#so whatever. but still that was my lunches planned for the week :(

[desperatepleasures]

"I'm gonna put jalapenos in this broth and make eight fucking servings of soup" - my dumb ass who's allergic to chili peppers and thought surely jalapenos would be fine since they're slightly different

[roaringroa]

hate being sick fr

[walterdecourceys]

goodnight whatevers

[victory-cookies]

I love how my parents are at a point where some nights they just don’t feel like eating, so they decide not to make anything and tell me I’m fending for myself like three times a week, but my dad also loves cooking so the other four days a week he wants to make a family meal and gets annoyed when other people don’t eat it, so I can’t plan my dinners until the night of every night when I discover whether I’m in charge or I’m eating what he’s cooking, which happens unpredictably and in a way where there’s never food that I want to make myself when they decide they’re not hungry that night

[bucketofpaint]

Danny is Damian's clone.

He's well aware of it. He wasn't just any clone. He was the very first. That was the difference between Danny and other clones. He was made before the League started using brainwashing and stuff into their cloning process.

When Danny was fresh out of the tube, the League had sat him down and explained his the purpose of his existence, gave him some intense training, and immediately tossed him out into the world.

But the thing was, he just didn't care. He had absolutely no loyalty to his creators, and he had no desire to kill/kidnap his original. So he just started walking. The next thing he knew, he was at some orphanage in Illinois.

And then the rest was history. He got adopted by a pair of enthusiastic scientists and their red-head daughter, got his own name, and he could finally start living his own life.

Danny had put the past behind him and had barely even thought about it at all for a long time. That was unill his original showed up at his school.

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

Damien was annoyed. He was stuck at some random Illinois town (supposed to be the most haunted place in the world, which was a bunch of ludicrous.) On a transfer program. He tried convincing Father how illogical it would be, but Father had told him it would be good for him to meet new people.

___

Danny was annoyed.

"I don't understand what the big deal about him is anyways," Danny complained.

"He started being the ceo of Wayne Enterprise when he was a teenager." Sam countered.

"Ok, so, nepotism."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I still don't understand why you're so against him."

"One, billionaire. Two, Tucker is way cooler than Tim Drake.

Sam's eyes soften. " Tucker is just gone for a few weeks."

Danny's cheeks felt warm. "I never said anything about that. I just want Tucker to find a cooler role model, is all.

Sam gave him an all-knowing look. "Well, if you say so. I'm going to get in line."

Sam, all ways waited last to get in the lunch line. Claiming she didn't want to hold up line when the lunch ladies had to get the vegetarian option. Which was fine, but now that Tucker was doing the dumb transfer student program, all he could do was eat his mediocre lunch and mindlessly play on his phone.

Untill someone grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the cafeteria into the hallway. Danny turned around to face the person. He froze at the sight of his own face. Or well, a glaring rich kid version.

"Oh, it's you." Danny said nonchalant, even though he was screaming inside.

"You're not going to play dumb, clone?"

"No, why would I, The resemblance is uncanny.

"What are you doing here?" His original demanded

"You dragged me here."

His original scowled. "You know what I mean, clone. I won't hesitate to end you."

"Just trying to go to school, honest."

Original glared at him, scanning him with his eyes. The grip on Danny's arm loosened. " I'll be watching you, clone."

" Whatever you say, template."

Danny walked back to the cafeteria, blocking out the yells of rage behind him.

___

It was about a week of Damian watching his clone, and he was confused. At first, he thought the league sent the clone to trade places with him before he went back to Gotham, but now he wasn't sure. The Clone seemed to fit in the community to well to have show up recently, but that didn't disprove the theory entirely. It could be a long-term plan from the League. They could be responsible for putting the transfer program in place in the first place.

The other theory was that the clone escaped and made a life for himself, but that didn't explain how he got past his programming.

After the last period, Damian found his clone and pulled him aside.

"What do you want?" His clone asked, irritated.

"You're different then other clones, explain."

"I don't know. I didn't really stick around very long to find out."

"What about your programming?"

"I didn't have any?"

Damian thought about it before giving a small nod. "You don't seem to be a threat, but I'll still keep my eye on you, clone."

"I've got a name, you know." He held out his hand. "Danny Fenton, nice to make your acquaintance."

Damian heistently shook his hand. "Damian Wayne."

That started their unsaid agreement. You don't mess with me, I don’t mess with you. They interacted with each other sometimes, but not very offen. They were impartial to one another, and both sides weren't very keen on getting to know each other. And that was their relationship till the day Damian was leaving.

Damian was waiting for the bus when Danny approached him.

"What do you want, Daniel?"

"I told not to call me that, but uh, here." Danny handed a piece of paper to him. "It's my phone number if you ever need help from the League or anything."

Damian slipped the paper into his pocket. "Give me your phone." Danny handed over his phone, and Damian started typing.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked.

"I'm putting my number in. If you ever require assistance."

Danny smiled, "Thanks."

____

A few months later.

Tim was peeking over a corner.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked.

Tim didn't say anything and just waved him over. He walked over and stared in aw at what he saw. Damian was slouched on the couch, his hair messy, playing on his phone.

A few minutes later, Jason joined.

"Am I hallucinating?" Tim whispered.

"Nah, I don't think so... unless we're all hallucinating." Jason whispered back.

"Do you think he has brain damage or been possessed or something?" Tim asked.

Dick shook his head. "That seems unlikely."

"This is so trippy. I've never seen him wear anything that casually like ever.

"What are you imbeciles doing?"

"We're watching Damian."

All three of them froze and turned to look at a glaring Damian.

Damian walked past them and went right up to the second Damian.

"Daniel, what are you doing here?"

The causal Damian 'Daniel' pulled out a letter. "Your pops invited me, and I didn’t want to risk the chance of batman showing up at my front door."

Damian scoffed, "Of course, Father found out."

Alfred walked in. "Master Daniel, I'll be taking you to Master Bruce."

The double got up and went to Alfred.

"Cookie, Master Daniel?"

"Sure, and call me danny."

[meliciousmel13]

̗̗̀̀➛ killer!billie headcannons

killer!billie x bimbo!reader warnings: smut, obsessive behavior, face sitting, stalking? (kind of), billie kills someone here, grinding, i think thats it tell me if you find any more please!

wc: 1,487

SYNOPSIS: headcannons of killer!billie x bimbo!reader

taglist: @chrissv4mp, if your not a part of this list but want to be comment under my tag list post, which is on my masterlist.

an: i wrote this today 💀 IM ON MY PERIODDD and kind of horny ngl

at first, she didn’t think much of you. she thought you were just another co-worker at her boring office job that sometimes brought everyone coffee, like the angel you were.

until she saw her co-worker, oliver, flirt with you. she knew he was flirting with you because he was touching you. he was touching your shoulder, and touching your hair. and touching, and touching. he would stop fucking touching you.

she hated that it irritated her. hated the way you wore things that made people look, like that skimpy top you wore last week, everyone was looking.

the first time you talked to her, you smiled, gave her a tissue wrapped doughnut and black coffee with one sugar cube. said it was nice to meet her and that you were new here.

it’s either you knew her, or just guessed her coffee preference. but you were so thoughtful.

she unknowingly started to follow you to the empty parking lot and find you fumbling with your keys with papers stacked on one arm.

she imagined helping you, taking those papers from you and handing you her number, maybe you call her and invite her to diner or something, anything.

but she never did anything. only savored the way her hand brushes yours whenever you were handing her the breakfast she relied on.

sometimes she skips meals so she can talk to you.

she didn’t even have to ask. just subtly hint that she forgot her lunch at home—and, oh, whatever will she do?

“you can have some of mine.” you smiled softly, pushing half of your sandwich into her hands.

“oh, i can’t take your food. it’s fine, i can go a day without lunch.” billie said, shaking her head. knowing that you would deny her not eating.

“what? no. half already fills me up you can take it.”

“if you insist.” she smiled.

it wasn’t her fault she followed oliver home. it was his fault, for flirting with what was hers. you.

she imagined stabbing oliver in the neck. hiding the body, and comforting you when you run to her, talking about how awful it is for someone to stab such a nice person.

until she actually killed him.

billie prepared her rubber gloves, the sharpened knife and various things. she thought of her plan. would she just knock on his door and stab him? no. that was too dangerous. someone might see her.

so she decided to sneak in his backyard. he lived alone, with 2 cats and 2 woman constantly coming in and out. great, he was even a cheater. see? he deserved it.

and he even screamed like a pussy. wearing his stupid shark boxers and still had his work button up on.

the next day the police came to see the crime. one of the girls he was cheating on knocked on his door to find his dick severed and his throat slit.

and guess who you came to cry to? her. you cried over someone you barely knew.

“i can’t—” hic. “i can’t believe someone s—” hic.

“shh.” she rubbed your back, while you were crying into her shoulder, you were wearing a light pink skirt on and a pretty top that left nothing for the imagination, “maybe i can come over? bake everyone cookies?”

“mhmm,” you sniffle, wiping your tears and snot on her shirt, “m’ sorry bout' your shirt.” you breathe.

“it’s okay, you can make it up to me. give me two cookies instead of one.” billie said, smiling, hiding her satisfaction.

“i’ll give you four.” you giggle. angel.

so she came over. she walked into your house invited. and she didn’t even stalk you to find out where you live—she was being good.

you opened the door with smallest fucking shorts she’s ever seen, and a tiny pink top, with no bra. which means that your nipples were leaving a small print on the fabric.

she’s in heaven. the whole house was lathered in your perfume and natural scent. and the walls were decorated with paintings and little trinkets. she knew your house wouldn’t be boring, like olivers. she sat on your couch and it was so soft.

she thought of fucking you on it. how your moans would ricochet off the pretty walls and how her cock would pump in your pretty pussy. how you would be too afraid to touch her back in case your accidentally scratched at it and hurt her. you could never hurt her.

how she would convince you to sit on her lap, naked, and whine and whimper, begging her to just fuck you already, like you couldn’t wait any longer.

she imagined convincing you to sit on her face. how you’d be too cautious, afraid to break her nose or neck. you would still do it though, sitting on her pretty face that was filled with a satisfied smile.

she would have her head almost falling off the edge of your bed, offering you to just get off her face if it was too much, it would first start off slow, you hover over her face not even siting. holding and gripping her hands, how she would leave small kisses on your thighs before extending her tongue and tasting you.

you would ‘mhph’ at that, left breathless and feeling your knees go weak, she would take her other hand and guide you to fully sit, she would feel the weight of you on her mouth. how she would shove her long pink tongue into you.

you would moan, still holding her hand and gripping her hair, bucking your hips. actually riding her. how your pouty lips let out the prettiest noises. how would let go of her hand and hold her head with both your hands and squeeze her head between your thighs.

she didn’t do any of that, obviously. just helped you with making your cookies.

you were putting in the chocolate chips now, and billie was holding your waist and watching. in reality, she didn’t do shit to help. only preparing the ingredients and keeping you company.

“now we bake them forr, i think 20 minutes.” you said, pushing the tray into the oven and bending, to reveal your striped panties. she was behind you, could feel your ass pushing against her pelvis.

“your really good at baking.” she complemented.

