave me the second brightest light in my life.” Eddie mumbles into my hair as he draws random shapes into my skin on my back.

Completed on: 07/23/23

Posted on: 7/25/23

COEC- @borhapgirlforlife19

[punk-in-docs]

Hi! What do you think of an idea of Eddie as a secret admirer? 👀

❤️My Funny Valentine❤️

The sickly horror of St. fucking Valentine’s Day. Ugh.

Everywhere at school is all fluffed up and candied. Tongue red and rose pink with Valentines Day mushiness. The worst. The hallways are lined with craft paper cut out hearts and tacky glittering sentiment.

You’d rather eat pebbles.

You’d not wanted to take part in this ridiculous farcical holiday. Really it was hideous enough that your mom giggled like a ten year old girl this morning when your dad slid her a candy pink envelope. Her name looped on the front. Feigning surprise that she has a mystery man in her life.

They shared a silly kiss that has you cringing into the bowl of your honeycomb cereal. Slinging your eyes up and rolling them over. School was bad enough. Suffering the indignity of romance over the breakfast counter too, was just entirely nauseating.

You literally have to shoulder your way past couples making out to get to your locker. Some springy haired cheerleader and her letterman clad jock. There’s posters up about the Valentine’s Day dance in the Gym. It will be wall to wall slow dancing and pink confetti and red foil curtains shimmering off the walls. Those sad foil wrapped heart-shaped chocolates on the tables.

It’s all going to be predictably over stuffed with couples. One of which you are not and you’ve never felt it more keenly than today. Everywhere else is pink hearts. Yours is content to remain throughly charred black and miserable.

You manage to peel your locker open. Batting away the paper hearts. Let’s be real, you wanted to rip them up really.

You won’t get asked to that dance. You won’t get any invites or cards- or anything. You’re resigned to your singledom.

That’s the worst thing of it all. If you had someone to share it with, you may have been able to hate it less.

A small slip of wonky paper flutters out your locker and dances, arches and dips, across the air to land at your sneakers. Puzzled, you heft your books down and reach down to grab it.

When you lift it up you don’t recognise the hand. But there on the jagged paper is a line of spidery scrawled words in chicken scratch red biro. Your stomach swells and swoops with the words:

“Hey cutie. Wanna go to the dance with me? EM.”

What? EM. Your brain flips and rattles around like that Rolodex your mom uses. Sheets of card and names and flicking around trying to locate one.

EM? Who is EM? And why do they want to go to the dance with little old you-

You weigh the paper in your hand and dart your head over your shoulders. Twisting around to see if you can catch sign of anyone. Anyone at all.

Lip locked couples around you. Gaggles of friends huddled close. Chatter and bubbling noise and sneakers on Lino filling your ears. Laughter and gum chewing and gossip and-

Oh-

About ten lockers down from you, someone is leaning against theirs. Arms folded. Eyes flicked fully forwards to land on you.

You know full well whose that locker door is from sight alone. The one plastered in heavy metal bands you’d never heard the names of. Rock star. Devils, skulls, forked tongues and Hellfire-

Eddie Munson is stood there with his puppy dog brown eyes and a completely smug grin on his smart mouth. Such a pretty mouth. His face is entirely framed by that spill of wild dark curls. Big broad leather-denim meshed jacket made his scrawny frame look good.

You catch his look and it’s purely confident. It oozes with charm and you swallow all sticky cause. Holy shit is this boy cute.

He jerks a nod to your hands where the paper is. You look down and at his urging turn it over seeing you had three options sat by the wonky row of boxes. No, Yes, and Hell yes.

You laugh at the absurdity of it. Your cheeks fill with naked heat and he’s stuck his eyes to the line of your teeth in your dazzling smile. Gorgeous.

When you look up. He raises his brows. Slanting them up under his wonky bangs. An expression and a question sloped into one.

You cannot bobble a nod at him fast enough.

Oh and he grins and your stomach is thrown into a sudden lurching tilt-a-whirl. Arcade music and fun and games, and cotton candy.

You look down again at the note and rub your thumb over the letters. You’re going to the Valentines dance with Eddie Munson. Dreams do come true-

A cool shadow falls across you and you only register it’s him when you look up, and he’s close and he’s mesmerising to be so near. Leather and brown eyes and swirling cigarette ash. Spun on that sugar coated smile. He whispers to you and you alone.

“I’ll pick you up at eight, Valentine.”

~

Needless to say, he’s ten minutes late to pick you up but god love the boy, he made an effort and dressed up real nice. Sneakers and an old suit. It’s my uncle’s. Had to dust it out of mothballs.

He may have been forcibly wrangled into a suit. But there’s no doubt he made it his own rocker style. Still wore his wallet chain, and his bow tie was black with little white skulls on it. He ran a brush through his curls - made them fluffy. And slapped a handful of stinging cologne on his cheeks.

He buys you a corsage with peach and pink flowers on it. You never want to take it off.

He kisses you on the cheek and lingers a second as he opens the van door for you. Too sweet for words this metal head.

He spikes the punch with vodka. Shows you the bottle. Brings it out and wiggles it at you as he waggles his brows. Drawing it from the place in his jacket pocket. He slow dances with you to Simple Minds and Cyndi Lauper.

Your arms looped around his neck as time after time blares through the gym hall. Hands resting near the nest of his wild hair. He kisses the inside of your wrist and holds your elbow. Looks you deep deep in the eyes. You’re awful glad he’s holding you up, actually.

I’m really glad I asked you. Valentine.

Your heart glows.

My dress is horrible isn’t it? You ask him with a scrunched nose and a grin. Cause it was. It was a duck egg blue ruffled monstrosity your mother paid for and insisted would be just lovely.

Nah baby. It’s cute cause it’s got you in it. He smirks. Cups the back of your hair all gentle and you swear, he’s like a drug to be hopped up on. And you never wanna quit him. Shoot him directly in your veins.

Then, he scoops you outta there, your hand clutched in his. Warm skin. Cold rings. You both share a sneaky smoke in the parking lot. And then he spends the rest of the night kissing your damn lips off as you stargaze at skull rock.

Listening to shit crackling seventies golden oldies on the static flickering radio. He dances with you then too. Skanking it around to The Clash. Police and Thieves. Sipping more warm vodka til it starts to slip down way too easy.

You don’t dance pretty and neatly, you thrash around like idiots and you both laugh your heads off. And it all ends in sultry slow kisses that taste like Marlboros.

He returns you home way past curfew. And you’re giddy, a little wobbly drunk, heels in hand, and you’ve taken your hair down.

You’ve laughed and smoked a cigarette and danced with him holding you close by the hips. Sure you’ve slurped vodka from the slim bottle smuggled in his pocket tonight, but you’re way way more dazzling drunk off the sensation of kissing him.

Maybe St. Valentines Day isn’t so bad after all.

~

More Eddie stuff? Come take a look-

[yakumtsaki]

The first semester has finally ended and it was officially our worst one EVER with an incredible grade average of C+, congrats guys! The only person who managed to crack an A was June, not because she’s a knowledge aspiration but because I constantly made her study to keep her away from her nephews. As if that wasn’t bad enough, we now live in a world that includes be-girlfriended Sugar.  

-WELL GOOD MORNING, SOPHITO. I WAS UP LATE MAKING OUT WITH A GIRL. WHO’S THE LOSER NOW?? -I never called you a loser! -You thought it! Everyone did! And now it is I that has a girlfriend and you who has NOTHING -I still have my disgusting torrid affair with Eliza! 

Ya you tell him, Soph! Your life is great!

I mean, it could be better. But worry not, it’s time to start working on those billion first dates you want, it will cheer you right up.

We ask out Blonde Meatballs and everything is going great!

-That’s right babe, first prize pre-school physics winner, three years in a row! -Oh my! -I know right! Wait, do you hear that?? -What, that distant moaning? -I KNOW THAT SOUND GOTTA GO

Uhh, Sophito? Is what I think is happening actually happening??

-YOU BET YOUR ASS IT IS

Could it please not happen??

-NO!!!

Bro..

-FUCK YOU ELIZA YOU SAID YOU’D NEVER SLEEP WITH HIM AGAIN!!! -I NEVER SAID THAT, FREAKSHOW -YOU SAID IT WITH YOUR EYES!!!

Everything ok, Reg?

-I think I’m just gonna go give some financial advice on the internet.

-FUCK YOU, SLUTBAG, LIKE YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE ISN’T HOOKING UP WITH 50 PEOPLE. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, WAIT TILL YOU’VE FINISHED??? -WELL YES! GOD, YOU’RE STRONG -CROSSFIT, ASSHOLE. THERE’S MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM

Alright then, I guess that’s it, everyone is mad, everyone hates each other, perfect. Sophito, I don’t know what madness suddenly overtook you, but why don’t we pick up our teeth from the floor and go continue our Meatballs date?

-I don’t want to! I’m very upset and betrayed! >:(

-Hey Soph, I think your gum is in my mouth? -Oh that’s a tooth, you can keep it.

As our date with Blonde Meatballs was such a smashing success, we seize the day and ask out Obvious Business Major right after. 2 down, 48 more to go! Fml.

I have literally never had a sim be as addicted to anything as Reginald is to giving financial advice on the internet, when I tell you guys this mofo will do this until he’s near death and I constantly have to monitor his vitals. No wonder Eliza is cheating on you!

-What’s Eliza? New start-up company?

It’s a new day and Stacy makes the grave mistake of coming over to see Julian.

-Oh so you’re the new pledge, and a romance sim to boot? Don’t even THINK of starting any affairs around here because that’s my thing, got it?? -What’s your damage, you crazy bitch?

Ya Stacy, that’s what I’ve been wondering as well. She had a great childhood with adoring parents, this is all her. 

Speaking of damage, June is finally interested in someone she doesn’t share ancestors with and it’s Erik Swain! I married him in during an old Union run and he makes cute af kids so I’ve been saving him but anything to get June off her bullshit. Go talk to him!

So it turns out that Erik is super shy and trying to get him to warm up to June was legit nails-on-chalkboard annoying but we finally befriend him- 

-AND HE TURNS US DOWN FOR A DATE DESPITE 2 BOLTS. ERIK SWAIN YOU DUMB BITCH. YOU CAN FORGET ABOUT ME MARRYING YOU IN THIS RUN

-Oh no, what a loss!

It is!!!! Now fuck off, June and I never wanna see you again!!!!

Why leave to passerby-fate what can also be achieved through cold hard cash?? We invite Lakshmi over and hope she doesn’t FUCK US OVER AS USUAL

-I won’t unless you pay me with frozen money a second time :)

I’M NOT HAVING THIS ARGUMENT LAKSHMI

We spend the max amount which we extremely cannot afford but I’m sure we’ll get our soulmate!

-Omg omg I can’t wait!

Omg omg me neither!

no.

way.

NO WAAAAAAAAAY. iVAN??? 

iVAN???????? 

iVAN?????????????????

-What? He’s the closest she can come to dating someone she’s related to without it actually being incest! 

LAKSHMI I SWEAR TO GOD.

-Well we do have 3 bolts, can’t I at least go through with the date?

NO YOU CANNOT.

Second try, fml. We’re gonna have to sell our gorilla statue at this rate. 

-Ok, I’m now gonna give you someone you can’t possibly object to..

-..because you don’t know him!

Who the fuck is this??? I’m not wasting June on some Apartment Life Benjamin Long nobody!!!!

-No refunds! 

Ok Lakshmi, against my better judgment, I’m gonna shell out another 5k we don’t have for a third and final attempt.

-You won’t regret it!

DORIAN THE BALDING COP????

-Ok, you might regret it.

GET OUT OF HERE LAKSHMI, I DON’T KNOW WHY I KEEP TRUSTING YOU

-Hiiiii Erik hi, it’s me!!!!

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

[honeyedhoseok]

Blue | 01

genre | jeon jungkook x reader; lifeguard!JK but this isn't really a lifeguard fic; soulmate!au if you squint; smut; angst

word count | 9.9K

summary | that summer with jungkook was blue--a shade that carries with it a tinge of melancholia that you should have accepted from the beginning.

or,

to say that you fell in love with a color was an overstatement, but to say that you fell in love with him was an understatement.

a/n | i've been writing this to avoid my responsibilities. hope you enjoy! <3

series masterlist

It rained the first day Jungkook worked at the pool.

You’d heard the news of a few new lifeguards starting that day, but you’d been too busy serving ice cream at the snack bar to really get anything other than a quick glance at the lifeguard stand before you were locking eyes with the next greedy customer in line.

It was the beginning of summer, with the air sitting hot, dry and heavy on the normal patrons of the pool: older moms who sunbathed and gossiped with their friends while their kids splashed in the shallow end and gave the lifeguards something to do. Teenagers too cool to actually get in the pool littered the sides, only dipping their feet in while using expensive Ray Ban frames like a headband to hold their hair out of their eyes while they talked with their friends.

The forecast had mentioned some scattered storms, but normally that just meant getting everyone to come inside for a few minutes until it passed. The storm that day, however, had plans of sticking around a little bit longer.

You were passing a cup of strawberry shortcake soft serve out the window when the first clap of thunder sounded, followed by a lightning storm that sent the lifeguards in a tizzy. Multiple whistles blew at the sudden appearance of a storm, and the atmosphere was a rush of splashing and commotion as people made their way out of the water and to their belongings scattered in chairs on the sides.

“Well, that came out of nowhere,” your coworker, Jihyo says, sidling up beside you to look at the clouds looming over what was supposed to be a normal day at the pool. “Wonder if we’ll get to go home early?”

“I hope not,” you reply. “I need these hours, damn it. The Blooming Festival is in a few weeks, and I plan on taking off at least three days to soak it all in.”

Jihyo rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you’ve only mentioned it, maybe, every day I’ve worked with you so far?”

Serving ice cream at the pool was just a summer job. You were working there to make some money so you could do things with your friends, put gas in your car, and occasionally splurge on a new outfit or pair of shoes. It was supposed to be as normal as every other summer you’d worked there in between college semesters—until he showed up.

In fifteen minutes, the pool was shut down completely; all of the patrons were packed up and back in their cars after an announcement from your manager that the storm was forecasted to not let up for at least another hour and a half.

“Oh, we’re definitely going home,” Jihyo says, shutting the serving window and twisting the lock. “When’s the last time Seokjin shut down the pool indefinitely?”

You purse your lips, leaning back against the counter behind you and looking out at the pouring rain behind Jihyo. The wind was starting to pick up now, leaves and debris filling the once-clean surface of the cerulean water of the pool.

You start to make a bitter remark but the sound of heavy, slapping footsteps cuts you off, followed by a loud pounding at the back door. Jihyo looks toward the source of the noise with furrowed eyebrows, tilting her chin up stubbornly.

“More twelve-year-olds coming to demand that we restock Moose Tracks?”

“Hey, Moose Tracks is a classic!” you call at her back as she goes to unlock the door. “It’s not their fault you keep picking unpopular flavors to order each week—like Mint Chocolate Chip!”

The back door opens, and the shop is suddenly flooded with voices following Jihyo back into the small space.

“MCC is the goddamn classic, Y/N,” Jihyo says, stomping back into the conversation like she never left off. “Don’t ever bash it again, or I’ll stop ordering Sea Salt Caramel for your uncultured ass!”

