#this makes it sound like i actually know shit about musicals. that is not true either.

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

005 》 HAN JISUNG

you needed a night out, you needed to have fun— at least that’s what yunho told you. when chan invites your group to a music festival where his curly headed roommate would also be, will it be what you need to get you back on track? or will you start from square one, again?

wc 15.5k my bad y’all its getting serious now | drinking, smoking, kissing, suggestive, music festival vibes, sadness, tiny gets fucked up. vomit but not descriptive. hanjis sexy

“have you guys ever thought about your wedding?” 

of course you thought about getting married, your wedding, every little girl does— walking down the aisle next to her father, meeting the love of her life at the altar… all of it seemed so futile after your father passed, you haven’t thought about it as a true reality since then, more of a pipedream.

you didn’t know if you were simply driving yourself insane or if you really were obsessed with mingyu, but every single waking thought you’ve had since saturday was about getting married, knowing you were nowhere near that stage of your life but for some reason… questioning it. maybe even excited for it. 

everything with mingyu has felt meant to be so far… maybe it was.

the entire table looked at you in silence– eight pupils staring into your soul, wondering where the fuck that came from. yunho was quick to shut you down. 

“i don’t even want to ask, tiny.”

“i’m serious! have you even considered what you’d want in a partner? what your wedding would look like?” you were in dreamland, sparkles in your eyes and everything as you stared up at the high ceilings of your kitchen. yeosang and san had brought over dinner, which led to the five of you seated on barstools around your kitchen island in silence, up until now. 

“sexy and rich,” yeosang didn’t even look up, mouth full as he digged deeper into his meal. 

san nodded in agreement– “my wedding will be big enough to make everyone attending jealous, small enough to make others wish they were invited.”

“you’re both shallow,” you grumble, picking at your plate, moving your food around. you glance at your twin, “ace, what about you? do you think reia’s the one?” 

ace lets out a nervous chuckle, one that sounds exactly like yours, “i– uh, maybe. possible.”

you pop a brow, sitting back in your stool, straightening your back. you weren’t the only one that picked up on it, the entire table noticed his shift in energy, the change in tone. yunho asks, “what’s going on?”

ace groans in defeat when there was never an argument to begin with, elbows hitting the granite, palms digging into his eyes. “i think reia’s going to break up with me.” 

“why?” your voice is loud, surprised. you take it down a notch, “what happened?” 

he leans back, moving his hands away from his face and you notice that he looks tired. bags under his eyes, his skin looked dull, his freckles weren’t freckling like they usually did. you blamed it on school and the stress he’d been under– you didn’t think reia had anything to do with it. last time you checked, how ace felt about reia is how you felt about mingyu. 

“she’s been saying shit like how i’m not giving her enough attention, not seeing her enough, all i care about is school and when i’m not doing homework i’m with you guys,” he huffs, his voice sounding weak now that he’s finally admitting it. 

“why doesn’t she come hangout with us?” yeosang asked, but you were sure that’s what you were all thinking. “she’s usually here all the time, and your workload for school hasn’t changed.”

“i guess she’s been feeling this way for awhile,” ace stretched his arms over his head, lifting his eyebrows, expression saying he’s had this conversation already– with her. “we don’t have enough one on one time.”

yunho leans over the counter, palm holding up his baseball cap covered head, “get an airbnb for a weekend, take her somewhere nice, just the two of you. she’s probably feeling underappreciated and overwhelmed with her own schoolwork.” 

“that’s actually a good idea,” ace marvels, a semblance of light returning to his eyes, “you’re so good with girls, bro. incredible how you’re still single.” 

yunho smiles, “incredible how i manage to fight ‘em off me.” 

yeosang rolls his eyes, “can we circle back to why teens is asking about marriage?” 

“no,” the three boys say in unison, all eyes landing on yeosang.

“okay, fine, riddle me this,” yeosang sits a little straighter, index finger pointing to the air in front of him, “tiny, whose never gone on a date before a month ago, shows up to dinner with her prehistoric boyfriend and starts talking about marriage. no one wants to ask any questions?” 

you gasp, “yeosang! he is not—”

“that’s actually a good point,” san shrugs, “we haven’t talked about him yet.”

“how old is he anyways?” yunho asks, both elbows on the table now, long fingers folded over one another on the top of his palms. 

your cheeks flush, near mumbling as you redirect your attention back to the food in front of you, hoping no one notices the warmth on your skin. you were waiting for this question, scared of this question. “thirty.” 

“tiny.” ace’s tone is firm, disappointed even if he only said your name— the underlying message is clear to you. you break your staring contest with your plate to look up to him, there are a million words on his tongue, but he says none of them. 

your face burned in embarrassment, you were scrambling for something to say, small tuts leaving your lips instead. you didn’t know how to defend it, defend him— you were still debating it yourself. they didn’t know this was currently a sensitive topic, that you’d been non stop questioning your relationship with mingyu for almost forty eight hours, worried that it won’t work out because of that very reason. 

san giggles, “we knew you had daddy issues, teens, would’ve never expected you to fuck someone old enough to be one. props to you, actually.” 

your world went silent, the insult flipping a switch within you. your train of thought skipped right past anger to hurt, tears quickly filling your eyes. you fled from the kitchen— two palms flat on the granite countertop pushed you off of your stool, legs racing through your hallway. you only heard yunho scold san with a stern drag of his name as your legs took you to up your bedroom, locking the door behind you. 

that wasn’t the conversation you intended to open by asking that question. you were once again putting your foot in your mouth, regretting sharing your thoughts, it was as if san had that statement locked and loaded–– ready to hit its target. your boys had always said whatever they thought, feelings be damned, you forgot how much it hurt to be on the receiving end. 

it felt like you were younger when they’d tease you relentlessly, only stopping when ace made them. you haven’t felt that way in a long time, their teasing now was lighthearted, and you did it right back— it’s been years since you’ve been in tears in your bedroom over something one of the boys said. 

as you laid on your back, sprawled across your mattress, you began to think, and what san said started to make more and more sense as you thought about it. daddy issues— your tears dried without you noticing. mingyu’s age, his career, his stability, the pet names, how he took care of you already, his dominating nature that ‘only came out with you… you ate up every moment— you loved it, even. 

but it was all because of one thing, and as much as you hated it, san hit it right on the money. 

“teens?” he spoke before he knocked, three rhythmic taps of his knuckles against your door. 

“go away, yunho,” you frown, turning on your side with your back facing the door even if he couldn’t see you. 

“let me in,” he urged, you could see his scowl through the wooden slab that separated you. “i’m sorry for what san said– san is sorry for what he said. please let me talk to you.”

you sighed, you knew he wouldn’t go away, he’d sit there until you opened up whether that be in one hour or six. you got up, unlocking your door, but you didn’t open it. you let him open it himself as he followed you inside your room, you plopped onto your bed lifelessly, your body a dead weight. he followed you, sitting at the foot of your bed, resting a hand on your ankles that laid one over the other. 

“he shouldn’t of said that,” yunho started, “it was fucked up. he crossed a line.” 

“he’s right,” your throat constricted, words fighting their way through. your words become quieter, a strain on your vocal chords, “i thought mingyu was perfect.”

“what did i tell you?” yunho leaned across your legs so he could see your face that was laid on the pillow. you looked down at him as he said, “you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important.” 

you blinked, tears returning to you, filling up your waterline. “he does all of those things, he makes me feel that way, and now i’m supposed to be normal when i know the only reason i feel this way about him is because my dad is dead? because matt fucking sucks?”

yunho purses his lips, his body stiffening on top of your legs. “tiny, there’s eight years between you. he’s fooling around with you, it’s not right.”

“i know our age difference already!” your voice raises, “he’s done everything right, yunho. you don’t know him, you didn’t even try to get to know him when he was here, instead you sulked in your bad mood like a child. what was that even about?” 

“don’t get pissed at me because of something san said,” he sits up, his weight lifted from your legs, his eyes looking everywhere but at you as he continues. “i was just in a bad mood saturday, it wasn’t about anything.” 

“you’re lying, jeong yunho. you forget that i know you,” you sit up, too, facing him feet apart on your mattress. he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, he wasn’t expecting you to call him out.

“you’re missing the point,” he sighs, looking down at your mattress, reining in the topic at hand. “i don’t know him, but i don’t need to. eight years of life is longer than you think, he knows a lot more than you, you just started going on dates. you don’t know anything, tiny.” 

“i know enough,” you shake your head, “i know that i like him a lot and that’s enough for me.” 

“so what, you want to be married within the next two years?” he looked back up to you, his face was unreadable, but his voice was firm, truthful. he meant every word he said. “miss out on being in your twenties? miss out on dating? learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things. learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?” 

you blink, “is that why you’re single? experiencing life, dating around, fucking who you please because you can? sounds boring to me.” your words are curt, intended to sting. “i’d much rather learn and experience with someone, grow together as a unit.”