“thank you.” you blush, and smile.

she realized you were an angel ages ago. but when you offered for her to sleep over? oh.

she entered your room and saw the mess, the thrown dirty underwear and your “work” clothes throw in the corner of the room.

your face was flushed and you apologized for the mess. billie didn’t mind though, even helped you clean, she always treated you well, your mom would love her.

you thought about billie meeting your parents, they would think she was the best person you’ve brought them to meet, since all your other boyfriends only wanted you for your body. their personality was horrible too, they all treated your mom awfully.

but billie would never, she’d probably help your mom in the kitchen when she’s preparing the dinner. and your dad would talk about how he needed a helping hand in his mechanic company. noticing how well she was with her hands.

you imagined how the sweat would roll off her forehead—and now that’s dangerous territory, let’s not think of that.

you let billie sleep in your bed, since you didn’t want her to sleep on the floor with a pillow. that would hurt her back.

you didn’t even think of why her knee was between your thighs, she didn’t mean to push herself behind you and do that

you woke up with billie’s knee between your thighs, she adjusted her position and unconsciously moved her knee upward, causing it to hit your pussy, and you sniffled a moan, putting a hand over her knee and grinding subtly.

you were dirty. even moved your shorts and panties to the side to feel the rough fabric of her sweatpants on your bare pussy, feeling her knee hitting your clit at the perfect angle. almost like she was awake.

you slid your hand under the pillow and gripped, digging your head into the pillow and sniffling your whines.

you felt billie shuffle, and stiffen.

“good morning, angel.” she whispered in your ear, putting your shorts and panties back to their designated spot, not before brushing your clit with her middle finger, “were you busy there? sorry, your whining woke me up.”

you apologized a million times, couldn’t stop thinking of her deep, raspy morning voice in your ears. and her knee.

billie left soon after. she didn’t leave empty handed though, she left your house with a box of chocolate chip cookies and two pairs of your dirty underwear stuffed in her pockets. and a little lip gloss stain on her cheek.

[occamstfs]

Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home. 

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with  him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew: 

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it. 

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass! 

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.  

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

[multifandomfanficss]

Don’t Stop My Heart

Tyler Owens x Reader

Prompt: You and Tyler take a road trip up to Iowa to catch some of the last tornadoes of the season, but he takes the teasing a little too far.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of car crashes, swerving, shitty ex boyfriends. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Hello! I didn’t proofread this one as many times as I usually do. I’m coming off a 4 and a half month writers block so I really just wanted to write and post while I was excited to do it. My job has been draining me as of late, so I’m trying to write when I get the impulse. I have so many Tyler ideas and no time to write them. Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

It was still fairly early, the sun was still rising. Last night you’d planned an impromptu trip up north to Iowa. It was about a 7 hour trip from Oklahoma, so you were on the road before 6. You were hoping to get there around noon. You didn’t love getting up that early, but Tyler promised he’d drive you and you could sleep in the truck. Tornado season was pretty much over aside from an isolated storm or two, but Iowa had been having very unusual storm activity all week. Tyler couldn’t resist hitting a couple more tornadoes in late August when the season was supposed to be pretty much over with.

You stayed awake for a little bit. You wanted to watch as you crossed into Missouri.

“Missouri welcomes you.” Tyler reads out loud.

“Yes! Finally!” You giggle.

“I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of Missouri.” Tyler comments.

“Oh, I’m not.” You pause, looking out your window.

“First you’re hypin’ her up, now you’re gonna disappoint her.” He jokes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure Missouri’s fine, but I’m more excited about that.” You point to a Hardee’s down the street.

“Really? We’re crossin’ state lines and you’re gonna make me take you to Hardee’s? You can get Carl’s Jr. anytime you want back home. That’s basically the same thing.” He argues.

“Take that back! You’re just saying that because you’re a Texas boy! You’ve never had the luxury of Hardee’s.” You joke.

“If Carl’s Jr. is better, I’m not letting you pick where we eat for the rest of the trip.” Tyler puts on his turn signal and sighs.

“How is that fair? I’ve never eaten at this location. What if it sucks?” You laugh.

“You picked your Hardee’s hill and now you’re gonna die on it. Now keep your trap closed and tell me what’s good on the menu.” Tyler makes a pretend threatening face towards you as he pulls into the drive thru.

“How am I supposed to not talk and at the same time tell you what’s good?” You tease back.

“Hi welcome to Hardee’s, may I take your order?” The drive thru speaker cuts you off. Tyler shushes you and you giggle.

After getting your food you start unwrapping the straws and putting them in both drinks.

“Whatever score we give this we need to give it extra points to account for how good the curly fries would be if they were serving lunch.” You try to bargain, taking a bite.

“No, you can’t just change the rules after we already got our food, that’s cheating. Just because you’re from the north, doesn’t mean you can cheat me.” He argues. He continues driving, leaving behind the paved roads of the small town.

“You’re acting like I’m Canadian!” You giggle.

“Well, Upper Midwest is basically Canada. There’s literally a town in Iowa called Toronto!” He smirks, taking the last bite of his food, continuing to drive through the middle of nowhere Missouri, back onto the gravel roads through the soybean fields.

“Shut up!” You playfully hit his arm. He jokingly swerves and your stomach flips. You gasp air. “Tyler, knock it off.”

“You’re the one who hit me.” He pleas innocent.

“I didn’t hit you that hard.” You defend.

“I thought you were gonna sleep on the drive.” He says, smirking.

“I might later, I’m not tired.” You answer, falling for his bit. He does a big fake yawn.

“Well if you’re not tired, I might take a little nap.” He lightly swerves again.

“Tyler, this isn’t funny!” You plead.

“What? Oh. Do you mind watching the road? We woke up so early and I’m pretty tired.” He jokes before swerving again. He’s taking the joke way too far. Once was one thing, twice was too much. You start hyperventilating.

“Tyler, STOP!” You yell, tears starting to come to your eyes.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” He has a concerned look on his face. He knew he had taken it too far.

“It’s not funny.” You cry.

“You’re right, it’s not funny. I would never-a done it if I’d known it would make you feel unsafe. I do it all the time on chases and that don’t seem to bother you. I didn’t realize-“

“That’s different! The roads and the fields when there’s no storms are different! We’re on an actual road! What- what if there were other people?! What if you hit somebody?! What if a sherif saw?!” You say, obviously still panicking. Tyler decides to pull over.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I was way outta line, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no cars or tractors around. We’re safe.” His voice is soft. “Just breathe, Darlin’. Just you and me.” He takes your hand, rubbing small circles in it. “I feel bad. I wanted a reaction outta you, but not like this. I never want you to feel unsafe with me.”

“I know.” You were still struggling to breathe. Tyler places your hand on his chest to feel the rise and fall of his breathing. He hopes you can sync yours with his own.

“Take it easy, sweetheart. You’re okay. Feel me breathing? We’re both okay.” He places a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry… it’s not you. When I was in high school I had a crazy ex boyfriend who used to swerve in town just to scare me because he knew I was afraid of car crashes. He almost killed us a couple times, I think. I guess no matter how much time’s passed, dumb high school bullshit still affects me into my adult years.”

“Hey, that’s not okay. It’s not dumb bullshit. It’s trauma.” You lean over the console to be closer to him and he wraps his arms around you. “I would never put you in danger like that for the sake of a joke.” You could tell his blood was boiling on the inside, but he was trying to keep himself calm. He didn’t want to upset you more. He knew this was about you feeling better, not him.

“We gotta get going if we wanna try to make it by 1.” You wipe your tears.

“I don’t care how long we’re pulled over. Hell, we can even turn around if you’re not up to anymore. I don’t care about the chase. I care about you.” He moves your hair out of your face. “I can call the rest of the team and tell them to turn around right now or go without us.”

“What happened to Mr. If You Feel It, Chase It?” You joke, trying to lighten the mood. He looks into your eyes. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him so serious.

“The only feeling that matters is the one I get when I’m with you.“

Tears start creeping up again. These tears aren’t bad, though.

“Tyler, I’m in love with you.” It just slips out, like the easiest confession you’ve ever made in your life. You both knew there was something there, but neither one of you were willing to say it. It had always been heavy flirting, awkward mornings after cuddling in the only bed left at the motel, a drunk kiss or two.

After a moment of staring in silence Tyler kisses you. Everything happened in slow motion, but in truth it was probably just the adrenaline slowing everything down. Tyler wasted no time in kissing you. It was the quickest decision he’s ever made. You don’t know how long the kiss was. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough. You’d swear off oxygen for the rest of your life if it meant this moment never had to end. You’d been pinning after your best friend for so long and finally the moment was here.

“I’m so glad you said something because you’re one of the best navigators I know and I really didn’t wanna risk losing you from the team by telling you I was in love with you.” Tyler laughs.

“Is that the only reason you didn’t tell me?” You ask.

“No, I was scared. Losing you from the team would be a bummer, but I couldn’t lose you from my life. We see a lot of loss in this business. Whenever I thought about it, the thing I couldn’t stand to lose most was you.” He runs his fingers through your hair, moving to cup your cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was nice to finally say it. You’d waited a long time to tell him.

“Let’s get back on the road. This time just don’t stop my heart.” You give a small laugh.

“You’re safe with me.”

“I know. You’re not like those other guys, Ty.”

You hold hands and rest on his other arm as he drives. He’s lucky he’s good at driving with one hand because he’s happy to see about 30 minutes later you’ve finally fallen asleep. Today was going to be a long day, but Tyler knew forcing the team to wake up so early was worth it. He may have had to bribe Boone 20 bucks to drive the other car up with Lily, but at least he didn’t have a third wheel sitting in the back seat. Tyler didn’t get a lot of alone time with you. Now he had 7 hours of it. It was worth it.

[rinkkuma]

୨୧ JUJUSTU HIGH CAMPUS CRUSHES

ft. satoru gojo, yuta okkotsu, suguru geto, yuuji itadori, & megumi fushiguro

tags. highschool au, (but could be viewed as college kinda) gn!reader, a bit of cussing, all fluff ! / author's note. got a little carried away but its fine… :3

SATORU is everyone's hallway crush, you included. luckily for you, he was in one of your classes. he sat a few seats in front of you that gave you the perfect view that allowed you to look at him, and not get caught staring. (but you've almost gotten caught on multiple occasions due to him whipping his head around like he could feel your stare he could) one day to your surprise, (or horror) your teacher switched seats for the new semester and he was sitting next to you. the second your teacher said his and your name, your heart started racing so fast. it didn't help when you sat down next to him and your heart started to pound out of your chest. you were afraid that he could hear it. and oh my god, was he ten times more handsome up close. your first impression of his personality, was.. not good. he was ever so slightly annoying (teasing you and whatnot) and asked you for a pencil. every. goddamn. day. the first few times you've handed him a pencil without really acknowledging it. but days turned into weeks of him asking you for a pencil. (it's actually his master plan, and he thinks since you've held the pencil before and now he's holding it, it's like indirectly holding hands with you!) he was a little shit to be honest, but at least that could help you cover your crush on him anyway.

YUTA has to bear the misfortune of having no classes with you. the poor boy never even sees you in the hallways during passing period either. no classes, no passing you in the halls—nothing. the only time he's ever seen you was during orientation. but the fact that your friends with maki, tells him he still has a little luck. although you and maki aren't in the same friend group, she still occasionally finds you during lunch to chat with you. since maki knows that yuta has a tiny crush on you, she lets him tag along whenever she visits you. you immediately light up when you see maki, waving to her with a smile, but when you see yuta, you visibly tense up. you had seen him in a few of maki's instagram posts and couldn't help but think he was maybe, a tiny bit cute. however, you quickly compose yourself as maki catches you up on anything in her life, and you catch her up on yours. when you smiled or laughed at whatever maki had just said, (he wasn't listening to a single word that came out of either of your mouths) yuta melted. your smile, was so so cute. and your laugh, he could listen to it all day. maybe yuta will engage in the conversation next time, to be the one to make you laugh.

