#so i was reading that to him :] and he was super into it asking me abt words i didnt know he even asked me Why is his last name snicket...

[nino-rox]

PETER PARKER | BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS | M | GENDER NEUTRAL READER

Warnings: Sexual Themes, Mature/Explicit, Gender Neutral Reader, Tom Holland As Spider-Man, Not Proof Read

DISCLAIMER: Please be of the appropriate age ( i.e, Adult as per your country’s stipulations and regulations) before interacting with this post.

(Author’s Note: Requested by Anonymous user. My first time writing headcanons, I’ve barely even read any so I’m sorry if it’s not great ! Please request for more ! )

~What dating Parker feels like on a day to day basis

THE SKYLIGHT CATASTROPHE

One night, there’s a thud loud enough to rattle the walls, followed by an ominous silence. You know exactly what’s happened even before Peter pokes his head through the window, windswept and grinning sheepishly.“So, uh… surprise! You have a new skylight!”

You cross your arms, unimpressed. “You broke my roof again?”“Okay, technically, it was already fragile. I just… sped up the process.”

The next morning, you find him on the roof, duct tape and webs in hand, muttering to himself like he’s crafting a masterpiece.“Peter, you’re going to fall.”He waves you off without even looking up. “Relax! You’re being ridiculous. I’m Spider-Man—I won’t fall. Skylights are all the rage anyway. Just think of it as me upgrading your house for free!”

Right as he says it, his foot slips, and he stumbles forward, barely catching himself with a web against the gutter.“SEE? I caught myself!” he says triumphantly, cheeks flushed as he steadies himself.

You stare at him, appalled. “Peter, I’m not worried about you, you blithering idiot. I’m worried about my house! Fall on the road and break your head if you want, but I swear to god, if you break my house again—”

“Noted. No more house-breaking. Promise. Bob the Builder’s retired anyway,” he grins.

WEBBED LAUNDRY

You pull a ruined hoodie out of the wash—bright red, stretched beyond recognition, and sticky with web fluid. Marching into the living room, you hold it up like evidence.“Peter! Why is my hoodie fused with web glue?”

Peter looks up from the couch, cereal bowl in hand, his eyes widening. “Ohhh… yeah, about that…”

You glare, waiting.

“I, uh, might’ve had to yank my suit off super quickly after patrol last night—it was covered in webs—and I didn’t realize it stuck to your hoodie in the laundry pile.”

You narrow your eyes. “You didn’t realize?”

Peter sets the bowl down, flashing a nervous grin. “Look, web fluid is mostly water-soluble! If we wait a day, it’ll dissolve!”

You groan, holding up the ruined fabric. “It better dissolve. Or you’re buying me a new hoodie.”

Peter slides an arm around your waist, grinning. “Or… we could share this one? Exclusive Spider-Merch for my favorite person.”

THE GREAT SPIDER-MAN’S HANDYMAN FAILS

You and Peter finally move in together, which should have been exciting—except unpacking with Spider-Man is a nightmare.“Peter, where’s the box with the kitchen stuff?” you ask, arms crossed.

Peter scratches the back of his head, sheepishly pointing to a corner. “Uh… it’s webbed to the ceiling. I thought it’d save space?”

You sigh. “Okay, fine. But why is there a Spider-Tracer in the toaster?”

He grins nervously. “Security measure?”

Later, you catch him trying to web a shelf together instead of using screws.“PETER!”“What? This is structurally sound!”

THE HOODIE INCIDENT

Peter freezes when he sees you curled up in his hoodie, sleeves hanging past your hands.“You stole it again?”“Finders keepers.”

He steps closer, voice low and teasing. “Looks better on you anyway.”

Before you can respond, he tackles you onto the couch, hovering over you with a grin.“You’re not keeping it.”“Make me.”

MORNING HEATWAVE SNUGGLES

You wake up tangled in Peter’s limbs, his face buried in the crook of your neck. It’s cozy—until you realize he’s a human heater.“Peter. Let me go. I have stuff to do.”

“Five more minutes,” he murmurs, pulling you closer with ridiculous Spider-strength. “Spider-Boyfriend privilege.”

“You smell like sweat and bad decisions.”

Peter chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “Want me to make another bad decision?” His lips brush your jaw as his voice drops, teasing. “I can make you sweaty too.”

Heat flares in your cheeks, but you manage to mutter, “You’re impossible.”

His smirk is pure trouble as he rolls you onto your back. “And you love it.”

SWINGING FOR BEGINNERS

The first time Peter suggests swinging with you, you laugh nervously. “No way. I like my life.”“It’s safe! You’ll love it—I promise.”

The moment he scoops you into his arms and leaps off the edge, you scream loud enough to wake half of Queens.“PETER, I SWEAR—”

“You’re fine!” he calls out, laughing as the wind whips past. “Just enjoy the ride!”

You bury your face in his shoulder, heart pounding. “I’m never letting go. Ever.”

Peter grins, holding you tighter. “Good. I wasn’t planning to let you go anyway.”

ROOFTOP MIDNIGHT ESCAPES

Peter swings into your room after patrol, his suit half-off, hair wild from the wind. “C’mon. Let’s go somewhere.”

Before you can finish protesting, he sweeps you into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.“Peter!” you yelp, clutching his shoulders as he shoots a web and leaps into the night.“Trust me, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his grin softening.

The wind whips past, adrenaline rushing through your veins as he swings effortlessly between buildings. When you finally land on a rooftop, he pulls you close, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re not scared, are you?”“Not anymore,” you whisper, and his smirk grows as his lips meet yours, slow and steady, grounding you after the thrill.

POST SWING MOMENTS

After a particularly daring swing where Peter narrowly dodges a billboard, he sets you down on a rooftop, his arms still firmly wrapped around your waist.“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his voice low as his thumb brushes your cheek.“I’m fine, Peter. You can let go now.”

He doesn’t. His grip tightens, and his voice drops to a husky whisper. “You have no idea how hard it is to let you go.”

Your breath catches as his lips brush yours softly at first, then with increasing intensity. His hands slide to your lower back, pulling you closer until the world disappears around you.

“SHH, I’LL MAKE IT WORTH IT.”

Peter returns from patrol late at night, finding you half-asleep on the couch. He crouches down, brushing a kiss to your temple.“You awake?” he whispers.

You mumble something incoherent, only stirring when his lips brush yours again, this time slower, more deliberate.“Shh,” he murmurs, pinning your wrists gently above your head. His grin turns playful as he leans closer. “I’ll make it worth keeping you awake.”

Your heart races as his kisses deepen, trailing down the side of your neck. “You’re impossible,” you manage to say, though the way your breath hitches betrays you.

“And you love it,” he murmurs, his lips pressing firmly against your pulse, his smirk growing when you shiver under his touch.

SHOWER?

Peter comes home sweaty and grimy after patrol, and you shove him toward the shower. Minutes later, his head pokes out, water dripping over his shoulders as he leans lazily against the doorway.“You know… showers are more efficient with two people,” he says, his grin pure trouble.

You roll your eyes, turning back to your book. “Peter, no.”

He steps closer, letting water drip from his still-damp hair onto your shoulder as he leans down to whisper in your ear, his voice low. “You sure? I could scrub your back… or hold you against the tiles.”

Your cheeks burn, and you push him away half-heartedly, glaring. “Peter—”

He catches your wrist, pulling you to stand, his eyes locked on yours. “What?” he murmurs, tilting his head, his smirk teasing but his touch firm. “You’d look cute all wet.”

“Stop!” you squeak, swatting his chest, but he’s already laughing, pressing a kiss to your temple before finally retreating back to the bathroom.“I’ll leave the door unlocked, just in case,” he teases before disappearing behind the steam.

DATE

Peter had promised to meet you at the café after your shift. You’d been looking forward to it all day—just a simple hour with him, no superheroes, no chaos. But an emergency call from Ned about some escaped tech left you waiting alone, watching the minutes tick by.

When Peter finally arrived, his hair disheveled and guilt written all over his face, you didn’t even need to ask.“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, his voice tinged with desperation. “There was this thing—Ned needed help—and I couldn’t just leave it—”

“It’s fine,” you said sharply, though your tone betrayed your disappointment. “I get it. You have other responsibilities.”

His shoulders slumped. “No, it’s not fine,” he muttered. “I messed up. And I know it’s not the first time.”

You sighed, softening as you saw the guilt etched across his face. “Peter…”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, almost pleading. “Just… give me a chance.”

Later that night, he showed up at your window with a bouquet of daisies that looked like they’d survived a tornado and a homemade playlist.“I know it’s not much,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “But these reminded me of you—bright and sweet. And I put all your favorite songs on here, so… I hope it makes up for me being a total idiot.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you took the flowers, pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered.

“Lucky you think I’m cute,” he teased, kissing your temple. “I’ll do better next time. Promise.”

TRIVIA NIGHT

Ned had invited you both to trivia night, but no one warned you how competitive Peter could get. It started innocently enough, with Peter rattling off science and history facts like a human encyclopedia. But when the questions shifted to pop culture, his confidence started to falter.

“You’ve never seen Mean Girls?” you asked, incredulous.“Uh, no?” he replied, looking genuinely confused.MJ rolled her eyes. “Peter, how do you even function as a person?”“I fight bad guys!” he defended, flustered. “I don’t have time for… whatever this is!”

As the final round approached, you noticed the way Peter’s brows furrowed, his shoulders tensing like he was about to swing into battle. Leaning over, you cupped his face gently, forcing him to meet your gaze.“Peter,” you said, your voice teasing but warm, “you’re cute when you’re losing.”

His jaw dropped, and before he could protest, you kissed him in front of everyone.

Ned let out a dramatic gasp. “In public? With witnesses?!”MJ snorted. “That’s disgusting. I’m rooting for you two.”

When you pulled back, Peter’s face was a brilliant shade of red, but the grin he gave you was dazzling.“I don’t even care if I lose now,” he whispered, leaning in for another kiss. “This is so worth it.”

HANDMADE

Peter had been acting strange all week—fidgety, distracted, and overly secretive. You were starting to wonder if something was wrong when he showed up at your door with a small, carefully wrapped box and a sheepish grin.

“What’s this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as he practically shoved it into your hands.“Just… open it,” he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Inside was a sleek black flashlight, surprisingly lightweight, with a small engraved spider emblem on the side. You turned it over in your hands, curious.

“It’s not just a flashlight,” Peter said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “I, uh, noticed you sometimes leave the light on at night, and I thought… maybe this would help.”

Your chest tightened. He’d picked up on your fear of the dark without you ever telling him outright.

“It’s also kind of… Spider-Man-approved,” he added, gesturing nervously. “There’s a tracker inside, so I’ll always know where you are. And if you press the button three times really fast, it sends an SOS directly to me.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of it all. “Peter…”“I just want you to feel safe,” he said softly, his brown eyes earnest. “Even when I’m not around. You’re my world, and I want you to have something to remind you that I’m always here for you.”

Your throat felt tight as you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. “I don’t even know what to say,” you murmured against his shoulder.

“‘Thank you’ works,” he joked, though his voice was thick with emotion.

Pulling back, you met his gaze and smiled. “Thank you, Peter. I love it. And I love you.”

His face lit up, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, holding you close. “I love you too. Always.”

SPILLING

Peter had always admired how hard you worked. While he juggled Spider-Man and school, you balanced late-night shifts, studying at your rundown public school, and still somehow found time to make him feel like the center of your world. But admiration wasn’t the only thing he felt—sometimes, he felt inadequate.

On the other hand, you often wondered how you ended up with someone like Peter Parker. He was a literal superhero, acing advanced physics while you struggled with Algebra II. You worked part-time jobs just to help keep the lights on at home, and there were days when you felt like you’d drown under the weight of it all.

That tension finally bubbled over one evening. Peter swung by your place unannounced, but his usual warmth was absent. He dropped onto your couch with a sigh, his shoulders slumping.

“You okay?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He shook his head, staring at his hands. “How do you do it?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Do what?”

“Everything,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “You don’t have superpowers, or Stark tech, or a fancy school helping you out. And you’re still… incredible. You’re better at life than I am, and I’ve got every advantage.”

The words stung—not because of what he said, but because they mirrored your own insecurities.

“What are you trying to say?” you asked, your voice cracking as you braced yourself for what felt inevitable.

Peter hesitated, his jaw working as he tried to find the right words. “You deserve someone who can keep up with you. And I’m not sure I’m enough.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could stop them, tears began streaming down your cheeks. “Wait, are you saying this is over?”

“What? No!” Peter sat up straight, his hands shooting out to reach for yours. “That’s not what I meant! I’m talking about me, not you! I’m the one who’s not enough!”

“You are enough!” The words burst out of you, but the crack in your voice betrayed how deeply his statement had shaken you. “I’m the one who’s not enough, Peter. Look at you! You’re saving lives while I’m just trying to keep the lights on at home.”

Peter’s brows furrowed, guilt flooding his features. “What? No—no, don’t say that.”

“But it’s true,” you whispered, pulling your hands free and wrapping your arms around yourself. “I can barely make it through my shifts without wondering if I’m going to mess something up. And then I see you—perfect Peter Parker, superhero and genius—and I just… I feel so small.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between you. Then Peter moved closer, carefully placing his hands on your shoulders. “You’re not small,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping your eyes. “I’m not.”

“You are,” Peter insisted, gently tilting your chin up so you’d look at him. “You don’t have powers, but you work harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You care about people. You care about me. And I…” He trailed off, his voice breaking. “I don’t always feel like I deserve that.”

Your breath caught at the raw vulnerability in his words. “You don’t have to be perfect, Peter. You don’t have to save me, or prove anything. I just want you.”

He stared at you, his eyes glistening. “I want you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m sorry I made you think otherwise. I just… I don’t always know how to keep up with someone like you.”

“We’re both trying to keep up,” you said quietly, leaning forward until your foreheads touched. “And that’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

Peter nodded, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into his chest. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Together.”

The two of you sat like that for a long time, the weight of your shared insecurities fading, replaced by something stronger—a quiet, unshakable love.

SERIOUS

Peter comes home late—bruised, bleeding, and far too casual about it. You snap.“Do you like scaring me to death?”“It’s just a scratch!” he argues, dropping his mask on the couch.“Peter, you’re not invincible. What happens if one day you don’t come back?”

He pauses, guilt flickering across his face. “I can’t stop being Spider-Man.”“And I can’t stop worrying about you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

He looks away, fiddling with his web-shooter. “I don’t want to scare you. I’m sorry.”

MAYBE NOT SO SERIOUS?

Later that night, Peter finds you sitting on the fire escape, staring out at the skyline. He hesitates before sitting beside you.“I hate fighting with you,” he says quietly. “You’re the only person who makes all of this feel worth it.”

You exhale slowly, leaning into him. “Then don’t make me feel like I’m losing you.”His arm wraps around you, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll do everything I can to come home to you. That’s a promise.”

He presses his forehead to yours, and when his lips brush yours, it’s soft and full of unspoken apologies.

THANK YOU FOR READING ! PLEASE SEND KINKMAS REQUESTS AND PROMPTS! <3 Please Request if you’d like me to expand the headcanon into SMUT <3

[singmyaubade]

neeeeeedd finals themed x reader fics rn but i cant find ANYTHINGGGG i just need my fav boys to comfort me while im on my grindset 😞😞😞

hiii! i was a little late to see this request, but i still wanted to write it! hope your finals went super well and that you’re enjoying the break! great work <33

bf!poly!marauders x gf!female!reader

summary: OWL's was truly getting to you but your favorite boys always know how to comfort you.

warnings: pure fluff: kissing, cutesy stuff, just teasing tension

--

OWL's was starting to feel like an understatement.

The late nights, the constant ignoring of everything around you, never quite living in the moment… yeah, understatement doesn’t even begin to cover it.

But getting perfect marks wasn’t a want, it was a need.

If you wanted to be an Auror, if you wanted Dumbledore’s reference—passing OWLs with flying colors wasn’t optional. It was a must.

And, unfortunately, everyone else around you seemed to be paying for it.

James had been trying to get you to play Quidditch with him for three days straight. He even promised to buy you that dress you’d been eyeing during your last trip to Hogsmeade. You appreciated the effort but didn't cave.

Not long after, Sirius had tried his own tactic—convincing you to go skinny-dipping in the Black Lake. He even tried to seduce you.

It was worse than James' attempt if you were being honest.

Then Remus—who was usually the one to encourage studying—tried to get you to let him read to you, just so you could get some sleep.

And you wanted to. You really did. But you couldn’t afford distractions—not with the potions section of your notes still untouched.

So, they gave you space. Finally. Or so you thought.

“Hi, my love,” Remus murmured, massaging your shoulders, pulling you from your thoughts. You grinned and leaned up to kiss him.

“Hello,” you chirped, your focus still on scribbling notes.

“Still working hard?” He asked, but his voice was light, full of warmth.

You hummed, nodding in agreement. “Well, I have a surprise for you,” He said, his tone suddenly more serious.

You didn’t really register what he said at first, still lost in your notes. But then, without warning, he gently turned you toward him.

“Darling, I need you to step away from your quill and paper for just a second,” He said, his gaze soft but earnest. You frowned.

“But Remmy, I really need to finish this,” You protested.

He gave you a playful yet exhausted look. “I swear, it’ll still be here. I just want you to see something.”

You sighed and reluctantly set the quill down, giving your notes one last sad look before following him as he gently took your hand and led you out of the library.

“What is this surprise?” You asked, your impatience creeping into your voice.

“You’ll see, my love,” He replied with a soft smile.

“But I really need to study,” You rambled. “Professor Turner is going to mark me down if I mess up the measurements for the ingredients. You know how picky she is.”

Remus chuckled, stopping to look at you with tender amusement. “I swear on Merlin’s beard, you’ll pass. You just need to stop stressing about it so much.”

His hands cupped your face, and he kissed your forehead, making you smile despite yourself.

Soon, you found yourself in the outdoor grassy area, where you could see James and Sirius bickering about something. Remus led you over to a picnic blanket where the two were sitting.

“What’s going on here?” You asked, looking between them.

“Well…” James began, standing up and making his way toward you. “We thought you could use a little stress reliever after all that studying.”

He took your hands in his. “And we wanted to do something nice for you,” He added, a playful glint in his eyes.

You grinned. “Thank you guys,” You said, feeling your heart warm at their thoughtfulness.

“We had to, love,” Sirius chimed in, looking at you with a teasing smirk. “We were worried your pretty little brain was going to overload.”

You giggled and sat down on the blanket next to Remus. The scent of fresh blueberry muffins wafted up, making your stomach rumble.

“I never knew you guys could bake,” You said, eyeing the spread laid out in front of you.

James grinned proudly. “Well, we all make great bakers,” he said. “Remus has precision, I’ve got my luck, and Sirius…”

“Hey! I was moral support!” Sirius interjected, pushing James lightly.

You laughed, glancing at Remus. “This is really sweet. Thank you.”

“Of course, my love,” Remus said, leaning in to kiss you softly. “We’d do anything for you. And we both know you’ll pass, because you’re brilliant.”

“Yeah, that brain of yours would outsmart all of us,” Sirius said, shaking his head with a grin.

“And, uh, I did come up with the idea for the basket,” James interrupted, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I think I deserve a kiss for that.”

You giggled, leaning over to give him a quick peck.

“I suggested we have it outside,” Sirius added, looking pleased with himself.

You laughed again before giving him a peck as well.

Remus smiled at you lovingly, his hand resting on your knee. “I’m just glad you’re here with us,” He said quietly.

“Well,” You said with a cheeky grin, “I think it’s time for some skinny dipping. Maybe a bit of Quidditch? And, oh, a bedtime story?”

The boys’ eyes all lit up. Sirius’ grin grew mischievous.

“You had me at skinny dipping,” He said with a wink.

[sundrop-writes]

I am sooooo late replying to comments, but I have been feeling like crap so I am just now crawling out of my hole. And I know that Star isn't gonna mind that I'm late <3 anyway, here we go:

Star: I just LOVE these scenes of characters getting "caught" in a secret relationship (even if it's a fake relationship)

Sunny: okay but characters being 'caught' doing something that they 'shouldn't be' is SOOOO ICONIC. especially when what they're doing is not actually illegal or that immoral, they just feel like they need to hide their relationship and feel so caught out when other people find out. it is such a great trope (I really need to write it more). I especially love it when it's like "my super protective older brother can't catch us dating because he will kill you" and then the older brother catches them, attacks, and it prompts "don't hit me, okay, I love her!" and this is the first time that brooding emotionally disconnected love interested has ever said The Big L in front of his girlfriend. IT HIIIITS HARD

Star: "They belonged to him now and he didn’t want to put them back" don't be shy... put them on 🫣

Sunny: we need to see Stiles in panties at some point. we really really need to do a Pantyboy Stiles fic at some point. SECRETARY, PUT THAT ON MY SCHEDULE. oooooh IDEAAAAAAAAA - Stiles wearing panties, FORGETS HE IS WEARING THEM (would be such a Stiles thing) and goes to change after practice (maybe after a cross country running practice via S3?) and because he was late, the only other person in the locker room is Isaac, and Isaac sees the panties and will not let him live it down. teases him so badly, but because it's Horny Isaac, the mockery quickly turns into horny teasing, and when stuttering Stiles accidentally lets it slip that he was only wearing the panties because you, his girlfriend, likes it when he does, Isaac's brain goes nuts because you're a hot girl and you're kinky - and he knows immediately that he wants a threesome. (I feel like I need to write this fic now. I need to write it).

Star: “Ya know, this really isn’t your color - red would look much better on you.” Danny smirked" STOP PRETENDING YOU'RE NOT INTERESTED DANNY !!! A LITTLE TOO QUICK TO THINK OF STILES WEARING PANTIES !!!

Sunny: Danny is a gossipy bitch. He isn't super interested in Stiles, he just loves to talk shit. Also I mentioned Stiles wearing red because of that one TV show where Dylan wears a red lingerie set lmao

Star: "Seriously?” Isaac asked" hi baby !! not that I'm not happy about it but... have you .. always been here ...? hello (WAS HE HERE FOR THE DRAFT ???? every new Isaac line I'm like... "hi how long have you been here for?")