“be realistic, think like you’re twenty two, not like you’re still seventeen,” he bites, sending the sting right back to you. after a moment’s pause, he speaks, his voice soft. “i’m single because i’m waiting.”

“for what?” you ask, eyebrows knitted together, tears still dancing down your cheeks. “how do you know? …what you’re waiting for?” 

“it’s not for what, tiny— it’s for who.”

──────  ꨄ︎

“i have an idea,” chan was smiling ear to ear, you wondered if the two of you would ever pay attention to your lecture again, two weeks in a row spent talking the entire class. “me and my roommates are going to a music festival this weekend, you should come.”

your lips form a line, “chan, if this is about–”

“hear me out!” he interjects, a finger coming up between you, silencing you. you sit back in your chair, crossing your arms as he continues. “i know you’re seeing someone, but this will get jisung off my back and you can get a feel for him without making it an actual thing.”

seeing someone feels sour, you ignore it— “okay, let me hear your plan.”

“it’s a music festival, so it’s not like it’s some private, real date like going to dinner or something. you can bring your friends, i’ll be with mine, we can meet up and it can be a group thing so you have people to hangout with if you aren’t into hanji,” he raises his eyebrows with a smile as he awaited your response, “not bad, right?”

you think about it for a second– it’s not a terrible idea, and you did owe chan for your own date with him. you nod, “when is it?”

“saturday, i’ll text you the link for tickets. me and my three roommates are going, jisung jihoon and jeongin, everybody’s single,” he winks, “they’re all music people.”

“and all of their names start with J,” your eyebrows furrow, “how did you manage that?”

he shrugs, “me and jisung were roommates, jeongin and jihoon were roommates, we got an apartment together sophomore year and it just happened to be that way. i’m the only non-music major and the only one whose name doesn’t start with a J,” he brings his attention to his laptop, pulling up the website for the music festival. 

“it’s all weekend long, you probably don’t want to go all weekend so just come for one day,” he says, pulling up the lineup on the screen. you scan the list and you know several artists, it seems fun, and the idea was well thought out. it wasn’t necessarily a date, but instead a place you would just happen to be at together– you would barely have to talk to jisung if you didn’t want to. 

you didn’t have to tell mingyu, either— not that he’d have an issue if you did. being wednesday now, you haven’t seen him since sunday morning, and since monday night… there was no way he couldn’t tell something was off. where you were usually bubbly on the phone with him, over text, you’d turn monotonous without even realizing. the whole relationship began to feel stale after what san said, after your talk with yunho. you weren’t sure if any of your feelings were legitimate anymore.

chan texts you the link and you immediately send it to your groupchat, telling the boys to clear their schedules and to buy their tickets (you tell san to get one for you, too. he owes you). you were met with no pushback, all of the boys agreeing except ace— he was taking reia away for the weekend, using yunho’s idea. 

“i’m so excited,” chan beams, scrolling through the website, “it’s really cool, we’ve gone every year since we started here. tell your friends that my roommates are single.”

“i’ve never been to a music festival before, just random concerts here and there. you’ll have to show us etiquette,” you snicker when you realize exactly what he’s implying with his roommates— you didn’t think any of your three boys had gotten any in awhile. “i will definitely let them know.” 

as you walked out of class and into the brisk, october air, a certain car stuck out like a sore thumb in the parking lot. sitting idly and illegally was a BMW pulled up beside the curb, closest to the building of your class— completely blacked out, tinted windows with a gold seventeen decal on the back window on the driver’s side… that car belonged to one person and one person only.

he stepped out of his car as soon as you walked out of the building, dressed in all black business casual attire, sunglasses on his face. you bid chan goodbye without as much as a glance, feet drifting toward mingyu so fluidly and without thought you could’ve been floating all over again. maybe he did cast a spell on you.

mingyu stepped around the vehicle to open his passenger side door, greeting you with a smile, “hey, princess.” he kissed you on the head before you slid into the seat, the smell of his cologne and fresh leather hitting your nose as he shut the door behind you. 

“what are you doing here?” you asked as he got into the driver’s seat, putting the car into reverse. you began feeling awkward, confused, your talk with yunho came to mind again– mingyu’s presence made it too easy to forget all of your worries. 

“don’t sound too excited, i’m taking you to lunch,” he shot you a tight lipped smile as he put his car into gear, pulling out of the parking lot. 

“mingyu,” you breathed with a small shake of your head. you hadn’t even gotten all of your thoughts in order, you wanted to wait before you talked to him, you knew it was coming eventually— he did, too. 

“don’t say anything,” he kept his gaze on the road in front of him, the sun shining through his windshield, kissing his soft, golden skin. he let his hand fall to your thigh. “just… let me do this.” 

“okay,” you said, flushing as the weight of his palm hit your skin. electricity shot through you every time you were with him, every time he touched you— it had to mean something. 

or did you just want it to? 

he pulled into the parking lot of a diner, a small one near your campus. you loved diners, you used to go with your family growing up once a week— every sunday morning, stopping shortly after you turned twelve. your blood thrummed in excitement under your skin. 

you sat in a booth, a quietness consuming the two of you, you thought maybe he didn’t know what to say— you definitely didn’t. mingyu broke the silence first. 

“you want to tell me what’s going on?” 

“there’s nothing to tell, nothing going on, i mean,” you barely looked up from your menu when you knew what you wanted to order in the parking lot. how do you tell someone that the only reason you’re interested in them is because you’re wired to? 

he sighed, laying his menu down on the table. the waitress comes and takes your orders, leaving you to silence once again. 

“the only way this is going to work is if you’re honest,” his voice is more serious than it usually is. you have nothing to hold in your hands anymore— it feels like you’re back at that expensive restaurant when mingyu first brought you on an impromptu lunch date. you feel exposed.

you run a hand through your hair, “i don’t know, mingyu.” you pause, then internally said fuck it. “you said you won’t rush anything with me, but what if i’m just holding you back?” 

“how would you be holding me back?” his eyes were full of concern as he leaned forward, arms folding across the table. 

“you’re thirty, ready to get married, start a family,” you shake your head, “i’m not even close to being there yet.” 

“i met you two weeks ago,” a chuckle leaves his lips, trying to relieve the tension brought by your statement, “why is that on your mind?” 

“you shouldn’t be wasting your time, mingyu. you’re fooling around with a twenty two year old,” your own words weren’t leaving your lips— they were yunho’s. 

“fooling around?” his eyes were raised as if you insulted him. “if i was fooling around i wouldn’t have made so much of an effort. wouldn’t have cooked for you, met your family, i would’ve fucked you the day i met you and never spoken to you again.” 

the gears turn in your head, he said it so simply, you knew it was to help put you at ease— it hurt instead. he continues, “i’ve been serious about you since the day you met me for lunch. i like you.” 

“and what happens when you meet someone who’s ready?” you bite, your brain swirling with mingyu’s testimony but also the advice from your twin. “if your ex comes back to this side of the country, if you meet someone who doesn’t have a dead dad, someone actually meant for you.” 

mingyu laughs— the chuckle was not out of amusement, it was dry and venomous and knowing. “there it is.” 

“what?” you ask, shifting in the old leather booth as if you were in the hot seat. 

“they got into your head, didn’t they?” he shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his face, “i knew they didn’t like me, your friends, your brother— you would never say that on your own.” 

“nobody ‘got to me’, mingyu,” you argue, your fingers twisting on the table between you because they did get to you and you know that, but you think they might be right. “how do you know what i would say and wouldn’t say? like you said, we met two weeks ago.”

his face hits his palms as he sighs, they slide over his skin in frustration, “was it yunho?” 

“what?” your back presses against the cushion of the booth, “was what yunho?” 

the waitress brings your food to the table, halting your conversation or argument. a part of you wanted to thank her for cutting you off, you didn’t know if you wanted him to continue— not when yunho was brought into the conversation. he did, though, as soon as she walked away from the table. 

he cut into his meal– “yunho doesn’t like me.”

“he has never once said that, mingyu,” you respond, cutting into your french toast. diners were best for all day breakfast.

“he doesn’t need to,” he was smiling again, not out of happiness, you couldn’t place his emotions based on his face. his words didn’t match it. “game’s game. this whole conversation is ridiculous, can’t you see that?” 

“what are you talking about?” your eyebrows blend together, so furrowed in confusion you were sure you looked animated, “what am i not seeing?” 

“it’s besides the point,” he pays attention to his food again, his tone laced with irritation. “i like you, i’ve been trying to be consistent with showing how much i like you— how much i want to do this the right way.” 