SUGURU is your out-of-this world handsome deskmate. you've been sitting next to him since the first day, (since your teacher actually assigned seats) and oh my god. not only does he have the looks, he's also a gentleman, a sweetheart, and everything in between. lends you pencils or paper whenever you need it, always grabs materials for the two of you if you ever need to get out of your seat to get them, and walks you to your next class. one day though while the two of you were walking to your class after lunch, a boy with white hair who was roughly around the same height as suguru, came up to him and mumbled something along the lines of, “so, when are you gonna ask them out?” as he wiggled his eyebrows. maybe you misheard, but either way your heart started pounding. suguru gives the boy an annoyed, eyes-wide open look and pushes him away before laughing and apologizing for him. (he was secretly praying that you did not hear any of that) suguru thinks that satoru has teased him enough about his deskmate, and maybe he really should ask you out soon.

YUUJI is the boy in your math who can't help but stare at you in class. he's might or might not have been caught by you a few times but hey, you think he's cute too. and since he's too busy staring at you, he has no clue what is going on in class. what does this mean? it's a perfect opportunity for him to ask you to help him! one day after class, he enthusiastically asked you to help him with a few practice problems, (there was a quiz coming up, so he hoped he didn't look obvious) and you agreed. you were going to finally talk to the boy who you had been crushing on for the past couple months, but you could totally mess up your first impression. what if you weren't a good enough tutor? what if— oh. that didn't matter anymore because before you knew it, the day you had scheduled to tutor him had arrived. to your surprise, he's early and already sitting at a table in your school library with all of his materials out. truth be told, he was freaking out in his head and just wanted to look organized and prepared with all of his things already out. after setting your things down and pulling out your materials, you begin to teach him the concept—oh my god. yuuji cannot pay attention for the life of him right now because of your voice. it's so soothing that he doesn't break out of this trance until you whisper yell his name about 10 times. he realizes he so has a massive crush on you.

MEGUMI was the quiet (but cute!) boy who got paired up with you during a group project. fortunately for you, he was the type to actually pull their weight in a group project rather than just letting the other person do all the work and taking credit for it. you couldn't help but notice that he was kinda, sorta cute as well. and maybe you've tried finding him on social media, but ended up being too scared to follow him. he surprisingly still talked to you even after you finished the project, and even paired up with you willingly from that point on. he seemingly got more comfortable around you and started opening up and talking more. he cracked jokes every once in a while, which if you were being honest with yourself weren't that funny, but you laugh anyway. a few months into the school year, megumi realizes that he might just have a crush on you. he was always looking forward to class with you, and he swore he felt butterflies in his stomach whenever you walked into class. megumi starts to wonder if he should start asking his friends for advice..

[ham1lton]

could i request a continuation of lewis x assistant yn when damson idris flirts with her ❤️‍🩹 could be texts or a blurb whatever u like!!! it made me laugh so hard to picture george going first of all what ‘work’ is yn doing 🤨 and lewis being like 😒😒😒

author’s note: i am very well aware that is giveon and not damson but please pretend it is <3 part of my dream girl universe and my 2k celebration! also there is an smau at the end :D

you only had one goal on your mind: to find damson idris and to not get flustered while pulling out your top pick up lines.

he was as elusive as he was handsome. showing up on the paddock occasionally while flocked by film crew, and almost always while you were busy in a rush. you prayed that he hadn’t seen you on the day you hadn’t brushed your hair and he just so happened to walk by you and smile in your general direction.

you had finished all of your work a day early, sending lewis’ emails and planning his day so that you would have a solid forty five minutes of seducing time. you had put on your favourite makeup look, styled your hair and even wore the skirt that made your legs look fantastic. it was go time.

you do a quick breath and teeth check as you walk towards him. he’s sitting on a couch, scrolling through his phone as you approach him.

“hi,” you say, as he looks up and you and smiles. “i’m yn, huge fan and not in the stalker way.”

“damson.” he laughs as he shakes your hand and gestures for you to sit next to him. “so do you attend f1 games a lot? i’ve been here for a while now and i’ve never seen you. i feel like i definitely would have noticed someone like you.”

“someone like me?”

“y’know, pretty.” he smiles bashfully. you resist the urge to giggle like a kid. that would obviously be very embarrassing.

“oh you think so?” you said, giggling. he nods, as you twirl a strand of hair around a finger. “but i’m actually here because i work for-“

“lewis hamilton?” he interrupts, as he sits up.

“how did you know?” you say before you turn around to see lewis headed your way. he gives damson a nod before turning to you.

“damson,” lewis grins. “are you monopolising my assistant?”

“oh no. we’re just chatting.”

“because she sadly has a lot of work to do.”

“i do?”

“she does?” george, who was eating a chicken salad in the corner chimes in. “since when does yn do work.”

“excuse me? i’ve always worked.” you raise an eyebrow. “been working since i was sixteen and i’ve been working for lewis since i was eighteen.”

“legally perhaps but i’ve never seen you work.” george gives you a pointed look and takes a bite of his dry salad. “you’re always in people’s business or watching netflix or playing with roscoe.”

“do you see the air? no, but it’s still there isn’t it?” you roll your eyes. “also playing with roscoe is actually part of my job dumbass-“

“speaking of things that are still there,” lewis interrupts you as you glare at george. “you still have to get roscoe’s snacks.”

“i bought three extra bags just yesterday?”

“well. he finished them.”

“oh for goodness sake,” you sigh as you get up. “you spoil that dog.”

“you just bought matching gold bracelets with him a week ago and expensed it on my card.”

“i’m sorry about this damson.” you say, ignoring lewis. “duty calls, i’ll see you later.”

“definitely.” he winks as you giggle.

((you realise that you didn’t even get a chance to use the pickup lines so you make george rank them out of 10. he gives them all a 0 and you try and bribe carmen to make him sleep on the couch. it’s unsuccessful but he pays for the two of you to have lunch together, so you count it as a win anyways.))

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 1,102,198 others.

yourusername: it finally happened. i built this shit… brick by brick!

tagged: damsonidris

view all 208,728 comments

user1: OMGGGGGG POWER COUPLE

user2: more roscoe posts.. we’re BACK!!

*liked by yourusername.*

user3: yn i love uuu

-> yourusername: i looveee uuu user3

-> user3: just fell to my knees in walmart.

user5: snowfall reference YASSS

user6: since when was yn and damson dating?

-> user7: better question is… do they need a third?

user8: so lewisyn is no more???

-> yourusername: that man is my boss x

georgerussell63: so this is the work u needed to do? hmm.

-> user9: MESSY ASS 😭

-> user10: what do u mean by that…. 🤨

-> user11: give us the tea or leave it on the playground mr russell.

lewishamilton: yn did u get my text message?

-> yourusername: yes and i sorted it out no worries 😋

-> user12: he’s jealous 😭

-> user13: ik he mad rn 😹😹

lilymhe: pretty girl 💋

-> yourusername: miss u lil :((

-> lilymhe: imy too babe it’s been years 😢

-> alex_albon: ur sitting right next to each other??

oscarpiastri: you look pretty.

-> yourusername: so i look ugly and grotesque normally?

-> oscarpiastri: you know what i mean.

-> oscarynnie: WE WON!!!!

damsonidris: lovely to meet you yn, i’ll see you on the paddock very soon :)

-> yourusername: looking forward to it 😁💕

— dream girl series taglist: @flowergirl1134 @laur20a23 @greantii @rafebun @sumlovesjude @papayadays

[shybunnie20]

BFF!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

friends to lovers

★Locations ★My Masterlist

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

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

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

Word count: 8.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come over later to find out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I don’t. But you do.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna do it together,” his voice softens, genuinely asking as nicely as he’s capable. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re an ass,” You whine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing,” Eddie confirms, “I’ll let you know how it goes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

[peachsukii]

— blast off!

✮ summary. reupload/re-write! your favorite metal band is in town, the same one you used to listen to with bakugo back in high school, and you decide to go to the show together! after a long week, a night out in Shibuya is exactly what you need. ✮ content. fem!reader. no quirks mentioned/modern college au. brief violence, mentions of alcohol, friends to lovers, mutual pining, protective bakugo, fluff, first kisses. ✮ notes. ty so much to @tartagliove for beta'ing for meee! <3

✮ word count. 1.7k 『 k.bakugo masterlist ⨯ crossposted to ao3 』

“How long's it take for ya to get ready?!” Bakugo shouts from your living room, impatiently tapping his foot while sitting on the couch waiting for you to finish touching up your makeup in the bathroom.

“Just a sec!” You call back, leaning over the sink to smudge the corner of your eyeliner just the way you like it.

“Y’don’t even need any damn makeup!” He retorts, a backhanded compliment to get your ass moving. “And it'll just—” His words die in his throat as you emerge from the hallway and make your way into the living room. The outfit perfectly compliments the occasion, one of your favorite metal bands that you two would listen to back in high school. It wasn’t too over the top, at least you didn’t think so. An all black ensemble: a thin long sleeve mesh top under your band t-shirt, tucked lazily into a pleather mini-skirt and a pair of tinted sheer tights hugging your legs. You catch him staring as you’re clipping in a pair of earrings. 

“What? Too much?”

He scoffs, sneakily checking you out a second time. “You look fine. If some slimy fucker creeps on you, I’ll punch his lights out.”

You can’t help but snort as his comment, shaking your head with a playful eyeroll. Bakugo isn’t as dressed up as you are, donning a simple gray t-shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans with rips in the thighs and black boots. A stack of his favorite bracelets hang on his wrist and a pair of black studs adorn his ears.

“Figure out where you wanna eat?” You ask before scurrying to the hallway closet to look for your favorite pair of boots.

“The curry place by the station. We can hop on the train into the city afterwards.”

Shoes in hand, you skip back to the living room and plop next to him on the couch.

“Those things could squash a damn kid,” Bakugo jokes, pointing to the platforms of your boots as you’re lacing them on your feet.

“Shut up! They're my favorites.”

“And you’re still shorter than me with those fuckers on.”

You punch him in the arm, maybe a little too hard, in jest. “I don’t need to be your height to kick your ass!”

“Ow, shit! Watch it, those hands are fuckin’ deadly!” He scolds, rubbing the reddening mark on his bicep.

“My bad,” you chuckle and pat him on the shoulder as an apology. “Come on, let’s get outta here.”

—

“Hand it over,” Bakugo orders as you pick up the check from the table, flexing his palm toward you.

“Kats, I told you—” you start to remind him until he cuts you off mid-explanation.

“Oh I heard ya, doesn’t change shit. Give it.” He snatches the paper and booklet with one hand while fishing his wallet out of his pocket with the other. “Stop bein’ a brat and let me pay for your stupid dinner.”

Bakugo consistently paid whenever the two of you would go out. It didn’t matter what it was; coffee before work, snacks from the convenience store, lunch outings, dinners in the city, he’d shove you aside and take your card. The few times you did get to pay for him, he immediately sent you the money back. It’s been a consistent staple in your friendship since senior year of high school.