Sunny: this is hilarious to me because I know you didn't read the A/N where I was talking about the fact that I added Isaac in here just for my own fun - because when I wrote this, we were only on the early episodes of season 1 and Isaac doesn't come in until season 2 so I didn't have him in this draft. But I am very glad that I added him <3

Star: "Jesus, Scott, don’t ruin this for me,” Isaac whined, rolling his eyes" KSKSKSKS Isaac getting the spank bank ready AS WE SPEAK

Sunny: it's a lil treat for me <3 but I fucking love the idea of locker room talk perv Isaac

Star: “Ew! Why do you have them?” a hot girl cutting Jackson off with a very loud "EWWW" is very healing to me, you're so right diva...

Sunny: this reminds me of that tiktok audio EW DAVID!! EW DAVID!!!

Star: "Wait. Why were you covering for him?" now that the fear of god has settled in his heart, we must continue

Sunny: THE FEAR OF GOD. why is this one of the funniest things you have ever said lmao

Star: "running a single finger along his bare torso" i have a very vague memory of saying something that led to this... good job past Star, never change <33

Sunny: you ATE IT UUUPP with this. I am so thankful that you thought of this omg

Star: “Door.” this is still SO CUNTY !!!!!

Sunny: it is SOOOOO cunty. what are subby men if not little dogs to boss around?

Star: "Stiles was so pretty, tied up for you, ready to be devoured" love thinking about the next day in the locker room, everyone (Jackson and Isaac probably) grilling him for details and Stiles blue screening cause how does he explain it?

Sunny: I love describing Stiles's brain melt as 'blue screening' lmao. also Stiles would be so excited to brag and he would be like "there was some bondage involved" and the guys would be like "WOAH YOU TIED HER TO THE BED" and then he's like "no, she tied me to the bed" and then they're like "...oh"

Star: "Instantly, he let out a loud moan around your tit" Stiles, to me, is such a "boobs guy", it's CRAAAAAZY ! Like almost to a stereotypical degree

Sunny: he is another guy who would do anything for the promise of boobs. you could order him around with the promise of boobies and he would do anything

Star: “Dear god, what the hell is that?” I FORGOT ABOUT THIS !!!!!! INSAAAAANEEEE !!!! "His dad moved to leave the room, and then he sighed and paused in the doorway" SKSKKSKS i love that the awkward middle aged instincts were overpowered by the "responsible parent" ones

Sunny: this was one of my favourite endings to write ever!!!

I am so sorry I was late but I am so glad that you liked the fic!!! I love our little dumb subby Stiles

Stupid For You

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Hey - tell me what you want me to say. You know I’m Stupid For You.

I’ll take what I can get.

The best is hard to grip when everybody wants you, and everybody wants you.

Summary:

Stiles tried to return your panties - he really did.

But he still has the contraband in his possession, and he accidentally drops the underwear in the locker room in front of the entire lacrosse team. To cover up the fact that he stole them, he lies and says that he got them from you after a hook-up. And surprisingly - you back up his story?

Only with the promise that he helps you turn his lie into the truth.

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Best Friend!Fem!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 11,900

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Before you read this fic, be sure to read BRAINWASHED. This fic can be read as a standalone, but you get more Stiles goodness by reading both, and the context of this one will make more sense if you read the other fic first.

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; this fic DOES use Y/N; as with the previous fic - the reader is implied to be fat/plus-sized; also again - for argument's sake, even though the character's in this fic are in high school, everyone is at least 18 (and the fic was inspired by a 20 something actor, so imagine the characters to be whatever age you want); mentions of panty stealing (carried over from the previous fic - Stiles stole a pair of the reader's panties in that fic and still has them in his possession); mentions of Stiles masturbating, but not described in detail like last time; mentions of Stiles having sexual fantasies about the reader; the rest of the lacrosse team finds Stiles with the panties and mocks him for it - they mock him for potentially having the panties to wear them and call him a 'cross-dresser', so I guess the warning here is transphobia and transphobic ideas (which would be very typical of high school boys, especially around the time this show was made in 2011); mentions of other members of the lacrosse team finding the reader sexually attractive (it is implied that the reader is generally known as a hot, attractive girl); mention of the reader wearing a 'slutty' Halloween costume to a party (Stiles has a picture of it that he 'loves'); for the actual smut section - the reader is dominant and Stiles is submissive; size kink - Stiles likes being manhandled by the reader because he is thin and skinny; the reader imposes rules on Stiles as a dom and he follows them, but there is no safeword implemented or needed (as the writer, I say they don't need one because they will never be put in danger of using one) (because they are fictional characters and their hard 'nos' will never come into play and only things they want will happen); orgasm restriction - Stiles has to ask the reader in order for permission before cumming; bondage - the reader uses a scarf to tie Stiles's wrists to the bed; the reader gives Stiles a handjob; lots of dirty talk; orgasm denial/edging (towards Stiles); the reader calls Stiles: needy boy, good boy, babe, baby, sweetheart; undertones of humiliation kink; undertones of pain kink (nothing severe, but Stiles does like a bit of pain); begging (from Stiles, a lot); protected penis in vagina sex (they DO use a condom this time) (different, I know); Stiles sucks on the reader's tits; Stiles eats the reader's pussy; thigh riding - Stiles grinds against the reader's thigh to cum; praise kink - towards Stiles; the reader calls Stiles 'pretty'; undertones of dumbification kink; I believe that is finally it. I hope you all enjoy!!

A/N: So, I have some mixed feelings about releasing this fic. Currently, I am only rushing to edit and release it in order to get it off my plate, and I want to do so before the end of the year. I wrote this during the hiatus, when I was writing fics without editing them and I really enjoyed getting to write a fic and go onto the sequel without having to stop and think too much about it. But to me, the first fic feels naturally complete. And so I didn't really like people nagging and continually asking for a sequel to the other fic as if it's not a complete fic on its own. It's only recently that I found a way to put it into words. Whenever I release a fic and people only care about seeing a sequel or a second part (especially if it's a oneshot with an intentional ending and people ask for a sequel like it's something so urgent), it makes me feel like that fic is not good enough because people view that fic as incomplete on its own. I know people think it's a compliment or flattering to ask for a sequel, but to me, if you like my writing, ask for me to write more for those same characters or in that same fandom - but if you are constantly asking for a sequel to a specific fic, it makes me think that you think that fic is not good and it needs to be completed in some way. But anyway - I tried to remember why I had fun writing this fic in the first place, and if anybody starts asking for a 'part three', I will start swinging. (THERE WILL NOT BE A PART THREE.) Also, when I originally wrote this, I was watching Season 1 and I had not met Isaac yet, so for my own fun, as my own special treat, I added Isaac to the locker room scene. Because he is my baby. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!

...

A week later, Stiles still had not returned the stolen panties to you. 

It was something that he kept meaning to do. Honestly, he really did. 

But he just never got the chance to. 

Somehow, in that entire week, he had never been left alone in your room. Not for long enough to actually figure out what to do with the stolen goods. Should he leave them in your hamper and let you find them in the laundry? Should he slip them back into your drawer like nothing had happened since, technically, they were clean? He always ended up panicking and shoving them back into his bag whenever he heard you coming back down the hall. 

On other nights when the two of you had been studying together, it had been at his place instead of yours. And any time he had gone over to your house, you had been with him pretty much the whole time. 

And okay - maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Maybe you had taken bathroom breaks or left the room for a while because your mom wanted to talk to you. Or you ran downstairs to grab a pizza that you had ordered to share with him - but every time he opened his backpack to grab the panties in order to put them back, he felt some insane thing inside his head telling him that he just couldn’t do it. Part of him thought that it was fear over getting caught - the idea that you would walk back into the room just in time to see him with the evidence in hand. 

But deep down, he knew it was a possessiveness. The idea that these panties were now his. They belonged to him now and he didn’t want to put them back. Those panties were his prize - his special, secret little part of you. And he couldn’t give that up. Not yet. 

He hadn’t jacked off with them since that first time. Well, he hadn’t specifically put them around his cock and made a mess of them in the same way. But he held them in a clean hand and enjoyed the texture of the lace, enjoyed the thought of you wearing them - while he used his other lubed hand to make himself cum. And he had done that every single night, sometimes twice, since he had taken them. It was becoming a bit of a worrying habit. 

He was wondering if you had noticed them gone yet. 

Maybe, when he finally did get rid of them, he wouldn’t return them back to you - he would have to burn them or something, just to get rid of the evidence. And then he would have to go on believing that you either hadn’t noticed the specific pair gone or you went on thinking that you had simply just lost them. 

But he couldn’t dwell on that for too long - because he did actually have other things to do besides viciously jerking off to thoughts about you. Even though that activity alone took up way too much of his time these days. Surprisingly, he was doing a lot better in his classes thanks to studying with you (he actually managed to retain a lot more of the material when you explained it to him), and he had just made First Line of the lacrosse team due to a horrible outbreak of pink eye. So things in his life were really looking up. 

The team funneled into the locker room, sweaty and tired after their practice, but personally - Stiles was glowing. 

He felt like he had done particularly well that day, and you had shown up to watch his practice. Even if Coach kept getting his name wrong and you had almost stormed into the middle of the field to scream at him about it. Overall, it was a good day. And he had a study date with you planned after this, so he had nothing but excitement brewing in his stomach at the idea of getting to spend more time with you. 

But then - it happened. 

He had almost completely forgotten that the contraband stolen panties were even in his bag. The item had become such a normal part of his life now that he hadn’t even considered what might happen if someone else found them on his person. So he thought nothing of putting his bag on the bench in the middle of the room and rooting through it, wide open, looking for the fresh clothes he had brought with him. (Of course, the only reason he had even brought fresh clothes was because he knew he would be hanging out with you later, and he wanted to avoid another Mustard Stain Incident.) 

When he took out these fresh clothes and began dressing (fresh out of the showers, of course) - it was just a tiny blur in the corner of his eye. Just a little streak of purple falling to the floor. As he put his second foot into his jeans, he spotted them, right there, sitting in the middle of the locker room floor - and his heart stopped. 

Naturally - someone else spotted them too. 

And just as Stiles raced to pick them up, another hand snatched them out from under him. 

“Woah, Stiles.” Danny’s voice chuckled, rising back to his full height. “Are these yours?” 

Mockery was dripping in every inch of his words, and Stiles’s heart raced. He rushed to pull his pants up, not yet fastening his zipper, and he glared at Danny, entirely lost for words. He moved to snatch the purple lace panties where Danny was dangling them off one finger, partly disgusted, partly amused. 

Naturally, Danny dodged the move, still looking at Stiles with mockery written all over his face. 

“Ya know, this really isn’t your color - red would look much better on you.” Danny smirked. 

Wait - he thought that Stiles had them because he had been wearing them? 

This comment easily caught Jackson’s attention, who slammed his locker door shut and moved to see what his friend was talking about. 

“Oh my god,” He chuckled, looking at the item in Danny’s hand and then back to Stiles, amusement spreading into a horrible grin across his face. “You’re a cross-dresser! This is too good. I always knew you were a freak, but this just brings it to a whole new level.” 

Jackson’s loud voice caught the attention of the entire team, who all craned their necks to see what he spoke of - including Scott, who practically ran around the corner with his hair still soaking wet and some suds dripping off him, a towel hastily wrapped around his waist as he raced to see what Jackson meant. 

“What?” Scott balked, looking at Stiles entirely confused. 

“Look, they’re not mine!” 

Stiles barked, panic setting in as he realized how fast the rumor would spread. It would be incredibly juicy gossip, if it were true (and most people didn’t care if gossip was true or not, which would make it spread even faster) - so he rushed to stamp it out before that could happen. 

“They belong to Y/N!” 

With this harsh declaration, he reached out and snatched them back, and Danny was too shocked by these words to move away this time. 

The room fell deadly silent, save for the distant hum of the shower that Scott had left running in his haste to watch the confrontation unfold. Everyone was staring at Stiles unabashedly now, very clearly shocked by his words. 

Fuck. 

Stiles’s heartbeat ramped up again. He had been so quick to try and exonerate himself that he had walked into a whole new problem: 

Now everyone on the team would find out that he was a panty-stealing pervert. And he wasn’t sure which reputation was worse: that, or being assumed to be a secret cross-dresser. 

“Seriously?” Isaac asked, being the first one to speak up and break the silence. “Because if you of all people managed to hit that,” He let out a low whistle, let a train blowing out a hoot of steam. “I admire you. She is so fucking hot. Normally she doesn’t give guys at this school the time of day. How did you-?” 

“No, no fucking way, they’re not hers.” Jackson scoffed, cutting off Isaac’s congratulatory words, immediately in disbelief. His natural instinct was to think that Stiles would never be able to get with someone as hot as you. “She’s a ten and you’re a solid three. Maybe. In the dark. With a bag on your head. That so did not happen.” 

Stiles frowned at the insult, but he was relieved that nobody suspected that he had stolen the underwear. Nobody had seen through him to the much more likely truth. 

“Come on, he’s like a four.” Danny added on. “He could easily be a seven if he changed his hair.” 

Feeling suddenly self conscious, Stiles put a hand up to his head - and felt entirely confused about where this conversation was going. 

“You’re getting off topic,” Scott piped up, looking between Danny and Stiles, his face nothing but pure confusion. “You’re telling us that you finally, actually went for it?” 

He was shocked that you and Stiles had gotten together without him knowing it. And he was slightly disappointed that his best friend had gotten some action with his long-time crush without telling him about it. 

“Yeah, come on - give us some details.” Isaac added on with a grin.

“Yes, yes I did! I finally went for it.” Stiles replied, mocking confidence, puffing out his chest. “Y/N and I hooked up in my Jeep last week. And these are hers,” He added on, proudly holding up the underwear as his prize. 

If he was going to screw himself with a lie, he might as well make it a big one. 

“Really?” Jackson posed, clearly still not believing him. “So - how did it go down? Did you get to second base? Third?” 

“Uh… remind me of the bases again?” Stiles muttered. 

Isaac rolled his eyes, and Scott looked as though he was making calculations in his head. 

“What was it - handjob? Blowie? Did you finger her? When did you get those?” Jackson persisted. “Is she a screamer?” 

Stiles’s gut twisted. So he was going to need details for his fake story. 

“You are so utterly barbaric.” Danny muttered, turning back to his locker, clearly tuning out of the conversation now that it had gotten too ‘straight’ for him. 

“Gross!” Scott disrupted Stiles’s internal panic with a face of twisted disgust. “Can we not talk about one of my best friends like this? Please?” 

“Jesus, Scott, don’t ruin this for me,” Isaac whined, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, McCall, shut it.” Jackson grunted, dismissing him. “I just wanna know if Stiles here is lying.” 

Scott simply rolled his eyes and retreated back to the shower. He was someone who truly believed Stiles at his word. Even if he had never smelled the pheromones of sex on him, he guessed that ‘hooked up’ meant something else to Stiles. 

Stiles hated that this left him alone with several pairs of eyes dissecting him - the guys on the team who were perverted and gossipy enough to want to know the details of his hook-up with you. 

“Well - I’m not lying.” Stiles hissed through his teeth. “She - we. Well - we made-out in the backseat. And then - she - she rode my dick. Hard.” He said, knowing that his tone didn’t sound the most confident. But he supposedly had proof right there in the form of your underwear. 

“Hmm, really?” Jackson replied, still not convinced. “You know what? Why don’t we just go and ask Y/N about this whole thing? She and Lydia are waiting outside, aren’t they?” 

Oh fuck. 

Stiles was screwed. So, so screwed. 

His stomach rose up into his throat and he couldn’t get words out, couldn’t scream out ‘no’, couldn’t do anything to stop Jackson (who was fully dressed and ready) as he snatched the underwear out of Stiles’s hand and marched out into the hallway. All Stiles could do was rush out into the hallway in pursuit, following Jackson and the group of gawking looky-loos that had followed who now seemed very interested in this piece of drama. 

Stiles didn’t even have time to pay attention to the fact that he wasn’t yet dressed himself - he didn’t have a shirt or shoes on and his pants weren’t even fastened. He couldn’t bring himself to mind because he was about to be outed as a thief and a pervert, and likely about to be violently jumped by the entire team for it. 

He wished that he still had his lacrosse pads on. 

You and Lydia were standing against a couple of random lockers, chatting idly, and you both looked utterly confused by the mob approaching. Lydia looked even more confused (with a hint of disgust) when she saw that Stiles was still half naked, and if Stiles wasn’t flooded with panic, he might have noticed you raking your eyes over his torso with a certain hunger and then licking your lips. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Jackson smiled at you trying to be charming. “These fell out of-” He held up the underwear to show you, and you immediately frowned. 

“Ew! Why do you have them?” You cut him off, snatching them back before he could finish his sentence. 

“Are those your underwear?” Lydia asked, looking between you and Jackson with anger brewing. “Jackson, why do you have another girl’s underwear?” She ground out sharply. 

“Well, as I was saying,” He said, clearly annoyed. “Those fell out of Stiles’s backpack. And he claims that he only has them because he hooked up with you, Y/N,” 

You and Lydia both looked at Stiles - you, with a certain content glow in your eyes, and Lydia, glaring at him while her lips curled in unhidden disgust. Jackson stood there with a smirk, as though waiting to be right, and there was a moment where nobody spoke that Stiles swore his heart swelled up and climbed out of his throat. 

Then, you let out a soft laugh and said: 

“Yeah. We did. Why is this such big news?” 

Jackson glared at you and Lydia’s expression of disgust became even more prominent. Stiles became dizzy with shock and he hoped that nobody noticed the way his chest flexed as he let out a breath of relief. 

Thank God - you were covering for him. 

Wait. Why were you covering for him? 

“He and I have been hooking up for months now. We didn’t want to parade it around the school as gossip and I made him promise that I wouldn’t become locker room talk,” You stressed these words, giving him a small glare. 

Behind Jackson, Isaac’s face became painted with guilt. 

“But it’s true.” You said, giving Stiles an oddly sultry look. He knew he was standing there with his mouth stupidly agape, but he just couldn’t find it in him to close his mouth. “The last time we hooked up, I gave him these panties in case he got lonely on nights I can’t visit.” 

You reached out, running a single finger along his bare torso from sternum right to the waistband of his underwear where they were sticking out of his jeans - and yup, his dick was definitely ballooning to life now. 

“I didn’t intend for everybody on the lacrosse team to put their grubby hands all over them.” You said this sharply, glaring at Jackson now. 

He simply rolled his eyes in reply. Clearly, he hated the idea that he had been wrong, and he was pouting in silence now. 

“Okay, this has been sufficiently gross.” Lydia announced, effectively ending the conversation. “Jackson, can you go get your stuff so we can leave? We have dinner with my mom at five, and-” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Jackson sighed, rolling his eyes again. 

“Stiles, you better hurry up too.” You told him. “I need to get that bra I left in the back of your Jeep.” 

And then - much to his shock, you leaned in and laid a kiss right on his lips. Firm, but fast. Laying a claim on him right in front of everyone. Owning up to the story materially as much as you had with your words. 

If it hadn’t been for Jackson slapping him on the shoulder, Stiles would have been frozen with shock long after you pulled away. But then, he was on autopilot, walking back to the locker room with Jackson and the other onlookers who were whispering in hushed tones about him ‘banging such a hot girl’. 

“I gotta tell you, Stilinski, I did not think that you had it in you.” Jackson told him, this being a compliment coming from him. “But I guess somehow, you ended up with a ten.” 

“I definitely want more details later.” Isaac told him in a low whisper before he returned back to his own locker. 

Somehow - Stiles had come out on top in this situation. 

In the hallway behind them, Lydia sighed and locked you in a judgemental gaze. 

“Really? Stiles?” She asked, harshness seeping through her voice. 

“What?” You shrugged. “He’s cute.�� 

Lydia waited for further explanation, and you folded. 

“...And he’s easy to boss around. I like it when he gets flustered from simple instructions, but then does it anyway.” 

“Oh.” Lydia nodded. “So it’s a kink thing.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. You couldn’t entirely disagree with her. 

… 

It wasn’t until Stiles was nearly finished dressing, sitting on the bench tying his shoes that it truly hit him: 

He was still utterly screwed. 

Even if the guys on the team thought he was some high school hero for somehow managing to get into your pants (some of them high-fiving him and patting him on the shoulder in congratulations before they left the locker room). And even if, for some bizarre reason, you had chosen to cover for him in front of everyone (he put that on you being a loyal best friend and quite literally not wanting to air your dirty laundry in front of everyone) - you still knew the truth. You and Stiles might be the only people who knew, but both of you still knew the truth. 

For a minute there, he had been deluded enough to start believing his own bullshit story. But it was still complete bullshit. 

There hadn’t been some heat of the moment romp in the back of his Jeep that resulted in you naked for him, losing your underwear or giving them to him as a reward. He was still a pathetic virgin who had stolen them and had no right to have them in the first place. He still had to face you, likely knowing that this was the end of your friendship, because you were the only person who knew about the horrible thing that he had done. 

Stiles dreaded facing you, but he knew that he couldn’t hide out in the locker room forever. So he grabbed his gear and he braved his way into the parking lot, where you were now waiting by the Jeep since Lydia had left with Jackson. You were distracted, looking at something on your phone, and Stiles savored the few moments he had left to admire your beauty before you would declare that you hated him forever and never speak to him again. 

In all honesty, Stiles expected you to slap him, yell at him, and then leave. He expected you to, at the very least, tell him that the friendship was over and that he should never talk to you again. 

He was entirely surprised when he approached you and nothing of that nature happened. 

Instead, you gave him a cold, uninterested look before you said: 

“Door.” 

In the most deadpan voice ever, while motioning to the passenger’s side door - oh, of course. Obviously meaning for him to open the door for you. 

It was something he usually did upon instinct anyway (always bending over backwards to impress you) but today, the intense dread hanging over his head had caused him to forget. 

He rushed to get the door for you and you climbed into the passenger’s seat as you usually did, still not yet speaking to him. So then he busied himself with putting his gear in the back, still feeling anxiety curl in his gut at the conversation that would inevitably take place during the ride home. At least you still felt okay with riding with him. Perhaps the friendship wasn’t entirely ruined after all. 

He climbed into the driver’s seat and began fumbling with his keys in nervous, shaky hands, not yet ready to look you in the eye. You were staring at yourself in the flip-down mirror, fixing your hair, wiping off some lip gloss that had smeared. Usually this would be a moment he would absolutely drink in, loving to stare at you while you did such menial tasks. But today, after being caught doing such a horrible thing, he was absolutely drenched in guilt and he just couldn’t bring himself to face you. 