“i understand if you think we can’t be together because of our age, because of your past, things out of your control, but i want you to know that i don’t agree. i don’t think any of that should be used to factor whether we work or not because i think we work really well.” 

“i think we get along really well, too,” you said, sounding like you were the one trying to convince him now – you snapped yourself back into reality, what you felt, what you knew, not the bubble mingyu put you in. “in the long run i… mingyu i don’t know if i’m ready for all of this.”

“all of what?” he was getting frustrated now, furrowed brows and a tight jaw, “i haven’t tried to take this even one step further. are you scared of what it could turn into?”

“yes, it feels real,” you shake your head, “it feels really real.”

“in any other situation that’d be a good thing,” he takes a hand through his hair, sitting back in the booth, “maybe you’re right. too young, i guess.”

regret washes over you like a bucket of cold water, but you don’t falter in your words, reciting them from someone else’s mouth. “eight years is a lot longer than i thought it was, you know more than i do– i just started dating.”

he nods, lips pursed, but he says nothing for a few moments. you stare at him with flushed cheeks, an uneasiness sitting at the pit of your stomach. it was fight or flight, and there’s nowhere to run– literally. 

“finish your meal and i’ll take you back to campus,” you couldn’t read his tone, but it was definitely not happy. 

like you always did with mingyu, whether you wanted to or it was installed in you, you obeyed. you spent the rest of your meal wishing you could say something else, words at the tip of your tongue that you couldn’t find the voice to say. he paid for your meal, a gentleman until the end, and drove you back to campus. 

“before you go, can i just say one thing?” he says as he turns to you, flipping his sunglasses on top of his head. you nod. 

“you don’t have to listen to them,” he says and your mouth parts to speak, but he cuts you off. “you may think they know everything about you because you grew up with them, but they don’t know how you feel. they don’t know my intentions for you, they don’t know how much i like you.”

“i know you’ve been through a lot in your life and they were there for you every step of the way, but i’d treat you so fucking well. i would never pressure you into marriage, or having kids or whatever worries have been put into your pretty little brain. i’d do whatever you wanted– if you wanted to travel, i’d take you on trips, we could explore every little school on the opposite side of the world. if you wanted to open your own damn school, i’d do that with you, i’d help you. i don’t want you to walk away with the idea that i’m not the one for you— we both know this would’ve worked if you let it.” 

jaw slack and eyes filled with tears, you stared at him. you blinked once, twice, then your lips were on his before you could even process that you had moved an inch. 

you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important. 

isn’t that what this is? isn’t this what you’ve been looking for? your brain whirled, mingyu’s tongue licking into your mouth, his huge palms holding your wet cheeks. 

learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things.

tears flowed down your skin, onto mingyu’s fingers, he just kissed you harder. 

learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?

there was only one way this could end– you needed it to end, now, or else you’d never leave his car. you pulled away from mingyu, wide eyed and so fucking confused. you hated yourself in this moment– it felt like being pulled into your living room when mingyu was in your kitchen. being pulled towards comfort and familiarity, when what your future could be was waiting for you, missing you, hoping you’d stay. 

“i’m sorry,” was all you could get out before you were pushing the car door open and racing towards your own.

──────  ꨄ︎

figuring out an outfit for a music festival was hard to begin with, you had too many factors adding onto it that made the task a thousand times worse. you could barely get yourself out of bed this morning for starters, you hopped in the shower half past eleven when you needed to leave at one. because it was late october and most music festivals were held in the summer, even pinterest wasn’t helping you with inspiration. on top of that, having three men in your bedroom without a lick of a feminine fashion sense made it borderline overstimulating, they threw ideas at you while their outside clothes laid all over your unmade bed– it tipped you over the edge. the only good part was that it’s cold outside. 

you went casual– you needed to, you’d be outside for hours and alcohol can only heat you up so much. baggy jeans, a hoodie and an oversized jacket on top, you accessorized with a baseball cap and some sneakers and you were set. a mini purse with nothing but your ID and some lip gloss sat on your shoulder, sunglasses on your face, you’d be warm, comfortable and cute. 

when you walked downstairs to the three boys sitting in your living room, you realized you were all wearing different versions of the same outfit. you copied them without even realizing– naturally, they noticed, and had plenty to say about it. you didn���t care enough to change. 

the drive to the festival wasn’t terrible, little traffic until you got closer to the venue, yunho drove with loud music playing through the speakers and the other two singing along in the backseat. when you arrived, you immediately sent a text to chan letting him know you arrived.

“i want a drink,” you said as soon as you walked through security, yunho on your left and the other two on your right. “who’s paying for it?” 

“why can’t you pay for it? you should buy us drinks,” yeosang huffed, digging his hands further into his pockets. 

“you’re in the clear,” you moved a little closer to yeosang, bumping your shoulder against his. “i didn’t bring money, the other two are responsible for ruining my relationship with mingyu, so they get to buy my drinks all night.” 

san gasps, “i am not responsible–” 

“surfside?” yunho asks, eyes already scanning the area for the nearest bar, not wanting to begin that conversation again. his figure stood over the massive crowd already formed around you, your group definitely did not get there early. 

“yes, please,” a small smile sat on your face as you followed yunho towards the nearest bar, pleased with how quickly he agreed, he bought drinks for the two of you– leaving san and yeosang to fend for themselves. 

san grumbles, “you should buy me a drink for how mean you’ve been.” 

you point your eyes at him and he shrinks under your gaze, voice growing small as he said, “i’ll buy the next round.” 

you walked through the crowd, so many different kinds of people surrounded you. a range of ages, dressed in clothes much more appropriate for a music festival than yours. the energy of the space was so bright, so welcoming, it was beckoning your mood to brighten– you wished you could let it. 

you stayed close to at least one of the three, keeping your eyes peeled under your sunglasses for a blonde boy no taller than five foot eight. he was nowhere to be found, as you assumed since the venue was so massive. you walked up to the first stage, the main stage which was one you wanted to see, a small indie band. you knew some songs, but you wouldn’t know an entire setlist– the show you really wanted to see wasn’t until later. 

being after three and you hadn’t ingested anything other than your morning (afternoon) coffee, the surfside you had taken about four sips of was already going straight to your head. you wore a disinterested look even though the stage was good, the band was putting on a great show, you’ve been miserable since wednesday. you missed mingyu, even if your time together was short– you figured that you might be perpetually stuck between if your choice was right or if you regret it completely. 

“drummer’s hot,” yeosang comes to your side, bumping his shoulder into yours again. 

you shoot him a tight lipped smile, “he’s alright.” 

“bro, cheer up,” he frowns, “if you were normal you’d be drooling over him right now.” 

you roll your eyes, “cheer me up instead of complaining, then.” 

“where’s the whiskey date guy? aren’t we supposed to be meeting up with him?” yeosang asks and you pull out your phone from your pocket, four texts from chan filling your screen. 

chan: UR HERE!!!! chan: wya

chan: hello

chan: were going to the main stage meet us there

already being at the main stage, you typed back a quick response then looked around through your shaded lenses, the blonde nowhere to be found. you nudged yunho’s side, asking him to look for chan instead, he could see a lot better than you could. as he looked out into the crowd farther than your eyes could see, chan found you first. 

“hey!” you heard to your left, a voice that belonged to the one you were searching for. you whipped your head around, a genuine smile surprising you as it filled out your cheeks, waving him over. 

“you found me! i just texted you back,” you said as he wrapped you into a short hug of greeting. 

he stepped back, looking around you, “where are your friends?” 

“here?” you said with eyebrows raised, yeosang, san and yunho coming forward to stand at your sides. “this is san, yeosang and yunho.” 

“oh,” a questioning look grew on his face, then he stepped closer to you, speaking quieter so only you could hear. “when i said bring your friends, i was not expecting a bunch of…dudes?” 

you giggled, “surprised i’m not with a group of girls?”

“for some reason, it explains a lot,” he shrugs and you raise your eyebrows, asking him to explain without verbalizing it. “you aren’t… shy in the way a lot of girls are, i guess, i don’t know, you talk about your relationship problems with me. plus, we’re in the same outfit.”

you look him up and down, realizing he is yet another person you’ve stolen fashion inspiration from. you smack a hand over your mouth, “oh god, you too?” giggles threaten to slip through your palm, before you shrug and say, “i’m one of the guys, i guess.”

“ew,” he physically cringes, “never say that again.”

three guys approached behind chan and you first spot jisung, the one you didn’t meet at chan’s apartment. he looked the same, a mop of brown curls sat atop his head, big, thin frames on his face, a hoodie and baggy jeans on his body. he looked just as cute as the day you first saw him, like a chipmunk you’d spot outside of your living room window on a spring day. 

he wasn’t sexy, he wasn’t massively muscular, he wasn’t six foot three or thirty years old— he wasn’t mingyu. no one could be.