“I’m not being a brat! I was just trying to treat you to dinner for once."

Bakugo rolls his eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

—

The two of you arrive at the venue an hour before the show starts, giving you enough time to get inside, grab drinks and find a perfect spot as planned. The bar is relatively empty when you walk in.

“Are you at least gonna let me buy you a drink?” You tease, elbowing Bakugo in the arm.

He sighs dramatically, the tell-tale sign that he’s no longer going to fight you on it. “You’re lucky I’m feelin’ generous.”

Beers in hand, you both head to the general admission area and situate yourselves near the back. Not too squished between loads of people, but enough to see the stage comfortably.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” you beam, leaning against him as a token of gratitude. "Didn't think you'd come, honestly. It's way past your bedtime, old man."

He throws an arm over your shoulder and pulls you into his chest with a huff. “Would'a been mad if ya didn’t ask me to come with ya. We always had it on repeat through study sessions and sparring matches.”

The lights begin to dim and the crowd cheers as the band takes the stage. Bakugo lets you take a step back and shift next to him, but keeps his arm around your shoulders. The two of you cheer together and hold up your beers for the band as they set up for their first song. As the show progresses, Bakugo loves watching you throw your hands up and yell along with the crowd, having the time of your life and not letting anyone get in your way. It’s infectious, his grin not wavering the entire show. Before you knew it, the night was coming to an end.

“We have one more song for the night!” The lead singer announces into the mic as he swings an acoustic guitar over his shoulder. “It’s a special one. If you know the words, don't be afraid to sing along. Thanks for coming out!”

The song they begin to play is one of their slower numbers, one that you know Bakugo adored, even if he never vocalized it. You watch as his eyes light up under the spotlights, taking in the moment as the notes fill the air. You loop your arm with his, rocking back and forth in unison with the rest of the crowd. Bakugo removes his arm from yours to spin you around, pulling you close and holding you to his chest. He gently sways back and forth, the sound of his heartbeat thrumming under your cheek with the subtle vibrations of him humming to the song added to the rhythm. Your eyes flutter closed, absorbing every ounce of love in this moment. Everyone else fades away, this rare moment lost to time and space, reserved just for the two of you. The song comes to an end, your reality slowly restoring to normal when Bakugo loosens his hold around you.

“I didn’t think they were gonna play that tonight,” you say, smiling up at him. “Guess we gotta buy t-shirts now!”

Bakugo laughs, shaking his head. “Matching ones?”

“It’s either that or we buy one and I constantly steal it from you.”

'We?' He cracks a smile at the suggestion.

“You steal my shit all the time, ya brat,” Bakugo teases, pinching your cheek. “I’ll buy two. Which one do y’want?”

“You pick! I’m gonna run to the bathroom before we head out,” you say as you pat him on the shoulder before skipping off to the opposite side of the venue. He heads over to the merch table to stand in line for your t-shirts, but it doesn't take long to get through the line. It feels like an eternity since you wandered off once Bakugo's standing off to the side waiting for you, growing anxious that something happened. He meanders over toward the bathrooms, the t-shirts he bought for you both draped over one of his shoulders. He’s poking around, searching for you in the crowd as he finally spots you in the sea of others. You’re talking with some guy that he doesn’t recognize, and the creep is inching his way into your personal bubble, annoyance written all over your face. Bakugo stomps forward and catches the last part of his lame excuse of a pickup line.

“C’mon doll, you’re fine as hell. Don't you—"

"Beat it, jackass. She's not interested," Bakugo interrupts, stepping to your side.

The guy scoffs and takes a step back from you. "And who the hell are you?"

Bakugo doesn't hesitate when he answers confidently. "Her boyfriend. Now fuck off."

Your cheeks flare at his comment. Did he mean that, or was that just to get this guy off your back? You turn to leave when the guy slaps your ass - hard - making you jump with disgust. Everything turns red in an instant.

"Have fun with this loser, babe,” he mocks with a shit eating grin plastered across his face.

Bakugo doesn't even have time to react himself before your fist crashes into this guy's jaw, clocking him so hard that he stumbles to the floor in shock. The commotion causes one of the security guards to scurry in your direction, beckoning for you to come over to him.

"Fuck, we gotta go!" you yell, interlocking your fingers with Bakugo's as you weave through the crowd and dart away from the guard before getting caught. The two of you manage to escape, bolting out of the venue's exit door and into the busy Shibuya streets. You don't stop running until you round a corner and duck into an alleyway, hiding from any potential security that could've tailed you. Out of breath, you lean on to the wall and wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

"Shit, sorry Kats, didn't mean to thrash you around like that."

Bakugo takes a second before deciding to box you up against the wall with his frame, catching you off guard.

"I'm not complain'. I won't lie, it was kinda hot watchin' you punch that asshole."

A genuine laugh bubbles in your throat. "He deserved it. But boyfriend, huh?" you joke, smirking and pulling at the collar of his t-shirt.

"I bought matching band shirts with ya, who the fuck else would I do that shit with?" Bakugo snickers as he's shutting his eyes, lowering his face to level with your own before your lips meet. The kiss is impulsive, but feels oh so right. You pull him back in for another right after, longer and sweeter than the first, enough to show that he earned the boyfriend title.

This isn't where you thought the night would end, but you're over the moon.

✮ network. @pixelcafe-network ✮ bkg & all tags. @slayfics @maddietries @starieqq 

@liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague

@napbatata @Yoyolovesdaiki @catsoupki

@queenpiranhadon @kirishimaeijiromyman @strwbrrykthv

@hayatoseyepatch @awkwardchick87 @stunies @sakufilm

[readychilledwine]

span it into March, Liz. Make us cry instead

You asked for it.

Pieces of You Pt 1

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected

Warnings - depression, self destructive behavior, babies, grieving, loss of motivation in life, Rhys feels his spark is gone, we haven't seen into readers headspace yet

Prologue

Rhys had not left his bed in 7 days. He had not changed. He had not bathed. Dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes as a permanent reminder of the lack of sleep he allowed himself.

It took one week. One week for him to feel the light Feyre lit in his soul to go out. One week for him to feel the last of his spark die. One week of tugging nothing but an aching empty void. Rhys saw no joy in life anymore, just burden and heartache.

Cassian entered the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. It had been like this the whole time. Each day, a different member of the Inner Circle would come to his newly claimed room. They'd try to tell him about his son, try to force him to eat, to drink something other than another bottle of whiskey or wine. They all would leave when they realized he wouldn't budge, and that's how Rhys wanted it to be right now. He wanted to be alone. To drown himself in self hatred, in guilt, in anger, in the depths of sadness he had never felt before. “She's asking when you're going to come see him. She's concerned you aren't bonding with him and-”

“Tell her I just lost my fucking mate and I will see him when I'm ready to.” Rhys growled out every letter, glaring at Cassian. “She's fully fucking capable of caring for both of them.”

Cassian's shoulders fell. “Rhys, she just lost her mate, too, remember? The so-called accident in the port? The one we are fairly sure Beron and Koschei planned? He was one of the males killed.”

A moment of sympathy crossed through Rhysand's face before his own grieve ate through the emotion completely. “She was one of Feyre's friends, Rhys. Trust me. She's mourning as hard as we all are as well as mourning her mate, and trying to process it all while caring for two newborns in her home unexpectedly.”

Rhys rolled away from him, indicated he was done, and Cassian sighed, looking down towards his feet. “She's keeping Nyx alive, selflessly, Rhys. Our last physical piece of Feyre. At least consider going and seeing him.”

-

Members of the Inner Circle had all but moved into your cottage.

You had gone from just you and Wen to you, Wen, Nyx, and which ever member or members arrived to take care of you that day.

Today, Lady Death stood at your door with Cassian. They were holding baby supplies, food for lunch, and clothes for both of the babies. Nesta was a shell, moving into the home in silence and setting things down as if time was moving at a slower pace for her.

Cassian tucked your messy hair behind your ear. “I asked him to come see Nyx.”

Your eyes lit up, hope for the little heir shining in them. “And?” Cassian just shook his head, eyes beginning to water as he did.

“Is he asleep?” You nodded at the question. “And Little Mor?” You nodded again.

“I fed them both about 20 minutes ago.”

“Go do something for you,” Nesta's voice was lifeless. “We will make lunch. Azriel will be here soon.”

Azriel had become a constant companion. As soon as he realized Rhys had no interest in seeing Nyx, he had been here, standing in where a father should be. Doing whatever you needed, whatever the babies needed. Even though he was there for Nyx, he still treated “Little Mor," as the Inner Circle had all named your daughter, like he was here for her too.

You moved into your bathroom, looking at the now lukewarm bath you had drawn for yourself. It would be fine. You'd be quick. Then you would be ready to go be super mom and nanny again.

-

Azriel froze when he saw Rhys dressed in casual clothing, waiting for him at the door. He had lunch for the High Lord, hoping he'd be able to make him eat before leaving to be with you and his favorite babies. A shadow curled his ear, whispering how Rhys wanted to go see his son. How he needed to meet you officially. How he was struggling to set aside his own needs. How he was a scared lamb where a lion once stood, ready to run the second things became too difficult.

Azriel held a hand out, reaching for Rhys like the brothers had reached for each other so many times before. He waited, smiling softly at Rhys as a shaking hand placed itself in his and he walked them through the shadows before Rhys could change his mind.

-

Struggling flowers in pots sat outside of the cottage, wilting slightly from the lack of time and care put into them. A blue door sat on silver hinges, greeting them brightly. Mocking Rhysand's sadness with its cheerful presence.

You were an artist, Rhys knew that much. Where Feyre loved to paint, you used charcoal to express yourself. He also knew the two of you were fast friends, constantly having lunch together, shopping together, giggling.

You had been all Feyre spoke of when she met you 4 months ago. Her first true friend with no ties to a lover, to the inner circle, to obligations. You chose her, and she relished in every moment of your love, and from what Rhys understood, you relished in hers.

Rhys had a piece of your artwork. You had sketched out Feyre, mind and hands deep in paint, glowing towards the tail end of her pregnancy as she worked on painting Nesta rising from the Lake as Lady Death.

You had an impeccable eye for details and for making emotions readable through lines. You were a true gem to the Rainbow. A valued member of Velaris. He knew your name long before Feyre had mentioned you, but now, you were irreplaceable.

To him, to Nyx, to the Inner Circle.

They owed you. Rhys owned you. The very least he could do was drag himself out of a bed, throw on clothing, and come see his son. Rhys shook as his hand reached to knock, before scarred ones gently lowered His and twisted the knob.

“We don't knock. We just enter. No loud noises, okay?" Azriel opened the door, nodding to where Nesta sat with her hands on her hand, and Cassian was making lunch. “They must be sleeping?”

Cass nodded not turning his back to face them yet. “Little Mor and Nyx just fell asleep 25 minutes go. Y/n is Bathing in cold water because Mother forbid that female takes a moment for herself-”

As if on cue, as if sensing Rhysand's presence, a piercing cry broke through the house, and they heard a door open and then another. Azriel pulled Rhys with him to the nursery where Nyx and Morwenna slept during the day. "That cry was Nyx," Azriel said softly. "He struggles during naptime. Little Mor has a more rattle cry."