You want to laugh, but you’re too distracted by the hoard of boys—lifeguards—trailing behind her. Yoongi and the two new guys crowd your space suddenly, and you find yourself backing up into one of the corners and trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt for just arguing with Jihyo over ice cream flavors, of all things.

The boys are soaking wet, puddles collecting at their feet on the tiled inside of the kitchen, but they seem unphased by it as they huddle in. Thankfully, one of them comes to your rescue.

“I’m with her,” he says, giving you a nod. His smile fills up his whole face as he talks, making his eyes turn into little crescent half-moons. “Sea Salt Caramel is where it’s at.”

The other lifeguard doesn’t say anything, gaze focused over your heads outside where the wind is knocking sunbathing chairs over. You realize then how tall he is—possibly half a foot or more than you—and the thought that if you were close enough, your nose wouldn’t even brush the dip of his clavicle, has your cheeks burning.

He and the half-moon lifeguard have similar builds: long, lean body statures, almond-shaped eyes, the same dark hair that falls in wet strands in their eyes. You wonder if they’re related. Maybe the taller one is the older brother, you think.

“The great ice cream debate,” Yoongi murmurs suddenly, sounding bored. “How about we have some and solve this problem once and for all?”

As he reaches for one of the serving spoons, Jihyo’s arm flies out, smacking it out of his hands. It falls with a clatter onto the counter, and he looks at her with an animated expression of surprise and disgust.

“Uh-uh,” she says, wagging a finger at him. “It’s like Seokjin’s only rule for us.”

“Seokjin can kiss my—“

As if on cue, the back door swings open and Yoongi shuts his mouth as Seokjin comes in, looking incredibly dry due to the floor-length plastic covering hanging from his umbrella.

Leave it to Seokjin to own something as extra as that, you think.

“Get comfy,” he says as he steps out of the plastic, shaking water off the top that splashes onto your scuffed, white Keds.

You gaze down, realizing only then that none of the lifeguards are wearing shoes. Yoongi’s pinky toe is edging dangerously close to a melted puddle of chocolate ice cream you forgot to clean up, but you don’t have the guts to tell him in front of your manager, so you shoo the thought away and focus on the grim look on Seokjin’s face. He’s chewing gum and looks slightly annoyed at the thought of all five of you huddled inside instead of doing work.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he says, “but I need you guys to stay here until the storm calms down. It should pass in an hour or two.”

Jihyo frowns. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll send you home.”

She grins triumphantly.

“And I’ll need you to come in early tomorrow to clean up that mess out there,” Seokjin adds, giving her a sickly-sweet smile. He blows a bubble with his pink chewing gum for emphasis, the pop resonating in the small space.

Yoongi frowns and Jihyo’s mouth drops open. The new lifeguards seem as surprised as the other two, and they eye Seokjin curiously, probably trying to figure out what kind of manager he is. Even after all this time working for him, you don’t really know the answer to that question, either.

“Any more questions?” he asks, tone leaning somewhat on annoyance. But then again, that’s how Seokjin always sounded.

Jihyo shakes her head and Yoongi gives him a deepened frown in answer.

“Good. You,” he says, looking pointedly at Yoongi and mimicking his annoyed expression. “See to it that Hoseok and Jungkook get acquainted with the rules.” He steps inside his clear cocoon of an umbrella, reaching down to zip it up above his head. “And I’ll let you know when it’s safe to go outside and clean up.”

Jungkook, you think. You know immediately that it’s his name because it just fits him. You feel yourself rolling the unspoken syllables around the inside of your mouth, wondering when you’ll get the first chance to say them aloud.

Yoongi salutes half-assedly, and Jihyo elbows him in the side after Seokjin turns around and makes his exit. After the back door is shut, the five of you visibly deflate, and Yoongi sucks his teeth.

“That guy,” he mutters. “One of these days—”

“I wish you’d learn your lesson and stop messing with him,” Jihyo says, interrupting whatever nasty comment was about to spill from his mouth. “It’s probably because of you that Seokjin wants us to stay, instead of going home in this god-awful weather.”

“Why doesn’t he like Yoongi?” Hoseok asks, eyes flickering to the chestnut-haired, simmering boy to his left.

“His most recent offense?” Jihyo ponders, crossing her arms over her chest as she thinks. “Not showing up for his shift—threedays in a row.”

“I was sick,” Yoongi says dryly, narrowing his eyes at her. “What did you want me to do? Not stay in bed and get better?”

“Oh, your bed must suddenly have relocated to the pool hall at five in the afternoon, huh?” she says, tilting her head to the side in mocking. “Snapchat locations don’t lie, Yoongi. If you’re going to play hooky, do it better.”

Hoseok chuckles. “Damn, man.”

Yoongi, never one to back down from an argument, flicks his brown fringe out of his eyes. “Why don’t you teach me then, Little Miss Stomachache?”

“I had cramps!” Jihyo says indignantly.

“You’ll learn that being around these two is like being around an old married couple,” you murmur to Jungkook and Hoseok as Yoongi and Jihyo’s voices rise louder and louder in contest. “They get along like cats and dogs.”

Jungkook grins at your comment, and you think your heart stops a little in your chest before starting an accelerated rhythm that has you feeling light. His lips pull back prettily over his teeth, his cheeks balling a little from the force of it.

“I’m thinking cats and dogs might actually be more civil than this, to be honest,” Hoseok says, gesturing to an annoyed Yoongi threatening to rub his clammy, wet feet on Jihyo’s bare, shorts-clad legs.

In the time that you had worked there, there were very few civil moments between Jihyo and Yoongi. You think that maybe they were civil when Yoongi first started, and you remember faintly a comment made by Jihyo that Yoongi was “cute” and maybe that they exchanged numbers at some point—but then rumors went around that Yoongi said Jihyo was too loud and controlling, and Jihyo said he was a selfish bastard, and you think they’ve been sworn enemies ever since.

“You’re probably right,” you say finally, giggling at Hoseok’s comment. You stop abruptly when you see Jungkook’s eyes fall to your mouth at the sight of it splitting open with a grin. They linger there for a moment before he speaks for the first time since entering you and Jihyo’s space.

“What did you say your name was, again?” he asks.

His voice is soft and low, almost a lilted hum, and it catches you off guard in comparison to his very boyish, young features. You expected it to be higher, to sound almost preteen-like, but it’s nothing of the sort—it immediately has you questioning how old he is in comparison to Hoseok.

“Y/N,” you say. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I guess.”

Jungkook smiles again, and this time it feels like one especially conjured up for you.

“Y/N,” he repeats, the sound of his tongue rolling over the syllables sends a little zap to your insides. “You um, have a little something there, on your shirt.”

He takes one hand out of his blue swim trunks and points to your breastbone, where a dark splotch of chocolate ice cream sits over your sternum.

“Aw, fuck!” you murmur, facing burning as you spin around on your heel, grabbing the nearest hand towel and dabbing at your shirt. “These kids—”

“It wouldn’t stain like that if it was Mint Chocolate Chip,” Jihyo sneers suddenly, cutting whatever Yoongi was about to say to her off. She grins triumphantly at the stain, returning to your argument from earlier. “Would it?”

You flip her the bird, still dabbing at the fabric—but you can’t help but revel a little in the cute smile Jungkook gives you as he watches you fuss over yourself, digging around the kitchen space for anything to save you from the ice cream on your shirt.

After that fated day, your mind lingered on Jungkook incessantly. At the pool, you glanced at him more often than not from the serving window of the ice cream stand, committing him to memory. You found yourself reminiscing over the upended triangular shape of his upper body, the lithe muscle covering his shoulder blades, the image of a whistle poised between his rosy lips, his teeth pressed tightly against the metal, his body wet and glistening as he rose out of the pool—

“You’re literally drooling, Y/N,” Jihyo says, breaking you out of your reverie by snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Why don’t you just, I don’t know, go talk to him?”

“I will,” you say indignantly. “I told you—I’m waiting.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, nodding. “Still waiting.”

“Jesus,” Jihyo sighs. “I didn’t want to do this, but you know he’s only here for the summer, right?”

You freeze in the middle of cleaning the counter. “He’s what?”

“You heard me—you have less than three months, Y/N,” Jihyo says firmly. “I know rushing isn’t your style but, uh, you might not have a choice this time.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me!”

You hate how your voice sounds pitiful and whiny, but your heart is literally sinking at this news—three months? Less than three months? Where was he going? What would you do with your time when he wasn’t there to look out the window at? It dawns on you suddenly that you won’t be there in three months, either. School started back at the end of August—your sophomore year.

“Why didn’t you let me know you were interested in him?” Jihyo crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ve been watching you fawn over him for all this time, just waiting and hoping you’d confide in me, but no.”

“What was I supposed to say?” you retort glumly. “That I like the lifeguard that seems the least interested in my existence? Yeah, no, I’ll save myself from that sadness train going nowhere, thank you very much.”

“Maybe I can help you,” Jihyo says with confidence, turning to the window. “Hey, Jungkook!”

You freeze. “What? What are you doing?”

Jungkook looks your way, raising an eyebrow above his black Ray Bans. Jihyo leans out of the serving window, beckoning him over with a wave of her hand.

She turns to you. “Look how easy this is going to be.”

You swallow to combat the sudden tightness in your throat, watching with bated breath as Jungkook climbs down the lifeguard ladder and walks to you two, his feet slapping a little on the wet cement surrounding the pool.

“What’s up?” he says, pushing his sunglasses back on his head and unknowingly releasing the full intensity of his doe-like eyes.

You inhale a small gasp that Jihyo obviously hears, because she lightly presses her Ked-clad foot on top of yours below the counter.

“Me, you, Y/N, Hoseok,” Jihyo says with a confidence you could never muster. “Dinner and a movie on the boardwalk this weekend?”

Jungkook’s eyes pass from hers to yours for a split second, and your pulse picks up speed in your veins. If he seems surprised from the random invitation, however, he doesn’t let it show on the easy-going expression that he wears.

“Sure,” he says. “Can you remind me when it gets a little closer? I’ll have to make sure my parents don’t have anything planned.”

Jihyo flips her hair over her shoulder, casually producing her phone from what feels like thin air. You blink down at her hand, realizing this was her plan all along.

“Put your number in,” she says. “I’ll make us a group chat. We should probably have one anyways, since we work together. You know?”

Jungkook nods and puts his number in before handing it back to her. A commotion happens in the water behind him, and he glances over his shoulder with concern. “I should probably head back,” he says. He gives you both a small smile before he flips his sunglasses down over his eyes again, hitting a slight jog back to the lifeguard stand.

When he’s out of earshot, Jihyo texts rapidly on her phone. When she’s done yours vibrates three times in your pocket: the start of the group chat, you’re sure.

“And that, my friend,” she says, giving you a grin that could rival the Grinch when he decided to steal Christmas, “is how you get the ball rolling!”

Unfortunately, Jihyo’s plans—which she has annoyingly coined as Operation: Get Y/N Laid—don’t stop there.

On Thursday, just two days before the plans, she convinces Hoseok to come with her to something before the meet up that’s going to coincidentally make them late so that you and Jungkook have time to be alone.

When she tells you this, it’s as she’s making a double scoop chocolate cone, but you can’t help the overwhelming urge that comes over you to put your hands around her neck.

“Ack! Y/N! Let go!” she says between breaths with wide eyes. “I’m going to drop the ice—”

“You’re so dumb!” you yell, squeezing a little harder. “That’s such an obvious ploy to get us alone, he’s going to realize it!”

Jihyo finally squirms out of your grip by turning her head and licking your arm. The warmth of her tongue makes you recoil, and she gasps with relief as air floods back into her lungs, looking at the now-lopsided cone in her left hand.

“Now how am I supposed to give this to that little brat outside?” she says, frowning. “His mom will come and eat me alive if I hand this slop out of the window.”

“You probably deserve it,” you say sourly. You lean your hip into one of the counters, crossing your arms over your chest. “Take your plans back, Jihyo.”

“I can’t,” she says calmly. “Hoseok is already in on it.”

“He’s what?!”

“He’s in on Operation: Get Y/N Laid,” she says again, with that same ridiculous manner of calm, like you didn’t just make her life flash before her eyes thirty seconds ago. “Stop freaking out—he wants to give you some time alone just like I do. So, he’s not going to say anything to Jungkook. The plan will go on like normal, you will just have to do a little acting when we don’t show up on time. Got it?”

In all honesty, it’s not the worse plan she has ever come up with. But you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing so, so you keep your current frown plastered on your mouth for a little longer to let her know your displeasure with the sudden turn of events.

“Oh, don’t you go all pouty on me,” Jihyo says, wagging a finger at you as she trashes the cone you messed up and grabs another. She scoops more ice cream out of the container below her, giving you a look that reminds you of a mother watching her children open Christmas presents after telling them they weren’t getting anything for months. “You’ll thank me later—right after you tell me if Jungkook has anything worthy of talking about.”

“I’m sure he does,” you respond indignantly, falling right into her trap. “He’s intelligent.”

Jihyo hums a nod before brandishing the new cone, two scoops of chocolate perfectly centered and balanced on top of each other. “Before long this will be you two—are you a top or a bottom, though? I forgot.”

You groan in anguish as Jihyo lets out a cackle, opening the window to your stand and handing it out the impatient little boy that waits outside. You’re grateful for the breeze, although its simmering warmth does nothing for the same feeling that has settled high on your cheeks, dusting pigment there reminiscent of a similar shade of red Jungkook sometimes sports on his swim trunks.

The day of the boardwalk date, you find yourself sprawled out on the floor in front of your closet in your underwear and bra, contemplating why you ever purchased every single item of clothing in your closet.

These kinds of freak outs are normally reserved for the pressing dates in life—first day of college, nights out with the girls, birthdays—but today, you find yourself freaking out over the instance of having to wear the perfect outfit in order to feel comfortable around Jungkook.

Comfortable, and most importantly, pretty.

You shuffle through your two final picks, laying them across your bed in order to get the full effect of what they might look like on. They were both incredibly simple—your college wardrobe either consisted of exercise shorts and t-shirts and hoodies or going out clothes that were much too revealing for a fun night on the boardwalk. But you fret over them some more, so much that you almost have a nervous breakdown and text Jihyo to call the whole thing off.

But the slight hum of your phone vibrating your bed stops you before you can do so. It’s from Jungkook, and you heart beats a little off kilter at the sight of his name popping up on your phone screen.

Jungkook 5:15PM : We still meeting at 6?

It’s directed to your group chat with him, Jihyo and Hoseok. You take a deep breath. Jihyo had told you that she wasn’t going to respond to any messages until the last minute, to really sell her “emergency” that she had to bring Hoseok along on. You were driving separately, as was Jungkook, but the two of them had decided to conveniently carpool a day prior.

Y/N 5:18PM : I’ll be there! Park at Pier 14, it’s the closest one to the boardwalk

Jungkook 5:20PM : Yes ma’am 😊

You smile down at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip softly as you read the message over a few times before clicking the screen lock button. You prop your hands on your hips, deciding that it’s now or never. The nights got chilly in the summer when the sun wasn’t beating down as heavy, and you hated being cold. So, you choose the outfit on the right—a simple, oversized pullover and bike shorts, paired with some scuffed white sneakers, and rush into the bathroom to get ready so you’re not late.

You get to the pier at exactly 6:01 and search around for a parking space.