“these are my friends,” chan pointed to each friend as he said, “jisung, jeongin and jihoon.” 

“ah, the J’s!” you introduced yourself to the three of them, your groups quickly merging to create small talk. chan stood close to you, guiding your conversation with his roommates, you talked about the festival, what bands were playing, until you settled into a layer of comfort to speak freely. the surfside was definitely helping. 

you quickly realized the three boys were more reserved, unlike chan– or they were at least not comfortable enough yet to cut through san and yeosang’s voices, who were quickly dominating the conversation with chan. 

“the next band playing is really good,” jihoon finally interrupts, looking around the group with a gaze which didn’t seem shy, instead calculated, like he was waiting for the right moment to speak. he was shorter than everyone, long, black hair laid over his shoulders, you could see the muscles beneath the black tee he wore, nearly masked by the black jacket sat perfectly on his shoulders. he gave the vibe that he had his shit together– clean, healthy, confident. “do you guys want to stay? who are you here to see?” 

“jungle is playing later,” you reply, “on stage B i believe, at eight? i want to see them the most.” 

“TV girl is playing at six,” yeosang cuts in, warm brown hair that’s gotten noticeably longer was falling over his temples now, “still woozy plays in about an hour.”

“you like still woozy?” jeongin asked yeosang, as if hearing jihoon’s voice gave him the confidence to speak up himself. the two were just about the same height, yeosang was maybe an inch taller than jeongin. his face was insane, to say the least– sharp jaw, high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes that curved up ever so slightly at the edges. he was the other one out of the four that resembled an animal in the most gorgeous way, black hair laying across his forehead that made the shadows of his face deepen further. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a model, if not a fox turned human– you wondered if he had any interest in you.

“where have you been keeping them?” you say in chan’s ear, leaning closely into his side. chan chuckles, looking down at the ground, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie. 

“i keep them locked in their rooms, they’re only allowed out during feeding time,” he jokes, a wide smile on his face, voice turning to a hushed whisper as he says, “stop ogling them, jisung will get jealous.” 

“then jisung should do something about it,” you retort as you bring your gaze back to the group– jisung couldn’t see who you were looking at anyways, you still had your sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose.

“let him get a few more drinks in him, he will,” chan nods nonchalantly as he looks away from you. you rolled your eyes under the shades– you didn’t care either way, but the outright admittance of jisung needing alcohol to talk to you rubbed you the wrong way. 

your group travels to another stage, watching a different group play while waiting for still woozy to start their performance. jisung trailed behind the group with jihoon, the two seemed to be a pair so far, then yeosang, san and jeongin had split off to the side. you walked between yunho and chan, three quarters of your surfside had already heated you up enough to where the bite of the air was more of a light nibble on your cheeks. 

“i need another,” you said in san’s direction, wiggling your can that had little liquid left in it. 

san frowns, “already?” 

you threw the last bit of liquid back, swallowing it quickly, and handed it to san. “yes, please.”

he grabs the can from your hands and turns to the group, wearing a look of irritation even if he doesn't care at all– he’ll let the act go on for as long as he deems necessary. drama queen. “anyone else need another?” 

chan and his roommates hadn’t gotten drinks yet, and yeosang needed a refill– leaving you alone with yunho, where you stood watching the random band playing on the stage. 

“the curly headed one is interested in you,” yunho comments without looking at you, voice flat as he brings his beer to his lips to take a sip. it should catch you off guard how quickly he noticed without you and jisung having any interactions so far, but you were done with being inside yunho’s head. 

you let out a sound of amusement instead, “and?” 

“just letting you know,” he looks down at you, “it seems you know already.” 

you shoot him a pointed look before turning back to the stage, the two of you falling into silence. your stomach grows warm, the drink you’d already chugged down had begun fulfilling its purpose– warming you up first and foremost, helping you forget how miserable you’d become second. 

“i don’t know what to say to you to make things better,” yunho admits, keeping his focus on the band. his mouth twists to one side, discomfort sitting on his features, you two hadn’t really spoken since wednesday. 

you came home the day you ended things with mingyu in tears, anger replacing every atom in your body as if you’d become a pot overflowing with boiling water– you lost it, all of your feelings were directed at both san and yunho. they were sitting on the couches in your living room, completely blindsided when you decided they alone were responsible for how your relationship with mingyu ended. both boys had fought you on it.

ace didn’t have it in him to mediate your argument, he had his own relationship issues to work through, instead he and yeosang watched the three of you yell at each other for minutes until you fully broke down. not once did either of them tell you to make up with mingyu, to reconsider their words, but instead they consoled you for the two week long relationship you were clearly grieving– it pissed you off even more.

after you had time to process the argument, you realized all you wanted was their approval– you wanted them to tell you to get back with him, you wanted them to like him as much as you did, as much as you do. for three days now you've been sitting with your anger, only giving curt responses around your house, spending most of your time in your bedroom, you considered not even coming today. 

you needed to get out– you needed a boyfriend before thanksgiving. 

“there’s nothing for you to say,” you shrug, then cross your arms over your chest. “even if i reached out to him now, i don’t think he’ll ever see me as anything other than an immature twenty two year old. it’s done.” 

he sips his beer again. “you are an immature twenty two year old.” you snap your gaze up at him, ready to bite back, but he continues. “that’s what you’re supposed to be, this is how it should be.” 

a dry laugh escapes you, one that lets him know there was nothing funny at all. “how it should be? at a music festival waiting for a guy to get the balls to speak to me?” 

he speaks through an exhale, “at least this guy is your age, tiny.”

you step to the side, giving yourself space from him, not wanting to slip into a fit of anger and ruin the day for everyone, you know you will if you continue the conversation. your mind whirls as you keep your gaze locked on the stage, not hearing one beat of the drum nor a single strum of the guitar, ears ringing as you try to calm yourself down. 

“i’m sorry,” he says as he steps closer, his voice quiet, only for your ears. “i didn’t think you’d be this hurt, i guess.”

“i came home bawling my eyes out and screamed at you,” you said, baffled, not fully believing him. you hadn’t argued over anything more serious than what you were having for dinner in years. “you didn’t think it hurt?” 

“i’ll stop meddling,” he pulls his lips together, forming a tight line. you see the group of boys returning to where you stood from behind yunho, drinks in tow, you turn to face the stage again. 

“you won’t have the chance to meddle again, i learned my lesson for good,” you say flatly, and he sighs. the sigh was both long and loud, he was truly defeated– he didn’t know how to handle you. you couldn’t comprehend why he felt the need to in the first place. 

“we should head to stage C,” chan says as soon as he returns, san right on his tail to hand you your drink. you were grateful yunho didn’t have the time to continue the conversation. you slap a smile on your face and thank him for the drink before asking chan who’s playing at stage C. 

chan smirks, “weezer.” 

“oh, brother,” you laugh, “let’s go.” 

you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or if you were starting to have a good time, but the time you spent watching weezer while you waited for still woozy to come on seemed to break up the dark cloud looming above you. chan stayed close, he was bleeding positive energy that you didn’t know if he was pushing onto you on purpose, or if it was just him. either way, the smile that sat on your face became more and more genuine, less forced as time went by. 

by the time you made it to still woozy’s set, you were past the level of comfortably warm and leaning towards hot. you stopped at the bar again after weezer, you were just tipsy enough to buy all eight of you a round of shots– the plan was not to get drunk, but that seemed to be the direction the day was going in, who were you to stop it? 

just before the set began, jeongin and yeosang had pulled your group by the wrists to fight through the crowd and get as close to the front as you could. you let yunho and san guide you into the mass of people, two walls of muscle and height to give you a path, the crowd didn’t bother you one bit. your smile was more than genuine now, you couldn’t wipe it off your face– this was a music festival, seeing bands you never would’ve thought of buying tickets for, a group of people gathered in one place that enjoyed the same music as you. you were already thinking of going to more. 

swaying side to side, singing a song you’d heard on repeat in yeosang’s car at the top of your lungs, you almost didn’t catch the eyes that couldn’t leave you. attached to a mop of curly brown hair, behind massive lenses, a gaze of chocolate brown accompanied by a small smile seemed entranced by you. you smiled back when you noticed, then turned your head back to the band– jisung took that as an invitation. 

walking up beside you, jisung didn’t say anything at first. his head nodded along to the song, curls bouncing across his forehead, fingers wrapped around a plastic cup. with a stomach full of vodka, you were almost excited– you wanted to encourage him, give him the confidence, tell him to say something. 

but you didn’t– and jisung still said nothing after the entire song. 

after the song ended, there was a moment of silence amongst the crowd, the inbetween waiting for the next song to play. you glanced around for your friends– yeosang and jeongin were mid conversation, yeosang’s body leaned into jeongin’s but not quite touching, his body language saying you weren’t the only one who found jeongin attractive. damn. 

yunho and jihoon stood behind everyone, the height difference between the two almost made you giggle, where san and chan stood next to them. the four weren’t speaking, but holding their drinks and watching the performance instead, all shooting you a warm look when you caught their eyes. 

you turned to jisung, “can you do me a favor?” he nodded, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “can you hold my drink while i take my jacket off, please?” 

he nodded again and you handed him your can, slightly struggling to get your jacket off over your sleeves. when you got it off, you threw it over your forearm, and jisung handed you your can back. 