Long hair dripped water onto the wooden floorboards as a small winged figure rested his head on a bare shoulder. “I know, sweetheart,” you bounced him so softly, soothing him back to sleep. “I know you're lonely. It's okay. We can cuddle, I don't mind.” A deep huff left his mouth as he settled in, basking in the contact you were offering him.

Rhys moved like a ghost to the second bassinet where a sweet girl slept, happy and content for what he hoped was a few more moments.

The two of them could have been twins. Same dark hair, similar noses, similar lips set in a forever baby pout.

Aside from gender, there were only two glaring details sitting on Nyx's back that were the tell-tale sign of their different parents. Two glaring details that killed his mate, his wife. “And your son's mother,” a soft feminine voice whispered. “She was his mother, too, High Lord. He is missing her just as much as you are.”

Azriel looked to Rhys, calling for him in his mind. Daemati. Check your shields.

"His shields are fine. He's just screaming his thoughts like they're going to manifest into life if he does."

A deep voice finally answered, void of all emotion. “I don't think he misses her half as much as I do, my lady,” Rhys continued to look at Morwenna. A picture-perfect babe who caused you no harm.

“Little Mor,” Azriel said as he stroked her tuff of dark hair. "This is Morwenna, but we call her Little Mor.” Azriel then moved to Nyx, a ghost of a smile as his lips quickly trembled before he masked it. “You should hold him, Rhys. He might remember your voice.”

“It would be good for both of you,” you whispered. “He needs you. Look into his little mind and then Wen’s,” a pointed look to Azriel allowed Rhys to finally see you.

Tired eyes, features pale from exhaustion, a small smile that didn't reach your eyes. Your beautiful eyes. You were stunning, even by high fae standards, Rhys knew that, but he could hardly appreciate it the way he once had. There was no more beauty in his world. No more light. Feyre had taken it all with her.

“High Lord, please, holding him. Even just for a second.” You moved to Rhys, standing before him, offering so much more than just his son. “He needs you, and you need him. Just open your eyes and see that.”

Rhys held out shaking hands, taking his son in his arms for the first time, holding him for the first time. Bright blue eyes looked up at him, laced with sleep and confusion, before snuggling so closely into his chest that Rhysand felt something stir again. You moved him to the chair, forcing him to sit and handing him tissues as the tears began to fall.

He looked up to where you had grabbed your daughter before she could start crying, soothing her as well. He listened to the soft whispers of your voice, he watched you care for her no differently than you had Nyx, treating them like they were both your own.

It explained the little heir's health, the rolls beginning to form on his little body, the rosy cheeks. You loved him like he was yours, and he loved you.

Rhys looked back down, and as he stared at Nyx, watching each little movement of his chest, feeling his warmth, his happy thoughts and dreams of his and Feyre's voices, of you singing to him and rocking him to sleep. Looking at his son, Rhys realized that maybe, just maybe, there was still some light left in this world. He felt for the first time in a week that maybe, just maybe, there was still something left to live for.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tayswhp

Rhys taglist:

@tothestarsandwhateverend @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avajustreads

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @novalovi @rachelnicolee @sleepylunarwolf @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @bunnyredgirl @fandomrejects

If your username is in bold, tumblr is not allowing me to tag you. Hopefully it will fix here soon, though!

[transvampireboyfriend]

Had this “Steve only hates impersonal nicknames” idea in my notes for a while and then after seeing @cholvoq​ ‘s wonderful art I had to turn it into a real thing for Valentine’s Day. This is 2.4k, i’m SO sorry edit: you can now read this on ao3 :)

Eddie’s a nickname guy. It’s always Dusty this and Gare-Bear that and JeffJeff here and Bobbie there and it’s Mikey and Maxxii and Nance-pants and Johnny and… big boy?

Him being a nickname guy makes it near impossible to hide his crushes. Thankfully, Steve had been really cool about it. Sure, he seemed a little stunned, but Eddie still had all his teeth in place by the end of that interaction, so he had called that a win.

He hadn’t known then that Steve was… different. Or he was starting to see it but what he thought was shocking then had really been just the tip of the iceberg. He hadn’t expected Steve to be nice. Or funny, or caring, or protective, or understanding.

He had learned all of that after everything. During chats on Hellfire nights while the kids cleaned up after themselves, during hangouts at the diner with Robin and Nancy, during Saturday afternoons when he went to pick out a movie only to end up talking with Steve, their conversation flowing until it was cut short by Steve’s shift ending.

After some time, Eddie had gotten to know Steve even more during long weekday nights when one came over to bring the other something they left behind, or to share a record, or to demand the beers the other owes or to show the other a stupid article in a stupid magazine only to end up making dinner together and watching a movie afterwards.

They stopped making excuses about two weeks ago.

Eddie had asked “do youuu… wanna come over?” on Saturday night, while nervously twirling his keys as Steve locked the front doors of the Family Video.

The evening chill had cut right through Eddie’s leather jacket as his keys clanged against his rings. But Steve had nodded with a smile and asked “pizza?” on their way to their cars, and Eddie had forgotten all about the cold.

Point being, Steve had been just fine with ‘big boy’ when it happened. Eddie’s a nickname guy. Him and Steve are hanging out more now, and so, Eddie’s been calling him more nicknames. Some of them are very intentional, others come completely without thinking, and it turns out, Steve takes issue with a few of them.

The first time it happens, Eddie’s underneath his van trying to get the damn thing to cooperate, the recent winter was tough on it, and it keeps dying out on him.

Steve sits nearby perched on a little stool, wearing his Family Video vest since he came by right after finishing his morning shift to see if they could make plans for lunch. Eddie suggested they grab something at the diner if and when he finally gets the van to start back up and Steve had agreed to wait.

He’s been telling Eddie about tonight’s basketball- game? match? super bowl? Is there such a thing as the major leagues of basketball? Eddie’s not sure, but he adores the sound of Steve’s voice and he’s kind of invested in the drama of players switching teams and retiring and whatever else Steve wants to tell him about. So, he’s been listening, not really bothering with asking for clarification for what he doesn’t understand yet. He’ll figure it out as they go.

He's blindly patting the floor around his legs for his rag, when he feels Steve put it right in his hand.

Eddie’s relieved. "Thanks, bud!" he says, the nickname just rolling off his tongue effortlessly, no meaning attached.

It gets kind of quiet all of a sudden. After about five seconds of Steve not talking, Eddie comes out to check on him, and finds him frowning at his legs.

"Don't call me ‘bud’" Steve requests, looking up at his face, his tone just a tad harsh. Eddie would think he ran into King Steve if he didn't know any better.

As it is, Eddie gets Steve probably thinks the nickname is childish or patronizing, so he doesn’t think twice of it, just gets a little sheepish and says "sorry, Stevie".

Steve smiles at that, a little cocky. He does his little mean girl shaking his head thing like he just got exactly what he wanted. Eddie feels his face twist a bit in confusion, but he likes it when Steve gets a little mean so he doesn't say anything about it and just dives back under his van as Steve resumes their conversation.

 The second time it happens, they’re outside the supermarket. The kids shot out of the van as soon as it rolled to a stop, Steve calling out a warning after them while still listening to Eddie explain why Star Wars and Star Trek are actually very different but really good in their own way. Their conversation carries on as they hop out of the van, lock up and walk to meet at the front.

“I’m telling you, Star Trek is great. You would love it,” Eddie says, “you just have to give it a chance”.

Steve rolls his eyes at him, but Eddie can see his smile.

“Ok, alright,” Steve answers, “you can show me tonight then”, it’s almost too nonchalant. Eddie has to hide his grin.

Steve’s been suggesting they hang out more and more lately, and he can’t help but feel a bit hopeful. They clearly enjoy each other’s company, their time together is never dull, Steve seems to be really comfortable around him and maybe, just maybe…

“Should we get beers then?” Eddie asks, excited at the prospect of some more time alone with him.  They haven’t had a weeknight hangout since Eddie fixed his van last week. He kinda misses the very specific color of Steve’s eyes in the Harringtons’ yellow living room lamplight.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his eyes get soft in a way Eddie only started noticing a couple of weeks back, “we can watch it at my place” he adds. Eddie thinks he definitely hasn’t seen him look at anyone else like that.

To shake himself out of the spell of the prettiest boy he’s ever met making the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen at him and ONLY him, Eddie grabs Steve by the wrist and starts marching them towards the supermarket’s front doors.

Without thinking, Eddie says "c'mon man," as they go.

Steve, who started easily following him (like he always does these days), suddenly stops in his tracks. Eddie gets pulled back and almost stumbles on top of Steve. He'd get flustered if Steve wasn't frowning at him like he’d just said the most insulting thing he’d heard this month.

"Don't call me ‘man’" Steve says. Eddie feels his eyebrows raise a bit.

He debates asking why but doesn't question Steve in the end. He’d rather offer understanding than judgement to him any day.

So, Eddie takes advantage of Steve's wrist in his hand, and squeezes there a bit, says "I'm sorry sweetheart" sincerely, looks into Steve's eyes so he can see Eddie means it.

Steve blushes a bit then, not really used to the nickname yet, Eddie just got the balls to start using it last week. Eddie himself is not really used to seeing Steve blush, and at something he says? It’s too much power for one metalhead.

But he gets distracted from Steve’s blush because it happens again, Steve basically preens like a peacock once Eddie switches nicknames. Looks smug, like he has Eddie wrapped around his finger and well, Eddie guesses he does, so, no arguments there either.

He just smiles back at Steve, really, has no other choice, it’s not like he can control how he reacts to the most gorgeous fucking face the universe could ever come up with. But he tugs him along again, Steve happily following this time.

The next time it happens, Steve’s leaning against his kitchen island, with Eddie leaning across from him against the counter.

The party is watching a movie in the Harringtons’ living room and at some point, Eddie got up to get himself another soda, Steve not so subtly followed after him, taking the empty popcorn bowls to the sink. He struck up a conversation and there they stayed.

Eddie’s been turning the small gesture around and around in his head. Clearly Steve’s not shy about seeking him out, and he’s obviously good with the party knowing, which means a hell of a lot because those are Steve’s people, that’s his family.

Eddie’s honestly running out of excuses to not ask him out. Seeing him reaching out to bump his sneaker against Eddie’s boot when he says something funny, laughing just a little too hard at Eddie’s dumb joke; seeing his eyes widen a bit when Eddie compliments him; seeing him notice when Eddie is holding back from talking too much, and not letting it go until he thinks Eddie’s shared all of his opinions on the subject; Eddie thinks maybe he can be brave, when it comes to Steve.

And this week might be the perfect time.

Here they are still, the movie long ended and several easy conversations floating from the living room to the kitchen, where they’re still engrossed on their own.

“I mean I taught the kid how to do his hair for god’s sake!” Steve is saying, Eddie’s laughing easily, and he has a slight suspicion Steve’s acting way more annoyed than he really is because he knows Eddie dies laughing every time Steve roasts the kids.

“Just, if he’s gonna give me hair advice, he should work on that goddamn tone. At the Very Least.” Steve finishes, Eddie giggling all the while at his Annoyed Mom tone.

"Yeah, dude!" Eddie agrees, wanting to egg him on, but Steve's face suddenly falls and whatever remark Eddie had locked and loaded just fades away.

Eddie blinks perplexed; he’s getting déjà vu.

Steve frowns at him, says "Don't call me ‘dude’".

It’s eerie, only he sounds a bit annoyed this time.