A part of you feels like this is a bad plan. Especially when you look down at your phone after cutting the engine and realize that Jihyo has texted you something that makes your stomach drop.

Jihyo 5:59PM : Haha…bad news

Jihyo 5:59PM : DON’T KILL ME

Y/N 6:02PM : Please, no!!! What is it!!

Jihyo 6:03PM : The check engine light on my car came on as I was leaving Hoseok’s. Don’t panic. We are waiting for AAA to come get us and take us back to his house so he can drive. I repeat: DON’T. PANIC.

“Okay, okay” you say to yourself, taking a few calming, deep breaths in. “At least she has a plan? This can still work out. I’m not panicking. Yet.”

Y/N 6:03PM : When are they estimated to be there?

Her messaging dots appear and disappear for a few minutes and your anxiety skyrockets.

Y/N 6:06PM : JIHYO

Jihyo 6:07PM : between 6:45-7PM…

Y/N 6:08PM : THE MOVIE STARTS AT 7:05 YOU ABSOLUTE

There’s a knock at your window that has you almost jumping out of your skin. When you look up, you’re met by the wide grin and big, childlike eyes of Jungkook. He peers at you through the tinted glass, looking a little sheepish at having scared you on accident.

All your anxiety about Jihyo having an actual emergency disappears as you unclick your seat belt and scramble out of the car to join him.

“I really didn’t mean to do that,” he says, stepping back and giving you space to swing your door open. “Is everything all right?”

“What?” you say. “Oh, yeah. Everything is fine. Well—sort of.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you. “Did something happen?”

“Jihyo is having car trouble, so her and Hoseok are going to be late.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shifting your weight from leg to leg. The outing was supposed to be all of you as a group—and originally, them being a little late wouldn’t have been such a problem. But you were thinking thirty minutes max, not an hour and a half!

You’re relieved when Jungkook shrugs. “Oh, okay,” he says. “Well, I’m still cool with walking around until the movie starts if you are ?”

You nod with enthusiasm. “Right—we’re already here, might as well go do some stuff?”

Jungkook smiles again, and you finally take a good look at him. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt under a black zip-up hoodie and a pair of chinos—a simpler outfit that looks way too good on his tall, lean frame. You hadn’t seen him in much other than his swim trunks because the only time you two really saw each other outside of this singular moment, was at work.

Of course, you weren’t complaining about that aspect. You could probably pencil out in detail the muscles of Jungkook’s upper chest and stomach, the way water rolled off them when he got out of the pool, the way they flexed when he pulled his whistle to his mouth. That is, if your drawing skills weren’t absolute shit—so bad at that a kindergartener could probably put you to shame with snapped Crayola’s and disproportionate stick figures.

The sun has already sunk below the horizon, taking with it all the heat and warmth of the day and leaving you with a slight breeze that could give you goosebumps if you let it, and a sky the deepened color of cornflowers.

It’s twilight, you realize, as you trail beside Jungkook from the parking lot cement onto the wooden planks of the boardwalk. A backlit, blue-hued time of day that you absolutely adored during the summertime because you still had just enough light accomplish the activities you wanted to.

Not that you needed to worry about light at a time like this—the bright boardwalk stadium lights are almost blinding, and because it’s the weekend, the two of you find yourself periodically weaving in and out of the crowd that seems to get busier and pushier the further you walk.

Jungkook takes the lead, his taller frame holding more of a reason for people to move out of the way than yours. You watch the back of his head the whole time, noticing the way his raven hair reflects the light—shiny and clean and looking incredibly soft.

“How about a snow cone?” he calls over his shoulder. “It looks like there might be somewhere for us to sit up there.”

He points ahead and you call out an agreement to him, hoping to be heard over the ruckus.

You realize that the crowd isn’t going to let up anytime soon—people have no qualms about walking in between you two, and you find yourself speeding up in order to not be further separated from him.

At some point Jungkook glances behind him again and realizes your struggle. He slows his pace, and you happen to look down and realize he is holding out the long sleeve of his hoodie for you to hold on to.

“Don’t get lost,” he says with a grin. “This snow cone will be worth it, I promise!”

You return his smile, holding onto his arm with a light touch as he continues to lead through the crowd. You curse Jihyo silently in your head—despite her fake emergency turning into a real emergency, she was right about one thing: time alone with Jungkook was something you couldn’t pass up.

When you finally make it to the snow cone cart, you let go of Jungkook’s arm quickly. He looks at you with suspicion as you snatch away, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a shit-eating grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing to your racing pulse by offering you his touch.

“What flavor do you want?” he asks, looking at the menu stand on the right. “My treat.”

You both immediately point to Tiger’s Blood, and Jungkook seems pleased with you.

“Good choice,” he says. “If you picked Pina Colada, I was going to lose it.”

You giggle. “You don’t like coconut?”

“No,” he says, frowning. “I snuck some of my mom’s Malibu one time without realizing and I almost barfed.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. You realize that you still don’t how old Jungkook is, and while he orders your snow cones, you look at him with scrutiny. There was something young about his eyes and face, the roundness of the tip of his nose and cheeks making you believe he was younger than you. But his body—good grief, his body—and the sharpness of his jawline and said otherwise.

When you’re both seated at a picnic table, you decide to ask him.

“Why?” he says. “How old do you think?”

You take a timid bite of your snow cone, relishing in the satisfying crunch of ice between your teeth. “Hmm, I know you’re college-age. Just wondering how old.”

“That story I told about sneaking alcohol was from a few years ago,” he says, laughing. “I’m twenty-one.”

“Oh.”

“You’re only nineteen, right?” he says, but it doesn’t seem like he cares much that you’re younger.

You nod. “But my birthday is in September.”

“So is mine,” he replies with a grin. “We’ll have to try to celebrate together, somehow.”

You try not to let on how happy his suggestion makes you—that months from now, you two will be friends that throw parties together, or possibly more—and you settle into your seat, munching happily on the cold treat that is slowly turning from ice to mush in the paper cone in your hands.

“So why the pool?” you say a few moments later. “Did you work at another one before ours?”

Jungkook blinks. “I have my CPR certification from another part time job I had at a gym,” he said. “I don’t know why they made us get it, honestly.”

You laugh. “Maybe in case one of the meatheads lifted too much at once?”

“Maybe,” he says, grinning. “But the gym couldn’t work around my school schedule anymore. So, when I came home I saw the pool was looking for a new part-time lifeguard and I applied.”

“You only come home during the summer?”

Jungkook nods, but a look of annoyance flashes across his face before he answers. “There’s not much for me here, honestly. I like school and being on my own, away from my parents.”

“I get that.”

It was something you could both agree on. You didn’t realize freedom could taste so sweet until you moved into your dorm on campus. You could stay up when you wanted, sleep when you wanted, go out when you wanted. As long as you kept your grades up and didn’t lose your scholarship for your parent’s sake, you were literally allowed to do whatever your heart desired.

“It’s too far away to fly back and forth, anyways,” Jungkook adds, suddenly. He tilts his paper cone back, dumping all of the remaining liquid into his mouth before crumpling it in his left fist.

“How far?”

“California.”

“Oh. Why there?”

Somehow, you were taken aback to hear that he’d chosen a school so far from his home. You wonder suddenly if the sullen look he’d given your earlier had more to it than you realized.

Jungkook ignores your question—like you expected—and stands up. You scramble to finish the remains of your cone and he holds his hand out for your trash. You give it to him, feeling the slight brush of your fingers against his palm that reminds you of earlier when he’d offered his arm. He doesn’t this time, but you find yourself wishing he would again. Or that you two were close enough for you to reach out and grab it without his permission.

“That’s a story for later,” he says, giving you a look meant to soften the blow of his hard statement. “I don’t want to talk about it right now—it’ll ruin the mood.”

You nod slightly, bringing your bottom lip back between your teeth to gnaw on. You hadn’t meant to upset him.

“Is there anything you want to do?” he asks, looking around. “We have about thirty minutes before we should head back to the car for the drive-in movie.”

The boardwalk was in full swing as the night progressed, the sky now a deep shade of indigo behind him. You stand with him, leaning onto your tip toes in an effort to recognize any signs further down the wooden path.

“The arcade, maybe?” you suggest.

Jungkook fake clutches at his chest, staggering with clumsy steps to one side. “A woman after my own heart,” he says theatrically. “I might faint.”

You laugh loudly and roll your eyes to cover up your own heartbeat thumping wildly in your ears. You use the rush to match his energy: “I’m only saying it because I want you to win me a plushie.”

Jungkook smiles, his eyes full of light and mischief at getting to show off his skills. “That, madam, is a deal. Let’s go.”

Jihyo still hasn’t texted you by the time you and Jungkook exit the arcade.

You want to send a scolding text to her, but in reality, you don’t really care if they show up anymore. Jungkook seems to have forgotten they were coming—he doesn’t look at his phone once while you two flit from game to game in the arcade.

You’d watched from the side as he entered a water pistol race with a few other patrons of the boardwalk. He sat down on a stool right in the middle of everyone, leaning over the gun and closing one eye for better accuracy. His tongue poked out between his lips, his form rigid and unyielding until the announcer blew a whistle to start the race. You held back a laugh at his seriousness, pressing a hand to your mouth in case he looked over at you.

He did, but only once the flashing lights above his booth went off, signaling him as the winner. He’d hopped off the stool and raced over to you, placing a hand above your elbow before pulling you over to claim your reward from the prize table.

You chose a blue and white dolphin that was just big enough to be slightly comical. Jungkook carried it over his shoulder as you two walked back toward his car, giddy from the excitement of playing carnival games and teasing each other all the while.

“Okay, but you wouldn’t have even beaten me at basketball if yours didn’t come to my side and knock my shots off course constantly!” Jungkook insists. “You’re a sneaky little thing.”

“Why can’t you just admit my two-pointer is better than yours?”

“Y/N,” Jungkook says, shaking his head in disappointment. “I’m almost six foot and you’re what—five-one? You simply can’t be a better shot that I am because of your genetics. I’m sorry.”

Your mouth drops open. “I’m literally five-three!”

“Minus two.”

“Oh, whatever!”

Jungkook laughs loudly, throwing his head back from the force of it. You pout alongside him, but you can’t help the telling smile that creeps onto your face. You like this side of Jungkook—it was so different from the stoic and quiet lifeguard you knew him as before.

“The drive-in is just a block that way, right?” he asks once you two come up on the parking lot. He shifts the dolphin higher on his shoulder, stopping in his tracks to turn and look at you. “I can drive us in my car, if you want.”

Your eyes widen a little at his suggestion. You didn’t even think about the fact that if Jihyo and Hoseok weren’t here, it would just be you and him watching the movie together.

“Oh—um, I mean,” you stumble over your answer. “If that’s okay with you?”

“I offered, didn’t I?” he says with another laugh. He gestures to the stuffed animal perched on his shoulder. “Plus, we’ve got a nice seat cushion, here.”

You smile and nod before following him to his car. It’s a little navy SUV—something you didn’t expect him drive at all. He seemed like a “car guy” for some reason, one that would have driven something old and sturdy and loud.

“This is—cute,” you say, for lack of better wording.

Jungkook sucks his teeth. “Man, why does everyone say that?” He groans. “This thing is great on gas, okay? And look at all this trunk space! I mean, if you lived all the way in California—"

“Hey, hey,” you say, holding your hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, that was terrible wording. Did I say cute? I meant cutely efficient. You didn’t let me finish.”

Jungkook laughs again, nodding. “That’s what I thought you meant, yeah.”

He throws your dolphin in the backseat and then opens the passenger side door for you to get in. Your cheeks are hot as you move past him to settle into the seat, giving him a timid smile as he shuts the door behind you. You watch him walk around the front of the vehicle, lit up by a neighboring car’s headlights for just a fraction of a second.

He’s handsome to you while doing the most mundane of things, and your heart hurts at the thought. You couldn’t have a crush on him. He was your coworker for one, and for two, he didn’t live there. He went to school across the country, and he was only home for three incredibly short months. There would be nothing to your relationship, so you couldn’t let yourself fall into the trap of having a crush on someone so, well—unavailable. You pinch yourself hard on the thigh as a seal of reminder: this could not, would not, happen.

The slam of the car door brings you back to reality. Jungkook presses the start button on his dashboard before clicking his seatbelt across his upper body.

“You good?” he says, looking over at you with a furrowed brow. When you nod, he backs the car out of the space, his hand on the back of your headrest for good measure.

You take a few uneven breaths in and out at the action, forcing yourself to remain looking out of the front windshield and to not turn your head towards him even a fraction. You know doing so would put your faces at an incredible proximity, and you what the hell did you just pinch yourself over if you weren’t going to stick with it!

“Any word from Jihyo and Hoseok?” he asks. “It would be cool if we could still get dinner with them afterwards, at least.”

You pull your phone out of your crossbody. The screen lights up to no new unread messages, so you sent Jihyo a quick text in your private chat.

Y/N 6:58PM : Update?

It sends but doesn’t get read immediately in normal Jihyo fashion.

“Hm, maybe the tow truck is there, and she can’t talk,” you say. “I hope everything’s all right.”

“Me too,” Jungkook says. “But this is fun—with just us two.” He pauses, glancing over at you. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, of course,” you say quickly, giving him a smile. “I’m having a great time.”

He seems sated by this information, but you’re not sure why. “I’m glad.”

Jungkook drives you to toward the movie parking lot—a grassy field with neat rows of cars guided by a parking attendant in a bright, orange vest—and Jungkook reverses in the directed spot in the middle row of cars. You can see the screen perfectly, but only out of the back window from the way he parked. That does little to deter your excitement, though.

“The screen is huge!” you say in awe, twisting in your seat.

You look on as it plays movie trailer previews for remaining months of the summer, and the thought flits across your mind just how many you might get to see with Jungkook before your time was up.

“You’ve never been to a drive-in?” Jungkook asks. “We gotta make this one extra special, then.”

You look over at him with an eyebrow quirked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jungkook begins, unlocking the car doors, “I’m pulling out the big guns.”

He hops out and heads to the trunk of the car. You scramble after him, shutting the passenger door behind you and joining him where he stands with the trunk popped open. You watch as he lowers the second row of seats flat after moving the dolphin plushie and a conveniently-packed duvet. You look at him with raised eyebrows as he unfolds the blanket across the flattened seats, making you two a perfect spot to lay in the back of the car while watching the movie.

Jungkook sees the suspicion on your face and chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “I just thought we might want to be comfortable if we’re going to be watching a movie for two hours, you know?”

You ignore him and climb in through the open trunk, settling down with the dolphin as a cushion for your back. “Where’s the popcorn?” you ask, laughing. “This is perfect.”

Jungkook holds up a finger. “One moment, m’lady.”

He takes off from the car and you sit up on your elbows, watching him jog up to a stand at the front of the drive-in parking lot that was selling snacks and drinks for the occasion. You pinch yourself again for good measure when he comes back a few moments later, reminding yourself of your pact. Just because you two were alone, in the back of Jungkook’s car, laying down, about to watch a movie together, alone, didn’t mean anything!

The scent of butter and salt fills your nostrils as Jungkook returns, handing you the popcorn and drinks as he climbs into the trunk and settles beside you. He sits cross-legged and digs into the pockets of his chinos to reveal candy in both hands.