“do you, uh– want me to hold your jacket?” he asked, his eyes wide and sparkling– his tone seemed unsure of his own words, but he still said them. 

“no, no, don’t worry about it,” you beamed, “thank you.”

as the next song started to play, a few strums of the guitar woke up the crowd, screams erupting around you. one of the screams had come from yeosang, who had his hands shaped in an oval around his mouth, making his yell that much louder.

you giggled and turned back to jisung who was also smiling in yeosang’s direction, “he really likes still woozy.”

“i would’ve never guessed,” he says sarcastically, his smile never dropping. “you seem to like them, too.” 

“i do, but not as much as yeo. he should be up at the barricade,” you point your chin in the direction of the front of the stage. 

“i think jeongin should go with him,” jisung shrugs, “they seem to be a pair.”

“by the end of the night someone will have to rip yeo off of him,” you joke, and jisung laughs. a soft chuckle, but you sense a wall come down, another shred of confidence popping through his reserved demeanor. you smile. 

“what about you?” jisung asks, eyes still moon-shaped, as if he was scared to ask the question. 

your eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side, “what about me?”

“chan said you had a boyfriend, he isn't here?” jisung’s lips form a line as if he was scared to hear the answer, your face immediately mimics his, but for an entirely different reason. you didn’t think jisung knew about mingyu, unless chan filled him in and didn’t tell you. you hadn’t filled chan in on the recent developments concerning mingyu, either. 

“i don’t have a boyfriend, i’m not seeing anyone,” you shake your head and turn to the stage. jisung felt the shift in mood, stepping forward, into your view. 

“sorry if i overstepped,” he shook his head, “chan said–”

“chan didn’t know, doesn’t know, you're fine,” you give him a weak smile, and the conversation runs flat. you took the last swig of your surfside– you needed this feeling gone, as if mingyu never happened in the first place. 

“do you want another drink?” jisung asks as soon as the can leaves your lips, “my treat.” 

you give him a singular nod, and before you could process it, jisung was leading you through the pack of people. you didn’t tell a soul where you were going, you walked right through the wall of boys as if they were waiting for you to run off with jisung. where the crowd was more condensed, jisung took a pause, making you stop in your tracks behind him. 

“gimme this,” he muttered as he grabbed your jacket and your empty can, then took your hand with his free one. “stay close to me.” 

your cheeks flushed as you nodded, the heat that was already consuming your entire being only grew in temperature. maybe he’s the type that’s only shy at first. your eyes stayed trained on your linked fingers, his hands were soft, calluses on the tips of his fingers that laid over your knuckles. 

“do you play guitar?” you asked as you made it to the outskirts of the crowd, jisung took a pause that had you flipping his hand over, inspecting the tougher skin atop his fingers. 

“uh— yes,” you glance up, his cheeks pink, the ends of his curls lying along the frames of his glasses. “i make music, i’m studying composing, songwriting, all that stuff.” 

“chan told me,” you smile as you let his fingers go, nearing the feeling of cuteness aggression the more you look at him. all you could muster was a breathy “that’s cool”.

his smile grew and he tugged on your hand again, rough fingertips laid on your knuckles once more as he pulled you towards the bar. behind it was a man who you, at first, couldn’t believe was a bartender— black hair that touched his broad shoulders, a slender figure with a muscular structure that seemed too curated for bartending to be his career. a black long sleeve shirt clung to every inch of him, baggy jeans that hung loose on his hips, an outfit you’d definitely be taking inspiration from. 

his face was nothing short of beautiful, plump lips, a white smile that sparkled when he asked what you’d be drinking. 

jisung turned to you with an eyebrow raised, a questioning look. you cleared your throat, “a surfside, please.” 

“miller, please,” jisung nodded towards him and the bartender shot you another smile before he was opening your cans. you were mesmerized as he grabbed the bar key with nimble fingers, cracking the tab with practiced movements, a speed that told you maybe this was his full time career. 

jisung paid as promised and you took your time making it back to stage C happily with small talk and a lazy stride, choosing to hang at the back of the crowd instead of fighting towards the middle where you stood before. 

jisung’s presence had enveloped your mind quicker than you thought it would, once you broke the ice it was easier to talk to him, speaking as freely as you would with someone who’d been your friend way longer than just a day. you didn’t talk of anything personal, not school, your family, your friends, your interests, your intentions, but instead small talk that came too easily, standing close while you swayed to goodie bag. 

it was comfortable— it wasn’t forced, it wasn’t staged, it wasn’t planned. it wasn’t even obvious that jisung was interested in you, there were no pickup lines, no quick-witted flirting, yet you knew and you might even like it. maybe what you need right now is simplicity. 

when your friends came out of the crowd in laughter and giddy smiles, you felt lighter, the energy around you felt brighter, the air felt clearer, you almost forgot you walked into the venue miserable. with TV girl playing shortly at another stage, there was no time to stand and talk, you and jisung quickly slipped into the crowd of your friend group mid-conversation as if you never ran off in the first place. 

“what’s your guys’ favorite song?” yeosang asked the group, bouncing on his feet as you approached the already formed crowd, jeongin at his side. 

“the whole french exit album,” you were first to answer. “birds don’t sing, louise, lover’s rock, the blonde.” 

“tiny’s a romantic,” you heard san announce, and it brings a smile to your face— whether it was sarcasm or a dig you didn’t care, maybe now you were a romantic. “i only know lover’s rock.” 

“tiny?” jisung asks, turning to you, an eyebrow raised. “that’s you?” 

“unfortunately,” you nod, “been tiny since the womb, practically.” 

“fitting,” jisung smacks his lips together and flattens his brows in contemplation then quickly to understanding— you couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. 

jihoon turns to chan, “you listen to TV girl a lot, right?” 

chan nods towards him, “you should know more than lover’s rock, i play their music all the time at home. better in the dark?” he glances around to empty stares, he raises his eyebrows with expectancy and sings, “the lighter makes a spark, but i look better in the dark.” 

jisung, jihoon and jeongin all simultaneously release a dragged out “oh” in remembrance, and chan rolls his eyes. he turns to you, “they don’t remember shit. too much weed, they smoke.” 

you giggle, then tilt your head to the side, an idea coming to mind. “did anyone bring any?” 

jihoon shoots you a lazy smile, “of course i did, you smoke?” 

you shake your head, “not particularly, but i’m down to.” 

jihoon reaches into his pocket, pulling out a black leather wallet, several joints tucked into one of the folds. he plucks one out, wasting no time as he holds it between his fingers, your group tightens its circle around jihoon as if he was holding gold. 

yunho eyed you from the opposite side of the circle, where you were standing between chan and jisung, he was between san and jihoon. his eyes were observing, debating, a pointed look that forced you to notice it. you shrugged him off, smoking at a music festival just felt right— you didn’t want or need him to parent you, even if you had been drinking already. 

jihoon was quick to light the twisted end of the joint, the red hot flame of his black lighter was enough to color all of your faces an amber hue. you stood like kids, huddled around jihoon like he had a secret to tell, where he took three puffs of the joint to get it burning. your eyes widened as you watched his technique, how he blew on the end of the joint to keep it burning evenly, pink lips tightened to a perfect O shape– a gorgeous sight. 

the circle opens up as you begin passing, a sweet melody in your ear and a pungent smell in your nose, forcing your body into moving to the beat. jisung, beside you, sways his hips in the same motion as yours, a fit of giggles erupting from your lungs as you move in unison. too focused on jisung, you didn’t realize chan was holding the joint out to you. 

you inhaled slowly, you hadn’t smoked since the last time you were at the frats, that had been months ago. you knew the basics, you kept your hits of the joint small, especially since you had a few drinks in you, you were never really a smoker. socially, in the kitchen of a massive frat house, or on the balcony of the only person you consistently hooked up with at school, that only lasted just shy of a month.  

the burn in your lungs and the cough that fought to break through your lips felt nostalgic, you felt so light you could float up to the clouded night sky. immediately immersed into a sense of calm, like stepping into a bath of warm water, you smiled as you passed the joint to jisung. every bone in your body told you you needed that. 

your ears perked to the conversation happening around you, yeosang, san and jeongin in some sort of debate, the joint had made its way to yunho by now. you could feel everything slow down, your eyes hooding, sitting at half mast just from two hits. 