The two of you simmered in the silence for a few moments. He was waiting for you to bring it up - for you to scream, yell, hit him, do something. 

He was surprised by what came next. 

“You said your dad isn’t gonna be home tonight, right?” You posed, still looking in the mirror rather than at him. 

It was what he had told you at lunch, inviting you over to watch some horror movies that you had been bugging him to see. 

He had guessed those plans would be canceled, hinging on what had just happened. 

“Uh, yeah.” He said, confirming it once again. “He’s working the night shift.” 

“Good. We’ll go to your place then.” 

You thought he would start to drive at this confirmation, but he was still unsettled by anxiety. He was still waiting for you to acknowledge it, at least. 

“Ugh, okay… are you gonna yell at me?” He burst out, knowing that it was incredibly stupid, asking to be yelled at, but he truly didn’t know what else to do at this point. You gave him a strange look, almost confused, and ran his hands over his face in frustration. “Come on! We both know what happened!” 

“Stiles, my, my… what are you talking about?” 

Your voice was dripping with sarcasm and your eyes were filled with determined mischief, and he knew then and there - you wanted him to say it. You wanted him to blatantly confirm in his own words what he had done. 

Stiles let out a harsh sigh, leaning his head down and accidentally bumping his forehead against the steering wheel in a way that made the horn dully beep, the knot growing larger and tighter in his gut. 

“Come on, you know…” 

He trailed off, hoping that you wouldn’t actually force him to say it. He sat upright again, and you continued to look at him expectantly, patiently, and he swallowed around the terrible dryness in his throat before he forced himself to say it. 

“I - I stole your underwear and kept them in my bag.” 

You both knew that he was leaving out the part where he had masturbated with them. Even if you had no proof of that, it was starkly obvious to you. 

But you decided not to push him about that detail. (For now.) 

“Oh. That.” You said, continuing to sound utterly sarcastic in your cluelessness. 

Then your tone switched to something oddly genuine as you said something he never would have expected. 

“I’ve been waiting for like a week to see if you even had them. I kind of thought I was going crazy. I thought maybe my cat stole them because you weren’t fessing up and you didn’t try to bring them back,” You sighed. “I was worried my whole plan failed.” 

Something inside of Stiles snapped, and he thought it was the last branch on his tree of his sanity. He chose not to worry about it for now. 

“Y - your plan?” He stuttered out, barely grasping at the reality of what you had meant. 

You had wanted him to find your underwear? You wanted him to take them? You wanted him to-? 

You let out a bright, amused laugh. 

“Yes, dummy!” You said, reaching up and poking the side of his head while he stared at you in utter shock. “I left the panties there for you to take. You’re cute, but god - you’re really dense sometimes.” You let out a sigh. “Now drive, please. As long as the blood currently trapped in your dick isn’t gonna distract you too much.” 

He hated that he got a sick thrill from you mocking him and calling him ‘cute, but dense’. But he was glad that he was used to driving with boners that you had given him, because it didn’t distract him too horribly. Thoughts of what would happen when the two of you got there had him running a few stops signs, though. 

…

Stiles still wasn’t entirely sure how the heinous crime of stealing your panties had gotten him into this glorious position, but with the way things were going, he no longer cared to question it. 

The minute that the two of you got through his bedroom door, you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a bruising kiss. He struggled to keep up, clumsy but entirely excited against the movement of your mouth, wondering if he had somehow gotten sucked into another heated daydream. 

But no, that couldn’t be true - because this was so much fucking better. 

The smell of your perfume in his nose, the little puffing breaths you let out against his cheek, the little moans that emanated from your throat. And holy hell, the feeling of your tongue shoving past his lips that caused him to let out a pathetic moan of his own as you seemed determined to filthily fuck his mouth with it. 

You were a lot more aggressive in real life than you were in his dreams. 

But he fucking loved it. He loved it so much. 

His cock was already throbbing in his pants, likely staining his boxers with copious amounts of precum as you walked him back toward the bed. You then used the hand you had in the middle of his chest to shove him roughly back onto it. 

“Oh my god.” 

He squeaked out the words at the feeling of being manhandled by you - given, he knew he didn’t weigh that much and he had made no effort to put up a fight, but it was still hot to know that you could shove him around so easily. Which was something he would have to mentally unpack with himself later. But for now, he would simply just enjoy it. 

While his dick continued to ache harder, he looked up at you in awe. You were standing at the foot of the bed with your lip gloss smeared, your chest heaving slightly with a wicked grin on your face. Stiles had never seen a more beautiful predator in all his life. The look in your eyes told him that he was about to be absolutely devoured by you - and he couldn’t fucking wait. 

“Y/N, please-” He was about to begin begging, but you cut him off sharply. 

“Shut up.” You barked, and he felt a beautiful wave of hormones crash over his body at this. You were much more aggressive than in his dreams. It was so perfect. “No more talking now.” 

You put a knee on the bed between where his thighs had naturally draped open and you leaned over his body, crowding tightly into his personal space. He hoped that the needy whine he couldn’t contain as you raked your nails across his scalp wouldn’t count as ‘talking’. He was desperate to follow your rules - so desperate to be a good boy for you. 

“You will do everything I tell you to.” You whispered against his lips, and he nearly began shaking as he resisted the urge to close the gap and kiss you again. “Unless you want me to tell all the boys on the team that you’re actually a filthy perv who stole my panties?” 

“Y-” He nearly gave a verbal confirmation of this, but then he remembered what you had said. 

No more talking. 

Instead, quickly picking up on following the rules, Stiles nodded his head aggressively. 

“From now on, you do not look at any other girl, you do not touch any other girl, you belong to me - do you understand?” 

He had no clue what ‘other girls’ you thought he might possibly be touching, or even talking to in a non-platonic way, but he got another tight thrill at being claimed as yours. He wanted so badly to be yours - to be your good boy. 

He nodded aggressively again - his tongue lolling out of his mouth, slick with want, practically drooling down his chin like a dog at this point, his eyes staring at you with a hypnotized kind of need. 

“When we are having sex, you do not speak unless prompted, you do not cum unless I give you permission, and from now on - you do not touch yourself unless I tell you to.” 

His cock throbbed weakly in protest at this. He swallowed thickly, his throat straining with complaints about your words. He knew it would be difficult to go from jerking off every morning and every night to likely not at all, but fuck - you, on top of him, you wanting to have sex with him - it was more than a fair price to pay. 

If someone had told him a week ago that he would be in this position, he would have given up anything for it. 

So naturally, he nodded again. 

“Do you understand?” 

He stayed silent, believing that he was following your rules. 

“Tell me that you understand.” 

“I understand.” Stiles breathed out in a rush, nodding again. 

“Good. Now take off your clothes.” 

You got off the bed again and he was momentarily distracted by watching you shuffle through your bag for something, but then he remembered the instruction. You wanted him to take off his clothes. You actually wanted to touch him. 

Stiles rushed to strip and he didn’t have time to be self conscious before you were kissing him again, drowning him in hot, open-mouthed kisses as he stepped out of his underwear and jeans where they were pooled around his ankles. You pushed him onto the bed again and this time followed him, straddling his waist while still fully clothed yourself. Wearing the shirt, skirt, and tights you had worn to school that day, making for an odd sensation as the fabric covering your hot cunt rubbed against his now bare, very hard dick. 

He didn’t think anything of it when you grabbed his hands and brought them above his head - but then there was fabric encircling his wrists, and he pulled himself away from your mouth to blink up dumbly, wondering what you were doing. 

You had gotten a scarf out of your bag, and you were tying him to the bedpost. 

“Remember what I said?” You grinned at him, tying a knot that was surprisingly secure. “Good boys get rewards, and bad boys get spanked.” 

He tugged experimentally on the hold, and it was pretty firm. Not tight enough to cut off his circulation - but he definitely didn’t see himself getting out of it without help. 

His stomach jumped as he wondered which you had deemed him as - good or bad. Especially because he was now tied up, completely at your mercy. He was splayed out on his back, so this wouldn’t be an optimal position to spank him in. But theoretically, you would do whatever else you wanted to him. And that thought sent an odd tingle through his body, causing a wonderful jolt through his cock.  

“I’m gonna give you a chance to earn a reward, Stiles.” You told him, delivering another messy kiss. “You gonna be a good boy for me?” 

“Yes.” He answered eagerly. “Fuck, yes - I wanna be good for you.” 

You grinned at this. 

He was more than eager to see what you were gonna do next. 

A sharp jolt of anxiety hit him when you sat up (leaning more of your weight on his cock, causing him to let out a pathetic moan) - he hated being separated from you already. He churned in anticipation as you took a moment to sit there and just admire him. 

Stiles was so pretty, tied up for you, ready to be devoured - his honey eyes glossed over with need and anticipation, his lips bitten pink and slightly swollen, parted in that beautifully dumb way as he heaved out shallow, desperate breaths. Yes, he was skinny - even playing lacrosse hadn’t managed to put much muscle tone on his body, but you did find a certain appeal in his lithe, thin form. You gained a certain thrill from knowing that you could so easily man-handle him, toss him down, and he really wasn’t strong enough to put up much of a fight in return. 

His cock, leaking frantically between your legs - was beautiful in its own way. A healthy six inches and nicely thick, his pubes dark, thick and untrimmed. Unkept because he definitely hadn’t been expecting anyone to see him without clothes anytime soon. Charming, in a sense. 

Just as Stiles was feeling smothered by the anticipation, by the heated gaze of your eyes running up and down his body, you then leaned to look in his bedside drawer. He wanted to scream for you not to do it, but he had a feeling that it would be breaking your rules; that it would be a ‘bad boy’ thing to do. And that would run the risk of you not touching him at all. 

You let out a laugh when you saw what was in the drawer. 

“You know, somehow I’m not surprised that this is almost empty.” You told him, bringing out the dwindling bottle of lube and placing it beside him. “You must like it really wet, huh?” 

The words were absolutely filthy coming off your lips, intentionally so on your part, but it sounded like a rhetorical question. He swallowed a whimper, but said nothing. 

“And this,” You picked up one of the many pictures he had of you in the drawer - one of you in your Halloween costume from last year. Lydia had dared you to wear something ‘slutty’, and you had shown up to her Halloween party in a black leather bra, a leather mini skirt, leather boots, and a pair of cat ears. Stiles had spent most of that night in the bathroom. “I have to say, I’m flattered.” 

You have another bright giggle before you put the picture back and then closed the drawer. 

“So - you think about me a lot, do you, Stiles?” You asked, scooting back on his thighs until you were sitting on his knees. 

Not a rhetorical question. 

He swallowed thickly, gathering himself to answer. 

“Yes.” He answered, his voice far too weak for his liking. “All the time.” 

You hummed thoughtfully at this. 

You reached to your waist, untucking your shirt from your skirt before you lifted it off completely over your head, revealing your blue lace bra to him. Dear god, you were so perfect. As you tossed your shirt off to the side, the bra strap slumped down your shoulder and he mourned over not having his hands free, wanting to gently lift it back up, or rip the whole thing off you, wanting to kiss along your shoulder-

“How often do you think about me?” You asked, reaching for the bottle of lube. 

Stiles felt a wave of shyness splash up inside of his gut. But he knew that it was useless to deny the truth now. He had already been caught, over and over again. You wouldn’t mock him now if he just admitted it. 

You cracked the top on the bottle, and the sound shook his insides - his dog-like mind so well trained to associate the sound with having his dick touched. He licked his lips, viciously trying to get his mouth to work in tandem with his brain. You had asked him to speak. He needed to speak. But that was growing more and more difficult while he stared down the ample cleavage coming out of your bra and shook with the anticipation of you about to touch his cock. 

“Every day.” He whimpered out. “All the time, I-” 

He let off a choked sound when you poured some lube into your hand and then finally, after years of him dreaming about it, you wrapped a loose, cool, wet grip around the base of his hard, leaking cock. His hips jumped up into your touch and he let out a choked sound from the back of his throat while you continued to look at him with an absolutely wicked grin. 

“Stiles,” You said his name in a firm tone, reminding him that he was supposed to be giving you an answer. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you!” He shouted, much louder than he had intended to. “All the time, I - I feel like I’m going insane. You’re too perfect, you’re too hot, I-I-I-”

“Hey, shh, baby.” You told him, running the other hand up his thigh in a way that made him gasp. 

You used that loose grip on his dick and began jerking him off, spreading the lube across him in the most leisurely way possible. It was a dull pleasure, but one so perfect because it was delivered by you. 

He had no clue how absolutely deliberate it was. But of course - everything you did with him was so deliberate, so well planned out to drive him entirely insane. 

“How often do you jerk off?” 

You asked, curiosity ripe within you as you imagined it: Stiles splayed out on this exact bed, pants around his ankles, his hand wet with lube and creating a sloppy blur on his cock as he jerked off as fast as possible, absolutely desperate to cum - his face twisted with pleasure, his thighs tensing, your name hot on his lips. 

You really wanted to know the kind of things he imagined, what made his kinky little mind tick. You wanted to know just how desperate he was to steal your panties in the first place. Did he think that he could get away without you noticing them gone or was he just too horny to care? 

You tightened your grip slightly, continuing to drag your hand up and down his dick in long, slow, deliberate strokes. You wanted him hard, throbbing, and desperate - even more so than he already was. You wanted him blinded with pleasure and begging. 

“A lot.” He breathed back, bucking his hips up to meet your touch, clearly already needy for more. 

You put a firm hand on his hip, pinning him to the bed. You tutted your tongue, scolding him. 

“Come on, Stiles.” You said, your tone somewhere between mocking and scolding. “You can be more specific than that.” 

You tightened your grip again, your hand now acting like a firm vice around his cock - something that made him moan deeply and close his eyes. You let him enjoy it for a few moments as you stroked him deeply, slowly - spreading the wetness over his cock in deep, pleasurably strokes. For the first time ever, delivering the pleasure of having a hand on his cock that wasn’t his own. 

Already, intense pleasure was knotting up in his stomach. Already - he was getting close to cumming. 

You could tell that from the way his breathing shallowed out, the way his stomach tensed. 

You pulled your hand back completely, leaving him to let out a confused sound and pop his eyes open at top speed, craning his neck up to look at you with utter disappointment while you continued to grin at him. 

“Tell me.” You instructed firmly. “How many times a week do you make yourself cum?” You continued your interrogation. When his face flashed with a streak of guilt, you changed the question. “How many times a day?” 

Stiles took a sharp breath. 

Again, he felt caught. 

“Twice.” He said it quietly, before gathering his courage. “Twice - twice a day. Usually… once in the morning and once at night.” 

You giggled. “Needy boy.” 

He was rewarded with your touch back on his cock. He let out a deep, satisfied moan as you started jerking him off again, wet and smooth, a bit faster this time. It created a lovely wet noise and he let out another moan when he heard it. 

“What do you think about when you touch yourself, Stiles?” You asked, your voice low and sultry - warm, inviting him to the possibilities. 

Perhaps, if he told you about the things he thought about, his most private and guarded thoughts, then you might make them come true. 

“You.” He moaned back almost instantly - trying to buck up into your touch again but being held down by you again. “I - I only think about you. I swear.” 

You licked your lips. 

It was something you loved to hear. But you yearned for more details. 

“Cute.” You sighed. “As flattering as that is, babe, I want specifics.” You pressed. “Specific fantasies. Come on, you must have kinks,” 

If he had to summarize it - his kink was you. 

And it was growing increasingly difficult to think with your hand pumping on his cock. 

“Your - your thighs!” Stiles blurted out frantically, saying the first thing that he thought of. 

Even now, feeling the heavy, warm fat of your thighs spread across his knees, had his cock jumping in your hand - had him buzzing and dizzy all over. It was one of his favourite parts about you, something that made him hard if your thighs brushed against him when the two of you sat too close together on the couch during a movie night. 

“Your thighs are so - so thick, and beautiful, and big, and-” He choked off into a moan when you moved your other hand to his balls, spreading some of the lube there and gently massaging them in a way that sent a jolt through his whole body, practically making him seize off the bed. 

You let out a giggle. 

“What else, baby?” 

His cock was hot and pulsing in your hand, and you knew he was close again. But you wanted him to get right to the edge before you cut him off this time. 

“I - I think about - about having your thighs wrapped around my head,” 

He choked out, stuttering as he began humping into your touch, so desperate to cum. He had pretty much forgotten about your earlier rules by now, had forgotten about asking for permission, and he just needed to cum into your touch. He needed it so badly. 

“I wanna eat you out so badly. I wanna taste you. I wanna eat your pussy. Please, please, please, please-!” 

This visceral begging tipped you off to the orgasmic delirium he was tipping into, and you squeezed your touch sharply around the base of his cock to keep him from cumming, even going so far as to give his balls a light tap in punishment. He let out a bitter gasp as his orgasm was sharply cut off, the feeling drowned bitterly in his stomach. It left his muscles so tight and left him flailing against his binds for a moment, squirming chaotically underneath you. 

“Bad boy.” You scolded him, your voice wicked and causing his dick to throb woefully in your unforgiving touch. “You didn’t ask if you could cum.” 

You leaned down and bit one of his nipples - pure teeth, unforgiving, and it made him cry out in a gargle of his own spit as his head became even dizzier. He didn’t even have the mental capacity to question why he liked the sharp spike of pain so much, especially not when his balls were throbbing so terribly, and he needed to cum so fucking badly. 

“Please?!” He cried out. “Please? Can I cum? I need it, I need-” 

“Shh, baby.” 

You hushed him again, taking your hand off his dick and leaving it to rest leaking against his stomach, running both your hands up his torso in a soothing touch as you leaned in and pressed a few sweet kisses on his open, whining mouth. 

“I’ll give you a chance to be good. Is that what you want?” 

“Please.” He replied, so desperate that he was on the verge of tears now. “I wanna be good for you, please.” 

“I’m gonna ride your pretty cock now. And if you wait to cum until I tell you,” You pressed these words hard, making sure he paid attention to this part. “Then I’ll let you eat my pussy. Does that sound like a good reward?” 

“Yes.” He replied, entirely breathy and excited. “Please, please. I’ll be good.” 

“Oh, baby. I know you will.” 

This spilled from your lips as an overly syrupy coo, and he couldn’t help but to yearn for more of that sound. 

You got off him, then, and he let out an utterly disappointed sound - instantly missing your weight and the heat of you above him. 

Stiles looked on with curiosity as you went back to your bag. His heart thumped with anticipation when you came back with a condom, and didn’t hesitate to open it and then roll it onto his still very stiff cock. (Just the few touches of you doing this had him warming with even more pleasure, and he worried that the touch of your pussy around him would cause him to cum instantly, disappointing you.) 

Then, he watched in awe as you stripped off. Your skirt, tights, and underwear, giving him a pang of disappointment that you left your bra on. You did this with intention, though, slightly worried that the sight of your bare tits would cause him to blow it too early. 

“Oh my god.” Stiles let out another whimper as you straddled him once again, putting a hand on his cock to line it up with your pussy. 

Fuck, holy fuck - this was really happening. He was really about to fuck you. He was about to fuck your perfect pussy. 

It was just as beautiful as he had imagined - covered in trimmed hair, which was glossy with your wetness. Fuck - he yearned to see that pussy spread out underneath him. He yearned to taste you. Even just feeling the heat coming off you as you lined up the tip, even through the condom - it was deadly. 

He was not going to survive this. 

He squeezed his eyes tight and held his breath, and you didn’t like that. You used your free hand to give him a light tap on the cheek - some small semblance of a slap, a grounding reminder that you were there, controlling him. 

“Hey, come on. Look at me.” 

Your words forced him to open his eyes, and he easily fell into a streak of obedience, eager to please you. His eyes snapped open and he looked right at you - absolutely enamored by your pretty face. 

“Good boy.” 

He let out another whimper at the praise. 

Then, you finally lowered yourself down onto his cock, sinking down in one smooth movement until you were fully seated - tightly wrapped around his dick and resting against his bony pelvis. 

He felt like the air had been punched out of him. That perfect, tight heat being wrapped around him - the wetness leaking out around his skin at the base of his dick, everything squeezing his cock like a vice, like you were made to fit him. It made him so dizzy, stole the air out of his lungs. It was all too perfect. 

“Oh. Oh. Oh god-” He gasped out, squirming underneath you, already intensely overwhelmed by the pleasure. 

You grabbed his jaw in one hand and held him still for another kiss, and he moaned hotly into your mouth, desperation growing inside of him. 

You started slowly grinding your hips into his pelvis, wanting to warm him up gently. As you pulled away from the kiss, he was panting frantically against your mouth, already overwhelmed. 

“Hey, shh.” You told him, smoothing your hands over his torso once again. “You gonna be good for me?” 

“Yes.” He quickly moaned in return, nodding his head eagerly. 

This was a side of Stiles that you had so quickly grown to love. You knew that you weren’t going to get enough of this - this beautiful soft obedience. Especially compared to usual sarcastic abrasiveness. 

This was your good boy. And you were going to have such a good time training him, having him learn the rules. You were heavily looking forward to shutting down his future quips on a dime with a simple threat of keeping future orgasms from him. 

You positioned your weight on your knees, then, and began lifting yourself off his cock halfway before you slammed your hips back down. You put your hands on either side of his head, between where his arms were stationed above him, still tangled up in the scarf and unable to move. After a moment, you built up a good, even pace - not quite gentle, but not entirely rough either. 

You were taking it easy on him for his first time. 

Stiles continued letting out shocked pants, sounding like a man drowning on dry land, hurriedly gasping for air. Soon, he began moaning as more wild pleasure was driven through his body from the feeling of your wet pussy gripping around his cock; from the feeling of you bouncing against his balls, from the sound of that perfect wet slap every single time you landed down on him. 

It caused a terrible need to brew in his stomach, and he knew it wouldn’t be long now. 

All too soon, he was going to cum. 

“Please!” He moaned out, trying to buck his hips up to meet yours - his muscles shaking so terribly that he couldn’t keep up with your pace and ended up just jostling wildly underneath you. “Please, please!” 

You grinned. 

You knew that you wouldn’t cum from this, but you were deeply enjoying yourself anyway. Stiles looked so pretty - so pathetic and pretty - gritting his teeth to try and hold back his sounds (which wasn’t working at all), tears rimming his eyes, a few even slipping out, his face tinging a lovely shade of pink from the exertion and the pure arousal. 

“Please ‘what’, baby?” 