“Sour straws or gummi bears?” he asks.

“Gummi bears, but I want a sour straw, too.”

Jungkook laughs. “Agreed.”

As you two dig in, the beginning of the movie flickers onto the big display screen. People pass by Jungkook’s car on their way to the food stands at the front, and you and Jungkook settle against the giant dolphin propped on the back of the front seats.

“I’ll have to figure out a way to repay you for all of this,” you say quietly in between sips of fizzy Coke. “You keep paying for everything before I can offer.”

“Would you rather us go Dutch?” he asks in the dark.

He’s incredibly close to you—his forearm brushes against yours when he moves because the dolphin only spans so far when you lay it down. It wasn’t the biggest prize, because you didn’t want to carry around a massive plushie, but it certainly wasn’t the smallest they had, either.

On screen, the heroine is introduced going about her daily life. She gets ready, brushes her teeth and hair, puts on her makeup for a normal day at school. When she pulls up to school, a sleek, black motorcycle is parked in her usual spot. A little ways from it, she notices the culprit—an extremely handsome guy holding a bike helmet within the crook of his arm as a swarm of cheerleaders surround him like he’s the coolest thing since sliced bread.

“Yeah,” you say honestly. “I mean, I hate the thought of depending on other people.”

Jungkook turns to look at you as you say this, and when you glance at him, there’s an emotion plastered on his usually friendly face that you can’t pinpoint.

“Consider it our first date,” he says finally, with a shrug. “Then you don’t owe me anything and you’re not depending on me, either.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. “Oh—um—well—”

Jungkook tilts his head down as he bites into a sour straw, pulling the candy away from his clenched teeth so it makes a small pop as it separates. He nudges you with his shoulder that is already leaning against your own.

“Did you see that?” he asks with a chuckle. “The stunt doubles are so noticeable in this movie—they have totally different builds than the main characters.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and manage a breathy laugh. A date. The word echoes within the chambers of your mind, repeating over and over like he just yelled it into a cave at the top of his lungs. It reverberates around your skull until you feel your skin buzzing from the meaning.

So much for your pact when he was saying things like that so casually. God, you couldn’t wait to get Jihyo alone to tell her everything.

The movie continues, and a glance down at your phone lets you know that it’s only thirty minutes in when Jihyo finally texts you back.

Jihyo 7:36PM : Hoseok and I aren’t going to make the movie. We’ll just explore the boardwalk until you two lovebirds are done and then we can get food!

You relay the information to Jungkook—leaving out the lovebirds bit. He nods in understanding.

“I figured they wouldn’t—but I’m glad we’ll get to see them,” he answers. “Hoseok texted me a while ago and said Jihyo’s engine light was on because she slams on her brakes too much. He thinks he has whiplash.”

You giggle. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“My little mom-car doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?”

“I told you I liked it! I would totally pick my kids up from soccer at 6PM on Thursday in this!”

Jungkook throws a half-popped kernel at your forehead. “Rude.”

“You said the mom thing first!”

“Because I’m allowed to pick on Cheryl—she’s mine.”

“Cheryl?!” You dissolve into a fit of giggles. “Please—don’t tell me—”

Jungkook takes the weight of his shoulder pressed against yours and pushes you over with it before you can finish your sentence. You lean away from him but bring the force back with your own shoulder, fighting him for more room on the dolphin-plushie-turned-back-rest.

You two battle for a second, pushing against each other like children until Jungkook lifts his arm up and around you, cocooning you in his warmth and bringing you to rest fully on the right side of his body. He’s leaning a little against the corner of the back of the SUV and you are nestled within his side body, feeling the heat of his chest pressed against your cheek. You breathe in and out before you realize that maybe, you should move.

You go to sit up, but Jungkook says, “Wait, stay. You’re warm.”

It’s not you that’s warm—your face, sure—but Jungkook’s body feels like your own personal heater. You try to relax, leaning against him once again in a better cuddling position with your head resting on Jungkook’s chest, right below his collarbones. You can hear his heartbeat this way—thudding what you think is a little faster than normal underneath the layers of his thin hoodie and T-shirt.

“Are you comfortable? Can you see?”

You’re not sure, but you think he sounds a little breathless—from the sudden change in your positions, or the tussle before, you can’t tell which is the culprit.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting a little so that you’re more on your side rather than just leaning over onto him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” he says, and again, it sounds like there’s a hint of smile in his voice.

You can’t focus on the movie after that. Jungkook is too close, his intoxicating scent swirling into your nostrils with every inhale, your head rising up and down with each breath he takes. This was what friends did, right? This was totally friendly. He just wanted you to be comfortable. You repeat this to yourself as Jungkook’s hand—that was once just dangling over your shoulder—begins to trace soft patterns into your side.

You close your eyes, focusing on slowing the thumping of your heart, timing your inhales to let him know that this is okay. This is totally fine. You aren’t freaking out. You’re just here, enjoying everything that Jungkook had to offer you.

It’s fine. He’s fine. You’re fine. Maybe he was just touchy—some boys were like that, after all. Some friendly relationships included tons of skinship. You just weren’t used to it, and you needed to quickly acquaint yourself with the fact that this was how it would be with him if you continued to hang out.

Before you know it, you’re so lost in your thoughts you don’t catch most of the end of the movie. In fact, you don’t even realize it’s over until the credits are rolling and people are moving around you again, the sounds of car doors and trunks slamming as people get ready to move onto their next activity.

It’s only 9PM, but it’s dark outside—the blues of the sky that had enticed you so much once before had faded to an indescribable navy, a blue so deep that it looked black. If you focused, you could see the minute twinkling of stars past the stadium lights on the outskirts that blink on after the movie is over so everyone could exit in a timely and visible fashion.

Jungkook yawns, patting your side. “I think I fell asleep for a moment—I was so comfortable here.”

He laughs in spite of himself, and you give him a breathless chuckle in return. “Sorry if I made your side sore.” You get off of him, scooting over to give him a little room to sit up straight.

“Sore?” he asks incredulously. “Y/N, you’re like a feather. I’m not that breakable.”

Boy, did you know. Thoughts of his muscular stomach flash in your mind, and you will them away. He watch him reach up to close the trunk as people begin to move outside of the car, cocooning you two back into a comfortable darkness from the tints on the back windows.

“Still.”

“Still, what?” he says. There’s a small silence that ensues. “You’re so nervous around me. Is it me?”

“What?” you say, furrowing your brow. Your skin pricks with the same nervousness that you are about refute. “I mean—”

“I know I’m pretty standoffish at the pool, but I don’t mean to be that way,” he admits. “I just felt like I was in this new place with all of these established relationships and rules. You have Jihyo, and well, Hoseok and I are close, but we’re not best friends.” He pauses. “I was really surprised when Jihyo invited me out with you all.”

“Surprised,” you repeat quietly.

His words absolutely contradict the Jungkook you thought you knew. But maybe that’s how it would always be—you realizing he had his own motives and reasons for being the way he was, and you not understanding a bit of it until he decided to divulge you in them.

“Yeah, surprised,” he nods. “I feel out of place, here. If I’m being honest.”

“But you live here.”

“I don’t have any friends though, because I’m gone for nine months out of the year,” he says, shrugging. “I didn’t have any in high school, either. It was just—I don’t know. I didn’t like it here, so I didn’t see a reason to have any ties.”

You can’t really wrap your head around it, but you realize Jungkook is being vulnerable to you in this moment. You don’t want to make him regret it, so you reach out to him—the closest thing to you is his hand, resting on the duvet between you two—and you run your fingers over the soft skin in a timid, unsure fashion.

“Jihyo and I will never say no to new additions to our friend circle,” you say with a smile. “It gives us reasons not to kill each other if someone else is watching.”

Jungkook chuckles a little, holding your gaze. The trunk of the car is still closed, and most of the crowd has dispersed to other parts of the beach where the boardwalk is still alive and filled with weekend nightlife.

“That’s good to know,” Jungkook says softly, looking down at your hands on the blanket. He slides his underneath yours and links his fingers through the spaces in between.

“Y/N—” he says, leaning closer to you, “—thanks. Really.”

You lean closer as well, feeling the magnetism of your two bodies being pulled together in the dark. Your breath comes out in unmeasured puffs, threatening to give away how nervous you are. You’re glad Jungkook can’t really see you anymore, and you’re certainly glad he can’t hear the unsteady beat of your heart as your faces inch closer and closer. As the quiet of the night cocoons you two like a soft blanket, there is no noise other than your heartbeat in your ears as Jungkook’s mouth hovers over your own.

You feel his unsteady sigh outwards as he says, “Are you sure you’re not—”

You use your remaining courage to stop him before he can finish his sentence, closing the distance between your mouths into a soft, sweet kiss. It stays that way for a moment—closed-mouth and innocent—before Jungkook brings his hand to the back of your head and deepens it, pressing his mouth hard against your own in a way that is a command all in its own.

Your lips part involuntarily and Jungkook’s tongue presses softly against the ridge of your mouth, tracing the outline until he is exploring the inside with ease and expertise. As your tongues lace together, you find yourself placing heavy hands on his chest, slightly wrinkling the collar of his shirt with your nails before you slide your hands up and over his shoulders and hook them together behind his neck.

Your head tilts to the right and you push back against him, following the energy and putting it into the most passionate kissing session you’ve had—well, ever. Jungkook places his hands on your hips and pulls you over him so that you are straddling his waist, his experience showing as he places you right on top of his hardening member. You have no choice but to feel it between your thighs and the thin material of your bike shorts—a decision you certainly didn’t realize would come in handy when you’d picked them out a few hours ago in your bedroom closet.

You two kiss and kiss and kiss, getting lost within each other for what feels like hours. You can’t allow yourself to disassociate and think about anything other than what was happening in the moment—although there was a part of your brain that couldn’t believe it was happening, surely.

You were kissing Jungkook. Jungkook was kissing you—no, it was more than that. He was touching you: his hands making a lazy trail up your back, in between your shoulder blades and over the hump of your shoulders until they entangled in your hair and kept your mouth criminal to his. He was breathing you in: making a trail away from your mouth, down your jaw and neck, where he settled on sucking small, reddened splotches into the thin skin just around the collar of your pullover. You want more of him, but more would have to wait.

Jungkook pauses underneath you, much more intact with the real world than you are because he shushes you politely so that you can hear it: the tell-tale sound of your phone humming the vibrations of an incoming call.

“It’s Jihyo,” he says in the darkness, allowing the brightness of your screen to illuminate your faces, inches apart. He hands it to you, and you clear your throat in an attempt to sound less breathless than you actually are as you greet your friend.

“Where are you?” she asks—but it sounds more like a demand. “I know the movie is over by now. You haven’t answered my texts. Are you okay?”

“What?” you say but shake your head. “I’m fine, sorry. Jungkook and I were trying to find our way out of the theatre parking lot. It’s really crowded over here so we had to wait for our turn.”

In the light of your phone pressed against your cheek, you can just barely make out Jungkook’s knowing smirk in the dark.

“Hoseok and I are waiting at Pier 14. Did you two still want to get dinner?”

Jungkook nods in answer, leaning forward a little to press his lips softly against the center of your throat while you talk. You take a calming breath in and out as he mouths at the skin there, swiping his tongue over the space lightly before continuing to kiss away any of your troubles. You close your eyes again, feeling like you’re disappearing under his soft touch before you realize Jihyo is still waiting on your answer.

“Dinner sounds good,” you manage. “Text me an address—you and Hoseok can choose. I don’t care.”

You hang up before she can protest. Your mouth hovers over Jungkook’s, lips pressed together in a solid line.

“That wasn’t very nice,” you admonish him, placing your hands on his firm shoulders. “I was trying to talk.”

“I know,” he says in a soft tone, breathing out a laugh. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better.”

He gives you one last lingering kiss—one that steals the breath from your lungs and makes you feel lightheaded before he lets you go. You feel warm all over as you two crawl toward the front of his car, returning to your seats while stealing knowing glances at each other.

You don’t want to dwell on the thoughts too much, but a lot had changed in the last hour that you couldn’t even wrap your head around, much less understand and come to accept. Your lips tingle as your mind flies through the events again, attempting to see you and Jungkook from a third-person perspective in your mind, but really just focusing on the way it felt when he was kissing you, touching you, breathing you in.

You knew one thing for certain, though: your pact with yourself was up. You weren’t just diving into the shallow anymore. You were in the deep end.

[chiwhorei]

the devil makes

pairing: benimaru shinmon x reader x joker/52

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.2k

tags: a touch of branding (he flicks his cigarette at you i just really don’t know how else to tag it), knifeplay (except it’s a playing card, only a smidge of blood), rough oral, face fucking, voyeurism, spit, anal, double penetration, degradation, spanking, belly bulge, it’s a little dubconny but not really?

a/n: my first full fire force piece woot woot! these two characters make me so fucking horny and when they shared the screen my pussy was completely inconsolable. thank you @messwriting and @10millionyearsdungeon for looking over this and always encouraging me.

hymn: wrong by MAX ft. lil uzi vert

you, and me, and the devil makes three.

“Why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what you want,” you pluck the cigarette from your caller’s lips, he presses his saccharine smile down at the edges to feign a pout.

You know better by now. Your legs hang on either side of Joker’s hips, his white dress shirt doing almost nothing to cover skin filled with a new flight of bites and bruises. The last set had just faded when you heard the tell-tale knock at your front door.

His timing is always impeccable, hat in hand and dipping under your doorway just as the wanton throbbing sizzles into a dull ache.

Deeply inhaling, nicotine breaches your throat and prickles past your lungs. You only ever smoke when he’s around. At this point, you’re not sure if it’s a necessity or a habit.

“Do I need a reason to visit my favorite girl?” His voice trails around your skin in tune with a wandering set of hands. It’s infuriating how easily your body relents to Joker’s fingerprints. You’ll feel them like scorch marks for days to come.

“I’m not your girl and I doubt I’m your favorite.” You bush off his quip, cigarette bobbing in your teeth before he pulls it from your mouth to drag. With a flick of his finger, ash falls like burning snow onto the juncture of your collarbone. You wince and fall forward into his chest.

“You’ve proven yourself the most useful, is that better?” Joker pulls you into a searing kiss, pushing tongue and smoke into your awaiting mouth.

“At least it’s more honest.” Joker laughs loudly, his head falling back against the mattress. Your pillows will smell like sage and campfire, you’ll pretend it doesn't lull you to sleep.

“I need your help to, achem, seal a deal of sorts. For the greater good of course.”

Eyes roll upwards, first with guffaw, but any argument melts with the feeling of his lips on a warpath from the angle of your jaw to the swell of your breast.

Joker promises to make it worth your while, in the ways you always seem to let him.

Against all better judgement.

* * *

“Well, Captain,” Joker presses a sharp ace against the curve of your collarbone, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake, “she’s a pretty little toy ain’t she?”

Pleasure coats your tongue, it tastes like blood and incense.

In the short time they’ve been acquainted, Benimaru has learned to be unsurprised with any impromptu meetings Joker could plan.

What Beni wasn’t expecting was your naked, flushed body on the lap of his new associate. He wants to complain about the purple eyed almost-stranger sitting in his private quarters, but any argument flounders for air as soon as you come into view.

You seem completely placid from your position against the anti-hero’s chest, awaiting further instructions with glassy eyes. Any shame you could ever muster lies in a heap of fabric six feet away. Joker always dresses you in something easy to tear off.