“ah,” jisung tilts his head back in delight, “that strain fucks, hoon.” you couldn’t stop the small giggle from leaving you at fucks.

jihoon smiles, confident as ever, “right?” he looks around the group before he adds, “i grew it myself.” 

san’s jaw drops as he takes the joint from yunho, “you grow it?” 

“right in my backyard,” jihoon nods, “it’s better that way.” 

you check out of the conversation, your focus back on the crowd, not a thought in your brain, yet instead paying attention to the hues of blue and pink that lay over the crowd like blankets. you could see backs of heads and nothing more, shaded eyes not quite reaching the stage, but the light show that cascaded over the mass of people was enough. 

you almost didn’t notice the presence next to you, you hadn’t even realized you moved, as jisung planted his feet directly next to yours, your neck nearly snapped up in surprise. 

“so pretty,” he says, eyes glazed over as they stared out into the crowd, his thoughts probably matched yours. 

“the lights?” you asked, flipping your sunglasses atop your head so you could see clearer.

“you mainly,” he looks down to you and you meet his eyes, not missing the pink that kissed his cheeks, “but yeah, i guess the lights, too.” 

your own cheeks flush– this was the first he was showing interest. you smile through a giggle, “that was smooth, jisung.”

“wanna get closer?” he asks you, reaching for your hand again before you had a moment to answer. 

as he pulled you along, you asked, “are you sure you don’t want to keep smoking?” 

he looks over his shoulder and it nearly takes your breath away, he’s so cute you think you’d follow him around all night, especially if he keeps looking at you like that. as if he’d go anywhere with you, as if he didn’t care about anything else, you saw his feelings in his eyes. he was into you. he smiles, “do you?”

“let’s go,” you nod your head and pull your sunglasses over your eyes again, headed behind jisung into the crowd that was packed like sardines. mumbles of ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ left him as he cut through people, keeping you close to him with a firm grip on your hand, you could feel the calluses on your knuckles so much more. 

when you made it somewhat towards the middle, a pocket of space amongst the crowd, jisung finally stopped and turned to you for approval. you put your sunglasses atop your head again, tucking your hair behind your ears, your view was so much better now. 

the music was louder, the lights were clearer, now it was just you and jisung– you weren’t sure if you were at the festival anymore or if you were up in the clouds. the only thing that could make this better would be if you could actually see the stage. you wish yunho had followed you.

as if he heard your thoughts, jisung’s voice was loud when he asked, “can you see?” 

you shook your head, “the lights are so pretty, it doesn’t even matter.” 

“you're going to think i’m crazy, don’t think i'm crazy,” he prefaces, bracing himself for rejection with a shy smile, “do you want to get on my shoulders?” 

you laugh in disbelief, loudly, looking at him with wide eyes and jaw slack. he raises his eyebrows, “you’re tiny, right?”

“i am tiny but not like that,” you wave your free hand in front of you, “i don’t want to hurt you.” 

he rolls his eyes with a cocky smile, “if you could see what was under the hoodie you wouldn’t be saying that.” 

your eyes widen impossibly further, that was the last thing you expected to leave his lips. a smirk appears on your own, “oh, now you’re confident, huh?” 

“is it working?” 

“maybe.” 

“then get on,” he squats down, your jacket still folded over his forearm but he’s careful not to let it touch the ground. you suck in a breath– this could go one of two ways, especially since you both drank and smoked, either you’ll have an incredible view or everyone will watch you fall to the dirt. 

fuck it. 

you swing a denim covered leg around his neck, slightly hopping up to straddle his nape. you giggle as you do, the action was almost sobering, the amount of focus it took you to balance. as he stood up your hands flew to his curls, the only thing you could think to grab onto to steady yourself, a slew of apologies leaving your lips after you accidentally tugged. 

“jisung!” you yelled, “i didn’t know what else to grab.” 

you could hear the shake of his shoulders as he laughed beneath your thighs, “i could make a terrible joke right now, but i’m not going to.” 

it takes you a moment to catch on, but when you do, you laugh. “nothing but a man.” 

“a man that has you on his shoulders,” he bites back, “enjoy the show.” 

you finally looked up and the stage was finally clear– shrouded in blue light, the members visible, the music so loud– it was nothing short of exhilarating. the thought crosses your mind that maybe this was what yunho was talking about, being in your twenties and experiencing, you don’t know if you would have ever made it onto mingyu’s shoulders in the crowd of a TV girl concert. you guess you’ll never know, and for the first time since wednesday, the thought didn’t fill you with dread - you supposed you have vodka and weed to thank.

instead you screamed– an excited scream, for the band, for the show, for how fucking good their music is. definitely high, more than a little drunk and nearly seven feet in the air, you were positive your night couldn’t get any better. there was nothing better than this. 

“hey!” you heard from beneath you, stealing your attention fully. jisung turns to the side, which turns you to the side, your entire friend group beneath you with wide grins and red, glossed over eyes. 

“hey guys!” you yelled back, your smile reaching ear to ear, “i’m up here!”

“we see you,” yeosang is smiling, “how’s the view?”

“incredible,” you’re gleaming, “this is so fucking cool!” 

san, yeosang and yunho all watch you with soft eyes, warmth in their bodies, you could read their emotions from their faces— superpowers only granted to those who have been friends for two decades. the other three boys stared at you with something like surprise on their faces, for that you could only guess what for, and you didn’t have the brain power to think that deeply about anything right now. you caught chan and yunho locking eyes, yunho shooting chan a dry nod as if to say ‘i told you so’.

you cocked your head to the side for a moment before the thought was gone. you take a sip from your surfside, this one going down much slower than the last ones, and ask the group, “do we have any more weed?” 

“i don’t think you need any more,” san says through an amused smile, with a small shake of his head. he was done being a drama queen. “you’ll fall off the boy’s shoulders.”

“yunho’s here,” you shrug, “he’ll catch me. did you guys know yunho is actually spiderman?” a fit of giggles slips through your lips, your head falling back in laughter. it throws your balance off, making jisung take a step back, and the whole six of them lunge forward. you grab onto jisung’s curls again, stabilizing yourself, “whoa, sorry, i’m getting too comfortable up here.” 

“you should get down,” yunho says with concern as the group walks forward, making something like a crowd around you and jisung without it being obvious it’s to catch you if you fall. “you’re fucked up, teens, you’ll fall.” 

“boo,” you frown, throwing a thumbs down in yunho’s direction. “i like it up here. did you forget you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore?” 

yunho’s jaw tightens, his eyebrows flattening. he chooses not to answer, instead yeosang steps in, saying your actual name in a warning tone. 

“what?” you ask, dumbfounded, “i just wanna watch the show.” 

you bring your attention back to the stage, one hand in jisung’s hair, mindlessly twirling chocolate covered curls around your finger as the other hand brings your surfside back to your lips. you missed the way yeosang, san and yunho shared a look, how the three of them began to realize where tonight was headed, none of them looking forward to it. 

when TV girl’s set ended you were back on the ground, staying close to jisung’s side as you walked toward stage B, excitement flooding you that jungle was next. 

“i can’t wait,” you bounced next to jisung, a wide smile on your face, “do you like jungle?” 

“love jungle,” he nodded, “back on 74? banger.” 

“my favorite is i’ve been in love,” you beam, “i know every word, i think there was a three day period where all i listened to was that song.”

“three days of one song?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows and eyes that looked like the moon hung above you, full and bright, “i would lose my mind.” 

“we listen to music differently, though,” you counter, “i bet you hear a bunch of stuff i don’t. how it’s made, background stuff, lyrics, i just like it when a song sounds good.” 

he smiles, “music’s heard differently by everyone, that’s the cool thing about it. i couldn’t live without it.” 

you groan, “a world without music?” you emphasized your words dramatically, hopefully to humor the boy who knew more about music than you ever would, “that’s called hell.” 

he laughs loudly, hunching forward a bit to catch his mouth with his hand, “i can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” 

“i’m serious!” you laugh too, accidentally stepping over your foot and bumping into his side, “sorry. but i am serious, i couldn’t live in a world where music didn’t exist.” 

you step into the line for the bar without even thinking or discussing that you would, you didn’t know where everyone else had gone. something about the food trucks by the main entrance. 

“have you been friends with them for a long time?” jisung asks, moving in front of you, and your eyes glaze over his figure. his clothes fit him so nicely, his hoodie perfectly oversized, jeans lying over the laces of his sneakers at just the right spot. “you seem like you’ve been friends forever.” 