Eddie thinks, maybe someone called Steve ‘dude’ before in an unpleasant way, so he doesn't pry.  Instead, he takes the chance to call him a nickname he likes more, and says "Sorry, pretty boy", his heart fluttering in the milliseconds he has to wait for Steve’s reaction.

And it happens one last time: Steve absolutely beams at that one, his smile so bright it makes Eddie want to jump in place.

He leans further back on the counter returning the smile, not noticing the common thread in Steve’s reactions to him switching nicknames.

But then the glint in Steve’s eyes suddenly brightens a dim corner of Eddie’s brain. He gets this feeling that reminds him of a perfectly set up riddle or finding that one perfect note for his latest song. It’s like everything suddenly just makes sense.

Eddie feels realization dawn on his face as he pushes himself off the counter to walk right into Steve’s personal bubble, grabs both of Steve's hands.

"Steve" Eddie says, not even caring that he sounds like the name is dripping in honey when it comes out of his mouth. With how sweet Steve is, it might as well be.

Steve just looks at him a little stunned, but doesn't say anything. Eddie draws circles in the back of his palms to reassure him.

"Why don't you want me to call you ‘dude’?" Eddie asks, trying to find out if this whole thing is what he thinks it is.

Steve looks down at their joined hands,.

"You call Nancy that sometimes..." Steve mumbles.

His answer would sound inconsequential to the unsuspecting, certainly would have to Eddie as late as last week, but Eddie thinks he’s finally getting it, and he hums his understanding.

"How ‘bout ‘man’?" he asks

Steve replies "You call Robin that sometimes..." his eyes still on their hands.

Eddie nods his agreement.

"I call everyone those things" he points out.

Steve agrees. "Exactly" he says, finally looking at him again, sounding annoyed and confirming Eddie’s suspicions.

Eddie feels his face split into a smile. He wants to grab Steve’s beautiful freaking face and just plant one on him.

"Can I still call you sweetheart?" he ventures instead. The nickname brings the hint of a smile to Steve's face but then he seems to realize something not so pleasant.

"Do you call someone else ‘sweetheart’?" Steve asks in return.

"No one" Eddie says, shaking his head, his tone vehement.

"Then yes" Steve finally answers. Eddie's heart wants to beat right out of his chest.

He interlocks their fingers to ground himself, Steve looks down at their hands and smiles at the sight.

"So, you don't want me to call you something I call someone else?" Eddie states, more than asks, calling Steve’s eyes back to his again.

"Anyone else" Steve confirms, holding his gaze.

Eddie lets out a small shuddering exhale and feels his heart fluttering in his throat, he really cannot believe this boy.

"Steve" Eddie drawls, dripping in honey again, his hands coming up to cradle Steve's face because he really can't resist anymore "Sweetheart" he says.

Steve's eyes grow a little wide and he starts blushing so much that Eddie can feel it in his palms.

"Steevieeee" Eddie sinsongs, squeezing Steve's face a bit "Pretty boy" Eddie calls him. Steve just keeps looking at him and a small smile blooms in his pretty, pretty face.

"Would you let me take you out to dinner this Friday?" Eddie finally asks him, his fingers curling to the back of Steve's head to play with his hair there. Steve's eyes get even wider.

" 's Valentine's this Friday" he points out. Eddie knows.

"Mmhm. Want you to be my Valentine." Eddie tells him, tugs his hair gently, "How's that sound?" he asks, bold in a way he never has been before. Steve blushing does things to him.

"Sounds nice" Steve answers. He smiles and nods while his hands hook on Eddie's belt loops.

"Then it's a date?" Eddie asks, trying not to sound too eager. He thinks he fails spectacularly but Steve beams and pulls him in to kiss his cheek.

"It's a date" Steve tells him, his breath ghosting on Eddie's cheek and making him shiver.

Steve pulls back, lets go of Eddie’s belt loops and tugs on a strand of his hair gently, smiling like the cat that got the cream as he walks back out into the living room.

Eddie’s gonna make this the best Valentine’s Day date Steve has ever been on.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Paperwork

summary: While Price's injury is healing nicely, you're growing needier by the minute. But you're not the only one. With the doctors order in mind, you and Price attempts to stave your hunger by having you cockwarm him in his office.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, depiction of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, cockwarming, p in v, teasing, masturbation (f), unprotected sex, creampie, implied age-gap

a/n: Well, that little valentines blurb really helped to get the writing going🫡

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Christmas passed just as slowly and cosy as you'd predicted, perhaps with one slight change of plans.

You'd returned home the night you'd dropped John from the hospital and helped him settle in somewhat. Despite debating whether to stay the night, your soldier urged you to head home to rest properly after spending so much time away.

You understood he tired of your company. In fact, he had a point, seeing how you wouldn't sleep soundly with him, constantly worrying if you would disturb his sleep by sharing a bed. And you needed a fresh set of clothes anyway. But you also noticed that being hurt took a toll on John. He'd accepted that you would be there to help him, but something told you he needed time to brood over the fact he was on med-leave for the upcoming months.

Once you returned to the flat you'd left in a hurry almost two days ago, you wandered aimlessly, trying to finish setting up your Christmas lights. However, whatever adrenaline the past 48 hours provided finally seemed to ebb, and you crashed on your couch shortly after finishing your task. 

By the time you woke up again, it had been dark outside. Dinner that night hadn't been glamorous, partly because you didn't have any finished food in your fridge and partly because you were yet to be hungry from the late lunch you shared with John before leaving his place. Still, the bowl of instant ramen warmed the cold feeling settling in your body from merely looking outside your window and down at the snowy streets.

You slept in the next day, waking up with a warm body and nose slightly chilled from the cool temperature in your room. The rest of the day was slow. You checked in on John with a message around noon, accustomed to reaching out to anyone in your closest circle around that time, seeing how no one usually was up earlier on the weekend, even if John definitely didn't categorise as one of those. He'd given you the awaited broody reply, grumbling about a horrid night of sleep and a dull ache even after taking his prescribed meds.

You stared at his message for a minute until deciding to give him a call rather than answer it.

'Hell, love'.

'God, you really sound worse for wear', was your instinctive response as John greeted you with a rough voice.

'Cheers', he huffed in return, a groan following shortly after. At that moment, you rubbed your forehead, an ache settling in your heart at not being there with him.

'How about I come over today already? Christmas is approaching, and we already said we would celebrate together. Wouldn't hurt if I stayed with you in the upcoming days with your shoulder and all...', you trailed off at the end.

'Know you have no problem with it, but I don't want to take up all your time if you have other things planned', he responded tentatively. 'I've managed worse on my own'.

'Don't have to do it alone anymore'. You reminded him, and with that, he didn't argue.

'Pack your bags, then'.

And you'd packed your bags for a week. Although, by now, you'd stayed two, with the occasional trip back to your flat to swap out some clothes.

John's shoulder healed nicely, even if the process was arduously slow, but at least it meant his injury wasn't inflamed. God forbid you would've seen it like that. While you never counted yourself as squeamish, the first time you'd helped John rid himself of the bandages and the surgical tape that, for a seeable future, needed to be changing once a week, you also remembered that neither had you ever seen a freshly sewn-together wound.

His skin was a deep pink, and the sewn-together parts puckered and elevated from the surrounding areas. You almost shied from pulling the surgical tape the rest of the way when first laying eyes on the injury. Upon seeing the scrunch of your nose and worried glance up his face, John made you step back and do the rest, reassuring you it didn't hurt, just strained unpleasantly if he moved wrong.

While it may not have hurt while gently cleaning the wound the first time and that John now could go without the sling, it didn't mean you didn't notice the pull in his features when he did make a too-fast movement or a shift that pulled at the stitches and deeper-torn tissue. He's still instructed not to carry anything heavy, making you catch a grumble of 'a goddamn month more' as you passed by right before your name was called numerous times. 

You didn't chide him from initially thinking he would manage on his own, but you both knew what the look you sent him implied and that his thank-you kiss was a silent acknowledgement that you'd been right. It would've been anything but enjoyable for him if you hadn't spent the past two weeks with him.

Even though only two weeks had passed, you quickly noticed John wasn't a man who could go long periods without doing anything. That didn't mean he couldn't take it easy. As he said himself, he'd learned that skill. But, reading so many books while having x amounts of scotches was only as enjoyable and appropriate as it could be to not count as light alcoholism. John was itching to do something more than sit idly around or keep you company during whatever you did.

So, it wasn't a surprise the first time you found him in his study a few days ago. He'd looked up from the papers with a caught-in-the-act look when you knocked on his study's door, the excuse of work piling up that he needed to look over leaving his lips instantly. You'd never been the one so strict about working when home; your free-lancing job was practically based upon it. Therefore, you'd waved his excuse away, padding into the office you'd barely set foot inside despite the many times you'd visited him. 

You'd leant against the side of his desk, not more than casting a quick side-eyed glance on his computer to show you noted its presence but not the contents on the screen before your gaze sought his. Upon your curiosity of what it was, John indulged you in what he occupied himself with.

And just like that, John, who usually was so strict about not working when spending time with you, grew lenient on that rule of thumb, restlessness gnawing at his bones enough to slip away an hour or two each day to occupy his mind. But, you always saw him at the same times during the day, joining you on the couch in his living room or in his bedroom, hijacking the TV remote to follow the post-Christmas football matches.

You jokingly poked his side each time he did, commenting on how there were two TVs in his house if he'd forgotten. But you only got a quirk in his lip and wink in return as he proclaimed he needed to convert you into a fan, teasingly anchoring you to his side with a heavy arm if you threatened to escape. 

But you both knew you didn't mind cuddling into his side with your head on his chest, following the matches of the day, only if he started getting too worked up when his team played and jostling your head around too much.

And that settled you into a new routine. While you busied yourself around the house, occasionally working a few days here and there, John watched football and occasionally retreated to his study. Although you left him to his work, he always left his door open, showing you it was free to enter if you desired.

Today was one of those days you did your separate things, not having seen each other much since the breakfast you shared, after which John left you with a kiss and 'know where to find me'. 

It had been fine. It is fine. You'd gotten ahead of work for the new year, and John eased his workload gradually. And yet, glancing at your phone screen, you note lunch is overdue. 

Sure, today had been slow. You and John had laid in bed for a while, basking in the last of the Christmas spirit the days between Christmas Day and New Year's Eve carried. And so, breakfast had been eaten later than usual, meaning lunch was also to be pushed forward. However, at half past one, John should've emerged from his office for a well-deserved break and shared the task of cooking something.

Putting aside your book, you move from the couch and wander outside the range of the fireplace's warmth. Its fire had long since burned out, and now the only parts glowing were the embering coals. 

Your fuzzy socks act as a barrier between your feet and the cold wood beneath as you wander up the stairs. Despite the constant blast of radiators and the fireplace harbouring a non-stop fire, the floor always remains chilly when the temperature drops outside.

Much like the past days, the door to John's study stood ajar. But, compared to earlier, when you'd retrieved something from the bedroom, you didn't only pass it with a glance inside, finding John staring down at his computer with his injured arm resting in his lap as his other scrolled whatever he was going through. Now, you pushed the door open, locating him not behind his desk but seated in one of the two Chesterfield armchairs.

The edge of your mouth quirks upwards as you observe his upper body bent backwards over the low backrest, laptop resting in his lap, kept only from slipping by his hand. As you enter his peripheral vision, he glances in your direction. You offer him a warm smile as you close the distance, moving to stand behind the chair.