You pressed, a slight edge of mocking on your voice that punched another harsh wave of arousal through his gut. It took everything he had in those moments not to cum - to hold it back. To be good for you. 

“Come on, sweetheart. You can say it. Just say the words-” 

“Please lemme cum,” He whined out, the words practically turning into a slur on his lips - mirroring exactly the way he had been begging to a fictional you as he had pumped his cock while sitting on this very bed not too long ago. “Please, please, please Y/N, please-” 

You leaned down to his ear then, whispering the words he so badly wanted to hear. 

“Cum for me, Stiles.” 

But this time it was so very real. 

With your permission given, his brain fired off, finally allowing himself to let it go. He let out a guttural, almost non-human sound as he humped his hips off the bed in harsh, fast strokes while you fucked down onto him tightly, roughly grinding into him to allow him to get the most out of it. Wanting him to have the most pressure from your hot cunt in those moments while his eyes rolled back into his head and he released a thick load into the condom. 

He was even pretty like this - his mouth wide open, his long lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks, his chest heaving as he released a concert of beautiful, whorish sounds. 

When his hips stopped and his noises dissolved off into a more gentle panting, you leaned down to kiss him again. He most definitely deserved it. 

“Good boy.” You mumbled against his mouth, eager to praise him. “Such a good boy for me. You did so good.” 

This caused another sound from him, and you simply smiled as he began to kiss you back, eager and sloppy, smearing spit across your cheek while you reached up and began untying the knot in the scarf you had secured him with. 

“You want your reward now?” You asked him. 

You couldn’t lie, your cunt was thrumming at the idea of him getting between your thighs. You wondered if he would be able to make you cum. He seemed eager to please and so far, he was good at following instructions, so you could probably tell him exactly what to do to get you off. Even if he couldn’t, you would certainly enjoy the view. 

“Yes, yes, please.” He moaned against your cheek, that desperation thrashing back up inside of him. “Please, I’ve been good, please-”

“Yes, you have been.” You soothed him again. “Good boy.” 

You released him from the binds and then finally got off him, allowing his softening cock to pop free from your pussy - something that caused him to loudly moan. 

You took off the condom and tossed it into the waste basket that he had by his desk, the lube and cum seeping into the crumbled up, forgotten papers that he had there. When you came back to the bed, he was looking at you with wide, eager eyes, waiting for his next instruction. Such a good boy. You really loved how this was turning out. 

“I’m gonna lay down, and then you can get between my legs. Okay, baby?” 

He nodded eagerly again, and hopped off the bed to give you room, nearly tripping over his own feet in doing so. 

You fluffed up his pillow and then laid down, spreading your legs wide, and when you looked back to him, he was tracing every single inch of your body with a wide-eyed gaze. His mouth was agape once again, absolutely not hiding the fact that he was absolutely lustful for you, becoming utterly distracted by the sight of you (almost completely) naked in his bed, laid out just for him. 

“Stiles.” You called his name, garnering his attention once again. “Come on, baby.” 

You held out an arm, signaling for him to come over, and he eagerly climbed into the bed between your thighs. 

You thought for sure that he would make himself comfortable down between your thighs and get right to tasting you, as eagerly as he had begged for it before, but it was his turn to surprise you now. 

“Please, can you-?” He cut himself off shyly, tracing a single finger along the cup of the bra that you still wore, the last scrap of clothing hiding your body from him. “Can you take it off?” 

That sent a thrill through you. Rather than being demanding, he was still so trepidatious - wondering if he had tread too far by asking you to remove clothing, even after you had ridden his cock. 

Still, you couldn’t help but to want to tease him - just a little bit more. 

“You wanna see my tits?” You asked, running your hands up your body, teasing your fingers along the edges of the bra cups as if threatening to pull them down. “You wanna… play with my tits, Stiles?” 

“Yes.” Stiles breathed out, entirely eager. 

You could see his cock swelling back to life between his thighs already. 

“Do you think you’ve been a good enough boy for that?” You questioned, lustful eagerness in your voice. 

His answer would entirely dictate whether or not you took the bra off. 

He swallowed thickly, still nervous, his eyes flickering between your cleavage and your own eyes, as if looking for a hint at the answer. He waited a careful moment, and then finally spoke. 

“Yes.” He said, pausing for a moment as if waiting for you to argue the point before he continued. “Yes, please, I’ve been good.” 

“Hmm…” You said, pretending to think. “Alright.” 

You reached up behind you, unhooking your bra and tossing it away. When your naked breasts were finally revealed to him, his tongue lolled out of his mouth in an almost puppy-like way, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he stared hungrily at the roundness of your perfect flesh. 

This time, he didn’t even ask you before he made his next move - entirely fueled by his own eagerness and desire, he swept down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. Instantly, he let out a loud moan around your tit that told you just how much he was enjoying this, something that had your pussy getting wetter as you saw the way his eyes drifted closed with bliss while he sloppily laved his tongue over your skin. 

He was so fucking cute, so fucking pretty - so fucking perfect like this. 

He continued like this for a few moments before he trailed a line of sloppy kisses to the other tit and began sucking on that one, feeling the need to give both beautiful girls equal attention. He licked his tongue across the skin in a fat trail that had you tingling, that had your cunt clenching. You were glad he was enjoying himself, but it was making the space between your thighs feel rather neglected. 

“Stiles, baby,” You called out, starting to sound a bit breathy from need yourself. You raked your nails gently across his scalp again, causing him to let out another moan. “You said you were gonna eat my pussy, right? You don’t wanna disappoint me - do you, baby?” 

He popped off your tit immediately. 

“Not gonna disappoint you.” He said in a hurried tone, shaking his head. 

You pulled him in for another kiss, and when you released him, he rushed down to get comfortable between your legs, which you spread even more, dropping your foot off the bed on one side to give him more room. 

Your pussy was so gorgeous. 

So much better than he had dreamed of - wet, gleaming, smeared in your own juices and slightly gaped from his cock. A sight that absolutely thrilled him - seeing exactly where he had been, knowing that he had fucked you, he had been inside of you. 

The smell of your pretty cunt was something more unique than your sweat or perfume like he had originally thought. He leaned in eagerly and licked a fat, wide stripe from where you were fluttering and open all the way up to your mound, getting his first real taste of you - he let out a loud moan as it fully penetrated his senses, as everything that was you spread across his tongue for the first time. 

You were so fucking perfect. You tasted so fucking perfect. 

You let out a moan of your own when Stiles moaned against you again, the vibrations radiating through your sensitive core. This time, he latched into your clit, seemingly knowing that swollen bead was his ticket to success without you even having to tell him. He sucked harshly on it for a moment that made your thighs twitch and threaten to close around his head before he began digging his tongue against it, lapping at your cunt, trying to suck all the taste off it that he could. 

“Good boy,” You moaned, reaching out and cradling the back of his head (not having much hair to grab onto with the short buzzcut that he had) - keeping him tight against your pussy, not that he seemed intent to pull away any time soon. “Such a good boy. Good boy for me!” 

He wasn’t particularly skilled - it was obvious from a mile away that he didn’t have any experience, but fuck, he more than made up for it with his pure eagerness. He was eating your pussy like it was his last meal, moaning against you like he was getting more pleasure from this than you were - and hell, maybe he was. 

He didn’t back off or complain when you instinctively bucked your hips against his face. In fact, he seemed to take it in stride, downright enjoying the way your warm juices were smeared across his cheeks and chin, his eyes shut in bliss as he tongued openly across your cunt, his drool mixing with your wetness while he moaned against you. 

“Oh, fuck! Stiles!” 

He moaned harder at the sound of his own name on your lips, so beautifully pornographic, better than he had dreamed it would be - even when he had imagined it so many times over and over again. Somehow, even when you thought he might not get you there at all, his eager performance and the vibrations from his moans against your clit had you so close already. 

“Got me so close, baby,” You moaned, scratching the back of his head. “Such a good boy, so close-” 

He moaned in response and tongued more vigorously at your clit, and you worked your hips against him, practically riding his face in order to bring yourself over the edge. 

“Fuck! Stiles!” 

You let out a throaty moan as you came, beautiful pleasure surging through your body while your back arched against the bed. Inadvertently shoving your hips even closer to his face, making him even more beautifully messy while he sucked and licked you. He loved the feeling of your body twitching and seizing underneath him, he loved hearing your gorgeous moans, he loved knowing that he had made you cum. 

He lowered his face down and shoved his tongue inside you, determined to drink right from the source then, his nose bumping against your now orgasm-sensitive clit unintentionally, making you shout loudly. This further smothered him in your essence in a way that he loved, while he shoved his tongue inside of you as far as he possibly could, absolutely loving the way your pussy fluttered around him, the way your taste overwhelmed his senses, the pure heat smothering his face. 

“Baby, baby-” 

You gasped and struggled for air, knowing that he wasn’t overstimulating you on purpose - he was just eager. And that thought alone was so overwhelmingly hot to you that you almost let him continue. But your clit thrummed with an ache of protest, and you knew that you couldn’t spoil him this much, this soon. You couldn’t handle having a spoiled brat on your hands. 

“Baby, you have to come up now!” You ordered sharply, digging your nails into his shoulder as a warning, adding a tiny bite of pain to fully get his attention. 

Stiles let out a tiny whine of disappointment, but did as he was told, finally unlatching himself from your cunt. This move made a sinfully wet sound as he pushed himself up with his hands to sit between your thighs on his knees. Your eyes were immediately drawn to his once again hard, throbbing pink cock smearing precum against his stomach. 

You had a passing thought about telling him to grab another condom, but again - you didn’t need to spoil him so soon. 

You had another idea instead. 

“Oh baby,” You cooed, reaching out and loosely gripping his cock, causing him to let out a shuddering moan and buck into your hand furiously - which didn’t give him much sensation, only teased him more. “You got really excited from that, didn’t you?” 

He nodded vigorously, his mind completely mush at this point, too weak to form words. 

“Do you wanna get off against my thigh?” You purred, gently stroking your knuckles across his temple - feeling a wicked kind of joy in seeing his face smeared in your wetness, especially when paired with the dumb, glossy look in his eyes. 

He almost dared to ask for more - wanting to fuck you again, to put his cock between your tits and fuck them - but he had a feeling that you wouldn’t let him get away with it. And he wanted to be your good boy so badly. So he was willing to take whatever you had to give him. 

“Yes.” He croaked out, his voice slightly hoarse now from all the moaning. “Yes, please.” 

“Good boy.” You grinned at him. “Come on.” 

You moved your leg - already slightly stiff from how long he had been between them, stretched around his shoulders - and slotted your thigh between his. You raised it up slightly, gently propping the broadness of your flesh against his aching balls and his hard, leaking cock. 

“Wait, I want-” 

He looked around for a moment, and then grabbed up the bottle of lube where it had falling on the floor from the vigor of your fucking. He poured a good deal of it (almost emptying it) over his cock, letting it leak down over your thigh, before he capped it and threw it away again. 

You smiled. 

“You really do like it wet, don’t you?” 

He simply nodded, and began moving his hips. Instinctively, you reached out and grabbed him, taking a commanding hold on those narrow hips to guide him. He easily fell under your control, letting you guide his pace - which meant he moved in slow, languid, sloppy, wet (thanks to the lube) movements across your thigh - his cock dragging against your skin in a way that was delicious, but almost not enough at the same time. 

He began letting out whimpers, his face twisting with pleasure and the need for something more as his gut curled with a distinctive ache. As if sensing this, even unconsciously, you couldn’t help your mouth. 

“You look so pretty like this,” You told him, hot and breathy. 

Turns out - that was the something ‘more’ he so desperately needed. Hearing you call him ‘pretty’ would have been an insult on any other day, but today, it was downright delicious. Your voice curling around the word, directed at him - it felt like something he had been waiting to hear his whole life. 

“I love seeing you get off against my thigh, rubbing your pretty cock against me,” 

Stiles let out a moan and you felt him fighting to move faster, so you encouraged it, pushing and pulling his hips faster, causing more delicious friction on his cock. 

“Please, please-” He gasped. 

You knew it wouldn’t take much more. 

“You know, I’ve probably been waiting for this just as long as you have,” You whispered lowly in his ear, finally confessing your secret. “I’ve been watching you every single day, seeing how wonderful and dumb you are when you stare at me for hours, thinking I don’t notice. And I’ve just been waiting to pin you up against something and fuck your pretty little brains out-” 

Your words were cut off by him crying out, a wet splash against your thigh that had alerted you to him cumming. This was almost pathetic, just a few spurts of cum before it was over (you guessed that with how often he jerked off and from the fucking earlier, you had practically drained his balls). It made you curious if forcing him to abstain from masturbation for a few days would yield more impressive results. 

An experiment for later, you guessed. 

“Good boy.” 

You pulled him into another kiss, ultimately satisfied by the end result of your plan - leaving your panties on your bed as bait for Stiles to find as a way to gently tip him off to your attraction to him. It had worked out in the very best way. Even if you had to wait more than a week for the wheels to truly set in motion. 

… 

After a joint shower (which was filled with Stiles grinning at you, clearly soaking up the beauty of his luck in landing someone as gorgeous as you) - you changed the sheets on the bed while he made something to eat, and after the two of you ate together, you tucked him in to go to sleep. 

He was disappointed that you couldn’t stay the night, just as excited to do other non sexual things with you like wake up in your arms and hold your hand in the hallways at school - but you did have to get home before your curfew. Just as he was dosing off, you kissed him on the forehead, and you thought of something delightfully naughty for him to wake up to, even if you couldn’t be there. 

You took off the underwear that you were wearing - a pair of lacy blue ones, to match your bra - and you pinned them up on his corkboard for him to find in the morning. 

A perfect little present for your good boy.

… 

The next morning, Stiles woke up to a knock on his bedroom door. 

“Okay, rise n shine, kid, time for-” 

His father’s voice cut off abruptly, and Stiles didn’t have time to ponder why before-

“Dear god, what the hell is that?” 

Stiles shot up out of bed, practically falling on the floor, wondering what it could be - monster, werewolf, hunter, someone with a gun-

His eyes landed exactly where his dad was looking, and he was relieved not to find danger, and then terribly embarrassed to see your underwear from the day before pinned to his corkboard, spread out in plain view. Stiles immediately went into damage control mode. 

“Look, Dad, I can explain-” 

“You know what? I don’t wanna know.” His dad said firmly, making a motion with his hand that said he was brushing away the subject. “Just - get ready for school.” 

His dad moved to leave the room, and then he sighed and paused in the doorway, turning back to Stiles in a way that made his gut churn. 

“Just - did you use protection?” 

Stiles almost offered to show his father the used condom that was still sitting in the trash can - even if only as proof that the night before he had a real, living girl in his room. But he figured that would be going too far. 

“Yes.” He answered, calm and short. 

His dad nodded, and moved to leave again. He made it a bit further down the hallway this time before he turned around and appeared in the doorway again. 

“Son - you know, women aren’t objects, you can’t claim them like sexual conquests, and they deserve respect-” 

“Dad.” Stiles sharply cut off whatever speech his father was about to give, wanting his father to know that he hadn’t pinned the underwear to the corkboard himself. He wasn’t some fratboy who celebrated getting laid with a fucking trophy. 

“She - she gave them to me.” He said. “She did that.” He motioned to the underwear, and his father’s face shifted from anger to deep discomfort. 

“Oh.” He said simply. “Well - I - okay. I don’t wanna know any more.” He said firmly. “And for god’s sake, son, take them down.” 

Stiles nodded, rushing to do so. 

He was going to take them down - but he wasn’t rushing to give them back to you anytime soon.

...

Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and this has a distinct, intentional ending. There will NOT be a continuation or a 'Part 3'. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging it to show your appreciation, or commenting on this fic, or you can take a look at my Teen Wolf Masterlist for more of my fics from this fandom.

However, please do not comment on this fic asking for another sequel or asking for more - I generally consider that stressful and impolite. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider checking out my other fics about the criminally underrated character Isaac. Fics similar to this one are: Eager Little Puppy and Why Am I The One?

Or if you want more fics about subby boys, consider checking out Tongue Twister, Stop? (Baby, Don't Stop), or Lessons For A Genius.

Happy reading!! -Sunny <3

[cornflowersisblue]

Hi, I'm curious about your headcanons for Mr. Gap please please

Hello~ You got me thinking! I decided to make it in an iceberg format. It will start with cute headcanons, then dive into the darker, sad, or anxious ones. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 The Surface ⁺ New language: If Mr Gap picked up some human words, they’d definitely be swear words. And he’d easily find situations to use them. ⁺ I’m in your bed: He doesn’t have a concept of many things, like not fully understanding that he can cause pain (bites worse than Mr Chopped, be careful) or even what personal space is (try teaching him to knock first).

⁺ Give me that: He’s super into random little things from our world. Like, who else would sit there flipping through magazines, right? So of course he’d want to grab something cool for his collection. Personal items are probably a lot safer than, you know, body parts.

The Icy Current ⁺ Solitude: He likes it when you talk to him. But he’s usually ignored, so he acts this way to get attention. And he really doesn’t like it when you spend too much time with other. Jealousy? He won’t admit it, but he’ll do something to put a stop to it. ⁺ Am I good?: Mr Gap definitely has a praise kink. He absolutely loves it when you tell him he’s good. It’s important for him to prove he’s better than everyone else. ⁺ Obsessive Attachment: He was incredibly bored, but with you, life feels fun. Of course, he doesn’t want to lose that. Dark Waters ⁺Just Like Others: He watches others and listens to them. He mimics their behavior. It’s quite possible that he started asking "Are you okay?" after noticing others doing it and seeing the positive reaction it gets. ⁺ Everything has a price: Mr Gap doesn’t like doing things, especially not for free. That’s why he always asks for something in return, like a heart or hair. But in the scene with Mr. Scarletella, he steps out of his role as an observer because he can’t let him take you. ⁺ His Plan: Mr Gap seems to manipulate events around you invisibly, ensuring you stay close to him and free from any distractions. It all appears coincidental, but it’s clearly anything but. The Depths ⁺ Why a Heart?: Mr Gap probably doesn’t feel good without his own body. That’s why, when he asks for human body parts, it’s like he’s trying to fill that emptiness. ⁺ It will be my way: Mr Gap has an ability to move through space. What’s interesting is that he can bring the MC back from one world to another. Time is probably not under his control, but he can literally take them anywhere he wants. This is a powerful skill. ⁺ Immortality: He claims he cannot be killed. Even though //spoiler// we can kill several key characters with our own hands. ✦ . 　⁺ Something like this, most of it is based on dialogues I’ve read, and I feel like it’s quite accurate.

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧

★ synopsis: over one summer, a whirlwind romance creates an obvious choice: to stay in the life she's always known or follow sylus into the unknown, chasing love and freedom.

★ character: sylus

★ cw: first-person POV, sort of present day au? pretty fluffy, some implications but nothing obvious, soft sylus, may have spelling errors (i wrote this at 2 am)

★ word count: 1.3k

★ a/n: this is super short and not really meant as an intense read. just some poetic fluff about sylus (lord knows we need more sweet reads of him *sob*)

I remember the first time I saw him.

He was so… different from everyone around. The way he acted, the way he held himself, the devious smirk that always graced his devilishly handsome face. He had this aura that was off, but in this perfectly, sickeningly good way. He was something this dull town never had.

He came in once to my bakery, smiling and talking to me as if he had known me forever.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” That was different, no one spoke to each other like that around here. Anyone in their right mind would be creeped out, yet I enjoyed every second; every word that came out of his mouth spoke with his deep, velvet voice. I loved the difference, I loved the attention he gave me. Constant indulging in the feeling his presence brought on.

Introducing himself as Sylus, I said his name thousands of times in my head.

The look he gave me when he learned my name was engraved in my mind for centuries. His hard eyes softened, repeating every syllable as if it was candy on his tongue. Of my name.

Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.

After that, he would visit at least once a day, if not a few times. He’d lean over my counter, propping himself up on one of his arms. He always rolled his sleeves up, and buttoned his shirt to his lower chest, showing enough of his perfect skin that I always resisted to touch.

“Red is your color.” I had told him this after he wore this delicious, wine red top. It complimented everything on him, like a rose in the snow.

“Everything is your color.” He leaned towards me, holding his face in his hand.

“Why do you say that?” I started serving a customer, and I could feel his eyes on me.

“Well,” He started, “Your personality is very warm, like yellow, orange, and red.”

I glanced at him, “Have a good evening!” I bid the lady I served goodbye.

“And your looks are very cool, blues and purples fit you best.”

Turning away from him, adjusting things on my shelves, I asked, “What about green?”

“What about green?” He repeated.

“You didn’t mention green. Does green fit me?”

He smirked, “I told you every color fits you. So green would too. I’m sorry I didn’t mention every shade in the rainbow.”

I turned back to him, and he had his head resting in his arms, staring at me with his usual smug look. Walking up to him, I ran a hand through his hair, “Y’know, green actually takes up most of the color spectrum. It has a countless number of shades.”

“Really?”

“Mm,” I gave him one of his favorite pastries I made, “it's evolutionary. Humans are omnivores, so our eyes help us differentiate between shades of green to help us find plants to eat and avoid, but it can help us find prey animals that are seeking specific kinds of plants.”

“You’re truly fascinating, sweetie. You and all your shades of green.”

“As are you, Sylus.”

As are you.

Sylus was on a trip here for the summer. When I asked him why?

"To find someone like you."

I thought of him as borrowing my heart, when I knew he wouldn’t return it when he left at the end of the summer. When the leaves turned yellow, red and orange, just as he described my personality, he’d take my heart with him back to his home.

I felt something with him, a spark, a waterfall of passion. Something I had never felt in this city before.

There were the ruins, a place where all the young civilians would go to party into the early mornings. Sylus convinced me to go with him once.

“I want the experience of being here.” He had stated matter of factly, yet I knew the tall man was just finding an excuse to be with me a while longer.

I rolled my eyes, “That’s not much of an experience, being around a bunch of sweaty drunks.”

Oh but it was. To travel back to that night, where we had danced together, our cheeks flushed with red wine, or bodies pressed into one.

He took me back to the bakery, and kissed me against the old brick walls. Him in his red shirt, buttoned down and sleeves up, his hair a mess, but still shining in the illumination of the moon and street lights.

From there, something shifted.