“ever since i can remember, they’ve been in my life,” you nod with a smile, head tilting to the side. your eyes felt heavy. “they’re my brothers, basically.” 

“i only have one older brother,” his lips form a tight smile, “must be nice to have three.”

“four,” you correct him, stepping forward in line, “i have an actual brother, he’s my twin.”

“and you’re all friends?”

“our parents are close friends, so naturally we are, too,” you nod. wanting to change the subject, with a devilish smile you ask, “should we get shots?”

jisung lets out a huff of amusement through his nose, “can you handle shots?” 

“i fear i might need shots,” you say through a breath, you felt like you were slowing down. if you slowed down any further, the sadness would creep back in. “i’ll get this round.” 

he looks at you inquisitively, like he wanted to ask but didn’t know if he should. instead he waves you off and says, “nah, i’ll get them, if you need one so badly.”

you smile and lightly slap his bicep, “now you’re making me sound like an alcoholic, it’s just been a tough week.” 

he nods as you step forward again, one group in front of you in line. “i can understand that, this is good timing, then. the festival, and me.” 

your head snaps up to look at him like a deer caught in headlights, fumbling over your words, “no– i–”

“don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head, “let’s just have fun.” 

you take a second to close your mouth, and nod with a weak smile. he orders you tequila shots and hard liquor drinks this time– go big or go home, his words. as you sipped through a tiny straw on your way back to stage B, you realized he was right, shots and a drink drink were much needed– go big or go home, indeed. your brain was even foggier as you approached the dark stage, jungle wasn’t playing just yet, but you could see small shadows of people setting up the stage from the back of the crowd. 

“should we go up there?” you ask jisung, referring to the crowd, slurring your words ever so slightly. 

the corner of his lips lifted up into a smile, his eyes glossed over just like your own, he’s keeping up with you. “i think we should definitely go up there.”

fingers linked again, pressing through bodies in the crowd, the rest of your friends weren’t a thought in your brain. a wide smile on your face, all you could think was jisung and jungle. he was the perfect person to rip you out of whatever funk you were in. 

jisung got you both closer than you’d been the entire time you were at the festival, it was condensed but not as packed as the first twenty rows of people– you still had wiggle room. he tugged on your hand to bring you even closer to the stage, but you didn’t feel like being a sardine, you had pulled his back to keep you both in the spot you deemed perfect. he’d pulled his phone out to take a picture of the stage, most likely to send to one of his friends to let them know where you were, but you kept your phone in your purse, selfishly hoping they wouldn’t find you. you just wanted to be, here with jisung, watching the show together. 

as the lights came on, screams erupted from around you, also from you and jisung. the crowd collapsed inward, pushing you into the people in front of you– a meek yelp left your lips as people behind you pushed into you. jisung was quick to grab your wrist and pull you in front of him, wrapping his arms around your front over your shoulders, laying one wrist over another in front of you. 

you tilt your head up, fear still lingering in your eyes from almost getting crushed, “thank you.” 

he gave you a tight lipped smile and you swooned. his hoodie was so soft, so warm, his arms wrapped around you made you feel safe, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. your back pressed to his front, your head laid back on his chest right under his chin, your fuzzy brain wouldn’t let you stop smiling. jungle opened with back on 74 and both you and jisung sang along with the rest of the crowd, swaying side to side, your heads tilted upward to watch the stage. 

you weren’t careful of how much you leaned into him, you couldn’t, that power left you a drink and a shot ago. you completely relied on jisung’s strength to keep you held up as you relinquished the little core strength you had, your fingers on one hand gripping your jacket laid on his forearm, the other holding your drink. his body was sturdy, strong, it felt good pressed against you. your lips stretched to one side, the alcohol was hitting you more than you thought it would– from how often you’d been getting laid, you’d worked up something like a routine with your body, and here jisung was. 

“you comfortable?” he asked in your ear, deep voice sending vibrations through your entire body. 

you answered with a mhm that came deep in your soul, you were more than comfortable– you wanted him. 

your mind travelled as jungle played through their setlist, three songs deep now, you began to wonder if jisung wanted you, too. you tested the waters, pressing your back into him a little harder, but he stayed solid. you rolled your head to the side, let your fingers travel up and down his cotton clad arm, humming along to the song playing. 

his hands finally moved, fingers traveling down to your waist, to your hips, moving with you. a smile grew on your lips as you kept swaying to the music, body still pressed against him– you should be embarrassed with the amount of people around you, they could be watching you, eyes glued to the way your hips were moving on jisung. the thought was fleeting, you didn’t care– jisung, wanted you, too, that’s all that mattered. 

jisung and jungle.

his head came down to reach your ear again, “you know what you’re doing, right?” 

you smiled, an innocent one that he couldn’t see, “you said let’s have fun.” 

he laughed from behind you, a quick chuckle that had your neck bending to look up at him. his smile was intoxicating if you weren’t already, his lips so pink and plump, you wondered what they tasted like. he caught your eyes, seeming like he could read your mind, but he caught your eyes as they dipped down to his mouth and back up at his own. that only meant one thing.

something unreadable crossed his face before he was leaning down, attaching his lips to yours. his speed took you by surprise, as if he mentally said fuck it, but you were even quicker to reciprocate. opening your mouth ever so slightly you deepened the kiss, warmth spreading across your body, momentarily giving you reprieve before the awkward angle and the urge to have more of him consumed you. 

your drink fell to the dirt before your hands came up to cup his cheeks, body completely turning to face him so that your front pressed to his instead. his hands came to your hips again, planted firmly against your jeans, the tips of cold pinkies slipping underneath your hoodie, the chill of his fingers making you shiver. 

it was electric– it was exactly what you needed. your favorite band playing in the background, kissing a boy you’d only met today, this is what yunho was talking about. this was being twenty two, living, experiencing, doing things for the fuck of it… you were starting to hate when he was right. 

“hey,” he said between kisses, making you pull away, catching your breath. a hand came up to wipe at your wet bottom lip as he pressed his curl covered forehead against yours, your breaths still coming out uneven. his eyes were darker, even more glazed over, you wondered how that was even possible. he smiled, that same smile that just did you in moments prior, “i like you.” 

you didn’t miss a beat as you said, “then keep kissing me,” and found his lips again. 

he took a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head back, tongue slipping through your lips. you moaned, not a care in the world for the people around you. you would’ve asked him to take you in a port a potty if you weren’t interrupted a moment after. 

“damn,” you wouldn’t have bat an eye if it didn’t come from a voice you recognized. chan was giggling as he got closer to you, “i don’t know how we even recognized you, if you got any closer you might’ve merged into one.” 

you literally jumped, cheeks flushing as if you were a child getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. chan wore the widest smirk on his red cheeks and you couldn’t help but scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. a grumble left your lips, “cockblocker.” 

following him were the rest of the boys one by one, slipping through spaces in the crowd to take their places around you as if they’d been searching for you. out of breath, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed as you and jisung took a step closer to one another again. you caught his eye, he wore the same look you did– horny, frustrated, disappointed. 

after your shared look you bit your lip out of annoyance, then your eyebrows shot to your hairline as you brought your empty palms out in front of you. you looked up to jisung, “where did my drink go?!”

jisung threw his head back in laughter before he pointed to the ground, your now empty cup crushed and covered in dirt. you pouted, “i dropped it?” 

“you don’t even remember?” he was still giggling, hand covering his mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkled. 

“here,” chan said, pushing his cup into your hand– whiskey, neat. you stared at the cup in your hand, face immediately falling, eyebrows furrowing and not because you didn’t like whiskey. you looked back up to chan and his eyes widened, hand lurching forward to grab it from your hands. “my bad, i’m sorry, ohmygod.”

another drink replaced its spot in your hand, a surfside, freshly cracked, still cold. you looked up to yunho in front of you, the one who put it in your hands, and he gave you a warm smile. “better, right?” 