“You sure do make an interesting first impression, Joker.” The 7th’s captain walks forward in the dimly lit room, pushing his fingers against your hair and pulling back roughly to steal your undivided attention.

A pretty little toy indeed.

“We’re partners now, Beni,” you can feel Joker’s voice like honeyed venom from behind, every syllable drips against your shoulders, “and partners share.”

Joker flicks the playing card upward, twirling it in deft fingers. You watch his dexterity, the piece of glossy paper is pressed to your lipstick, dragging your bottom lip down slightly before pulling away. A signature painted in soft pink.

The hand on your hip, the one in your hair-- the feeling of two bodies enclosing on you like prey is overwhelming and salacious.

“Does he bring you to do all of his dirty work?” You’re spoken to for the first time, the grip in your hair lifting you from Joker’s lap.

“Only the dirtiest work suits me,” you hold your ground, voice dropping an octave to make both men shudder, “captain.”

Benimaru’s sneer is only an inch from your mouth, his proximity neering closer with every word falling past your lips. If you keep talking like this, Joker won’t want to share his toys anymore.

Pointer finger and thumb come up to cradle your chin, mouth parting with the smallest pressure. Your tongue lulls out slightly, an invitation punctuated with your eyes flitting from his stare to the deep set frown across his face.

The sound of Beni spitting hits your ears, the harsh put bounces against the bannisters. Warmth runs in an indecent trail from the tip to the fattest plane of your tongue.

“Don’t play coy, sweetheart, show ‘em what else you can do with that mouth.” Joker’s palm comes down on your ass cheek hard, a breathy yelp escapes to be swallowed by the man above you.

Beni moves to perch against the desk centered in the ever-condensing room, arms folded across his broad chest. The space feels cold without the body heat you had been stuck in between, you feel exposed fully for the first time since Joker snuck you into company seven.

There’s only a beat of self-cognizance before you’re pushed to the ground by a familiar set of calloused hands. You need no further direction, knees and palms straining against the hardwood as you inch forward.

By the time you’re kneeling in front of Benimaru, his cock is in a tight fist. He pumps himself in long strokes, smearing pre with his thumb to coat the throbbing head. His length is impressive, you can feel saliva pooling in under your tongue as you watch his hand move from base to tip.

The sight almost has you forgetting your manners.

“Will you fuck my mouth, Captain Shinmon?” There’s very little restraint left available behind his icy red irises. Joker sits back in the brown leather chair, a front row seat.

You feel the familiar burn against your scalp with Beni’s searing pull. The red tip hits your mouth and you’re positive a streak of lipstick finds home against your chin.

You’ll be covered in much more before the sun comes up.

His cock is heavy as pushes past your lips inch by thick inch. The groan ripping through your throat is vibrato against the ribbed skin.

“Wow, ah, your sweet little throat was meant for cock wasn’t it?” Tears prick in your eyeline, your vision growing bleary as you swallow. A stray streak of mascara falls down the curve of your cheek before Beni swipes it away. You almost blush. Almost.

He hits the back of your throat with seemingly little effort, you sputter slightly at the burn, your jaw aching to accommodate. Just as you feel him pulling almost all of the way out, Beni slams the full length in again. His pace is brutal and unforgiving. Each thrust earning a new mess of spit and makeup to collect at the edges of your mouth.

“No need to be gentle, Beni, she’s taken a whole lot worse.” You would laugh at the sick curl of Joker’s words if you could. The implication is both irritating and worrisome.

“As much as I would love to cum in that pretty little mouth,” you gasp for air as Beni pulls you off, a thick line of slobber still connecting your bottom lip to his cock, “I really want to feel your cunt wrapped around me instead.”

You hear the sound of Joker’s heavy feet closing in from behind, his grip on the back of your neck to hoist you back up to your feet.

“Partners share, remember?” The lilt in your pursuers voice is sweet in the way sugar free gums rots your teeth. Joker will break you into pieces for the greater good.

It’s sick, absolutely disgusting, how much you crave your own destruction.

“She’s nice and ready for you, captain. Feel how dripping wet she is just from sucking your cock.” His next words suck all of the oxygen from your lungs, he replaces air with tension,

“You can take her cunt, I’m going to fuck her tight little ass.”

“Wait I--” There’s no use pleading, there’s no use in anything but quiet compliance and resolving to the fate of being stuffed completely full.

Four hands are on you, groping the fat on hips and breasts, moving against the pliant skin in tandem. You’re malleable in their hold, hoisted up in Joker’s arms. His grip is unforgiving, crescented bruises are bound to form and be visible for days to come on the inside of your thighs.

Beni captures your lips between his teeth, stealing back your attention with a growl. His kiss is searing, tongue slipping to lash against your own. The stubble grazing his strong jaw is dizzying, he whispers against your lips, licking against your pre-stained mouth. Quiet enough to be either missed or ignored by Joker as he busies himself freeing his cock and grinding itn against your ass.

“Next time I’ll sit you on my face and we can have a little fun one-on-one.” Beni punctuates his promise with a nip to your bottom lip before his hands move to steady you snugly in between two wide chests. His palms rest on the dips of your hips, thumb jutting out to press tightly against your aching clit. The movement rips a hoarse wale from deep in the back of your throat.

“You always cry so pretty, dollface.” Joker’s emboldened by your tears, an invitation to push you farther, you feel two fingers prodding your asshole, using your own slick to assist in his exploration. The sensation is painful and addicting as both digits push past the tight ring of muscle.

His fingers move to work the taught hole open, each ridge of knuckle and callus blurring the line between torment and pleasure. Beni circles your clit, picking up in pace as Joker adds a third finger, the stimulation hurtling you towards orgasm. A litany of please scratch at your throat, begging your captors to steal an orgasm from the pile of shaking limbs in between them.

“Cum, little one, cum so I can fuck this tight little cunt of yours.” Beni’s voice is unmistakably demanding, there’s not a note of suggestion behind his words. Your first orgasm snaps against you like electrocution, buzzing around every nerve.

“That’s my girl,” Joker snickers, feeling the contraction and loosening of your muscles. Your high is the final submission, willing every part of you how they see fit. Little more than a toy, a pawn in a broader game of chess.

“Are you ready for us?” Beni’s voice is framed in question, but you know better than to take it as anything but rhetorical. It doesn't actually matter whether or not you’re ready. What matters is the squeal of pain and temperance that comes from breaking you.

Before you can even nod in agreement, you feel it. The burning fullness, the sealing of a deal between two men that you happen to be placed right in the middle of. Joker’s cock is hot and heavy, sheathing himself in the last plane of virgin flesh. The piercing on his frenum drags against you, a familiar feeling in the most unfamiliar place.

There’s no time to get used to the sensation as Beni is pulling you forward slightly so your weeping pussy is hovering over his length. Your legs dangle, suspended on either side of his forearms. You’re lowered onto the captain, his pace is remarkably gentle as your pubic bone meets the sprawling expanse of wirey hair nestled between his hips. As your skin meets on either side of your weeping body, both cocks sheathed completely inside, the canter of either man picks up brutally.

The sticky feeling of sweat and arousal covers every inch of skin in the room, partnering with the sound of slapping and thrusting that all but drowns out the pathetic whimpers your suspended form can muster.

“I knew you would make yourself useful, doll. My favorite game to play.”

Your head falls forward against Beni, body growing heavy as the merciless, rhythmic thrumming of your abuse. The dull ache of another orgasm drips into your bloodstream. Your abused bundle of nerves become live wires, sparking against Joker’s wandering fingers as they wrap around your front.

“I can feel it, ya’ know, I can feel myself in your stomach.” His taunt is stressed with his palm pressing down against your abdomen before dipping back down once more to pinch your clit.

His rough treatment is the final straw, you scream and cuvulse in the hold of your predators. You squeeze tightly in a succession of muscle spasms that feel like you’re trying to milk both of their own orgasms to crash with your own.

Thick spurts of cum spill into you with a series of deep, final thrusts. You feel your own wetness as it runs down your thighs and ass. Muffled groans from both men fill the stale air as they claim your holes. There’s nothing left in the space between bodies except you caught in the web of spiders, dangling in silken limbs and labored breathing. There’s nothing left to give or take.

There’s nothing but panting and sweat and a deal with the devil.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[whumpfish]

Allergic Reaction: Severe

A whump reference post

So I'm deathly allergic to peanuts and this is how my visit to the state fair went... I'm enjoying a funnel cake my mom brought me when something red on the wall catches my eye.

All Our

I crane my neck a little, finishing it off.

Products Are

Surely not... right? I grab my cane and stand up.

Fried In

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh fuck.

Peanut Oil

Oh boy. And I just ate the wholeass thing.

I can't feel anything right away, but I know from experience it takes 15-30 minutes to really hit me. Luckily I always carry benadryl and my auvi-q (like an epi pen but affordable), so I grab 2 benadryl right away and toss them back to slow the reaction.

At 3 minutes the interior of my mouth behind my teeth starts to burn. Just-ate-a-jalapeño burn. At 5 minutes it's spread to the roof of my mouth. At 10 minutes it starts creeping down my throat.

It keeps continuing down my throat, and as it does the burn goes from jalapeño to habanero to ghost pepper. It's everywhere. My gums, the inside of my cheeks, under my tongue, to say nothing of my esophagus.

The itching starts somewhere between 15 and 20 minutes. It begins deep inside my ears, then my scalp, then the back of my neck. Then my arms and torso.

At 25 minutes I'm scratching my head, digging at my ears. I'm ready to rip the damn things off they itch so bad.

At 30 minutes the itching has spread to all of my skin. I'm itching in places I didn't know it was possible to itch. My teeth itch, the cartilage in my nose itches. All my joints start aching. I can still breathe, which is nice, but it means all I can do is take another benadryl.

At 35 minutes the joint pain has progressed from "ow" to "I have rheumatism and the storm of the century is 10 minutes away." My senses start going nuts. The sunlight, even indoor lights are blinding. Every noise is a speed metal band having a concert in my ear canals.

Everything outside itches and everything inside burns. I'm miserable, doubled over in my chair, what's shaping up to be a huge headache forming behind my eyes. But the benadryl keeps me breathing.

For about 5 more minutes. Then my throat starts to close up in little squeezing pulses, and I know despite my early action it's fixing to be thigh stab o'clock. I live in the US, so the awareness of how expensive an overnight stay at the ER on iv steroids following said stab is, and that it's my mom who's going to have to pay for it, gives me a complicated mashup of guilt-fear-frustration-anxiety.

I can't remember the last time my exposure to peanut products was this bad. The last accidental exposure that had me going to urgent care was when I bit the tip off a green tea pocky without reading the box. This time it's a wholeass cake. With my leaky gut and shit immune system, I'm in for it. Even with the requisite rescue needles, I'm worried. The process is still happening. Just in slow motion.

My kingdom for a thermos of activated charcoal.

My mom gives me her water bottle after I drain mine trying to ease the burn. She's hoping dilution will help too, but it's not doing much. She gets me a couple more from the kiosk.

They're ice cold. Like. Ice cold. The kind of cold I would normally let sit for half an hour before drinking because freezing water hitting my stomach has always made me nauseous. But then I realize that might be the best way out of this.

I chug three in a row. Then I lie down on a bench in the recovery position with my hoodie over my head to block the overwhelming light. I can't tell if what I'm feeling is my usual queasiness or just more of the reaction, but I decide to go for it and pull my knees in hard to my chest. [Emeto cw for the next paragraph alone. Skip it if it squicks you.]

XXX

It works, and I proceed to be sick into a bag intermittently over the next 5-10 minutes until I'm completely empty.

XXX

The relief once it's no longer in my system is almost immediate. The ever increasing crescendo of inflammation skids to a halt. It's like air being let out of a balloon. The pressure in my head dissipates. My nose is running like mad but it's better than the alternative.

It's been about 6 hours now. My chest still hurts. I can't eat without pain yet--trying feels like rubbing steel wool across a fresh wound. I'm going to need to sleep with my top half up at 30 degrees minimum to help me keep breathing okay. I'm exhausted, probably going to bed after this...

But I hope this was at least useful to y'all.

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 03 / all for us

summary: you’ve been gone for a while and haven’t been replying to any of your texts messages. you’re friends suspect something might be up.

note: the reader has been left alone continuously ever since she has been kidnapped. erwin and levi are the only ones who see her, and it’s usually only for an hour or two. this is because of her reluctance to be around them.

taglist: @voltairelesecond @the-sun-baby @uniquepickle @baelo80

word count: +3.0k

warnings/notes: cursing, vomiting, your friends are looking for you

PIECK knew something was up whenever bertholdt said you weren't answering his texts and hadn't been showing up to work before you even went on vacation. she knew you were on vacation and that you were pissed with her, but even so you never ignored texts from bertholdt.

her suspicions only rose whenever porco and reiner told her the same thing, that you'd suddenly gone awol on the two of them out of nowhere.

they were confirmed when zeke came back into town and said the same thing.

she sits on her couch, shoulders shaking as she cries with porco's arms wrapped around her. reiner, bert, zeke, and annie, who reiner and bert brought for some reason, stare at her in complete worry.

you went awol just this sunday, telling each and everyone of them that you were going on vacation and wouldn't be in town for a little while. bertholdt hadn't seen you at work for almost three weeks now, two and a half of them after your sudden vacation.

"she can't be on vacation," pieck sobs, "she always answers your guys' texts. no matter what!"

"maybe she's just in a different country? she might just not be able to get reception," porco seems unsure as he says this.

"she can't be. she would've told me, pieck, or even bertholdt. god, she would've told all of us," zeke's head is in his hands while his teeth grind together.

"okay, so where would she be if she were still in paradis," annie speaks up while gesturing her arm in a circle.

"who fucking knows," reiner sighs, "when'd you last see her, babe?"

"at work before she stopped showing up. she said she was gonna get coffee at that one café she loves going to. other than that, she didn't say anything about plans or going out with anybody," bertholdt is laced with confusion and his arms are crossed.

"we got into a bad fight that night," pieck sniffles, "she left the house a few hours later, i just thought she was going to stay with one of you guys or yelena."

"what'd you even argue about?"

she grips at her hair with tears rushing down her face, "i can't even remember. it was probably so petty and stupid. the only thing i remember is her telling me that she hated me and me telling her that she was a fuck up."

"i'm so sorry, pieck," porco squeezes her shaky form tight to his chest.

"wait," zeke's standing up abruptly and pointing at bertholdt, "she went where?!"

"oh my god, she went to café scout!!! maybe the workers heard something," reiner perks up along with everyone else.

"holy shit, maybe that one girl is there!! she probably saw something," porco smiles.