I’d show him all my secret spots, just to fall into a field together, tangled in each other's limbs. He’d kiss me like I was his world, and nothing else existed; and with him, nothing else did exist.

I tried to teach him how to bake, how to knead dough, how to remember measurements without a recipe. Sylus would get flour in his hair, on his cheeks, his nose, his shirt and his pants (all on purpose, courtesy of me).

"We have to match.” He’d say, before taking his flour covered hands and taking my face in them, rubbing his dusty nose on mine, rubbing our cheeks together. I giggled and smacked his chest with a towel, before wiping his and my face off.

There was the night where I wore a new dress; an emerald green sundress that matched the grassy hills of the city in the night. He took one look at me, his red eyes burning with love and desire, and as I took a step forward his hands were all over. Dinner was scrapped, and I spent the night under him tangled in the sheets, one with love.

After, cuddled together, a sweaty beautiful mess, he adjusted his bare chest against mine. Placing his hand on my hip, drawing shapes with his finger, he whispered to me as I was about to fall asleep,

“So many shades of green, and I was lucky enough to find you.”

“I love you, Sylus.” I mumbled through reality and my dreams.

He smiled against my lips, “I love you too.”

As they say, time flies when you’re having fun. Eventually, the end of summer came around.

I would have to say goodbye. Say goodbye to Sylus, say goodbye to everything.

No more grand entrances into my work, messing with the collar of his red billowy shirt. No more watching his bare back as he’d stretch in the morning, smirking back at me as he’d trace his fingers over marks on his neck and chest. Life would go back to routine, everything in this town staying quiet and still as it once was. Before I knew him.

The day before he had to leave, he swung open the door to my bakery, a wild look in his eyes.

“Come with me.” He said, stern. The look on his face told me I wasn’t getting much of a choice. I wasn’t sure I wanted one.

I raised a brow, “What?”

He walked behind the counter, one hand grabbing my waist, the other going through my hair.

“Come back with me. Stay with me. You can open a bakery there, I’ll help. Everything will be the same. You said it yourself, you wanted out of here, come with me.” His usual put together look was coming undone, his lips pulled tightly together as a silent plea.

He could make it happen, the man had more money than I could ever imagine. Going with him could make all my dreams come true; getting out of this monotonous town, living comfortably, being…happy.

I shook my head, almost trying to convince myself not to listen, “Sylus, you’re not thinking about this.” Hypocritical, I’m not sure I was either.

His brows furrowed, “I have. That's all I’ve done. Now, sweetie, say yes.”

I thought about all the shades of green.

…

“Yes.”

(divider by cafekitsune)

[lemon-slushie]

A random post/rant of me talking about my art and early crk fandom weirdos if u would like to hear it lol

No one has ever directly asked me why I draw madeleine so feminine but the reason has been sitting in my head since I got back into cookie run around 2020 (good god) so I’m just gonna ramble here to get it out

Madeleine has been my fav since I got back into cookie run and when I would try to look for fanart of him in 2020 to early 2021 it was almost completely full of fetishy and hyper masculine depictions of Madeleine, usually paired with a hyper fem and crazy sexualized version of espresso, which always made me super uncomfortable and disappointed because they were completely twisted versions of the characters

Now obviously I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with drawing a character hyper fem or hyper masc (I do it lol) but when it’s done to fit a fetishized version of the characters is when it becomes really uncomfortable and gross to me, and back in early crk fandom this version of madeleine was EVERYWHERE and it killed me I hated seeing him watered down to masc dom top it was so gross and so far removed from his actual character. I’ll be honest the espresso side was much worse I’m very sorry for the espresso fans that had to go through watered down fem boy bottom espresso 😭

So when I started making and posting cookie run art I decided to lean towards madeleines more feminine traits, kinda as my own little retaliation in a way because I was sick of seeing him fetishized and sexualized all the time. Luckily now that the popularity has died down a bit I don’t see nearly as much fetishy stuff for him. And now I’ve seen a few more people also focusing on madeleines fem traits which makes me happy!

Though i am aware madeleine canonically isn’t super fem, despite how i draw him i personally think he’s pretty gender neutral with a fair share of masc and fem traits lol. I try to display this with giving him both fem and masc features though I’m not great at drawing men so sometimes it doesn’t read well haha

But all this to say being a TRUE madeleine fan in 2020-2021 was a struggle and I draw him fem because of it lol

[taldigi]

For Retransmission, I was curious about a few things and wanted to ask some questions, I hope you don't mind,

1. whats the dynamic between Teddie and rise? Mostly curious because they have a combo move together, but individually they seem super interesting to!

2. Speaking of, what are the combo moves between everyone like?

3. I was also reading some of your other posts and was curious about the 'fake romance route' for rise?

4. What's teddie like in general? From the way you've described him before, he sounds vastly different from the naive bear in canon.

Sorry if that's a lot of questions o> Retransmission is so cool, and the way you describe things is super fun to read :D

1) If Yu is busy being a mascot, then someone else has to be Sensei-

2) Thats a bit further ahead than I've thought! LMAO! Uhh, Naoto - Yukiko's is them both going for the same shadow, butting heads, and fighting each other while the shadow that got targeted gets swept up in the fight cloud. The others? Not sure yet.

3) Ai Ebihara has a fake romance route, where getting together too early ends in a breakup. Same for RT!Rise.

4) Ted's a tough one. Ted's lonliness and immaturity are cornerstones of his personality- and while in canon it's due to him being a shadow- this is a human teddie who's had plenty of socialization. So those two cornerstones need to come from his role as a child star and his his loss of "self" to his myriad of roles he's fulfilled as an actor.

All good! I love questions, it's fun and lets me stretch and explore my AUs more than I would on my own LOL!

[peppermintquartz]

Chris opens the door and embraces Deacon in a warm welcome. He hugs her back with one arm, the other holding flowers and a case of beer. It feels almost like old times.

"It's been too long, man," she chides. "Come on in. Street's so excited, he's gone out to get this amazing tiramisu we found on one of our dates."

"You didn't have to go to that much trouble," Deacon says, smiling. "Oh that smells great."

"My aunt gave me a surefire chili recipe. We've tested it several times, it's definitely good."

"And you look good. How's everything? The shelter doing okay?"

"Yeah," says Chris. "Thanks to Nichelle, I got in touch with some sympathetic ears and they've been super generous, and I've been able to find a steady roster of volunteers. Plus, with our rep, we're left alone for the most part, and anyone trying anything gets warned off fast by the ones running the block."

Deacon makes a face. "Not sure if that's the safest way to go about things."

"Gotta work both sides of the law now," Chris says with a shrug. Deacon means well but he's still a straight white man who has always lived in privilege. "But my girls are all on the straight and narrow. I've fourteen of them with me, and six have found sponsors to help them to get work permits, which will help with getting full documentation. I'm helping another two cooperate with police because they were smuggled here after being sold by their parents for cash, and the rest... well, we'll get there." She grimaces before grinning. "Sorry. I get excited talking about my work."

"No, no it's good. I'm happy for you." Deacon hands her the colorful bouquet and the beer. "It's great that you found your purpose."

Thanking him for the gifts and rummaging around for a vase or jug for the flowers, she asks, "So how come you're here alone? I was under the impression that it'll be you and Annie. Wine?"

"Water, please. I'm driving." Deacon sits down in one of the chairs around the dining table. She wonders what he notices about the place on his second visit. It's a cozy apartment, despite the industrial elements; she especially likes the new potted herbs Street has insisted upon, even though neither of them can tell a cabbage from a lettuce.

"I, uh, I wanted to chat with you, actually. Not, not chat." Deacon says as he rubs his wedding ring. "I want your advice on something that I need you to keep secret."

An odd feeling tickles the back of her neck. She sits down in the chair beside him, wondering if she should hold her friend's hand. "Sounds serious."

"I think it is." He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly, like he's planning to dive into the deep end of a pool. "Chris, how and w-when did you know you're bisexual?"

Chris' eyebrows shoot up. That is definitely not a question she was expecting. "Uh. Okay. For me, I was fifteen and really into a boy, a classmate." Enrique Garcia, she recalls, lean and athletic with the cutest freckle on his right cheek, with a shoulder-length mop of gleaming dark curls. "And then, one day, I met him and his older sister Alina at the mall. She was really nice when we talked and my mind kinda went a little insane thinking how pretty she was and how much I'd love to kiss her."

"And that was... That was how you knew?"

She shrugs. "Some reading up and some very confusing dreams later, I kinda figured it out." She angles her head and studies Deacon. "Are you...?"

"Fifteen, wow." Deacon chews on his lower lip. The tips of his ears are red and he can't meet her eyes. "Maybe I'm too old for this."

"You met someone who's causing you to question everything you knew about your sexuality?"

He ducks his head, still fiddling with his wedding ring. "Yes," he admits quietly. "And I know, I know it's not good, I'm married and I have Annie, it's just really..."

Chris smiles and holds his forearm. "Confusing."

"So confusing," Deacon agrees with a brief chuckle. His voice sounds so unsure and lost that it's disorienting for Chris. That isn't the Deacon she has known for the past decade. "Annie is the perfect woman for me. Like, once I met her and got to know her, I knew she was the one I wanted to marry and have a family with. And I thought that was it. That that is all I would ever need or want."

"But now you've met someone. Some guy."

Ducking his head, Deacon bites his lip and shakes his head. "I'm over fifty, Chris. I shouldn't be having sexuality crises at this age. But, yes. I met some guy."

"He's that special, huh." Chris hopes she doesn't sound judgmental. Having been through this with her own family, she feels for him. And a part of her feels honored that someone she respects so much will choose to come out to her. "Am I the first to know?"

"Yes." He clears his throat. "I never thought I would be interested in a man like that. And yet... I feel happy whenever I see him. I worry about him at work. I hear a song on the radio and it'll remind me of him."

There's something that Deacon is hiding. After so many years as a cop and now helping scared women, she's learned to read between the lines.

Still holding his forearm, she says, "Thanks for trusting me with this, Deac. I'm so honored by your trust."

He sniffs and finally looks at her, his eyes dewy with a hint of tears. "Chris, am I bisexual?"

"You could be," she says. "I can't answer for you. I'm not some mind reader for queer people. You might be attracted to women in general and one guy in particular, and that's normal. Sexuality is a spectrum and the great thing is, you get to define yourself. It may feel overwhelming-"

"Understatement of the year."

"-but I can point you in the direction of some websites or resources you can refer to. Don't be surprised if any are angled at teens, though. Most people who are questioning tend to be young."

"Unlike this old geezer," Deacon jokes weakly. She squeezes his forearm as she grins, then lets go of him.

"You're never too old to learn new tricks, Deac." Taking a deep breath, Chris leans closer and says, "I'm gonna ask something that may be invasive, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but you may feel better if you do."

Deacon sighs like he knows what's coming and looks at her.

"Are you seeing this guy?"

The guilt that flickers over Deacon's face tells Chris enough.

"Oh, Deac..." She pulls him into a hug.

"I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to know about that," he murmurs.

She squeezes him and pulls back enough to smile at him. "I'm your friend, Deac. But you know you can't have him."

He nods, pressing his lips tightly together. "I know. I wish... I don't know what I wish. But Chris... Chris, I'm so happy when I'm with him." There's a waver in his voice. "I didn't know that I could even be this happy with anyone."

Not even with Annie.

The words are not said, but she hears them as clear as day. She hugs him again.

They hear the keys jingle and Deacon straightens, rubbing his thumb and index finger over his eyes while clearing his throat.

"Hey, Deacon!" Street comes in with an insulated bag and Chris stands up to welcome him with a kiss. His dimples deepen and his eyes light up. "Hey babe. Deac, come here, bring it in."

Deacon smiles and hugs Street. The mask has fallen back in place over Deacon's face and Chris makes sure hers is present too.

"I'll go plate up dinner," she says with a smile, kissing Street again as she passes him and takes the tiramisu from his hands, leaving the two men to catch up. Deacon won't tell Street what he told her; that's not the friendship they have, and she knows he trusts her not to tell anyone what he's revealed to her.

It's not her secret to tell, and Deacon will need time. He'll do the right thing, she's sure. She only hopes he figures out what the right thing for him will be.

[kyojurotrans]

ELTINGVILLE CLUB INSERT MOMENT !!

hi, presenting my silly fella here too, his name is alejandro and he’s a goth NOT affiliated with the eltingville club, he has his own club. it’s a little extensive to resume his whole backstory so I’ll concentrate on how his relationship began with bill, who he met one day he was roller skating at the street and the boys were rolling their dices in the middle of the road, this caused alejandro to trip over and provoke for their dices to end up in the sewer; of course bill started insulting him along with the group, but he was the louder one and who caught alejandro’s attention, fighting back. the second time a new spiderman issue came out, the planet of the symbiotes, ale as a spiderman fan saved money to buy it, he entered joe’s store and noticed the last copy of the issue was prettily positioned on the shelf, once examining it closely he felt a hand on his shoulder asking him harshy to not buy it since he wanted it to himself, guess who it was? obviously, william alan dickey being an annoying little bitch, anyways alejandro ends up getting it and bill gets super pissy about it.

finally, their third encounter was at a blockbuster, bill wanted to rent the star wars trilogy, browsing the sci-fi shelf he looked up and noticed alejandro right in front of him just a few centimeters away, his face focused on the cover of ‘wes craven’s new nightmare’ (he loves horror movies), to resume bill starts walking behind him yelling at him that he stole his precious comic but then notices the tape on his hand, to which his attention picks up and starts getting interested in alejandro; a few weeks later their situationship starts and both suffer for the other cuz they’re stupid.

thanks to anyone reads this, if someone does !

silly thing also, creds in the image :-)

if you wanna know more about my silly creature just ask me in my inbox I suppose !

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 20: Wrongful Perceptions [A5]

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Continuation of: Prompt 1. December Moon [A1], Prompt 5. Open Doors [A2], Prompt 11. Out Of Reach [A3], Prompt 17. Truthful Longing [A4]

A/N: It’s Christmas time! Well, at least over her. Mom’s arriving any minute now and I’ve done a shift at the library today as well. Tomorrow the first Christmas celebration will go off and I’m super excited - stressed, yes, very much, but excited 😂👍 I hope you’re having an amazing Friday (or whatever day it is you’re reading this) and that you’re ready for some more Brandon love! 😍👏❤

Tags/TW’s: Not really any tags or warnings for this fic, I’m not sure how to tag it but there’s some angst, some mentions of the previous panic attack, some miscommunication (not between MCs) and a wild blurting of feelings 😅

Word Count: 1.4k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Wrongful Perceptions

“Are you certain I shall not ready the carriage?” Christopher asked as I adorned a heavy cloak smelling of him. “Marrygold will take me home. I am fond of riding.” “Then I shall ride with you.” “You will?” He nodded at my words and a butler stepped up with his coat and top-hat in hand. “Thank you, Peter.” “Master,” the butler replied as Christopher dressed for the cold. “I shall delay lunch,” the butler continued and Christopher nodded.

As the doors opened, a gust of icy wind whipped across my face. Two stable boys stood at the end of the stairs holding each of our horses. I glanced at Christopher, he had already planned to come with me it seemed. “Do not look at me with such judgement, Calliope.” “You ought to practice on your perception of my, what did you call it, expressive features?” “Is that so?” he asked with a smile as we walked down the stairs. “I am not judging, I am thankful to you…”

We fell into silence after that. The winds howling and Marrygold’s pleased snort took over as I grabbed her reins. A saddle had been strapped to her, not that I needed one, but it was proper. “Which way?” I asked as Delaford had been an unknown location to me before the turn of events that led me here. “North-east,” Christopher said. “North if we take the forest route, which is quicker.” “North it is then.”

The wind dragged my hair loose, my gloved fingers chilled while gripping the reins as we galloped between trees — Christopher and his steed close behind me. He called directions now and then, yet my mind lay not with our destination but the estate we were leaving. It would become my home should father agree to our hasty marriage.

I pulled on the reins while leaning back, halting Marrygold to a standstill with a neighing, and Christopher came to a stop beside me. I panted, my mind raced and that dreadful feeling of panic surfaced.

“Dear, are you fairing?” His words went passed me as hasty as the wind. “Calliope?” he asked, and came up right next to me, laying a hand atop my trembling one. “This is wrong,” I whispered. Shame marring my thoughts as I realised we had no dowry to offer, soon not an estate or coin to our name and it would drag my heart’s treasure down in the eyes of society.

“Summer sky,” he said, squeezing my hand. “The only thing wrong is your lack of enthusiasm at the moment. Have you… Are you regretful of accepting me?” “No! Christopher, lord no,” I said, guilt building within me. “But I am no match worthy of you.” “My heart has spoken, even if you had been a maid I would have asked for your hand. I am too old to trifle with my own heart, too gone in years and too seasoned to give society or propriety any thought in matters they have no say in.” “Oh, Christopher…” “As it is, you are from an esteemed family, with a grand legacy and a name worth something in the eyes of society. None of it matters, but your heart.” “Grand legacy… It will soon be gone.” “No, my dear. It will soon be entwined with mine and you shall want for nothing.”

⁛•⁛

The doors swung open before my feet hit the ground. “Calliope!” Father shouted while running down the stairs. “Where have you been?!” he continued and swept me into his arms. The gaping hole of the open doors held my gaze as I remembered the horrible sensation I had experienced of them wanting to swallow me and the grand room beyond expanding around me before plummeting toward me. A trick of the mind, of course, but no less terrifying.

“Father, I’m alright,” I said as he squeezed me tightly. “Where have you been? Why would you leave in such abandon?” he asked as he stepped back and took hold of my upper arms. His eyes lingered on the golden rope keeping the heavy cloak tied around my neck. Then he seemed to find himself, and propriety. along with etiquette in one swoop as Christopher dismounted his horse with a thud.

“Father, I have great news.” Father looked to my right where Christopher now stood. “Colonel Brandon?” he asked. “Indeed, sir. I had the good fortune of finding your daughter on my estate.” “At Delaford? My Calli, what—” I smiled, wishing to soothe the wrinkles of worry from his forehead. “It is a long story, but we have news, Father. Shall we take up the parlour?” I asked, and Father nodded while muttering a string of agreeing words and inviting Christopher in.

After disrobing, we entered the west parlour on the second floor. Christopher had walked close by my side while Father had led the way two steps ahead. I had paled during the ascent of the stairs. Only yesterday had I bolted down them in a rush of panic. Things were different now, yet the remnants remained.

We were served tea by Miss Abel, then Christopher and I found ourselves seated on the sofa while Father sat in one of the three chairs. “So, news you say?” he asked. I nodded, glancing at the man beside me for a second. “Good news. You will have a wed daughter.” Father spluttered into his teacup. “A marriage? What— When— Who have managed to capture you, my Calli?” he asked; as if the man sitting next to me was not evidence enough. “You have a nephew, Colonel Brandon?” he continued, his eyes going between us both — utterly confused it seemed.

Christopher chuckled. “No, sir.” “Then, I am at a loss.” I nearly rolled my eyes. “Father, I shall marry the colonel,” I declared and Father shot out of the chair as if it had burned his behind. “The what?” “The colonel, Colonel Brandon,” I clarified while laying a gentle hand on his strong thigh, not sure what to make of Father’s reaction. Should he not be jubilant?

Father dropped his teacup. It shattered atop the thin rug. “Father!” I called out, instantly on my feet. “What have I forced you to do,” he murmured, looking at me with an ache in his usually happy eyes. “You are my beautiful Calliope, your mother’s spitting image, a soulful being of joy and poetry. What have I forced you to—” “Father,” I interrupted harshly as the man he spoke so off-puttingly about had risen next to me.

I turned, laying my hands on Christopher’s chest — his heart pounded beneath my right palm. Looking up, I found eyes of sorrow once more looking down at me. “I shall find a solution to your dire situation,” he murmured, his voice held taut by pain. “I am not agreeable, it seems…” He smiled most softly, a half smile, a sad smile, a painful ordering of his handsome features. “No, please,” I whispered. “I shall find a solution for you.” He turned toward Father while grabbing my wrists to lower my hands before he fully twisted himself to slightly bow his head toward the wide-eyed, shocked man. “Lord Haymnick, thank you for your time. I return your daughter in a better state than I found her.”

That was it.

Father blinked, I tried to grab Christopher's arm but he moved out of the room swiftly in harsh strides. “Father!” I shouted, rounding the table and snagging myself on my own dress. “How could you?!” He blinked, seeming dazed. “What? My Calli, you cannot marry a man so—” “So what? Caring? Gentle? Kind? What?! He’s the best man I have ever met and I cannot hide a single thought from him! I cannot lie to him, I cannot stop myself from thinking about him!” “He could be my brother, for goodness sake.” “So? That has never stopped any marriage before. And he could not be your brother, he’s—” “Calliope, please, I have several good suitors for you on hand, you don’t need to—”

I snarled, frustration leaking out of me while I fought myself not to run after Christopher. “I want to marry him! I— Father, my heart is screaming for the man you just spoke so terribly about. You—! I was told to marry before the end of the year, and marry I shall, but I will marry none other than Christopher!” “But, but Calli, he’s—” “Wonderful!” I shouted, stomping toward the door after having lost the battle to run after him. “He saved me, in every way possible and I will marry him. Not because it is necessary, or because of the fraud you’ve spun. I will marry him because I… I am falling in love with him.” I grabbed my dress, and heaved a frustrated breath that had my nostrils flaring, as I glared at my gaping father before readying myself to run after the man I could not lose. Again...

To Be Continued...

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: GAAAAAH - Father, what have you done you nincompoop?! Thank goodness we get the next part of this already tomorrow - hehehe 😘

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @dontwanttobeanamercanidiot @sunnylikesfrogs @dianilaws @snapesno1thighrider @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @cherihan @poetry-and-tea @evans23 @mamawolfsmith87 @snapesrn @severussimp @slyckman @liv2post @clawsthecactus @goldenglowwoman @sunset90 @meliabrandon @snapesrn @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @thatlittlefangirl @sanji-simp @ankhmutes @lessdepressy @snapesrn @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you!

[bambihrt]

Christmas in Hell

a very hazbin christmas, full of joy, cheer and a party for the ages

Alastor x reader

Reader needs the perfect gift for Angel Dust but has to ask a certain someone for help. Just a little fluffy holiday special.

You would think after death the holidays wouldn't be very important. In hell, especially you would think since they're not big fans of the big guy in charge that they wouldn't celebrate a certain someone's birth. Well Charlie Morningstar was not going to let those facts ruin her super-duper fantastical holiday party.