"How's it going?" You look down at the head tilted far enough backwards that John can watch you, albeit upside down, from where he sits. He grunts in response, eyebrows raising swiftly as he straightens. 

You chuckle, hands that previously rested on the leather sliding to rest on John's shoulders, where you immediately dig your fingers into his muscles. He groans again, but this time, his head dips forward as you follow the tight tendons near his neck.

"That much to do?" You hum as you let up on the pressure, concentrating more on his uninjured side, following the muscles out to his shoulder, only to return and follow his spine to the back of his head. 

"Not really". A harsh breath follows John's sentence when you find a knot along his neck and concentrate on easing it with your thumb. "The boys can manage, Laswell too, but whatever's possible to be pushed forward, they leave to me, meanin' things that need readin' through and cleared for the go-ahead".

"Imagine it ain't like that book I gave you", you muse, John only scoffing in return. 

"Nothin' like it", he almost grumbles. "Would much rather cosy up with you and read that than this". He flicked the screen with his finger, a semi-metallic, semi-glass tick ringing from his action.

"You know very well you can drop work and cosy up with me and that book anytime you want. You're on leave". You remind him with a small smile, knowing he isn't really complaining.

With this being your first Christmas, you'd agreed to not spend too much on presents, even if you both had bought each other spontaneous gifts before, John being the culprit for spoiling you with expensive things much more often. While he'd gifted you a necklace he'd caught you looking at, you'd gotten him a book he mentioned wanting to read and a cigar to add to his collection. One, that at the moment, remained pretty stagnant as John refrained from having a smoke the first weeks of recovery. But you knew he itched for one, catching him eyeing the container he kept them in more than once.

"Hm, 'bout that", John's head lolled backwards, his gaze locking with yours. "Come here", he cocked his head, motioning for you to move around the chair. You did as he wished while he lodged his feet beneath the furniture's edge, moving the heavy armchair slightly backwards to allow you to stand between him and the low table. 

With you now in front of him, John placed his laptop on the wide armrest, leaning forward shortly after. Concerning it being the closest, the hand of his injured arm slipped around your naked lower thigh when he sat forward, your oversized sweater ending just above his hand.  

"Said here", John nods to his lap, pressing gently at the back of your leg.

"Your shoulder, John", you lightly scold his insistence, knowing where things would go if you ended up straddling him.

"It's fine". He insisted, tugging at your leg again. This time, you relented somewhat, stepping between his spread legs, the armchair's brown leather cool against your shins.

"The doctor told you to take it easy, let it heal." You reminded him of the instructions he'd received, but now, he scoffed at them.

With his head tilted to the side and displeased crease between his brows, his hand slipped down just an inch. The sudden tug as his fingers dug into the back of your knee took you off guard. It made your leg bend, and to not fall forward, your leg caught the excess seat beside his thigh as you caught yourself on the armrest to keep yourself steady.

You send John a look, as his stunt could've easily made you brace against his shoulder rather than the furniture. But he only cranes his head slightly as you hover over his self-satisfied self, a quirk bowing his lips.

"Takin' it incredibly easy, just you who's makin' me work hard for it". There's a glint in his eyes as his hands slide upwards, massaging the back of your upper thigh from how your dress-like sweater has ridden up somewhat, sneakily trying to urge you to settle entirely on top of him. Even so, you remain hovering. 

"Missed you, love". You narrow your eyes at the change in his approach.

"Missed me or something else?"

"Both." John's answer is almost boyish in how a half grin stretches his lips and the cock of his head. You roll your eyes but can't withstand his request any longer, the butterflies in your chest never truly escaping when close to the man.

Climbing into the seat with as much grace as possible, you're mindful of his shoulder, bracing against the opposite side on the backrest to ensure you don't accidentally grip it for support. But the armchair is wide enough for your legs to comfortably slot on either side of his hips, and your hands slide to rest on his abdomen instead.

Now planted in his lap and more accessible to avoid straining his shoulder to reach for you, both of John's hands find purchase on your waist.

"That wasn't too hard, now was it?" He humours you with an arched brow as you shuffle in his lap to make yourself comfortable, only to feel something beneath you. 

"No, but something seems to be". You tilt your head, alluding to the semi you slowly felt more prominently in his sweats.

"Haven't felt my girl in nearly a month. Can you blame me?" You shake your head with a huff through your nose, gaze cast down until it returns to his.

"Thought you were confident you wouldn't cave first". 

"Never said that", John hums as he curves his back to make himself more comfortable in the armchair, making you settle more firmly over his crotch. "Although I remember you sayin' you could go the longest without a proper fuck". He dares you to deny it with a cock of his brows.

You roll your eyes but don't technically argue against him. "With how you are speaking, I could think you're growing desperate".

He clicks his tongue. "Can't guilt trip me for missin' your warm cunt".

"Jesus, John", you flush under his heavy gaze and crude words, enough for you to look to the side. 

Fingers knock beneath your chin, quickly redirecting your attention back to him. Greeting you is a pair of blue eyes twinkling in intrigue. "So what you say, wanna keep me warm while I work?"

You eye him sceptically. John had figured you liked cockwarming him, the fact nothing hard to figure when you always pulled out the process of him slipping out of you as you caught your breaths in the aftermatch of whatever session had your body trembling and his clutching yours to anchor himself. But those times often happened after, not before. 

"We're not fucking", you point at him.

"Keep still, and we won't". He chuckles at your muttered 'insufferable' as you rise to your knees.

John helps you as much as he can, stabilising you with his un-injured arm as you tug down the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers digging into the fabric of his underwear, feeling the hotness of his still not-fully erect member. He sighs as you pump his cock to bring him to full erection before pulling his length out, rubbing the tip against the fabric covering your cunt. 

A warmth, a need, you hadn't felt in the past weeks blooms in your lower stomach. 

Since his injury, you and John hadn't had sex. It might only be a few weeks, but having a mostly bare-chested, burly man like him walk around the house nearly every day because it was too tricky putting on a shirt did things to you, things which you repressed in favour of not pushing anything onto John that would strain his injury. Doctors orders.

But as you pushed your underwear to the side, how easily worked up you got whispers of a repressed desire, your slit wet without any proper foreplay, not more than the mere thought of finally feeling him inside you. Even so, you softly whine as you sink down onto him, the stretch as he entered not unfamiliar in comparison to unused to. 

A drawn-out exhale escapes John as your tightness slowly swallows him, his hands falling to lift your shirt and simultaneously massage your hips.

"Just like that, love", his words are drawled as blue eyes follow how you inch your way down, having to work up and done with rolls of your hips take him after this long. "Just relax. You always take it so well". His praise makes you flutter around him, making your and John's breaths catch.

With a last shift, your thighs finally touch his, his cock buried to the hilt.

"Fuckin' hell so warm". You glance up at John, having his head notched backwards, lips slightly parted. Calloused hands slide up the smooth skin of your sides, outlining the curve of your hip, making your shirt ride up enough to show your stomach before it slides down again as his hands smoothened down your body again.

"Didn't you say you would work? Hard to do that while coping a feel". Your breathy comment brings John's head forward again, his eyes partly lidded.

"Only need one arm for that". There's a gentle tug in the corner of his mouth as he angles his laptop towards him on the armrest.

While propping his uninjured arm along the armrest, scrolling on the mousepad as he returned to the reading you previously interrupted, John's unoccupied hand gripped your hip as he brought you closer. The slight shift makes him move inside you, and your eyes flutter shut. Shit, this would be much harder than you'd anticipated.

In hopes it would distract you, you lean forward, nose knocking against the column of his throat. You inhale his scent, concentrating on how the typical aroma of rich cigar smoke is vacant from his skin with the lack of smoking.

John's unoccupied hand travels to the small of your back, fingers alternating between massaging your muscles and tracing light patterns against your skin. 

Shivers run up and down every part of your body, unconsciously making you shimmy as the shudders reach your shoulders. Your shifting jostles him inside you, causing you to clench reactionary. John's chest heaves, indicating he definitely felt how you squeezed around him.

But he didn't say anything, not verbally, at least. He simply grabs a fistful of your asscheek until flesh spilt between his fingers. The silent scold forces you to resist rocking in his lap, only releasing a quiet whimper, burying your face deeper into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

You inhale to steady your breath. 

The shower John took in the morning made his body wash more prominent. But he still smells of a certain alluring warmth, a musk simply describable as him, the one making you nuzzle against his bare upper body. You don't know whether to curse or hail him for not wearing a shirt nowadays, his nude chest distracting you somewhat from the delicious stretch and fullness of finally having him inside you. Until you knew it definitely did not help you.

As the hair dusted over his pectorals tickled against your lower chin and his beard against the upper part of your forehead, you ran your hands up and down his abdomen and chest. 

Feeling the thick cords of muscle beneath a layer of fat that made him so deliciously big and broad clench beneath your fingers acts like a lighter to gasoline. Mental images of seeing those muscles work as he pumps himself into you fill your head.

You don't even notice how your hips begin to roll until a heavy hand clutches your side, swiftly preventing the motion.

"Be a good girl, hm?" You glance up at John, but he hasn't even angled his head to face you. His blue eyes simply remain fixed on the computer screen. Even so, you feel how the muscles in his neck flex, and a soundless chuckle shakes his chest. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, face falling to hide against his neck again, but your attempt to remain calm has already failed as your mind supplies nothing but the filthiest scenes behind your eyelids. Grunting. Pistoning hips. Flesh grasped tightly.

You force an exhale, refraining from moving with any and all willpower in your fibres as you feel his girth throb inside you. You need a distraction. You need to distract yourself from thinking about how his cock fills you so well.

You start to mouth at his skin, light presses of your lips along his collarbone, trailing only far enough to his shoulder that you didn't aggravate his injury. When you once again reach where his clavicle met his sternum, you begin trailing kisses up his neck. You hum in delight, nuzzling against John's jawline, his beard tickling the tip of your nose. You felt him sigh, his chest pressing against yours before he exhaled through his nose.

God, you pliantly move with him as he shifts in his seat, attempting to find a more comfortable position by sliding down somewhat. But you can't help but momentarily dig your fingers into his abdomen as the slight stir pushes his hips against yours, forcing him deeper inside you. The sting of your nails makes his hips jump more erratically than when he'd shuffled just seconds earlier, and you can't stop a moan as you press yourself down into his lap. The only thought left in your mind is that you desperately need to move. Now.

Rocking your hips, you gave a quivering sigh, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his blunt tip hitting something so sensitive. 

"Love", John's voice is even, hinting at nothing more than attempting to earn your attention. However, how his hand travelled from around your waist to your ass, angling your hips roughly in an arch so you were pressed, forced stationary, against his chest, spoke of something else.

When you emerge from his neck, with hands planted on his chest, his blue eyes lock with yours, and how he tilts his head causes a shiver to run down your spine.

"Said to sit still, didn't I?" A soft whine leaves your mouth, lower lip jutting out. "Only going to keep me warm, eh?" He tuts amusingly.

You huff as you catch the amusement in his voice. "You seem to like it".

"Not 'bout likin' it love, but seein' how strong that resolve of yours is", he hums, taunting words brushing over your lips

You could bare your teeth at that response, like a cat hissing at someone, even if they were petting them because they came close. John's cock was literally throbbing inside you, his hips shifting to get more comfortable, only to rock himself deeper into you, demanding, mocking you to do something about your predicament.