"louise! she definitely knows (name)! she probably saw something! let's go," pieck jumps off of the couch and stumbles towards the front door of her house.

the rest of them follow after, all deciding that bertholdt's van, he's usually the designated driver, is the car they'll get into. they all yell at a fumbling bertholdt to hurry up and unlock the car as they stand at the car. he does so while screaming, jumping into the driver's seat and starting the ignition. reiner's jumping in the passenger seat and annie's in the first row of seats behind bert.

before porco can even close the door behind him, bertholdt is driving off towards the café. porco is screaming along with pieck as they're thrown around the van due to their lack of seatbelts and the both of them standing to sit in their seat. their screaming has everyone else screaming as bert speeds up the car despite the oncoming speed bump. bertholdt and reiner hit their heads against the roof of the car, a loud bang resonating throughout the vehicle. pieck and porco's back hit the roof as well, but luckily for pieck she lands on the first row of seats next to annie.

porco, unfortunately, lands on the floor. zeke would've laughed if it wasn't for his own head slamming against the carpeted roof of the van. annie holds onto pieck's arm whenever she's in a sitting position, screaming along with reiner for bertholdt to slow the car down as they see another speed bump.

he doesn't.

porco is once again thrown against the roof.

bertholdt is speeding, even as he gets onto the freeway with other cars. he's stressed out.

when they get there, they all wonder how the fuck bertholdt didn't even get pulled over and how the hell they even managed to survive. bertholdt cries out apologies as reiner and porco puke their guts out in the huge parking lot while annie gags and tries not to vomit at watching reiner and porco do it themselves. pieck is holding her hand and trying to cover her eyes while zeke manages to cover her ears and cringes at porco and reiner.

bertholdt's now sobbing at annie, profusely apologizing, even getting on all fours and begging for her forgiveness.

"how are you gonna get on your hands and knees for annie but not for your boyfriend," porco coughs before he spits out saliva to get rid of the taste in his mouth.

reiner follows behind him in a grimace, hand grabbing at his now emptied stomach and the other going to wipe at his mouth.

"dude, gross!! don't wipe it off with your hands!! pieck and bertholdt usually have tissues on hand," porco shouts to reiner, who drops his hand halfway.

pieck and zeke comfort the emetophobe annie all while bertholdt gives reiner and porco tissues and a breath mint. he gives them hand sanitizer as well, and throws a pack of peppermint frost gum at the two of them, clogging his nose up.

they scoff but oblige, both now looking somehow decent and also smelling it. pieck's calming down a shaking annie, who's buried herself in pieck's warm arms, and zeke stands to the side awkwardly.

porco and reiner rush to the order counter when they all step inside, ordering instead of asking the cashier for the employee they were looking for. annie, who's now calm, pushes them aside harshly.

"ignore them, is that girl louise working today? we need to talk to her," she asks and the poor cashier is terrified at annie's deadpan face.

"n-no!! sh-she should be at home!!"

"give me her address," annie starts to lean her front over the counter, almost pushing the poor girl into a heart attack.

she grabs a napkin and a pen, hurriedly scribbling down louise's address and running off into the back.

"we can get food on the way there," annie shrugs nonchalantly, "preferably wendy's or something."

————

bertholdt and pieck almost feel bad for the poor girl whenever she answers the door.

with annie's glare piercing into her and zeke's towering over her, they were sure she'd pissed herself.

"y-yes... what do you need," she digs her nails into the door.

pieck shoves them both aside and steps forward, louise lights up with recognition.

"don't worry, they aren't gonna hurt you," she waves her hand, completely ignoring how they both still glare at louise even over pieck's shoulder, "i just need to ask you something."

"what is it?"

"have you seen (name) lately? the girl who usually come in with me."

"last time i saw her was around a few weeks ago," louise shrugs, "wait, did she go missing?!"

"yea, we're trying to figure out where she was last on the night of her disappearance. did she say anything to you...? anything at all," pieck steps forward with a desperate hand on her heart.

"she said something about going drinking with two friends... something about them being blonde and short," she scratches at her temple, slight pout on her face, "that's all i can remember."

"did she say what bar," pieck steps closer again, putting her hand on the door frame.

louise shakes her head sadly, eyes dropping down to their feet.

with that, pieck broke into tears again and was led away by porco and annie. the rest of them followed behind, leaving louise inside her home.

"she has to be somewhere," pieck cries into her hands, "she has to be!!"

zeke's got a hand on his forehead while he loosely holds onto his glasses with his other hand. he lets out a choked out sob, and everyone turns to him.

"zeke... are you... crying?" reiner turns to look at zeke over his shoulder.

"fuck.. yea. it just doesn't make sense. she's gotta be somewhere," he rubs the bridge of his nose.

"maybe the guys louise mentioned know something...," bertholdt inserts as he looks in the rear view mirror.

the statement has pieck shouting at the meek boy, "we don't know what they look like!!! all we know is that one is blonde and one is short! we're at a dead end! we're fucking stuck!!!"

bertholdt visibly flinches in his seat while his throat clogs up, hands gripping at the steering wheel. his eyes are welling up with tears that he doesn't let out. reiner's hand is on his arm in comfort, eyebrows bunched up in concern.

pieck wails once more, "god, i'm so sorry bertl. this isn't your fault. you were trying to help."

he sniffles, "it's fine. i understand. we're all just upset and desperate to find (name)."

"we'll find her soon enough."

————

the loneliness is getting to your head.

you're in the secluded dark even during the day.

you just crave to be with someone, so much that you're getting desperate.

a tug at erwin's sleeve has him stopping and turning back to face you. you've got tears spilling over your cheeks and snot running into your mouth while you lean on an elbow to hold onto his sleeve for dear life.

it's not even nighttime, it's early afternoon. erwin had just come into the room to feed you lunch and to just leave after that. but you couldn't handle it anymore. being alone made everything dark and silent.

even if the lights and televisions were turned on.

"please," you beg and rest your forehead against his arm, "please don't leave me alone."

erwin's cheeks are lighting up while his eyes widen. his hand comes up to stroke the back of your head as it now rests on his hip. he doesn't mind the wet spot forming on his pants, this was the first time you ever initiated anything.

"i won't, darling. i need to go put the tray in the sink and let levi know i will be in here," he's taking a step away from you, jumping at your sudden loud sobs and tugging.

"no! no! please, i don't want to be alone," your eyes are squeezed shut while you grip onto his pants for dear life.

"but i need to go put these dishes away. after that, i can—"

"no!" you scream and push your head harder against his leg, "no! please don't leave! i don't want you to leave."

he sighs, putting the tray of empty dish onto your bedside table. he grabs the room key out of back pocket before he picks you up bridal style.

"you run, levi'll break your legs," his fingers dig into your skin, but loosen at the frantic nod you give.

he manages to unlock your bedroom door in a complicated way, which you don't feel like questioning, and strolls outside of the room.

he goes out of your quarters, it's the furthest you've ever been. you're in a large room that connects into other rooms, the amount of doors is slightly overwhelming to you even as you look at them.

to your shock, you pass by people. living people.

they all seem to be staff, and the only sort of acknowledgement you get from them is a wide eyed stare with a dropped jaw.

"levi is still in his study, correct," he asks while shifting his hold on you.

a girl with ginger hair and auburn eyes speaks up, "yes sir! he requested no one to enter."

erwin nods and walks past the girl, who gives you a small friendly wave whenever you look out from erwin's arm.

you turn your attention back to erwin whenever you hear the sound of a door opening and closing.

you're in a new room, which is assumed to be levi's study, that's lighted up by the cloudy and grey natural light that shines through the blinds and windows. there are bookshelves on both sides of the room and you notice that on both bookshelves the order of the books goes from largest to smallest. levi sits at a desk in the middle of the room, facing the door, as his hand holding a pen runs across the paper.

"what do you need," levi looks up for a brief moment, but snaps his head up once more.

"what's the brat doing here," he motions to you in erwin's arms.

erwin's sitting you on a leather couch in the office, wiping away some tears with his thumbs. he steps away from you and takes ahold of levi by the arm, essentially dragging him to the door of the study.

the dawning realization that they're going to leave you alone has you tripping over your feet as you run to the door. your hand grips onto levi's shirt and you tug him towards you, pulling him away from the door.

"i don't want to be alone," you cry while shoving your face into levi's chest, he cringes at your snot and tears soaking through his shirt.

"oh," he blinks, awkwardly rubbing your back with his hand, "why'd you bring her here?"

"because she wouldn't let me leave to put her tray away, which i now need you to do. i'm going to get in the bath with her, which you are welcome to join if you'd like."

"i don't like baths, sitting in your own filth," he scrunches his nose up.

"to each their own," erwin shrugs, giving levi a kiss on his temple and grabbing ahold of your hand.

"come along, darling," he smiles at how quickly you intertwine fingers with him and join his side.

he leads you into a different bathroom than the one that you use. there's not much of a difference besides it size, the tub's size, and the long counter built for two.

"undress for me, love," his giant hands are massaging your shoulders before he pulls away and walks over to the tub.

you look to the bathroom door, only to find a doorknob with a keypad, something you didn't notice when you walked in, and frown. you just sigh and slip off the the pastel pink nightgown you were wearing, the fabric pooling around your feet as it drops to the floor.

you look up into the mirror, and you almost want to cry. you look nothing like yourself. you barely had any life behind those (eye color) eyes and your eyebrows were now naturally furrowed in sadness. you've got fading bruises on one side of your body, trailing downwards all the way to your calf.

you decide to take off your panties before you let your thoughts roam, stepping out of them after they've dropped to the floor.

you hear the door open, to which you and erwin look to. only it's not levi.

it's a young boy with ebony black hair and emerald green eyes that stands at 5'10.

you instinctively cover yourself up and turn your back towards him, embarrassing washing over you in waves.

erwin scrambles to block the boys view, who is seemingly enjoying it, and furrows his bushy brows.

"who are you and what are you doing here? where is levi?!"

"levi sent me sir. he gave me clothing for the girl and then said you would be in here," his eyes try to take a peek over erwin's shoulder.

erwin snatches the clothing out of his hand and slams the door shut in the boy's face. he scoffs in annoyance while he puts the clothes onto the counter, now focusing his attention onto you.

"i'm sorry about that, dear. are you alright," he puts a hand on your back and guides you to his chest.

"i'm okay," you sniff, "just wanna get in the bath now."

he smiles a bit, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead before he steps away. you watch him rid himself of his white button up and try not to let your eyes bulge out at his body. however, you can't exactly resist the urge whenever erwin is finally naked.

erwin's stomach has abs carved into it, a well groomed happy trail leading to his cock. the thighs in his muscles and back are almost screaming out at you whenever he turns and lifts his hand to ruffle his hair.

you look down to his feet, feeling ashamed for even staring for so long.

he gets into the bath after a moment, knees spread wide for you to sit between. his arms are resting on the rim of the tub while he sighs at the hot temperature. you get in, goosebumps running up and down your body as the heat invades your colder body. you settle in between his legs and lean back against his chest, closing your eyes.

his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him than you were before. you put a hand over his arm, silently giving him a message to keep his arms where they were.

his lips kiss at the crown of your head, and it seems sweet enough to where you think you might be able to smile. but you don't.

watching your eyes flutter, he mumbles into your hair, "the hot water make you tired?"

"yeah," you hum, "don't really like the hot outside of this. i prefer the cold."

"so does levi," erwin chuckles as he draws circles into your skin.

"does that mean you like summer?"

"no, i prefer fall or spring. both usually have the adequate temperature," he sighs.

"erwin," you ask after a few seconds, "why is levi so cold?"

"why are you only now asking?"

"i meant to ask sooner but i was never really... given the chance," you say bitterly.

"well, levi has been through a tough life. he almost went to jail before i met him. but it isn't my story to tell," he smiles at the memory.

you nod and finally let out a yawn, "i'm going to fall asleep soon."

from then, erwin washes the two of you so you both can get out of the bath. during this, you find out he's actually quite playful. he gathers up bubbly soap in his hands and blows them into your face, hearty laughs following immediately after.

he stands before you once you're out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist and one around your shoulders. you look up at him while he brushes your hair and puts on a few drops of lotion on your face.

you're trying to ignore the voice in the back of your head that maybe he really does care. because at the end of the day,

you still have a collar and chain on.

[all-my-friends-were-glorious]

JACEN LYLE HART

The Avoidant Mess

"I understood myself only after I destroyed myself. And only in the process of fixing myself, did I know who I truly was." - Sade Andria Zabala

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: Jacen Lyle Hart

Nicknames: Jace, Douchebag, New Kid, Flash Flood (Supervillain Name)

Faceclaim: Devon Bostick

Age: 24

Gender: Nonbinary Transmasc

Sexuality: Homosexual Homoromantic Polygamous

Height: 6′3″

Weight: 113lbs

Birthday: July 31st

Sign: Leo

Occupation: Unemployed; Supervillain; Guinea Pig for Tweek’s drug ring (Original Verse Only)

QUICK FACTS

Jace was tired of being used by Eric and refuses to ever be put in that position again. He helps who he wants to help, and will behave erratically and strangely otherwise to make people avoid him.

While it started as “If I’m weird and gross people will leave me alone”, but it turned into a compulsion to put things in his mouth that are not edible and often toxic or dangerous.

Instead of gum he sometimes chews on gum wrappers.

He has eaten Tide Pods exactly three times, the first time being something he did while high as a joke, the second time he was high and the Tide Pod had a Good Texture, the third time he was sober and just craved the texture.

While he hasn’t drank bleach, he has thought about it.

He will eat almost anything and do almost anything for money for his drugs. He has actively scraped gum off the sidewalk with his face and chewed it for five bucks once.

Despite doing drugs, drinking, and having risky sex to get people to avoid him, Jace still gets used by people. But he feels like he does it on his own terms so he doesn’t mind it.

Michael is someone that he looks up to, loves, and cares for. If Michael tells him not to do something, he’s most likely to listen.

His Michael has enacted a sort of Dental Preservation Ritual for Jace with Kaiwha, in which he inflicts dental trauma on others in order to take the injury/pain from Jace. He has a propensity for chewing on and eating things that will damage his teeth, but it’s almost impossible for him to stop.

When Jace’s parents split when he was ten, his mother had his last name changed from Rogers to her maiden name, Hart. She changed her name, as well, and they moved into a two-bedroom apartment together. His father forfeited his custody for paying child support. 

Jace had a crush on Jonah for a while, and continually fell for his cruel tricks. It took the one accident between them for Jace to finally fear him. Jonah lit an abandoned building on fire, only to find out that it was not abandoned, but had Jace and a cat he was nurturing inside. While Jonah saved Jace, he didn’t notice the cat, and Jace never forgave him. The salt in the wound was that Jonah proceeded to lie about whose fault the fire was, and blamed Jace for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He was born in Idaho, then moved to Kentucky, Montana, a super tiny town in Arizona, Nevada, and then stayed in South Park for the remainder of his life.

He did not speak at all for the first twelve years of his life. Now, he rambles a lot.

His first Dragonshout was perfect, though they varied in efficacy throughout his run as the Dragonborn. 

While he is embarrassed about it, now, Jace’s first crushes were Kenny, Chris Donnely, Scott Malkinson, Butters Stotch, Kevin Stoley, and Kevin McCormick. He would still be more than happy if they would give him the time of day.

He has a terrible oral fixation. 

For a lot of common things, he will use the wrong words. He thinks it’s funny and not malicious, though Pete would disagree. His favorite is calling energy drinks “inner gay” drinks.

He will do literally anything for money. He has gotten tazed twice in a row for $20 before.

Sometimes, he writes down his trips, and they are never worded very well.

Even if it makes no sense or has great leaps in logic, Jace almost always speaks his mind nowadays.

He is terrified of Robbie, but thinks Travis is the bee’s knees.

Currently, despite not really needing to, he is squatting in a house on the edge of town. Squatter’s rights say he has to live there for ten years before he can do anything about it, but he’s really only taking it day by day.