Christmas Eve

Despite the lack of Christmas spirit Angel Dust was booked and busy letting Santa come down the chimney in a few special videos to be released the next day. Even though his stocking was being filled early you, as his best friend, were stressing over the perfect gift to get him.

Earlier in the week, Charlie has gathered everyone in the hotel to the main space where she had set up a giant tree that reached the ceiling. Charlie and her partner Vaggie, covered in pine needles and wearing lumberjack clothing, held Husk's hat full of folded slips of paper open for the circle.

"Hiiiii everyone! Hope you're all merry and ready for a fun group bonding exercise!" Charlie began.

She was met with loud groans and signs. "Shut up and listen to Charlie she put a lot of work into this," Vaggie huffed with rage.

"Thanks Vaggie. Anyways, I've set up a secret Santa for everyone to- HEAR ME OUT OKAY yes so you'll choose a name and then on Christmas we'll swap gifts and it will be so fun!" Charlie explained while passing the hat along and giggling and staring you down when she picked a piece of paper.

Since you had died quite young, your family hadn't make it to Hell yet or they made are in the place above, so you haven't celebrated since making your way to the after life, so this sounded like fun. But you couldn't resist a playful eye roll as you chose your paper reading Angel Dust to yourself.

Husk groaned while picking from his hat and then placing it on his head, "I thought through death I escaped obligatory in-law get togethers but now I have this shit."

Fast forward back to present day you were still stuck on what you could get him. Adult toys? No give him a break from work. Drugs? Not that you want to encourage that habit. Nifty had been no help when you asked. Muttering on about bad boys and cleaning. You didn't bother with asking Husk. Sir Pentious was still being coached on the whole secret Santa concept. Vaggie and Charlie had too many good ideas but none felt right for Angel Dust. This left you with only one option.

Knocking twice on the radio demon's door, your face twisted with instant regret and immediately started back down the hallway. "Leaving so soon? Now here I was thinking you saved the best for last." The gaze of his knowing smile burned the back of your head as you swiveled around.

"Sorry Alastor it was stupid idea I'll leave you to do... whatever you were doing."

"Nonsense my dear! Why I'd be happy to help my favorite guest with a gift for a certain effeminate fellow!"

"How did you-"

Alastor let out his practiced laugh, "Discretion is not one of your strengths (y/n)."

Your cheeks set alight hearing Alastor call you by your first name, no pet name or teasing nicknames. He held the door open and you avoided his gaze while leading inside. The great radio demon sauntered over to his large cherry wood desk inside his room and sat in a leather cushion maroon chair. Due to the lack of seating options, you hovered near the edge of his bed while le smiled and motioned for you to take a seat with a teasing glint in his eye.

Mustering up the courage to break the silence you asked, "I thought you didn't allow visitors inside your room."

Twiddling with his microphone cane Alastor responded, "I can make exceptions."

"I don't have any VoxTek on me by the way. Just in case you wondered."

A sound came from him, almost like a real giggle but you must of been mistaken. "I know (y/n)."

"Well since you seem to know everything what would be the perfect gift for Angel Dust that will show I'm a wonderful friend?"

"I can only give you hints, would spoil the game if I told you."

You groaned and fell back against the bed. Of course coming to Alastor was a mistake. As if an overlord would want to help silly you buy a silly gift for a silly holiday.

"Cheer up dearie! You're closer to the answer then you might think."

Eyebrows furrowed and dread he might make a fool of you, you asked him for the first hint.

"Something to do with your weekly film Friday events perhaps?"

"It's actually called freaky Friday because of our shared love of movies from the noughties." You said with a cheeky grin. "Angel also loves a dirty joke whenever it's possible to have one."

"Ah yes you, the spider ,and the swine all cuddled together in your matching pajamas on the settee watching princess makeovers and assistant makeovers and-"

"Hey it's more than just makeovers!" However, the comment gave you an idea, "Oh my god what if I get him a Fat Nuggets blanket?"

A round of applause played while Alastor called out "Ding ding! We have a winner!"

Letting out a sheepish smile and thank you, you rose from the bed ready to search for a way to get this made by the end of the day. Then a perfectly wrapped gift appeared in front of your face and dropped into your hands. Your head whipped in the direction of the smiling demon across the room.

"Is this what I think it is? How did you have it already?"

"I know you."

With a flushed face and full arms you made your way out of the room and through the doorway. Only halfway through the walk to your bedroom did you realize Alastor knew of your movie nights and took note of the matching pajamas. The radio demon noticed you.

Christmas Day

A giant fire roared in the hearth as bells rung and music played around the hotel. Excitement filled the air as the originally dismissive group exchanged gifts to each other. You and Angel Dust hung together watching the others until you announced you had something for him.

"Aw (y/n) you're my secret Santa?"

You snatched the Santa hat off Angel Dust's head in embarassment and placed it on your own as you laughed, "Had to get something for my ho ho hoe."

After a fit of giggles said spider unwrapped his gift and his eyes lit up, "If you had a dick I'd suck it so hard right now thank you doll."

Christmas was a success and you could finally breathe a sigh of relief and a laugh at your best friend's words as he snuggled himself within the blanket along with its muse in his lap.

Charlie rose up to give her gift as you prepared yourself with being thankful and happy no matter what she gave you. Until she turned to Nifty with a gift that turned out to be a new dress for her. Filled with confusion you swore to Angel that you thought Charlie got you due to her obviousness. Then the young Morningstar turned again to look above you and smiled so brightly.

Both yours and Angel Dust moved to see what she was smiling at behind you only to be face to face, or well chest, of the radio demon. Grinning down at you with his hands behind his back he laughed and said, "Happy Christmas from your secret Santa."

"What? I thought for sure it was Charlie."

"We struck a sort of deal," Alastor explained while behind your back Charlie gave a thumbs up as the rest of the crew stopped to watch.

The gift was handed to you as you carefully unwrapped it, conscious of all the eyes currently on you or rather what a scary overlord has given you as a gift. Inside was a beautifully crafted music box with carvings of your favorite flowers and sculptures of little deer in a meadow. You opened the box and your ears are met with an instrumental version of your favorite song.

"How did you-"

"Like I said I know you (y/n)."

Suddenly Charlie's voice bellowed, "Look who's under the mistletoe!" As if you couldn't be any more red from this interaction you now looked up to see that very mistletoe above you and Alastor. Your facial expression fell realizing this was going to be so awkward, being rejected in front of everyone despite it not being caused by you. Full of thoughts on how to escape or come up with a nonchalant response to not even being wanted for one measly peck and planning when you'll disappear to nurse your ego, you were distracted from the real world. That was until a pair of lips met your own in a soft yet hungry kiss. The moment felt like eternity yet also a millisecond at the same time. Before you could return the kiss, the deer demon pulled back and with a wink, walked away.

Shocked faces and silence filled the room as no one expected Alastor's actions. Lightly touching your lips, you thought maybe Christmas in Hell isn't so bad.

[nevernonline]

✧.* pancakes for dinner; svt smau

chapter 11; late night talking (written)

synopsis: y/n while in her third year at greenwood international university finally gets an opportunity to move off campus into a new complex, she has to deal with the realization that her childhood rival is her new next door neighbor.

 paring: seungcheol x fem! reader. 

feat: non-idol! svt,  other passing idols ykyk.

genre/s: reader is super oblivious, fluffy, sexual themes. 

content: swearing, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

updates: weekly

word count: 7.7k. (written part in-between two sets of texts)

tag list - open

masterlist ▸ 10. cute undies ▸ 12. boo’s big bash

Finally exiting from the bathroom after her multiple deep breaths and compilations on why she agreed to sit across from her what some would call nemesis. Y/N dropped into the chair across from him, her movements sharp, deliberate. She crossed her legs and draped her jacket over the back of the chair, as though marking her territory. The gin martini she had begrudgingly ordered sat untouched in front of her.  

Seungcheol leaned back in his seat, the picture of ease. His arm rested casually along the back of his chair, his other hand nursing his drink. That maddening smirk hadn’t left his face, like he was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of her reluctantly sitting across from him.  

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm, “what made you change your mind? The drink? My charm? Or were you just dying for my company?”  

Y/N arched an unimpressed brow. “Don’t flatter yourself. I came over because you don’t seem to understand boundaries. Consider this my final act of mercy before I block you everywhere.”  

Seungcheol chuckled, the sound low and warm, as though her words were the punchline of a joke only he understood. “Harsh, but fair. I guess I’ll take what I can get.”  

He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. Y/N hated how effortlessly magnetic he was, how he could command a room—or in this case, her attention—without even trying. It was infuriating.  

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharp. “You seem awfully proud of yourself for someone who’s clearly losing.”  

“Losing?” His smirk deepened, and he leaned forward just slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “You’re the one who walked over here, Y/N. I’d say that’s a win for me.”  

The way he said her name made her want to both glare at him and look away, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of either. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, mirroring his earlier posture, and folded her arms across her chest.  

“Don’t read too much into it,” she said coolly. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t order me another unwanted drink. Bartenders have better things to do than play delivery boy for your ego.”  

He laughed again, and this time it was louder, unrestrained. The sound was warm, genuine, and entirely at odds with how much he irritated her. “You really don’t hold back anymore, do you? I like that about you.”  

“I’m not here for you to like me,” she shot back.  

His expression softened, just for a moment, and she thought she caught a flicker of something sincere beneath his playful facade. “Maybe not. But you’re here. That counts for something.”  

She rolled her eyes, breaking the brief intensity of the moment. “Don’t push your luck.”  

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, though his tone suggested the exact opposite.  

For a few beats, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t entirely hostile either. The sounds of the bar filled the space between them: the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the soft strains of jazz.  

Eventually, Seungcheol broke the silence. “So, what’s got you sitting alone in a bar tonight?”  

Y/N hesitated. She didn’t owe him an answer. But there was something disarming about the way he asked, like he genuinely wanted to know, like he wasn’t just making small talk.  

“It’s really none of your business, but in the spirit of trying to be nice to you. I just felt like it, simple as that.” she said finally, though her voice lacked the edge it usually carried.  

He didn’t push, didn’t pry. Instead, he nodded, as if her non-answer was enough. “Fair. All your friends were busy, huh? I get it. Me too.”  

Another silence settled between them, but this time, it felt different—less like a standoff and more like a truce.  

“You know,” Seungcheol said after a moment, his tone lighter, almost teasing, “you’re a lot more interesting when you’re not trying so hard to be intimidating.”  

She shot him a withering look, but there was no real heat behind it. “And you’re a lot less interesting when you talk.”  

He laughed again, and she hated how much she didn’t hate the sound of it.  

The conversation carried on like that—sharp, sarcastic, and laced with an undercurrent of something neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Y/N still didn’t trust him, and she still found him insufferable. But for the first time, she started to wonder if there was more to him than the cocky facade he wore so well.  

By the time she checked her phone and its unread texts, her martini was empty, and she hadn’t blocked his number.  

“You’re letting me off easy tonight,” Seungcheol said, leaning back in his chair with that same infuriating grin.  

“Don’t get used to it,” she replied, her voice as sharp as ever but, she caught herself smiling—just barely—and that annoyed her more than anything.  

“You’re not a regular here, are you?” Seungcheol asked, swirling the last remnants of his drink.  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curling up in challenge. “Why do I not look the part?”  

“It’s not that exactly,” he said, smirking. “You seem more like the type who spends your time in your room, like all your high school nights at home, organizing your planner instead of, you know, being out and about.”  

Her jaw dropped, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I unfortunately know you know what I was like in high school.”  

“I do know,” he said smugly, leaning forward a bit. “You were the girl who always had perfectly color-coded notes and freaked out if someone borrowed her highlighters without asking.”  

“That is—” she began, then stopped, narrowing her eyes. “Okay, that might be true. But don’t act like you didn’t benefit from those notes. If I recall correctly, you borrowed them more than once.”  

Seungcheol grinned, shameless. “What can I say? You had great handwriting, and I had zero fucking interest in Chemistry.”  

“Right, and I’m supposed to believe you actually read through them,” she teased.  

“I did!” he said, feigning indignation. “Well, I skimmed them. Look, it’s not my fault that equations are boring.”  

Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You were the worst. Always showing up to class five minutes late, acting like you’d just conquered some heroic quest just to make it there. And the worst part is everyone ate it up.”  

“First of all,” Seungcheol interjected, holding up a finger, “those five minutes were essential. Do you know how hard it is to grab coffee and make it across campus in that short amount of time?”  

“Heroic, truly,” she said dryly.  

“And second,” he continued, ignoring her sarcasm, “admit it—you loved it. You were always so fucking serious, someone had to keep things interesting.”  

She scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “I was serious because someone had to be. While you were busy sneaking out of class, I was doing what I thought I had to do to be successful.”  

“Oh, come on,” he said with a playful grin. “It wasn’t that bad. I did my part… sometimes.”  

“Bare minimum,” she shot back. “And don’t think I forgot about that time you tried to pass off Wikipedia as a ‘credible source’ for our History project.”  

He laughed, a low, warm sound that made her stomach flip despite herself. “What can I say? I knew you’d catch it. Why do all the work when I have a perfectionist in my corner?”  

“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re really selling yourself here, Seungcheol.”  

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “And yet, here you are, sitting across from me. Funny how that works.”  

Y/N rolled her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re insufferable.”  

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But admit it—I made high school a little less boring for you.”  

She hesitated, then sighed dramatically. “Fine. A little.”  

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he said, grinning.  

“Don’t let it go to your head, it’s big enough” she warned.  

“I make no promises,” he replied smoothly.  

She shook her head, laughing softly. “Okay, so if you were the ‘bare minimum’ guy back then, what about now? Have you finally mastered the art of being responsible?”  

“Define ‘responsible,’” he said, smirking.  

“Right, I know that answer,” she said, laughing. “And it’s no.”  

“And you?” he shot back. “Still the same overachiever who used to rewrite her essays three times before turning them in?”  

“Of course not,” she said, lifting her drink with mock dignity. “Now I only rewrite them twice.”  

Seungcheol laughed again, the sound bright and easy. “Classic Y/N.”  

“You’re one to talk,” she teased. “Let me guess—still winging it through life and somehow making it work? Pretending to be perfect in front of Daddy Warbucks.”  

“Hey, don’t knock it,” he said, grinning. “It’s a system.”  

“A questionable one,” she said, shaking her head.  

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But it got me here, didn’t it?”  

Their laughter softened, and for a moment, the teasing gave way to something warmer. The weight of shared history lingered between them, a connection neither of them could deny.  

“You know,” he said after a beat, his tone more thoughtful, “I always wondered what you’d be like now. If you’d still get flustered when someone borrowed your highlighters.”  

Y/N tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “And?”  

“And you’re not so different,” he said, leaning back. “Maybe a little sharper. But still you.”  

She raised her glass, her eyes meeting his. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”  

“It was meant to be one,” he said, his grin softening.  

The bartender called last call, breaking the moment. As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Seungcheol glanced over at her, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.  

“It’s late,” he said casually. “You headed back to the building?”  

Y/N nodded, pulling her coat tighter around herself. “Yeah, unless you’ve got a better plan.”  

He smirked. “I might. But considering we’re both heading to the same place, how about I walk you back? Purely out of neighborly concern, of course.”  

She arched an eyebrow, fighting a smile. “Neighborly concern, huh? I didn’t realize you were such a gentleman.”  

“Don’t let it ruin my reputation,” he said with mock seriousness, stepping to her side as they began walking down the quiet, dimly lit street.  

The night was crisp, and their breaths puffed in the air as they walked. For a while, the conversation stayed light—comments about the weather, a random observation about the neon sign flickering on a nearby storefront. But as they turned onto the quieter road leading to their building, Y/N glanced at him, her lips twitching with amusement.  

“So, I have to ask,” she began, the playful edge returning to her voice.  

“Uh-oh,” Seungcheol said immediately, side-eyeing her. “That tone tells me I’m about to regret this walk.”  

“Oh, you will,” she said with a grin. “What did I hear about you and karaoke night last week?”  

He groaned, immediately scrubbing a hand down his face. “Oh, fuck. We have to talk about that?”  

“Let’s just say the campus gossip page is very thorough as well as Soony.” she said, biting back a laugh. “Apparently, you gave a very heartfelt performance. You really know how to piss people off, huh?”  

Seungcheol winced but quickly recovered, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “Ah, I was wondering how long it’d take for you to bring it up.”  

“And you weren’t going to apologize to me?” she asked, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Do you know how many people sent me screenshots? I thought my phone was going to explode.”  

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” he said, shrugging, “it wasn’t entirely true.”  

She blinked, confused. “Wait, so you didn’t actually sing the song?”  

“Oh, I definitely sang it,” he said with a grin. “The dedication part might’ve been exaggerated, though. I mean, I got dared to sing something cheesy. Your name just came up because someone thought it’d be funny to make it look like I was serenading you. Seungkwan definitely was less than pleased with me though, he told me to stop being so obsessed with talking about you.” 

Y/N narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth. “Uh-huh. And you just– what? Decided to ignore him?”   

“Not intentionally,” he said, grinning. “But, tequila and me don’t mix well I guess. I was, how do you say? Wasted?”  

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You’re fucking unbelievable. No wonder half the school thinks we’ve got some secret love-hate thing going on.”  

“Well, we do, don’t we?” he teased, nudging her lightly with his elbow.  

“That’s not helping your case,” she shot back, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.  

They walked a few more steps in companionable silence until a vibrant glow caught Y/N’s attention. A small bar down the street stood out, its bright neon sign flashing a rhythmic “OPEN” in a mix of blue and pink hues. She paused, the light reflecting in her eyes.

“Oh, I love this place,” she said suddenly, her tone lit with excitement. “The vibe, the music...”

Seungcheol followed her gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Never pegged you as the neon-bar type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore.” she shot back, her lips twitching into a grin.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head toward the glowing entrance, “can we change that? One more drink?”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” he said with a shrug, already steering her toward the door. “It’s not like you’re turning in early anyway. Unless you’re scared I’ll outdrink you.”

“Oh, please,” she said, scoffing. “You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

The inside of the bar was cozy, illuminated by dim, colorful lighting that gave it a laid-back yet electric atmosphere. A jukebox hummed in the corner, playing a soft rock track that Y/N immediately recognized. The tables were a mix of polished wood and eclectic barstools, each piece mismatched but fitting perfectly with the aesthetic.

Seungcheol ordered for them—another round. This time beer, considering the dive energy of Y/n’s secret sanctuary—and slid onto a stool beside her at the bar.

“So,” he began, turning slightly to face her. “What’s so great about this place? Nostalgia trip? Secret past I should know about?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just nice. A little out of the way, not too crowded. Good music, good vibes. Kind of like an escape.I just love that I can come here and not see anyone I know, just play pool, sit with myself.”

“An escape,” he echoed, his gaze softening slightly as he watched her. “Guess that makes sense. You always were the kind of person who found little spots like this.”

She gave him a curious look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grinned. “Back in high school, you had this thing for sitting in the weirdest fucking places—corners of the library, random spots on campus no one else even thought about. I used to wonder if you were plotting something.”

“Again, not a plotter,” she insisted, though the laugh in her voice betrayed her.

“Sure,” he drawled, leaning an elbow on the bar. “And what about that time during sophomore year when you climbed up on the gym roof because you said it ‘had the best view’?”

She blinked, heat rising to her cheeks. “How do you even remember that?”

“Oh, I remember a lot,” he said, smirking. “Like the way you used to doodle all over your notes, even during exams. Or how you’d always hum to yourself when you thought no one was listening. I noticed a lot about you.”

“Okay, stop,” she said, laughing as she hid her face in her hands. “I cannot believe you remember all that.”

“You and your weird ass habits are hard to forget,” he said simply, his voice dipping into something softer, more sincere.

She peeked at him from behind her hands, her heart skipping for just a second before she shook her head, deflecting the moment. “What about you, Mr. Star of the Basketball Team? You spent more time in fucking detention than class. Not exactly model-student behavior.”

“Detention builds character,” he quipped, raising his glass in mock pride.

Y/N leaned back in her seat, twirling her drink idly. Seungcheol eyed her with a playful smirk, tilting his head like he was sizing her up for a challenge.  

“So,” he started, his tone dripping with mock seriousness, “now that we’re being all civil and everything, I think it’s time I asked the hard-hitting questions.”  

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious but amused. “Hard-hitting? Like what? My favorite color?”  

“Please,” he scoffed, waving his hand dramatically. “I already know it’s blue.”  

She blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—how—”  

“Lucky guess,” he interrupted, grinning at her confusion. “Anyway, moving on. Let’s start with something juicier.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was about to uncover a deep secret. “What’s the deal with Mingyu?”  

Her eyebrows shot up. “Mingyu? What about him?”  

“Oh, come on,” Seungcheol said, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “You two are always hanging out. Laughing at your little inside jokes. Are you secretly dating him or something? I mean I did see him leaving your place”  

Y/N barked out a laugh, nearly spilling her drink. “Are you serious? Also what’s the concern?”  

“Hey, it’s a valid question,” he defended, though his grin betrayed his teasing. “The guy follows you around like a lost puppy half the time.”  

“He does not.” she protested, still laughing. “Mingyu’s just... Mingyu. He’s like a giant golden retriever. Sweet, chaotic, but no not together like that.”  

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, you’re saying he’s firmly in the friend zone?”  

“I guess,” she confirmed, taking a sip of her drink. “I think he might actually be more in love with testing my patience than anything else.”  

Seungcheol chuckled at that, nodding in agreement. “Okay, fair. But what about Hoshi?”  

Her face twisted in mock confusion. “Seriously? What about Soony?”  

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “He’s fun, kind of weird. Seems like the type to sweep someone off their feet with, like, a mating dance or some weird song he wrote in his bedroom.”  

“Stop,” Y/N groaned, laughing harder now. “Hoshi would absolutely cry at that description. He’s my go-to for chill movie nights and random deep conversations, but romantic? No way.”  

“Hmm.” Seungcheol tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, what you’re saying is... no secret boyfriends in your inner circle?”  

She gave him a flat look. “Why are you so fucking nosy about my love life?”  

“I’m just trying to piece together the puzzle that is the great Y/N,” he said, feigning innocence. “You know, fill in the blanks from all those years we spent arguing.”  