As if feeling your body tense, your frustration growing, the menace of a man you're perched upon decides to stoke the fire by giving you a small kiss on your lips.

"Not fair", you hiss against John. This time, his chuckle is audible.

"No one said anything about fair". You send him a deadpan look, but he only chuckles deeply again. "Now relax again, love". His hand pushes against the back of your head, bringing you to rest it against him. You don't fight him, hooking your chin near the juncture of his neck, staring at the bookshelf opposite you.

You knew you'd given a false promise when you said this wouldn't lead to anything. Called your own lie and his with your initial scepticism. But now you're too far gone, too horny after nearly a month of not properly feeling him; you let out a shuddering, displeased moan as you purposefully squirm.

Your constant shifts were too small to bring any real pleasure, erratic enough they would be written off as shifts to get comfortable if it wasn't for how you and John knew it definitely wasn't. 

You could already feel your juices dripping, coating your inner thighs and his crotch, probably soaking his trousers. The lewd picture makes your pussy throb around his length again, and you quietly mewl, brows furrowing in frustration as you glare straight forward.

As if to make matters worse, your clit caught perfectly on the rolled-together line of your underwear that pressed into you at the angle John kept you from sinking deeper onto him. The realisation is like a doomsday announcement, as now it's impossible not to notice how your bundle of nerves is throbbing. 

The ache is unbearable, especially as pleasure is within sight, the planes of John's lower stomach pressed right against your mound. With such temptation just a breath away, you wriggle your hips, stuttering a breath when pleasure rushes through your abdomen. 

You start with small movements, yet more calculated than before. But soon, your squirming evolves into grinds that never fully make you sit back on John's lap. 

You reckon that's why he doesn't stop your movements. But what catches you, pleasantly, off-guard is when you feel a slight push of his hand against your backside.

John lazily guides your hips a few times but stops suddenly as if catching himself of what he's doing when his concentration slips from his reading. 

He chastises you with a soft pinch to the skin of your hips, and you know what's coming when he grabs the nape of your neck.

"Thought you said no fuckin'?". He directs your head in front of his. John's eyes have darkened, the good kind, his chest heaving more with each breath.

"I'm a big fat liar. That's what you want to hear?" You're quick to reply, the amusement rising in his blue eyes evident as he rolls his lips between his teeth with a content quirk in their corners before he answers.

"Always a delight when you admit you're wrong".

"Yeah, yeah", you roll your eyes, heat licking up your limbs and spine until pooling in the pit of your stomach. You attempt to quell it by mimicking the same move you'd previously done, but don't get far before John's strong hand anchors you squarely in his lap. The sweet pleasure of him filling you to the brim is momentary as the action keeps you there, fixed.

"Never said I would fuck you. I'm quite satisfied with this arrangement". John Price may be a humble man, but sometimes his cockiness soared when having you at his mercy.

"Piss off".

"Goin' to remain right here", he flashed you a devilish smile before returning to work. 

His blatant disregard makes your mouth fall open as you stare at him. 

You know John saw your reaction from the corner of his eyes, but he was adamant about not acknowledging you. You clench your jaw, sending him a nasty look. 

If that's how he wants to play.

With the single coherent thought that you would get your release, no longer desiring to play into the torture John was putting you through, you decide to make him cave right along with you.

With one hand stabilising yourself on his chest, your other hand slide down beneath your sweater. Your mouth falls open when your fingers brush your clit, faintly feeling how he stretches you open, unabashed moan clawing up your throat and out of your mouth. 

Oh, you saw the twitch of his head and felt his fingers dig into your waist. You knew how much he desired to look at you but remained stubborn enough not to indulge himself.

What must be a delirious-looking smile spread on your face as your mouth remains open, releasing all the soft breaths and whiney moans you'd muffled earlier. He's still keeping a steely grip on your lower half, keeping you from rocking your hips, but you make do with what he can't control. 

You bend forward at the waist, head falling alongside his until you face his throat.

Whereas your previous kisses had been light, worshipping, now they were shy of foul. You don't leave more than a few open-mouthed kisses along his neck as a heads-up before you trace your tongue over the same spots you journey.

You never stop the slow circles over your clit, your heavy breaths fanning over the wet trail you paint against his skin. And with your pleasured sounds so close to his ear, your lips marking him up without abandon as no one but you will be able to see the light marks, a deep groan fills the air.

Silencing your satisfaction that you're slowly tearing his resolve, you release a low whine straight into his ear instead. "John-". 

His facade cracks again, head tilting backwards, and you know he's fighting demons to not give in to your pleasure. But you show him no remorse, chuckling breathlessly over the shell of his ear before nipping his earlobe. 

Laving over the sweet little spot on his neck, right at the angle where his beard fades and beneath his ear, another grunt fills the air as his other hand abandons the computer and shifts to grab you.

With both of his hands now on your hips, you take your unoccupied hand and drag it down his chest, the wiry hair tickling you as your nails catch his nipple. You paw at his chest as you push your mouth into the shell of his ear, shakily uttering, "Going fill me up, John?"

"Jesus-". His gravelly voice, how he gropes and grabs at your soft love handles, hints at the restrained pleasure leaking through the cracks you're creating. It eggs you on, quickening the fingers rubbing your clit as you try to see if he'll let you rock your hips.

Although he clutches your flesh when you start to roll your hips over his thick cock, he doesn't stop you, hands remaining dormant on your ass. And, since you don't get any resistance from John this time, you don't stop.

You flutter around him, your peak moving a lot closer when you sit straight, looking down at the man who showers you with his attention as you rise on your knees in tandem with the rocking of your hips. And that seems to break the last straw of his willpower. 

You thank the heavens when he hastily moves to close his laptop and slides it a bit too aimlessly into the armchair beside the one you're occupying. The amusement in his eyes quickly faded to offer more place for surging arousal.

His uninjured arm rises to settle his hand at the back of your head, tugging you into a kiss as his other hand paces itself as he lowers it, swatting away your hand to overtake the onslaught on your bundle of nerves. As his thumbs find and rub firm circles onto your clit, you moan into his mouth.

John leans away to look at you, watching your features contort in pleasure as your cunt throbs around him. A lazy smirk on his face tells you he has no desire to drag out your or his pleasure any longer. 

He starts moving his hips, meeting each of your falls into his lap, pressing him deeper into you than what you'd managed on your own. John sounded fucking heavenly as a fucked up into you, groans and grunts slipping past his teeth, even if he let you do most of the work, taking it easy with his shoulder. 

"Fuckin' hell, that's my girl". He jerks inside you upon picking up the wet sounds squelching each time the back of your thighs meet his. "Takin' my cock so well after all this time, s'good for me, fuck- missed you havin' you around me". John's head drops backwards just as his hand falls to give your hips a firm squeeze, helping you guide your hips. You whine, clenching around him, slumping against him even if your hands get trapped between your chests.

He feels so good inside you, girthy length stretching you so deliciously, every ridge and vein rubbing against your walls. You pant against his skin, teeth closing on the tendons in his neck, not biting, but the pleasure just feels so good that you barely know what to do with yourself.

"Feisty today, eh?" John's jab is breathless, rasped from the back of his throat. "Hm, get so needy when you don't get my cock".

"John- fuck", your eyes squeeze tightly shut as your sensitivity is upped, orgasm nearing, the digit playing with your clit making you keen. "Feels so good, you feel so good... shit, missed this", you blabber. He groans at your admission, planting his heels more firmly to get more power behind his thrusts.

An involuntary squeak leaves you as the added force makes you slide forward a bit, your arm swinging around his neck on his uninjured side. It's nowhere near as fierce as John otherwise can shove himself deep inside of you, but after this long, he doesn't need to.

One final thrust sends you over the edge, body quivering, thighs squeezing his waist. Your moan breaks into heaving breaths, hips stilling in their up-and-down movement. John's not far behind, manually grinding your hips back and forth before he rolls his hips upwards, praises falling in groans from his lips as he spills inside you.

"Best believe you're not going back to working after this", you sigh into John's neck, having caught your breath just as he slackens beneath you.

He gives you a shakey laugh yet to level his own breathing. "No thought 'bout it", his voice is throaty as his arms curl around your waist.

[222low]

ahhh i loved your wayv taking care of you when you are sick post, could you make one like that for 127? love your account! 🩷🩷🩷

127 when you're sick ⋆˚✿˖°

nct 127 comforting and taking care of you through a cold

content: fluffffffff

johnny

would drop everything to come over. sucks at cooking, but you think it's sweet that he tries to make u soup (how do you mess up soup? who knows?). you accept it gratefully as he asks what else you need to feel better. he says he'll stay with you and order it to the house, not wanting to leave your side. i think he would be cautious about getting sick, but does nottttt ever leave your side, wanting to be with you at all times.

taeyong

you guys are always together. this soon turns into taeyong getting sick with you, now you're both at home with a cold. you apologize profusely for getting him sick, now having to record another day because of his throat. but he doesn't care, he tells you he'd rather be in bed cuddling you, giving u kisses all over your face before coughing. you can't help but laugh at him, running your hands through his hair.

yuta

calls you whenever he has the chance throughout the day. uses pet names for you, just wants you to feel better. you tell him you don't need anything but he just wants to check up on you, coming to see you on his lunch break and bringing you something too. cancels weekend plans to be with you, making sure you get fresh air everyday. you tell him you're fine, and he's treating you like it's your death bed, but he doesn't care.

doyoung

maybe i'm just huge into the doyoung gentleman agenda...but i really think he would be there for u the whole time while ur recovering from your cold. if he has a busy schedule, he will make sure you get medicine sent to your door, or get someone to check up on you. he comes home to you asleep, happy you're resting as he walks over to the bed and checks your temperature with the back of his palm before giving u a goodnight kiss on your forehead.

jaehyun

tells you to stay away from him when you try giving him hugs and kisses, jokingly of course (but he secretly does not want to get sick at all). you miss him throughout the week, he told you he's busy and can't be there all the time, but he makes sure to text you when he has the chance. he makes sure to come over after his schedules to come see you, bringing you whatever you texted him to bring, showing you that he missed you just as much.

jungwoo

opposite of johnny, he knows he can't cook. he makes sure to bring you soup every night after work, wanting to sit with you at the table to eat it. tries to cheer you up with his dumb jokes, but it works because it's him. has to go out at times for work, but makes sure to call you and check if you're doing okay while he's gone, telling you he'll be back soon.

mark

doesn't know exactly what you need, so he take a trip to the store and just buys a bunch of medicine hoping it'll work. orders takeout because he's scared if he cooks something it'll make u even more sick. you're so grateful he's around to take care of you, wanting to give him a hug. he reciprocates, but sort of from the side, telling you you're not allowed to get him sick before he gives you a kiss on the head.

haechan

clingy haechan agenda is real..he doesn't wanna get himself sick but he doesn't want to leave u alone one bit. you tell him not to stay so close to you or he's not gonna be able to sing but he doesn't listen, telling you his schedule isn't thatttt busy. makes sure he cooks you soup every day, telling you he has a secret recipe that'll make u feel better quicker. loves giving u kisses on the cheeks before bed, still sleeping in the same bed as you even if he'll risk his own health.

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a/n: enjoy!! a little rushed...thank u for all the love on my last 127 post. sorry if this is somewhat similar to my wayv one, i may have taken some inspo from those scenarios lolz reqs open