He adopted a mama cat and her two kittens into the house he’s staying in. The mother is Diana, and the babies are Susie-Q (long-haired female), and Boris (short-haired male).

Jace is very compulsive and impulsive, both. His impulse control is determined entirely by whoever is with him.

When he was younger, he wanted a pet rhinoceros. He never stopped wanting one, but he has adopted one on a sanctuary in Africa. He always gets super excited for them at the zoo, if he gets to go.

Sometimes when he’s high, he’ll hang out in Michael’s attic with his familiar, Ebon. He can’t really speak the snake’s language, but he does talk to him a lot.

To this day he remains friends with his versions of Butters and Clyde. He has offered friendships to the ones here.

While high, he once ate an entire roll of clear scotch tape, under the impression that it was a really bland Fruit By The Foot. Eric is the reason he believed that.

Jace has died twice. Once, he was brought back via necromancy, and the other time he had to use his Netherborn abilities. The first time was a drug overdose, and the second was trying to help Butters not get caught with a body. It lead to a painful, excruciating, violent death.

Jace has been accidentally electrocuted at a crosswalk. It was not Tweek’s doing.

Not only does he not have any self-preservation instincts, but he is also just very, very unlucky.

Jace has swallowed a lot of things that are inedible, but his favorites are bouncy balls, aquarium gravel, laundry detergent/fabric softener, entire wood pencils, and rubber dog toys.

Jace falls in lust very easily, but falls in love very, very slowly. He is 100% more likely to love someone if they have slept with him.

While he isn’t exactly a pacifist, Jace is most definitely a coward.

Headcanons Masterlist

TAGS LIST

Overcome And Completely Silent Now With Heaven's Help You Cast Your Demons Out (Jace Hart)

Won't Someone Come Save Us From This Story Line Of Mass Destruction? (Jace Musings)

Mom Tod Me That She's Worried And I Couldn't Give A Shit (Jace Aesthetic)

I Like Your Spotty Sweater (Jace Closet)

He's Too Stoned Nintendo (Jace Headcanons)

These Drugs Are Fucking With My Head (Jace Journal Entries)

VERSES

TBD

MAINS AND SHIPS

MAINS

@nxwkid​ - Alex/Douchebag/New Kid - Well I'm Just Like You I've Got No Name At All The Whole World Against You You Give Everything (Jace and Alex - Nxwkid)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Travis - Let It Rain Let It Pour (Jace and Travis - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Travis and Robbie - One Hundred Bad Days Made A Hundred Good Stories (Jace and Travis and Robbie - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Michael - Sometimes I Think Of Doing Terrible Things I Know I Shouldn't Think It But I Do Anyway (Jace and Michael - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Ryan - If You Spook Me You'll End Up Dead Spook Me Again You'll End Up Undead (Jace and Ryan - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@south-park-saints-and-sinners​ - Scott - I Died In Your Arms Tonight I Slipped Through Into The Afterlife It Was Nice (Jace and Scott - South-Park-Saints-And-Sinners)

@south-park-saints-and-sinners​ - Chris - We Haven't Won And If We Win And If The Morning Light Sets In We've Cheated Fate Again (Jace and Chris - South-Park-Saints-And-Sinners)

@suckmahballskahl​ - Eric - Your Monster Is Alive Now And He's Taken To The Streets (Jace and Eric - Whaatevaidowhatiwant)

@bigbadwolfletthegamesbegin​ - Scott - Super Automatic Pilot Motor Running Down Circles In The Parking Lot (Jace and Scott - Squealformepiggy)

@butyoudidntbreakme​ - Mole - Here's Where The Second Best Overtakes The Rest (Jace and Mole - Butyoudidntbreakme)

@on-orions-belt​ - Rosenburg - We Could Spend The Night Watch The Earth Come Up (Jace and Rosenburg - On-Orions-Belt)

Here - Strike Me Down Should Have Held It All Along (Jace and Jonah)

SHIPS

TBD

[leaves-and-inks]

Sketch Dump (featuring a WIP)

Hi, I’m back!! I had a wonderful time traveling, and then a little bit of chaos happened, but now I’ve got everything sorted and can delve back into posting! Here’s some random sketches here and there, some just creature designs, some dragons, some just little doodles. I’ve also got another smaugust piece in the works, so look for that in the future- I hope y’all enjoy!! :D

[Image ID: Three pencil sketches surrounded by ivy. The top sketch is of a full body fur-covered dragon with feathery wings, its head tilted towards the camera and facing left. It stands neutral, its wings raised. It has two horns on its head, a wrinkled snout, and long, pointed ears. The two bottom sketches are Griffins, the left most griffin based on a crow and cat. Its beak is wide open as the front of its body crouches down. It coughs up a hairball. The griffin on the right is a snowy owl snow leopard griffin. It sits facing the camera with darker, blank eyes, its ears twitching and its right claw raised. Its tail curls in front of it. Image 2: Four pencil sketches surrounded by fake ivy. The top right corner shows part of a dragon’s leather wing, cropped before the arm is visible. Obscuring part of the wing, on the middle- right side, are two busts of people with basic features, drawn in a base-like style, one person in front of the other. The person closest the the camera looks slightly down, their eyes shut in a smug expression. Their hand is over their chest, partially obscured by the ivy. The person standing behind them looks at the back of the first person’s head with a disgruntled expression. Their eyes are exaggerated into stars, lines suggesting light surrounding the outer layers. The bottom left sketch is a ecstatic velociraptor facing left. It is covered in feathers with a dark stripe running from its eye down the side of its neck. Its mouth is wide open, its tongue sticking up. Image 3: Pencil sketch of a flying wyvern surrounded by fake ivy and on a white fur background. It’s wings are spread wide in flight, circular and swirl patterns adorning them. It has long, rounded ears and large curved horns. It has blank eyes and a furry mane. It’s body in general is covered in fur. Its legs are partially curled up, and its tail winds down, cropped by the camera. Image 4: Two pencil sketches surrounded by fake Ivy. The top sketch is a side view bust of a werewolf. She has blank eyes, slightly longer ears than a wolf, and a scarred face. He mane is thick, and she as both top and bottom canines sticking out from under her gums. The bottom sketch is the top set of vampire teeth, its fangs elongated on its canines and outer incisors, the outer incisors being shorter. The top layer of gum can be seen. Pencil sketch of a dragon bust surrounded by fake Ivy. It faces right and is adorned in horns on its nose, cheeks, head, and spine. Its snout ends in a beak, and it has blank eyes. Image 5: Three pencil sketches on a white fur background, surrounded by fake ivy. The top sketch is vampire teeth clenched. The canines and the outermost incisors on the top and bottom row are pointed into fangs, the canines and top teeth being longer. The suggestion of lips surrounds them. The middle sketch is obscured mostly by the ivy, but a face with stick-like horns and deer ears can be seen. They don’t have pupils, and leaves grow off the antlers. The bottom sketch is a dragon bust facing right in profile view, its head turned down. He has a relaxed, somewhat down expression, with triangular frills on his check, horns on his nose and head, and teeth poking out from his lips. Image 6: A WIP painting on an iPad sitting in front of an artificial fire. It is a yellow dragon facing right, slightly turned towards the camera. It is crouched, one wing raised and front legs splayed as it has a somewhat fearful expression. It’s back is cropped, but its tail sweeps in front of it. It breathes a purple flame to its right. It has purple eyes, uneven spikes running down its back, and its tail is covered in spikes. The background fire is also purple, and is flickering over yellow rocks. /end ID]

[hopelikethemoon]

a dance owed (Javier x Reader)

Title: a dance owed Rating: PG-13  Length: 2,000 Notes: After that rude little anon this morning, I decided to write some cute fluff for these two. Set about 2 months after “maybe forever” this is another little installment in the “maybe today, maybe forever” universe. (I’m gonna make a whole post for it later today probably). Yeah, I realize this scene technically took place way before when the first installment of this series but work with me people.  Warnings: None. Pure, tooth-rotting, fluff.  Dedicated To: @grapemama​ who has some of the best daddy!javi headcanons. 

Josie was entirely captivated by the red plastic flower Javier had plucked out of the table arrangement to give to her. She kept bouncing in your lap, waving the flower around — mostly to get her daddy’s attention. You brushed your fingers over the top of her head, smoothing her hair down before you pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“The last time I saw Danny,” Javier remarked to his father who was sat beside him. “He was riding the big wheel down the sidewalk.” He reached over and gave your knee a squeeze beneath the white table cloth. 

“It means a lot to your tia that you’re here,” The elder Peña remarked, before looking at you and Josie. “And it’s real nice that you finally brought your girls up here to let us meet them.” 

Josie squealed and babbled, keenly aware that she was now the topic of conversation. She bounced in your lap, tossing her flower on the floor as she grabbed at the table cloth, trying to stand herself up. 

“Here,” Javi said, plucking the flower up off the floor and tossing it back on the table, before he swept her out of your arms. “You should get something to eat while you can.” He told you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Those tamales look good,” You peered across the table at Chucho’s plate. 

“Javier’s tia makes the best.”

You scooted your chair back, resting your hand on Javi’s shoulder as you stood up, giving it three quick squeezes before you headed towards the row of tables that were still filled with food. The party was in full swing — guests laughing and dancing; eating to their heart’s content. Most of the children had already escaped out the side door to play outside, but some were still running around. It was hard to believe that in a few short years, Josie would be running around like them. 

You picked up a plate at the end of the table, looking over the options. 

“If you like chili, you should try the puntas.” 

You glanced up from spooning some rice onto your plate, offering the blonde woman across from you a kind smile. “I don’t eat beef, but thank you. It looks delicious, nevertheless.” You took a few steps further down the table, using the tongs to pick up two tamales. She followed you.

“So you and Javi…” 

You looked up again, lips drawn into a thin line. “Yes?”

“It’s just,” She wistfully looked past you and you followed her line of sight over your shoulder. Javier was in the midst of showing Josie off to one of his cousins, holding her up on his thighs so she could pretend to stand. “I never thought he was the type to settle down.” 

“You’re Lorraine, aren’t you?” You questioned with an arched brow. Javier had warned you that his ex-fiancé would be at the wedding, considering she was still close to his family. 

“Oh, yes.” She flustered, brushing her hair behind her shoulders with a nod. “It’s nice to meet you.” Lorraine offered politely. 

“Likewise.” You continued down the line of food, keenly aware of the fact that Lorraine was shadowing you from across the table. 

“It was just a surprise, you know.” She started when you paused to spoon some mole onto your rice. “Even his father didn’t know until two weeks ago.” 

Your brows furrowed together, “And?” 

Lorraine shrugged, “Everyone in town has been speculating about it. Why keep it a secret?”

“Don’t you have a husband and two kids to worry about, Lorraine?” You questioned with an edge to your voice, “I don’t give a shit what the bored people of Laredo have been saying about my relationship with Javi. Some of us have jobs that require us to keep our private lives private.” 

Instead of giving Lorraine the chance to respond, you offered her a curt smile before heading back over to the table with Javier. 

“You good?” He questioned as you settled back into your seat beside him. 

Smoothing your hands over your cotton sundress, “At least I don’t look like nursing home curtains.” 

Javier chuckled, draping his arm over the back of your chair, fingers trailing over the curve of your shoulder. “That’s my girl.” 

You shrugged, cutting into your tamales and taking a bite. “I don’t know what she was aiming to do. I get it, I’m sure she’s got some lingering resentment or whatever but…” You rolled your eyes. 

He scooted his chair closer to yours, leaning in to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, “I’m gonna go talk to her, alright? Clear the air and all that shit.” 

“Don’t be gone too long, I expect a dance.” You told him, brushing your fingers over his cheek. 

Javier curled his fingers around your hand, holding it in place as he turned to press a kiss to the center of your palm. “You’ll get your dance.” He promised, before looking towards his father and Josie. “And keep an eye on Pops, he’ll have Josie drinking Bud if we’re not careful.” 

“Get out of here,” Chucho laughed, waving Javier off. 

Unsurprisingly, Josie had her abuela eating out of the palm of her hand, just like she had Javier wrapped around her little fingers. Chucho was enamoured with her from the first moment the pair met. 

You hated that Lorraine had gotten under your skin, even a little bit. Yeah, it was true that Javi hadn’t told his father about Josie until right before you made the trip to Laredo. She was almost five months old, with her first tooth starting to come in — but her grandfather hadn’t known she even existed until two weeks ago. Chucho had been surprised enough to find out that his son was bringing his girlfriend to the wedding. He’d openly wept when he met his mother’s namesake, little miss Joséfina. 

“Are you having fun?” Chucho asked you as he tried to keep Josie from prying his hat off his head. She was bound and determined to pull it off, probably just to put it in her mouth. 

You nodded, wiping your mouth off with your napkin. “Everyone’s been so welcoming. And the wedding was gorgeous.” Josie turned her attention back to you, blowing raspberries at you — you could kill Javi for teaching her that. 

“Manners, little lady.” You laughed, sliding over into Javier’s seat so you could wipe her mouth off. She giggled, trying to stick the napkin in her mouth. “Are you good to keep her for a little while longer?” You asked. 

Chucho nodded, tickling her sides to get her attention. “We’ve still got to make the rounds so I can brag about having the prettiest granddaughter.” 

“She is pretty damn cute.” You grinned at her, brushing your fingertips over her cheek before bopping her in the nose. “Don’t give her any Bud.” You teased with a wink, before you headed across the dance hall to where Javier was still engrossed in a tense conversation with Lorraine. 

“Hey baby,” Javier’s eyes lit up when he saw you coming and he rose to his feet, wrapping an arm around your waist. “We were just talking about you.” 

“My ears were burning,” You remarked, brows rising upwards curiously. “All good things I hope.” 

Javier bumped his nose against your cheek before planting a kiss there. “Of course.” He promised, looking between you and Lorraine then. 

“I was telling him that it’s probably for the best that we didn’t end up married.” Lorriane stated. “I think we ended up where we’re supposed to be.” She laughed breezily, shaking her head. “I still just can’t wrap my head around the idea of Jav being a father.” 

“He’s a really good one too.” You answered, resting your hand on his chest. “But don’t be deceived, he’s still an asshole.” 

“Baby.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head. 

You grinned up at him, your fingertips toying with the bit of skin peeping out of his shirt. “You know it’s true.” 

His hand slid from your waist, giving your ass a quick squeeze. “I owe you a dance, come on.” Javier looked back at Lorraine, “Give Randy my best.”

“Good luck to both of you.” Lorraine smiled politely. “Josie’s a beautiful little girl.” 

Javier took your hand into his, guiding you out onto the dance floor. “I haven’t danced in years.” He confessed as he settled one hand at your waist, the other holding your hand against his chest. 

“That seemed like a tense conversation.” 

“Ten years later and she’s still sore about me leaving her at the altar,” Javier chewed at the piece of gum in his mouth a little more harshly then. “It’s good though, baby. Water under the bridge.” 

You curled your other hand around the back of his neck, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “What did you tell her about Josie?”

“I told her we were dealing with some deep shit in Columbia and for her safety we kept it quiet.” He shrugged. “It’s not too far from the truth.” 

“She’s got your father wrapped around her finger.” You mused, watching as Chucho carried Josie around the room, introducing her to the long list of relatives and friends that were there. 