“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically, crossing her arms. “And what about you Mr. Investigator? Any secret girlfriends I should know about? Maybe one you should have been serenading at karaoke?”  

“Touché,” he said, raising his glass in mock surrender. “But for the record, no. I’m currently unattached, thank you very much.”  

“Oh, the ladies must be absolutely fucking devastated,” she quipped, smirking.  

“They’ll survive,” he shot back, smirking right back. “Besides, I’ve been too busy dealing with you lately.”  

She rolled her eyes, but the playful banter warmed her more than the drink in her hand. “Well, consider yourself lucky. Not everyone gets the privilege of my company.”  

“Oh, I know,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “And honestly? I think I’m starting to enjoy it.”  

The words hung in the air for a beat, his tone more sincere than she’d expected. She glanced at him, caught off guard but not entirely displeased.  

“Careful, Seungcheol,” she said, her voice lighter than she felt. “People might think we’re actually getting along.”  

“Maybe because we are,” he said simply, taking a sip of his drink.  

For a moment, the tension between them softened into something easier, something unspoken but understood. And as the jukebox switched to a new song, Y/N decided she didn’t mind the shift.  

Seungcheol took another sip of his drink, his eyes still on Y/N. There was something in the way the conversation had shifted, and for the first time, it felt like there was less of an edge between them.

“So,” he started again, a little quieter this time, “you really don’t think Mingyu’s into you?”

Y/N gave him a side-eye. “We’ve been over this like a thousand fucking times, Seungcheol. He’s not.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” he mused, leaning back in his chair, his grin returning, though it was less mischievous and more thoughtful. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. It’s like he’s trying to decide if he’s supposed to be looking at you like a friend or something... more.”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous,” Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “Mingyu would never. He’d rather trip over his own feet than admit something like that.”

Seungcheol’s gaze softened for a moment. “Are you sure about that?”

Her expression faltered for a brief second, before she shook her head. “Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, I wouldn’t want him to feel like he had to hide it. He’s one of my best friends. I’m not trying to complicate things.”

“I get that.” Seungcheol’s voice softened too, the tone carrying more sincerity than before. “Sometimes the simplest friendships get tangled when people start overthinking things. Kind of like how we were”

Y/N nodded, running a hand through her hair. “Exactly. And I like things the way they are. We all have enough drama to deal with without adding any more.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “True. Which is my fault. I’m sorry.” He tilted his head, eyeing her thoughtfully. “So, you’d never date someone from your friend group? Not even someone you’ve known for a while?”

Y/N looked at him sharply, her eyebrows furrowing. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me now? I thought we were past that.”

“No, no,” he said quickly, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m just curious. I mean, you’ve been surrounded by them for so long, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s ever crossed your mind.”

“Maybe,” she said, her eyes softening, “but even if it did, I’m not sure it’d be a good idea. Things would get complicated. People start taking sides, there’s awkwardness... I’m not about that.”

Seungcheol tilted his head. “So, you’re saying you’d never date someone like me?”

Y/N blinked, and her gaze shot to his face. “What?”

He leaned forward slightly, his grin playful again. “I mean, I’m not exactly the worst option. I’ve been known to be a pretty decent guy once you get past the sarcasm and the... well, the occasional obsession with bad jokes.”

Y/N’s lips twitched. “Wow, really selling yourself there, huh? And I tried that once, it ended so fucking poorly, you know it. So no, not a consideration.”

“Hey, I’ve got layers,” he replied, tapping his chest dramatically. “There’s more to me than meets the eye.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, her gaze narrowing slightly as she studied him. “You think you could handle me now? I’m not exactly an easy person to figure out anymore. You hurt my feelings so badly that this grudge has been lingering over us for a decade and you think I’d even consider you?”

“Please,” he said, waving her off. “I’ve been dealing with you for years. I know exactly what I’m getting into.” He smirked. “Or at least, I like to think I do. I know all of that was stupid and you don’t exactly know the full story I took accountability for it, I still feel fucking awful. You have to understand that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I do. But I don’t think you’ve ever exactly figured me out.”

“Sure, I’ve got you pretty figured out.” Seungcheol grinned, leaning closer again, his tone playful. “You’re a bit of a control freak, a perfectionist, but deep down, you’re a big fucking softie who just doesn’t want to admit it and you don’t want to admit you sort of like me..”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Wow, you really do think you have me figured out, don’t you?”

“I do.” He leaned back again, looking pleased with himself. “And if you ever decided to date someone like me... well, I think I could keep up with your charm.”

Y/N’s lips quivered at the corners as she shook her head. “You are a very bold drunk. But – Maybe you’re right. But for now, you’ll have to settle for being my most annoying nemesis.”

“Hey, I’m cool with that,” Seungcheol said, raising his glass with a wink. “You’re the most fun challenge I’ve ever had, times two.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and easy, and for a moment, she felt like the conversation had just returned to the usual playful banter they always had. But beneath the teasing, there was something different—something that lingered in the way they looked at each other, a quiet understanding that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as simple as they seemed.

“So,” Seungcheol said after a beat, breaking the silence with a teasing grin. “If you had to choose someone from the group, who would it be?”

Y/N considered him for a moment, then leaned forward. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll think about it if you do the same. Deal?”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s like that, huh? I guess we’ll see who cracks first.”

Y/N smirked. “I’ll be waiting. But no pressure.”

For a moment, the playfulness settled back in, but beneath the laughter and the teasing, the question hung in the air, unanswered but not unwelcome. 

Seungcheol glanced over at Y/N, a thought lingering in the back of his mind. He’d always been good at pushing things off, but tonight felt different. He couldn't keep skirting around this tension that had been there for years. They’d shared countless moments, laughed together, argued, but there was always something unresolved hanging between them, like a shadow that neither of them fully acknowledged.

He waved over the bartender. “Two more of the usual,” he said with a casual smile, though the weight of what he was about to say sat heavily in his chest.

Y/N didn’t notice the shift at first, still absentmindedly sipping her drink and watching the crowd. When the bartender returned with the fresh glasses, Seungcheol’s grin faded just a little. He set his glass down with more care than he usually did, then leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter than before, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it. Her gaze flicked to him, catching the change in his tone.

“What’s up?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Seungcheol hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. His usual teasing was nowhere to be found now. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down, gathering his thoughts. "I know we’ve had... our share of messes between us,” he began slowly, his words careful, each one weighed down with meaning. “And I know I’ve been... Well, definitely not the best sometimes. I’ve said things, done things that probably made you feel like I didn’t really care, or that I wasn’t worth the effort."

Y/N’s expression softened, though she remained quiet, listening. She could feel the tension rise again, but this time, it wasn’t the usual playful back-and-forth. It felt... real.

“I don’t know if this is the right time to bring it up, or the right place considering it’s a sanctuary for you,” Seungcheol continued, meeting her eyes now, his voice lower, more vulnerable than she’d ever heard it before, “but I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. About how we’ve been, and how I’ve been with you. And... I’m sorry. For all the stupid things I’ve said and done in the past that made things harder between us.”

Y/N blinked, taken off guard by the honesty in his voice. She opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a hand, shaking his head gently.

“No, wait. Please let me finish.” His voice was steadier now, more resolved. “I’ve always been kind of... blind, I guess. I thought I could keep things light, keep pushing, keep playing around with you. But the truth is, I’ve always respected you. I always thought you were way more than what I let on. And I think I took that for granted.” He leaned in, his voice a little more earnest. “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/N. But I want a chance to show you that I can be better. I can be someone who’s actually worth your time—whether that’s as a friend or something more. I don’t care what we have to go through, I just don’t want to leave things unfinished, or have this distance between us anymore. I want to be in your life. For real.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond. She could hear the weight in his words, the genuine apology. The teasing, cocky side of Seungcheol had been stripped away, leaving someone vulnerable and raw. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this—he had always been so confident, so in control. But now, there was no hiding the sincerity that poured out of him.

The silence stretched between them, and for a second, it felt like the whole world had paused.

Y/N looked at him, her heart racing. She’d spent so long guarding herself, pushing away feelings she didn’t want to deal with. But here he was, finally offering her the one thing she’d always wished for—the chance to start fresh, to move past the hurt and the misunderstandings.

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol nodded, his expression softening further. “Yeah, I am. And I know it’s probably too late to change everything that’s happened. But I don’t want you to think I’m just some guy who’s going to disappear all the time when it gets tough. I want to be here for you. I always have, in my own messed-up way. But I’m ready to try for real this time.”

Y/N swallowed, feeling the lump in her throat, fighting back the emotions threatening to spill over. “I... I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice shaky now. “It’s not at all easy for me to just forget everything. The way things have been between us even our parents are involved, our friends I mean... it's a lot.”

“I know,” Seungcheol said, his voice gentle. “I’m not asking you to forget. Just  to consider it. Consider giving me the chance to prove that I can be the person you need. I know I’ve messed up, and I know it might take time, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind racing. She’d been so focused on keeping things light, keeping him and everything at a distance. But in that moment, looking at him—seeing the vulnerability in his eyes—she realized maybe it was time to let go of the past. Maybe it was time to see what could happen if they didn’t keep pretending.

She exhaled slowly, the weight in her chest easing just a little. “Alright, Choi,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve got one, like literally, one fucking chance. Don’t mess it up.”

Seungcheol’s grin returned, but this time it wasn’t cocky—it was soft, relieved. “I won’t. I fucking swear.”"

For a moment, the air between them felt lighter, the tension that had always existed now dissipating into something... different. There was a quiet understanding, a mutual agreement to try, even if it wasn’t going to be easy.

Y/N stared at him for a second longer, her heart still thumping in her chest as the weight of the conversation settled. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

“Hey, Seungcheol,” she said, voice quieter now, tinged with something almost sheepish.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head, watching her closely.

She shifted in her seat, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her drink. “I just... I don’t think I can tell anyone about this. About us hanging out tonight. Or about... this.” She gestured between them, her eyes not meeting him. “They’ll call me a hypocrite.”

Seungcheol blinked, surprised. “What? Why?”

She let out a small sigh, frustration and amusement mixing. “Because for years, I’ve been the one telling them not to trust you, to keep their distance. And now... here I am, talking to you like we’re on the same page. They’ll never let me live it down.”

He frowned slightly, understanding finally dawning on him. “You really think they’ll be that harsh?”

Y/N shrugged. “Probably. They know I’ve never been shy about how I feel about you. It’s gonna look like I’m going back on everything I’ve said.”

Seungcheol leaned back, his expression softening as he processed her words. “Look, I get it. You’ve had your reasons to keep me at arm’s length. But you don’t have to keep everything a secret just because of them. You should do what feels right for you, not for what other people think.”

She met his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I know, I know. It’s just... it feels like I’d be betraying what I’ve always said. I’ve spent so long keeping things from getting too close, you know?”

“I get it,” Seungcheol said, nodding. “And I’m not asking you to do anything you’re not ready for. I’m not going anywhere, though. Whenever you’re ready to tell them, or not tell them, it’s up to you. Just don’t let it keep you from what you want.”

Y/N smiled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “Thanks, Seungcheol. I’m not sure what I want just yet... but I think I’m getting there.”

Seungcheol gave her a reassuring nod. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

As they sat there, the jukebox playing softly in the background, it was clear that this conversation wasn’t the end of anything, but maybe the beginning of something different. Something that neither of them had fully expected—but something they were both willing to explore. And even though Y/N wasn’t sure how to navigate the fallout with her friends, for the first time in a long while, she felt like she had someone on her side.

As they walked back into the night, the streets were quieter, the hum of the city fading into the background as the two of them walked side by side, the cool night air wrapping around them. The usual banter between them had settled into a comfortable silence, but there was something unspoken between them—something new. Neither of them had figured it all out yet, but tonight had cracked something open, and it wasn’t something they could ignore.

Seungcheol shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing over at Y/N, who was walking a little slower, lost in thought. “So,” he started casually, his voice lighter than before, “how exactly are we going to pull this off without everyone calling us out?”

Y/N let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I’m honestly still figuring that part out. Which is why I’m lost in my head. I don’t want to tell them we hung out. Not yet, anyway. They’ll just jump to conclusions, you know? Like they always do.”

“Yeah, they have a tendency to make things dramatic,” Seungcheol said, rolling his eyes. “But what, you’re just going to keep this all a secret? How long do you think we can get away with it?”

Y/N shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong. We’re just talking, right? But they won’t see it that way. And I don’t want to make things awkward if it all goes south.”

Seungcheol glanced at her sideways, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips. “You really think it’ll go south? Just because we decided to be honest for once?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “It could? But, I’ve spent so much time telling them how terrible you are, it’s going to look weird if I suddenly show up saying, ‘Hey, guess what, Seungcheol and I are actually cool now.’”

“Well, maybe it’s time to shake things up a bit,” Seungcheol said, nudging her with his elbow. “Who says you have to be predictable? Maybe they need to see a different side of me. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been all bad, right?”

Y/N let out a short laugh, glancing at him with a raised brow. “Oh, trust me, they know you have a charming side. Which really fucking bothers me. I don’t think they’d buy the whole us trying to be friends thing anyway, even if I did tell them.”

“I’m not saying we make a huge announcement,” Seungcheol said, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. “Maybe we should just keep it low-key for now. Just, let things develop naturally. No pressure.”

Y/N stopped walking for a moment, glancing at him. “I just feel bad, I guess. I know it's a lot to ask you to keep something like this quiet for who knows how long?”

He stopped too, meeting her gaze with a quiet intensity. “I get that. I’m not asking you to hide things for me, Y/N. I just don’t want things to be messy. We don’t have to tell anyone until we’re sure of where we stand. And if it does get weird, if we realize we’ve made a mistake  then we deal with it. Together.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then let out a quiet sigh, shoulders relaxing. “You make it sound simple. But I’m just not sure if I want to make everything complicated again.”

Seungcheol took a small step closer, his voice gentle now. “I’m not asking for us to dive into anything crazy. Just... give it a chance. We’ve been through too much for me to walk away now. And I’d rather have you in my life, even if it’s just as friends, than have things stay the way they’ve always been.”

Y/N stared at the ground for a second, thinking. He wasn’t pushing her, wasn’t demanding anything more than she was willing to give. But it was hard to ignore how much his words made her feel. The thought of letting someone in, really letting them in—without all the barriers and walls—was terrifying. But, for once, it felt like Seungcheol wasn’t trying to be the person who hurt her. Instead, he was offering something different.

Finally, she looked up, meeting his eyes. “Okay, fine. We’ll keep it quiet. Just for now. I’m not ready for everyone to know we’re friends or on the way to being friends whatever this is. But I’ll give it a shot. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a chance.”

Seungcheol grinned, a quiet triumph in his eyes. “Fair enough. No pressure. We can just take it one step at a time.”

They started walking again, the soft crunch of their footsteps on the pavement the only sound between them for a few moments.

“Honestly though,” Seungcheol said, glancing over at her with a playful glint in his eye, “I’m kind of excited to see how long we can keep this whole ‘secret friendship’ thing going.”

Y/N snorted, the tension between them easing further. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll have fun with that. Just don’t do anything stupid to blow it.”

“I won’t,” he replied, his grin widening. “You have my word.”

As they continued walking, the city’s lights flickering overhead, there was a sense of quiet understanding between them now—an unspoken agreement that this, whatever it was, wasn’t going to be easy. But for the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe it could be worth it.

And maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to be a secret forever.

As they reached the steps of their building, Y/N’s heart sank when she spotted a familiar figure approaching from the opposite direction. Yuqi was walking briskly toward them, her face glowing with the aftermath of what had clearly been an entertaining night. 

“Oh, no,” Y/N muttered under her breath, glancing at Seungcheol in alarm. “It’s Yuqi.”

“Yuqi?” Seungcheol repeated, his brows furrowing. “Like red headed Yuqi, Yuqi?”

“Yes,” Y/N hissed, already feeling the impending questions. “If she sees us together, she’s never going to let me live it down. She’ll have a thousand questions, and I’m not ready for an interrogation.”

Seungcheol’s eyes darted around the street. “What do you want me to do? Hide? Run? Fake a phone call?”

“Fuck. Just—” Y/N gestured frantically to the nearby column. “Go hide over there. Now.”

Seungcheol darted to the side, flattening himself against the column with the stealth of someone who had absolutely no business being stealthy. Y/N quickly composed herself as Yuqi stepped up to the entrance, her sharp eyes immediately zoning in on her.

“Y/N!” Yuqi called brightly, her heels clicking on the pavement. “What are you doing out here? Don’t tell me you were out with someone tonight.”

Y/N leaned casually against the railing, shrugging. “Nope, I just needed a breather. Thought I’d have a smoke before heading up.”

Yuqi’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t even smoke.”

“Well, weed.” Y/N said, tilting her head with an exaggerated shrug

Yuqi narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she launched into a detailed retelling of her date, her hands flying dramatically as she described the highlights of being out with Mark.

Y/N nodded along, her expression carefully neutral as she sneaked a glance at Seungcheol. He peeked out from behind the column and mimed lighting a cigarette with a cocky grin, earning a sharp glare from Y/N that she hoped Yuqi didn’t catch.

“And then,” Yuqi continued, oblivious, “he tried to tell me he knew a magic trick, but he completely botched it. Oh my god, Y/N, I almost died laughing.”

“Sounds amazing, I'm glad you had fun ,” Y/N said, trying not to choke on her suppressed laughter.

Yuqi stretched her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh. “Anyway, I need to shower so badly and I am so fucking tired. Let’s do a proper debrief tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” Y/N said quickly. “Go get some rest. I’ll be right up. Night, girlie.”

“Night, loser.” Yuqi said with a wave, finally heading inside. 

The second the coast was clear, Seungcheol emerged from his hiding spot, brushing himself off dramatically. “So, how’d I do?”

“You were fucking terrible,” Y/N said, though she was smiling as she shook her head. “I could see you miming a cigarette out of the corner of my eye. You’re so lucky she didn’t notice.”

“Hey, I was staying in character,” he said with a mock-serious expression. “You said you were having a smoke. I was just being a supportive whatever I am.”

“A pain in my ass?” Y/N offered.

“That too,” he quipped, his grin wide and unrepentant. “But come on, admit it. This whole sneaking around thing is kind of fun.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her laughter betrayed her. “Fun? You call nearly blowing my cover fun?”

“Absolutely,” Seungcheol said with a nod. “But now I’m curious—if someone else catches us, what’s your next excuse? Stargazing? Birdwatching? Vigilante vibes?” 

“Keep it up,” she warned playfully, “and I’ll just tell them I was waiting for the cops to show up because you’re stalking me.”

“Brutal,” he said, chuckling. “But hey, I got us through tonight, didn’t I?”

“Fucking barely,” she shot back, though the smile on her face lingered as they walked up to the door. 

Once they had one last peak into their building, the soft glow of the lobby lights spilling onto the sidewalk. Seungcheol pulled the door open for her, gesturing grandly.  

“After you, Highlighter Girl,” he said with a smirk.  

“Wow, thanks, Karaoke King,” she replied dryly as she stepped inside.  

As they waited for the elevator, the air between them felt lighter, easier—like the lingering tension from earlier in the night had finally given way to something more comfortable.  

“So,” Y/N said as the elevator doors slid open, “any plans to top that famous performance? Or was that your peak?”  

He laughed, stepping in beside her. “Oh, that was just the beginning. Next time, I’ll take requests.”  

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips tugged upward despite herself. “Just do me a favor and leave my name out of it, okay?”  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, his grin wide and teasing.  

The elevator chimed, and they stepped out onto their floor. stopping in front of her door, Y/N turned to him, arms crossed.  

“Thanks for the walk,” she said, her whispering tone light but genuine.  

Seungcheol paused before taking out his keys, giving her a crooked grin. “Goodnight, Y/N. Try not to miss me too much.”

“Goodnight, Seungcheol,” she replied, shaking her head. “Try not to get yourself on the gossip page again. Or at least, not because of me.”  

“No promises,” he called as she shut the door behind her, his laughter echoing softly in the hallway.  

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she took off her coat. Whatever this was between them—this ridiculous, secret, almost-friendship—it was chaotic and unpredictable. But she had to admit, it was also shocking that she was starting to feel like something she didn’t entirely mind.

note: hiii lol. two in one week bc now that we're getting into it more im excited, but! pls enjoy. hopefully we can alllll try to support y/n in her time of her "healing era" lmao

taglist: @minhui896@sun-daddy-yoriichi@luchiet@miles-sketchbook@kissesfrmwonwoo@readerlozies@vcutparis@mxnhoeuwu@writingbarnes@headlockimnida@odxrilove@jeonghaniehaee@bath1lda @wonwootakemyheart @dokyomis@hanniesdegree @blvkkeddcc@gyuguys@rakshithanotrao @multiplumes @jihoonsbbygirl

[sweet-s0rr0w]

day 21 of @hprecfest - a fic rated M

flashback, warm nights by warmfoothills - M, 13k, 2020

Summary: “What’s killing me is that I actually quite fucking like Christmas, festival-for-a-personally-irrelevant-religion-turned-commercialised-garbage-holiday though it may be, and now I’m stuck in the perpetual almost-there of it all with an idiot who gets himself cut up every time no matter how differently I try and do things!” “Killing you?” Potter asks. “I thought I was the one who’s about to get my torso sliced into?”

Excerpt:

“You need to go faster,” Draco cuts her off. Potter’s eyes are half-lidded already, and it’s scaring him. “Seriously, Granger. He’s going to pass out and then I’m going to pass out and either he dies or I wake up back on that street and have to do this all over again.”

He doesn’t care that he sounds insane. He’ll explain it all properly once he’s sure Potter’s not going to die in the back of a car. He knows magic and he knows that, whilst he might be about to loop back to the start again, it’s equally possible that this has just been a one-off, a random blip, and if that’s the case, this is his only chance to make it right.

“Don’t yell at her,” Potter says beneath him, quiet.

Draco’s chest fills with dread when he looks down to see Potter’s eyes are closed. “I’m trying to save your life here, Potter.”

“I know,” Potter mumbles, sleepy and indistinct. “S’nice. But it’d be nicer if you stopped yelling so I could sleep.”

“You can’t,” Draco says, swallowing around the lump in his throat, but Potter just shushes him softly, and everything goes dark.

All you want for Christmas is... a festive Horcrux-hunting and Death-Eater-battling super romantic timeloop Drarry fic. Right?! Gosh, what a coincidence! Have I got the perfect gift for you!

If you read it, and especially if you love it, please do let me know! And as always, please do take the time to leave the author a kudos/comment <3

day 1 - first fic you remember reading

day 2 - a fic rated G

day 3 - a fic not on ao3

day 4 - a comfort fic

day 5 - a romantic fic

day 6 - a fic for a ship you don’t normally read

day 7 - the best of your OTP

day 8 - a fic that was recced to you

day 9 - a WIP

day 10 - a fest/event fic

day 11 - an underrated fic

day 12 - a fic from your favourite author

day 13 - a rare pair

day 14 - a fic rated T

day 15 - a fic over 50k

day 16 - a podfic

day 17 - a fic that makes you cry

day 18 - a fic that makes you laugh

day 19 - fanart

day 20 - a fic with fanart

[tachiharastanacc]

Tachihara gift exchange headcanons

Port Mafia-

Mori (and Elise):

-Tachihara probably gets him a nice pen or something

-Elise gets a coloring book and a set of colored pencils and she thinks it’s way cooler than Mori’s stupid lame pen (he also gets roped into letting her put bows in his hair. Again)

- Mori gives him like a bonus or something idk I really don’t like when they interact

- Elise draws him a picture of him and Hirtosu and gin

Kouyou:

- they’re not close so he wasn’t expecting anything, but Kouyou makes little gifts for everyone every year and he didn’t have anything to give back so he made a little flower out of metal for her

Chuuya:

- wanted to get him wine but doesn’t actually know anything about alcohol. Refused to ask Hirotsu, but he ended up getting carded and having to ask anyway

- ended up with some vintage wine that chuuya had mentioned to Hirotsu from both of them

- I feel like chuuya didn’t super know what to get him so he invited him out to go drinking and hang out instead

Verlaine:

- doesn’t know him. Didn’t interact at all. A single cupcake appears on his counter one day with a note just signed ‘~v’

Akutagawa:

- Tachihara got (read: spent way to long figuring out how to make) a dessert with figs for him

- Akutagawa got him a vase of hyacinths since gin mentioned that they were his favorites

Higuchi:

- tachi got her a basket of chocolate and a bunch of rom coms and agrees to suffer through watching them with her

- Higuchi knits him a scarf and it’s kind of janky but it’s addressed to her favorite little brother and he never takes it off ever

Hirotsu:

- Tachihara and gin get him a really nice lighter that’s engraved

- Hirotsu gets Tachihara a new coat (except he low key just drags him shopping because he goes on about how important it is for him to keep warm (cuz y’know coats are important in bsd)

Gin:

- gets him the set of pencils he’s been eying every time they walk by. And a box of bandaids

- he makes them a tiny knife they can slip under a dress for missions

Q:

- most people forgot about them but he ventured down to the basement with some sweets and his old fnaf books because you can rip fnaf kid Q from my cold dead hands

- Q gives him a really ugly mug they painted with the kit chuuya gave them. It’s definitely not food safe, but he keeps pencils in it

Kajii:

- Tachihara very distantly slides him a card with a gift card for a hardware store

- Kajii gives him a gun that allegedly shoots lemon bombs except it’s bright yellow and Tachihara doesn’t know what to do with it

Hunting Dogs-

Fukuchi:

- tachi stresses over what to get him until jouno smacks him and says the captain just enjoys spending time with them (this is canon btw, he says one of his happiest memories is when all 5 of them were together)

- Fukuchi also stresses over what to get tachi bc he feels like it should be practical but doesn’t know what he’d want and low key does he even deserve to give him a gift

- Tecchou tells him Tachihara is also worried and wants to impress him

- Fukuchi takes Tachihara out to do some father-son activities and they both have a good time

Teruko:

- most of Tachihara’s budget goes to getting things for teruko (she gave the hunting dogs a Christmas list in the group chat)

- it ends up being a lot of stuffed animals and weapons from all of them

- plus a coupon for a free piggy back ride

- teruko bitches to the others because Tachihara never actually asks for anything

- she ends up getting him a new holster and tools for cleaning his guns because it’s all he fessed up to wanting (he’s very happy with it, even if teruko calls him boring)

Jouno:

- Tachihara gets him a couple records (I feel like Jouno owns a record player, sue me)

- Jouno gets him a set of ceramic dish ware because he complains Tachihara has a bunch of cheap stuff like some college freshman (to which Tachihara points out that he’s a 19 yr old middle school dropout)

- the stuffed animal Tachihara originally refused also shows up on his bed and he keeps it this time

Tecchou:

- Tecchou gets Tachihara a new sword because the grip on his was getting worn down and trains with him

- Tachihara gets Tecchou a new yoga mat and set of weights

Bonus-

- ango and Tachihara exchange respectful Christmas cards

- Yosano gets a dead fish wrapped in newspaper on her doorstep, but it’s preserved in the snow and she assumes that it was from Kenji and takes it as a gift

- a bouquet of purple flowers is laid on a lone grave. The cold wind blows, and it almost feels like someone ruffling his hair

[garden-of-gay]

Can You Feel It? It's Burlesque Part 2

This chapter is a bit shorter than the last, but that is because I've been super busy and I wrote too much for one chapter, so I am giving a shorter chapter now for a longer chapter 3. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter <3

Ch 1, Ch 2

Also here on Ao3

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

Eddie made his way up to the door Steve had motioned to and upon entering the back was hit with a wave of perfume and absolute chaos. The back was extremely crowded, dancers were everywhere in all the different mirrors and stations but above all a woman’s voice could be heard.

“Ladies! Let’s move it, ladies!” She yelled.

There was a cacophony of replies along the lines of “Yes ma’am” and a couple “Where is my costume!?” but for the most part, the chatter was hard to decipher although, Eddie managed to pick up a bit since his time working in the noisy bar.

“Does anyone know where Billy is?” someone asks.

Eddie is thoroughly overwhelmed at this moment as he searches for Joyce. He overhears a dancer talking to someone and figures it’s his best bet to find Joyce, follow the dancers.

He hears a dancer complain of losing a contact on the stage and the older woman from earlier speak up.

“Okay, if you fall off the stage remember, leg extended, boobs up” she chuckles.

The younger woman she was seemingly talking to then chimes in,

“Remember you’re a goddess.”

“Thank you, Robin” the dancer replies with a smile before the older lady repeats the phrase in a mocking tone towards this Robin.

Backstage is chaos, but he loves it. It reminds him of the few times his dad allowed his band to play at the bar and there was a certain anticipation that hung in the air right before performing. He bumps into one of the dancers before she calls out to a man loitering backstage.

“Lonnie, the sink upstairs is broken again,” she said.

“I’m not calling a plumber, Barb” He replies.

He then makes his way over to the elegant older woman and Eddie can slightly make out what they are saying.

“Joyce, have you read this letter from the bank?” He asks.

“Lonnie, how many times must I tell you? No business during business hours” She huffs, annoyed.

“Come on, Henry Creel is coming to the show tomorrow night, this isn’t going away Joyce,” he says.

She rolls her eyes at him and is clearly disinterested in continuing the conversation, but he continues anyway.

“You won’t talk to me before shows, you won’t talk to me after, it’s like you are avoiding me.”

“Well, I didn’t divorce you to spend more time with you” She jokes.

“I may not be Mr. Joyce anymore but I still own half this place,” he says before walking away in a huff muttering on about how it’s not paying the bills.

Eddie then approaches Robin who is in the midst of fixing up a dancer’s hair and then asks.

“I’m looking for Joyce?”

She nods her head in the direction the older woman, Joyce, went and he wanders over to her.

“Hi, are you Joyce?” He asks.

“Yes, honey, why are you in my mirror exactly?” She replies kindly.

“Oh sorry, I’m a friend of Steve’s and I’m looking for a job.”

“Where have you danced?”

“Ummm….”

Eddie had for some reason not anticipated this question and was now left floundering.

“At home? I promise you I can move though.”

She gave him a polite smile in the mirror before speaking.

“Give your name and number to Robin and she can contact you when we have our next auditions.”

“When will that be exactly?” he asked.

He never got his answer because Robin approached, and Joyce turned her attention to her.

“Where is Billy?”

“I don’t know, he’s late again,” Robin said

“Oh, I’m never late” Eddie interjected hoping it scored him some brownie points

“That’s great buddy now leave your name and number with your friend Steve downstairs, and we will give you a call, promise,” Robin said with a gentle push towards the stairs

 “I’ve just never seen anything like it, and I would just love...” Eddie began before bumping into yet another dancer, this time in big sunglasses

“Billy, Robin, and I were just talking, and you know she said…” Joyce said and then gestured to Robin to finish the thought

“That it was so sad that Billy couldn’t join us for the opening number, and it would be so great if he joined us for the next one”

“Listen, less flab more ab, my workout took longer than expected” Billy replied to the women

“And so is finding a new job when I fire your late ass” Joyce joked, but Eddie could tell there was a bit of truth to her statement

Billy then turned and acknowledged Eddie for the first time since they bumped into each other

“Hey, bring me a martini extra dry, straight up, three olives,” Billy said with an heir of entitlement

“He doesn’t work here Billy” another dancer replied while Eddie remained speechless, staring at Billy

“Then he isn’t busy,” he said smarmily

Eddie continued staring at Billy for a moment. Billy then seemed to notice and spoke with a cocky grin on his face.

“Didn’t your mama every tell you it isn’t polite to stare”

“You’re just so damn handsome” He replied

“Screw your mama, stare away” Billy exclaimed with a Cheshire grin

“It’s just no one would ever know” Eddie replied

“Know what!" Billy said angrily.

Eddie took note that Billy seemingly had a short fuse and was easy to rile up…perfect.

“That you are smooth like a Ken doll down there,” Eddie said with a wink before descending the stairs back into the busy club.

-

Once he got back down to the bar, Eddie took inventory of everything happening. He needed a job ASAP and it looked like this place needed a proper waiter. He observed the club for a moment and realized that the waitress who was supposed to be getting drinks to patrons was sitting around chatting with someone at the bar. He watched as a customer waved her over and she blatantly ignored them saying something along the lines of “In a minute”. This just wouldn’t do, and a plan began forming in Eddie’s head, if he couldn’t tell them why he deserved a job then he would just show them.

He stripped the leather jacket he was wearing draping it over a chair before picking up a tray from the bar and making his rounds from table to table based on who was in need of drinks. Once he was satisfied with gathering orders he returned to Steve at the bar.

“A shot of Patron and the tough looking guy in the hat wants a Cosmo” he said, Steve looked puzzled but replied

“What are you doing?”

“One night, if I’m not better than boobs-for-brains over there, you don’t have to pay me” Eddie practically begged he needed this job and he needed it bad.

-

Turns out Eddie had done something right and was told he could return the next night to begin proper work on the condition that he wore the proper club uniform. He had easily agreed as the uniform was all black and even if he hated it he would wear it because a job is a job and he needs it. He had been told to arrive 30 minutes early to his shift to be shown where everything was and get a feel for the place but other than that he was left to his own devices since he had waiting experience under his belt.

Once the club had opened and the seats were filled, Eddie began getting drinks for the tables as they waited for the opening number of the night. Eddie had no idea what to expect but was just as excited to see the performances as the attendees. After a while, the lights dimmed and the opening to Diamonds Are a Girls Best Friend by Marylin Monroe.

A kiss on the hand May be quite continental But diamonds are a girl's best friend

A kiss may be grand But it won't pay the rental On your humble flat Or help you at the automat

Men grow cold As girls grow old And we all lose our charms in the end

But square-cut or pear-shaped These rocks don't lose their shape Diamonds are a girl's best friend

Back at the bar, Joyce and Robin could be found watching Eddie as he worked.

“Isn’t that the guy that was backstage yesterday?” Joyce asked

“I think so?” Robin replied

“Hey Steve, what’s he doing here?” Joyce called out to him.

Steve’s face flushed a bit red at this, but he replied nonetheless

“He really wanted a job and so…he's our new waiter”

“And when did I make you the head of personnel?” Joyce joked with Steve

“He just picked up a tray and started working,” Steve said with a shrug, face still flushed

“Really?” Robin asked, her eyes bugging slightly out of her head

“Well, his name is Eddie” Steve replied sheepishly.

“Eddie” Joyce repeated before calling out to the man in question

“Hey Eddie”

Eddie waltzed over to the bar nervous as to what Joyce had to say, would she be super upset? Would she fire him on the spot? He couldn’t lose this job, he just got it and based on the look on her face, she meant business. As he got closer, however, her face softened before she spoke

“The uniform looks nice on you but roll up your sleeves you look too formal. Also, put up your hair you got a cute face so don’t hide it”

Eddie flushed and hoped the lighting would hide his blush. He had been told he was hot before by the men he had hooked up with, but he had never been called cute, especially not by a motherly type; it was nice.

“Also, don’t ever go behind my back again” Joyce said more stern

“Yes ma’am” Eddie replied, and he felt like saluting but figured that it would not bode well.

“And don’t ever call me ma’am again” Joyce huffed

“Yes sir, I mean ma’am, I mean…Joyce” Eddie fumbled. Damn, he was doing bad at this.

“Get on the floor” Joyce joked before patting Eddie along.

-

The performance continued and Marilyn sang:

Tiffany's Cartier Black Starr Frost Gorham Talk to me Harry Winston Tell me all about it

As the lead dancer ripped jewels from the other dancers’ bodies. Eddie watched mesmerized, slowly picking up the steps to the dance and dancing along as he went from table to table getting drink orders. He was pulled away from watching when a man’s voice spoke.

“Excuse me, Dewar’s rocks and a bottle of your best champagne for the table…and oh, will you tell Billy that I’m here”

“Any you are…?” Eddie asked, especially since this man clearly had money and no manner when it came to introducing himself.

“A member since ’91, Henry Creel. And you are?” Henry asked

“Eddie” He replied

“Eddie" Henry parroted back

-

Meanwhile, as Eddie waited tables, Robin had made her way backstage to make sure the performance was going alright and that she could help with any malfunctions and costume changes to come. As she watched, she was made aware of a presence once he came crashing up to her.

“I’m here,” Billy said

“You’re late, you’re late for a very important date, Vickie went on for you” Robin chuckled because of course Billy expected the club to wait on him.

Billy then looked between the beaded curtains at Vickie before he spotted Eddie and turned to Robin.

“What is that waiter doing here, I want that bitch out now” Billy exclaimed angrily

“What did he ever do to you?” She asked

“He said I have no dick” he pouted

Robin just laughed before replying

“That can’t be the first time that’s happened”

Billy just gave her an angry look before turning to look up at the lighting guy and saying:

“Get my spot”

“Billy, what are you doing!” Robin exclaimed, trying to stop Billy but it was too late, he had already stepped out onto the stage and to reel him back in would just disrupt the performance.

-

Eddie watched as the dancer from yesterday, Billy, stepped on the stage and began to fight for the spotlight over the original lead dancer.

There may come a time When a lass needs a lawyer But diamonds are a girl's best friend

There may come a time When a hard-boiled employer Thinks you're awful nice But get that ice or else no dice

Of course, Billy was like this. Eddie had encountered people like this before who needed everything to be about them, and Billy seemed just the type to do that. He pushed and shoved his way in front of the other dancer and the poor girl did her best to adapt to the situation.

-

 As the number came to an end Eddie found himself back at the bar watching and imagining himself in the place of the lead dancer.

Diamonds Diamonds I don't mean rhinestones But diamonds are a girl's best Best friend

He would sing and the crowd would go wild, clapping, throwing flowers for him, and overall cheering his name. “Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!”

“Eddie! Eddie, what do you need?” Steve asked, snapping and pulling Eddie away from the daydream he was having

“Dewars rocks and a bottle of Dom” He began

“And keep it coming” Steve finished

“So, he’s a regular” Eddie questioned

“Henry Creel, real estate guy. Dating Billy. This week at least” Steve answered

Good to know that Steve and seemingly the club were not homophobic because that might have become a problem at some point but Eddie was more focused on how the dancers got to soak in the applause and bask in the moment. He turned to Steve

“I wanna be up there, I wanna do that”

“Question is, do you have the talent?” he asked

“I do” Eddie replied

“Are you sure?” Steve asked

“Yes!” Eddie replied with a grin

“Positive?” He asked with a smile of his own

“Yeah!” Eddie said, grin getting bigger

“Good because you’re on” Steve replied with a smile before pushing a tray of drinks towards Eddie.

His smile dropped pretty quickly after picking up the tray of drinks and he huffed an annoyed sigh.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Taglist:

@irregular-child

[azu1as]

Hi, Tin! I love your writing and I have a prompt for you, if you are interested) what if Tang family is too afraid of Tang Bo leaving permanently and eloping with Cheong Myeong? So they initiate marriage negotiations with Mount Hua. It can be angst (CM is socially isolated and insecure about his position) or romantic comedy (awkward situations and protective Cheong Mun), up to you). Thank you in advance!

It was a well-established fact that the Dark Saint of the Tang Family was one of their generation's best.

So it came as no surprise when an influx of marriage proposals flooded their family's estate—because rumors started flying around that the Dark Saint was in search of a partner.

The Dark Saint held a reputation for being cold and ruthless. To cultivators and martial artists, he was someone they feared making into an enemy due to his sheer battle prowess and poisonous abilities. To normal civilians, he was a genius who wielded the Tang Family's techniques with cool precision and intent; to them, he was just another mysterious cultivator that they would only ever know of through gossip and stories.

However, in recent years, something shifted. His reputation among common folk was slowly altered. It started off with a supposed battle between him and the Plum Blossom Sword Saint which turned into a sudden and unexpected friendship.

Whereas in the past the Dark Saint would only go around Sichuan and closeby villages, he was now found going around different major cities and unknown ones.

He was often in the company of Mount Hua's Plum Blossom Sword Saint, who worked with him side-by-side to eradicate groups from the Demonic Cult and the occasional bandits and thieves.

For supposed Taoists, the two visited different establishments to drink alcohol and talk cheerily. It was during one of these moments that the first rumor began its spark.

"Ahhhh," The Plum Blossom Sword Saint groans in satisfaction. "That sure hits the spot!"

The Dark Saint chuckles as he tosses back his own drink. "If only I could enjoy everyday like this. Alcohol really is the best."

"What would your future wife think?" The Plum Blossom Sword Saint jokingly and dramatically shakes his head in disappointment. "To have a husband who loves alcohol more than his own wife...!"

The Dark Saint wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Trust me, I would make sure that my wife knows full-well just how much I love them."

The two of them share a silent, private conversation with just their eyes alone, that none of the other restaurant's customers could decipher, before they leave a generous tip and went on their way.

It snowballs from there.

All of a sudden gossip went around about the Dark Saint's interest in finding a wife. And so several people came to the same conclusion.

The reason why the Dark Saint is travelling around more than usual is because he's looking for a prospective wife.

Clearly, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint was there to provide moral support. How truly admirable and strong their brotherhood must be!

On the other hand, the head of the Tang Family was fully aware of their Dark Saint's single-minded interest in Mount Hua's Chung Myung.

Seeing all the stacks of letters that ranged from proposing strategic alliances and general marriage offers brought the current head of the Tang Family to a very different conclusion.

Tang Bo was trying to slowly draw himself away from their family by leaving their estate. He might be on the hunt, jumping from village to village, trying to create a dowry befitting for the hand of the Plum Blossom Sword Saint and scouting out all the best locations to settle down in.

It really wouldn't be too surprising of an idea if one day a letter turns up from the man with an intent of permanently moving to Mount Hua or some backwater village.

The Tang Family head shakes the thought of losing one of their best and genius members to one of the Ten Great Sects. If he wanted to maintain their family's reputation, he'll need to strike the first move.

And so he begins to pen a decisive letter to the Sect Leader of Mount Hua.

%%%

Chung Mun's hands tremble as reads the letter sent to him by the Tang Family.

'Who did they think they were?' He would have bit out if he had any less self-restraint. The paper crumples in his grip and he receives a questioning glance from Chung Myung who was sprawled eating mooncakes on the opposite side of his desk.

"What's got you so worked up?" The subject of the letter askswithout a care.

Chung Mun takes a deep breath. "The Tang Family wishes for you to transfer into their estate."

He refuses to say out loud the marriage proposal that came along with this request. His Chung Myung was too young! The man might be a sixty years old, but that round face, cheeks carelessly bulging with mooncakes with crumbs littered on his chin, screamed too young for marriage!

"Oh." Chung Myung nods in understanding.

Chung Mun is glad that Chung Myung agrees that this was nonsensical. To think, they thought that Chung Myung would even leave Mount Hua for—

"After the war is over, Tang Bo and I were planning to be roommates and travel the world a bit."

—?????

"Roommates?" Chung Mun's voices comes out slightly strangled.

"Yup. It's going to be great."

"No."

"'No'?"

Chung Mun tries to run through his previous conversations with Tang Bo. He knew that the man was capable of being underhanded, but he was also well-aware that Tang Bo respected him enough to not blind-side him with something like this. Especially since it concerned Chung Myung.

...

...Oh no.

"Fuck." Chung Mun says, full of feeling as he recalls Tang Bo off-handedly asking permission to live together with Chung Myung in the future.

"...Sect Leader?"

Chung Mun had thought that was a joke! He thought Tang Bo wasn't being serious! They were talking with alcohol in their systems!

The alarmed look that crosses Chung Myung's face informed Chung Mun that the way he felt his blood drain from his face was a visible, physical reaction.

"He asked for your hand in marriage." Chung Mun says faintly. "I said yes."

Chung Myung blinked at him. "Yeah? He told me?"

Okay. Tang Bo, to his credit, hasn't been leaving Chung Myung in the dark at least.

If Chung Myung knows and isn't reacting violently that means that he isn't completely against this. Even if Chung Mun was, he had to reorganize his priorties.

And his number one would be to make sure Chung Myung was happy.

((And to make sure that the Tang Family doesn't think they can step on Chung Mun and pull his little brother away.))

"I'll have to recheck the sect's budget and my own savings to make sure we have enough for the wedding preparations..." Chung Mun mutters as he begins drafting a response to the Tang Family with what he thought were better marriage agreement conditions.

But then, a flash of dread causes Chung Mun to pause writing and leave a dark ink blot on the paper. He suspected, but he really wishes that he was wrong—!

"Huh?" Chung Myung gives Chung Mun a confused look. "We already got married though?"