“Everyone adores her,” Javier told you with a warm smile. “And you.” 

You laughed, “Really?”  

“Mhm.” He hummed with a nod, swaying a lot to the music with you. 

“I think they’re just shocked.” You teased. “You go to Columbia, take down Pablo Escobar, and then come back with a baby and me.” Everyone had been so kind to you. His tia had spent a good twenty minutes getting to know you, his cousin’s new bride had been friendly — inviting you along to brunch with some of the other women in the family. 

Javier attempted to spin you around, before he gave up and pulled you back against his chest, both of you laughing at just how bad you both were at dancing. “Do you want all of this?” He questioned, glancing around the room. 

“So you and Lorraine did talk about more than just Josie and the past.” You weren’t exactly surprised about that. You chewed on your bottom lip and shook your head. “No. The only thing I want out of this is your aunt’s tamale recipe.” You quipped. 

“You’re sure?” He pressed, running his hand up and down the length of your back. “I always thought all little girls dreamed of getting married.” 

You draped your arms over his shoulders, rising up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. “No, Javi. I didn’t sit around imagining myself getting married.” You rolled your eyes. “What did she say?” 

“Shit about how she figured I’d pull the same stunt on you.” His shoulders tensed. “Told me I was afraid of commitment — acted like not telling Pops about Josie was part of it.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, “I hope you told her she was wrong.” 

“Course I did.” Javier chewed his gum with some force, his eyes flickering away from your face guiltily. 

“You’re such a dumbass.” You huffed, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck. “Do you want to get married, Javi?”

“No.” 

“Neither do I.” 

“Good.” Javier sighed heavily. 

Your lips parted, ready to say something else, but Chucho interrupted you — holding Josie out in front of him. “Someone’s had an accident.”

She squirmed and giggled, seeming entirely unphased by the fact that she was a stinky little thing. 

“I’ll get her bag,” Javier said, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he headed towards the table. 

“You are so stinky,” You complained to Josie in a playful voice, holding her carefully as you gave her grandfather a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”

“It happens,” He shrugged, looking towards Javier. “You’re good for him, you know.” Chucho told you. “Javier was a good kid, but he always wanted out of here. Never seemed content with anything.”  He shook his head slowly. 

A faint smile spread over your lips as he stared at Chucho. “We’re just taking it one day at a time.” 

“That’s all any of us can do,” He said wisely, nodding his head towards Josie. “When the two of you decide to give her a sibling, you better tell me before they’re half a year old.”

Javier stopped abruptly beside you, looking confused. “What?”

Chucho gave Javi’s shoulder a squeeze. “I was just telling your pretty lady that you’d best tell me next time you have a kid. Preferably before they’ve got teeth coming in.”

“I’m going to go change her,” You told Javier, dipping out of that conversation. You couldn’t blame everyone for being curious about your relationship. Marriage, babies, a future. That’s all they cared about, especially given that you were at a celebration — not a funeral. Even Danny’s new bride had probed you for information when you’d joined her for brunch. 

You and Javier? Didn’t do conventional. All that mattered was that you loved each other and loved Josie. Everything else? Eh. It didn’t matter.

[marvelfansince08love]

The Pleasure is all mine  Chapter 2

Word count: 2616 

Pairing: Lou Miller x Fem!Reader, Background Platonic friendship Debbie Ocean x Lou Miller. 

Setting: Three weeks after their initial meeting, they finally meet again but does the reader assume things to quickly...  (of course she does because I wrote it and I’m an over-thinker)

A/N: I am so sorry for the late update, I was going to do it yesterday but I just needed to add a couple of things to it before uploading. Also I skimmed through this... does that count as proof-reading?

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome​ @natasha-danvers​ @5aftermidnight​

P.S: Your comments puts fuel/gas in my car, much appreciated x

I do not own the gif below! ♥

Chapter 2 

Erin is a sweet five year old girl with the cutest blonde curls and crystal blue eyes reminding me of a certain hot knight in shining armour.

"See you around Y/N from Y/H/T"

"Miss Nurse do you have any fish?"

I shake the thoughts of Lou out of my head before focusing on the important question asked by my patient.

"No, but I did have when I was younger. He was a clown fish"

"Just like Nemo!" She squeals excitedly.

I grin softly at the innocent statement.

"Just like Nemo"

"Do you think if I ask mummy real nicely, she will get me Nemo once I'm better" she asked sweetly with a hint of sadness. I frown slightly thinking about the treatment that she's currently going through before quickly masking it behind a sweet smile.

"Well there's no harm in asking hey, my little munchkin?" I stroke my thumb across her cheek softly offering some comfort.

"Miss Nurse do you think I'll get any better?"

I fumble slightly trying to gather my thoughts. This has always been the most difficult part of the job but somehow, I wouldn't change it for the world.

"I sure hope so kid! But just know that me and your parents are going to be right here, with you, all the way" I reassure her before standing up and letting her know that she's due her medication.

 Leaving the room, I sigh gently before rubbing my tired eyes. After working three twelve-hour shifts in a row a girl could use a nap. I straighten myself up again and turn towards the nurse’s station, on my way over I see Erin's parents coming through the door and towards her room. They glance over and offer a polite smile and wave before entering. I turn back towards the nurse's station and see Rachel standing behind the desk going through medical files. She quickly glances my way before returning to her task with a mischievous grin.

"Someone looks like shit today; you want to borrow some of my concealer"

" Ha.Ha. very funny Rach, for that you can go on the next medication round"

She pokes her tongue out playfully before abandoning her task and turning her full attention to me. She places her face in the palms of her hands innocently before asking:

"Wanna come out tonight? Please, pretty please?" With a pout for good measure. I groan before rolling my eyes in displeasure.

"The last time I ended up out with you, I almost fractured my ankle" I complain. She scoffs and waves her hand in dismissal.

"Oh please! you were fine after a week besides you got rescued by some hot blonde, if anything you should be thanking me!" She teases. I roll my eyes in good nature before taking the medical file from her pile and walking away.

"I take that as a yes!" She states loudly, leaning over the desk. I turn my head to face her with a grin.

"Of course" with a quick playful wink before heading off to my next patient. I hear a loud "Yes!" from behind me before walking into the patients room.

................................................................................

The club is hot and dark with lightly dimmed blue lights. My tight black dress already clinging to my body like second skin from the heat. If I squint hard enough I can make out the sea of people dancing within the thick smoke on the dance floor.

"Okay before we hit the bar I need to dance the stress of work out of me" I state before being led by Rachel towards the dance floor in the middle of the room.

My hips sway in time with the beat of the song, warm bodies pressed close all around the busy dance floor. I can feel the floor vibrate beneath my feet. Rachel grabs my hand and twirls me around with Lucas our fellow paediatric nurse cheering us on. After half an hour of dancing I can feel my throat becoming drier indicating the need for a drink.

"You guys wanna get a round in" Rachel shouts to the both of us while gesturing to the packed bar in the middle of the room. We all cheer in agreement before grabbing onto each other and making our way through the crowd to the bar.

She waves over the bartender like greeting an old friend. She smiles charmingly at Rachel while leaning over the bar counter.

"There's my favourite girl! What can I get cha tonight Rach?" She says flirtatiously as she eyes Rachel's outfit. She's also opted for a tight-fitting dress in red. She giggles and places her hand on top of the flirty bartender's.

"Can we get a tray of vodka shots please?" She bats her eyelashes for extra measure. The bartender winks cheekily before turning around and preparing our tray

.

"You are such a flirt Rachel" Lucas says from beside me. I laugh in agreement as she pretends to be outraged by the accusation before grabbing the tray from the bartender and handing us both two each.

I bring the shot to my mouth and let the burning liquid travel down my throat. I splutter slightly from the first shot before downing my next one; this time going down a little easier - almost a little too easy. I grab another one from the tray that's still in Rachel's hand and down my third.

"Is it me or is the vodka a little weak?" I say loudly to the pair. They both chuckle and roll their eyes at me.

"Oh the big mighty Y/N thinks she can handle her drinks better than us Rach" Lucas mocks in good nature. I roll my eyes before giving him a playful shove on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry the vodka isn't to your likening"

That voice

Oh how I've dreamt of that voice.

I turn around with wide eyes my mouth opening in shock to see her stood with such confidence and beauty.

Lou

She's got the same signature smirk on her face just like that night in the food truck. I quickly close my gaping mouth and throw Lou a shy smile.

"Just point me in the direction of the club manager because there's no way that's just vodka" I awkwardly tease. I hear Rachel gasp next to me and with a quick glance her way she shakes her head as if indicating for me to stop talking, her eyes wide with slight fear and amusement.

"There's no need to take you to her when she's right here, love" she teases with her deep Australian accent. There's that damn smirk again.

Shit!

"Oh my god Lou, I am so sorry I didn't mean it in a bad way. I guess I can just handle stronger vodka" I ramble feeling embarrassed that I've managed to make a fool of myself TWICE in front of this woman.

She walks slowly up to me so we are in closer proximity and leans towards my ear, her breath smells of mint and is warm against my cheek. I close my eyes at the feeling of it – feeling intoxicated by it.

Maybe the vodka is a bit stronger than I thought.

"If you want something stronger all you gotta do is ask my darling" she pulls back and winks while chewing lazily on a piece of gum.

I shake the dirty thoughts out of my head before straightening up and quickly glancing at the two spectators in this flirtatious game. Their eyes moving back and forth between the two of us, Rach clashes her eyes with mine and winks before mouth "go for it". I quickly look back to Lou and notice that she's still staring at me waiting for a response her crystal blues look dark under the dimmed lights.

"Okay"

Her lips twitch in amusement before replying:

"Okay"

I smile wide at the similar exchange from our first meeting.

I turn back towards my friends to see them subtly giving me approval and making whipping noises.

I am so not whipped.

I feel her arm circle around my waist and her mouth close to my ear - barely touching.

"I hope you don't mind but I'd hate to lose you in the crowd after I've just found you again" she says loudly into my ear before escorting me through the crowds, her arm never loosening its hold around me.

As we come to a flight of stairs, I tense and turn towards her in confusion which effectively removes her arm.

"My office is up here and it's quiet, I'd like to talk to you. I know it sounds crazy, but I've not been able to get you out of my head" she looks deep into my eyes with slight insecurity. I smile gently before gently taking hold of her hand and heading for the steps. I look over my shoulder at her and see that her eyes are glued to one place only:

"I hope you weren't looking at my ass, Aussie" I say cheekily with a smirk. She quickly looks away and smirks; as if she's not ashamed of being caught. Just like that the insecurity is gone.

"I wouldn't dream of objectifying you like that darling"

 The cheek of this woman!

 You secretly love it though

 I blush at the nickname as well as my thoughts before hiding it by turning back around and continuing up the stairs.

We finally reach her office space and gestures for me to seat down on a very expensive black plush sofa.

This is place is huge!

Lou moves over to a small bar in the corner of the room and pours two small glasses of vodka. She walks over with confidence and hands me a glass before taking a seat next to me - hip brushing against hip. She leans her forearms onto her thighs and turns to look at me with those crystal blue eyes.

"Thanks for coming up here it gets a bit much downstairs, how are you? How's that ankle of yours?" She asks softly with some concern.

I smile and feel my heart beating faster at our proximity.

"Uh yeah I'm doing okay. I've managed to see more of New York and made a few friends, plus my ankle is a hundred times better now thanks to you" I say with a teasing undertone. I gently bump my shoulder against hers and grin.

She laughs, mouth wide showing her perfect white teeth.

"So I see you run your own little kingdom around these parts huh. First the burger truck and now a nightclub you must be pretty busy" I state jokingly, she shifts uncomfortably before masking her discomfort with a smug smirk.

"I'm a woman of many talents Y/N" I raise an eyebrow in question to her diverting away from the statement. Her shoulders drop before taking a sip of her drink.

"Growing up... I didn't have a lot. My father worked two jobs trying to provide for us, we moved constantly, never staying in the same place longer than six months. I guess it made me more determined to not have that constant worry of where my next meal was coming from or if I had a roof over my head. So eventually I moved to New York starting working a few highly paying jobs and managed to afford this place.... 5 years later I'm running one of the busiest nightclubs in New York" She stares at me with a soft expression.

"Your amazing" I whisper my eyes taking her in, trying to piece this beautiful woman together. Maybe there's a softness to the mysterious confident Lou. She reaches over and takes my hand into hers, her thumb brushing softly against my skin.

"Listen Y/N...

"Hey Lou baby, we need talk about this plan because I've been up all night thinking about and honestly I need a listening ear... oh you have company"

Lou quickly let's go of my hand and stands briskly, her eyes widen as if being caught doing something she shouldn't be doing.

"Debs I uh, this is Y/N you know the woman I helped a few weeks ago" her voice tight and rushed; as if trying to justify my presence. I reel off all the possibilities as to why she's retreating in this woman's presence until a cold realisation dawn's on me as I stare at them both.

She has a girlfriend

A hot girlfriend

Fuck!

I stand quickly and both women turn and look towards me. Lou seems to realise my conclusion and steps forward, mouth opening as if to reel off an explanation. I sidestep out of her reach and look at her crestfallen face.

"I uh, I should go. My friends will be wondering where I am, it was nice meeting you" I stutter as I clumsily make my way to the door. The hot brunette seems to raise an eyebrow, silently questioning my sudden departure.

"Wait Y/N stay please" Lou asks desperately. My eyes widen at her tone of voice and I can see the brunette is also surprised by her desperation.

"I really can't do this. I'm sorry" I whisper before fleeing the room and down back to the club floor. I quickly find my friends through the sea of people. I grab onto Rachel's arm and lean my mouth to her ear:

"I gotta go I'm not feeling well"

She wiggles her eyebrows playfully.

"Oh yeah I bet you are, how was she?"

There's that sick feeling again; or is it the vodka.

"No seriously I'm gonna head home I'm tired and think I'm coming down with something"

She looks at me with a frown noticing the serious tone of my voice.

"Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you?"

"No its okay, I'll grab a cab from outside and text you in the morning"

I blow a kiss over to Lucas who seems to be too busy with a tall handsome god of a man and quickly leave. As I get to the door a look up towards the office and see Lou looking down scanning the crowd; for me.

It's like a magnet charging between us because in a second her eyes turn to me. She looks pissed and, on a mission, as she quickly takes to the stairs. I turn around and head out of the door and take a deep breath in the cold New York air before heading for a cab. I feel a hand wrap around my elbow desperately.

"Wait Y/N there's been a misunderstanding somewhere, I thought we were getting along"

"Look Lou, I think you're great but this, whatever it is, needs to stop"

She let's go of my arm and stands still, her eyes boring into mine before scanning every inch of my face.

"If that's what you want, I won't pursue anything but I want to at least be your friend Y/N. I know it sounds crazy even I can't believe it but there is something about you Y/N from Y/H/T and I can't get you out of my head. I shouldn't want this but fuck! I need you around... your presence grounds me" she sighs in defeat looking lost her crystal blue eyes pleading for me to understanding.

"Lou I... can't do this. I will not be that girl who gets involved with someone who's already taken, I'm sorry" I whisper before taking a step back - away from her and fleeing before she can explain further.

Once in the cab I look out of the window to see Lou running her hands through her blonde hair in frustration before storming back inside.

What have I gotten myself into.