“much, thank you,” a smile replaced your frown as you took a sip, body whipping around to watch jungle again. a heavy hand rested on your shoulder, yunho standing directly behind you. 

he bent down to your ear, much like how jisung did minutes ago, his voice lowered as he said, “pretend we’re not even here.” 

you thanked him with your eyes, body moving before you could process it, skipping to your spot in front of jisung again, where he immediately laid his arms over your shoulders. you hung your head forward, looking around for your group, jeongin and yeosang were holding hands now, san and chan standing too close for that to be nothing, yunho and jihoon silently watching the band. 

you smiled to yourself– despite being annoyed by their interruption, chan damn near pulling you off of jisung, you liked this. you liked chan’s friends being with yours, a blend of people you never would’ve expected hanging out, and enjoying it on top of it all. you wouldn’t mind if you did this more. 

as the familiar tune of i’ve been in love reverberates throughout the crowd, you gasp. “jisung!” you exclaim, your smile massive as you look up at him, “they’re playing it!” 

he beams, eyes full of warmth as he looks down at you, “they knew you were here.” 

you start rapping along, head leaning back onto jisung’s chest. to your surprise, he raps along with you, the two of you going word for word with the band. you looked up to him with shock written all over your face, the two of you getting louder as realization set in, as the song continued. you couldn’t help the stupid smile that you couldn’t wipe off your face, not that you tried– not that you even wanted to try. 

as the song nears its end, you thought over yunho’s words again. pretend we’re not even here.

if they weren’t here, you never would’ve stopped kissing jisung– you already missed his lips on yours. you tilted your head up, doe eyes to doe eyes, jisung was already staring back down at you. you smiled as you glanced down to his lips, a question on your own, one you didn’t have to ask because he wanted it, too. 

warm and soft, already slick with his spit, you could focus on how he felt this time instead of your drunken need overpowering your senses. with newfound clarity, the outcome was just as damning, getting lost in jisung’s lips was just as easy as the first time. keeping a loose hold on your can, you swung your body to face him without breaking the kiss, your other arm wrapping around his shoulder. 

“you’re so hot,” he mumbles into your lips, hands traveling up to your waist, beneath your hoodie. a chill racked through you as a soft noise left your lips, too gone to answer, too lost in the way he made you feel, the temperature of his fingertips against your skin. 

“leave with us, stay over tonight,” a statement that was also a question, jisung’s voice was heavy, a depth to it told you he needed you just as bad. 

“maybe,” you kissed him again, your voice airy, not here nor there. your surroundings had left you— it was only you and jisung in that moment, that’s all you cared about. you couldn’t think about after, you couldn’t think about mere minutes from now, all you could think was how you never wanted his lips to leave yours. 

you missed how yunho watched from his peripherals, how his eyebrows flattened, how his lips formed to a thin line. he couldn’t focus on the band in front of him, he knew you loved them, which made him love them, too, yet you weren’t even paying attention. yunho was dumbfounded— with you, with himself, with his own emotions— he didn’t know what to do. 

after decades of knowing you, his bright eyed, favorite girl, he didn’t think there was this much of you left to figure out. he’s watched you grow up, he himself grew up alongside you, he’s seen you through every phase, every change, but nothing could’ve prepared him for this one. 

random hookups throughout high school, college, none of that actually mattered— you already consumed his mind day and night, but after you started dating, he picked himself apart piece by piece, hoping to realize what you didn’t see in him. 

yunho looked to his left, yeosang was kissing jeongin now. that didn’t take him by surprise. 

yunho looked to his right, san was looking at chan with a hunger yunho had never seen in his eyes before. that should've been more surprising than it was. 

in front of the two boys were you and jisung, that made yunho want to crawl out of his skin. he saw you kissing him moments prior, he even told you to do so in other words, for a moment yunho thought maybe he was a masochist. a glutton for pain, for torture, whatever this feeling was as he stared at you, eyes closed, fingers tangled in that boy’s hair. 

yunho had to let go. he’d already fucked up, he’d already let too many of his feelings slip through the reins of his self restraint, he’s already endured you screaming in his face once, he’d die before he hurt you enough to do it again. he told himself this is just another phase, another change, you’ll come out of it smarter, more experienced, different. he can’t help but be a little scared that you’ll actually succeed in finding a boyfriend. 

as your face detaches from jisung’s to take a breather, yunho can see your glazed over eyes, your expression that read all of nothing, you’d been drinking for hours now without a morsel of food in your stomach. he’s seen you drunk, hammered, hurled over a toilet for hours on end— but you looked happy, which you haven’t in days, yunho didn’t want to interrupt but he didn’t want you throwing up in the dirt, either. 

yunho was at a crossroads. as jungle wrapped up their set and you unwrapped yourself from jisung’s embrace, your face changed, the knit of your eyebrow told him something wasn’t right. he was quick on his feet, two long strides had him at your side, asking you what’s wrong. 

“i dunno,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing, your free hand coming up to your face, cold palm pressed against your hot cheek. even through your mask of inebriation, he knew that look, he could read it all over you— this wasn’t about the boy, this was about mingyu. 

“let’s go home,” yunho bent down, level with your face to look into your eyes, he could see the tears before they formed. it put a knot in his stomach. 

“okay,” your voice was strained, raw. yunho felt like he’d been punched in the gut. he should've told you not to smoke, especially after drinking so much, he shouldn’t have brought you that last drink— he should’ve warned you that drinking wouldn’t fix anything. 

he looked up to jisung whose eyes were wide, eyebrows raised in confusion and concern. his voice was raised in pitch as he asked, “is she okay?”

yunho nodded quickly, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed to say she’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. your face hit his chest and he wished he could physically stop his heartbeat from quickening. years of loving you, spending time with you, being close to you, touching you— he always reacted the same. 

chan bounced over, worry in his voice, “hey, hey, hey,” he placed his hand on your back and it took every ounce of strength yunho had to not pull you away, but since chan is your friend, he’d allow it. chan leaned closer, “you okay?” 

you picked your head up to look at him, yunho couldn’t see your face but the look on chan’s told him enough, his eyebrows furrowed even further with worry. “did jisung—”

“no,” you sniffed, “it’s not jisung, just needa go home,” you slurred, shaking your head, “drank too much.” 

chan, who had heard the whole story from san earlier while waiting in line for the bar, looked up to yunho in understanding. for only knowing you a short time, he seemed to know a lot about you. yunho didn’t have the time to dissect the thought. 

yunho lifted his head up, yeosang and san already looking at him, at you, concern living in the crinkle between their eyebrows. yeosang stepped forward and yunho shook his head, knowing you’d be mortified in the morning if this became a bigger deal than it needed to be. 

“you ready to go home?” yunho tipped his chin upward in the direction of his two friends, keeping you tucked under his elbow in front of him. 

san and yeosang nodded silently, he watched as yeosang pecked jeongin goodbye, as san began walking away without another word to chan. for you, they’d do anything, they’d drop anything— it didn’t matter. 

“will you guys be okay getting home?” chan asked yunho, shoulders back, chin tilted up. 

“yeah, you?” yunho answered, already turning on his heel, barely giving chan time to respond. he needed you out of here, out of the crowd, he needed to get you air.

“tell her to call me when she feels better,” chan calls behind you, and san responds, but yunho barely hears him. 

the group of them shuffled through the crowd— why were they so deep in, anyways?— tucked under his left armpit, yunho was basically dragging you through the dirt. you were slumped into his side, mumbling something, feet barely carrying you. he debated putting you on his back. 

“what are you saying, tiny?” yeosang asked, just a step behind you, closer to your ear than yunho was. 

“my jacket,” you said a little louder, strain on your voice, “jisung has it.” a sob leaves your lips and yunho almost smiles, the fact that your jacket was the icing on the cake is so you. even completely done up you stayed unapologetically yourself. 

“should we call ace?” san asked from yunho’s other side, his eyebrows still knitted together. 

“what the hell is ace gonna do?” yunho replied, his tone curt, “let him have his weekend with reia, he doesn’t need to know. tiny will be fine.”

as you got to the outskirts of the crowd, yunho was bending down in front of you, his arms reaching behind him to hoist you onto his back. you were a deadweight, head slumped over his shoulder, arms limp around his neck. he carried you through the venue towards the main entrance without a word. 

you groaned when you finally reached the parking lot, followed by, “yun, i don’t feel good.” 

“ah, fuck,” he muttered under his breath, coming to a stop. “can you wait until we get home?” 

“put me down now,” you said hurriedly, fear apparent in your tone, and yunho bent down right away, standing back up when your sneakers hit the pavement. you crouched down, yeosang had caught it before yunho did— he stood behind you, your hair wrapped into a ponytail in yeosang’s fist as you emptied the contents of your stomach where yunho had just been standing. 

the four of you didn’t say another word until you were five minutes away from your house, the drive spent in silence— you’d spent it with your head halfway out the window, your sunglasses halfway down your nose, eyes shut. if it weren’t for the tears that streamed down your face every now and then, yunho would’ve assumed you were already knocked out.

“should i call him?” you asked the car, everyone already knew who, eyes still closed as you sat back in the cushioned seat. “i miss him, jisung was nothing like him. i wish he was there.”  

yunho was lucky you couldn’t see him— he physically winced at your drunken words. san eyed him from the passenger seat, but he paid his friend no mind. 

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, teens,” yeosang said calmly from the backseat, sitting close to your side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. yunho watched as you laid your head on him, you didn’t answer him— maybe you fell asleep. he hoped you did. 

san carried you inside your house bridal style and laid you on your unmade bed, but yeosang was the one who had dressed you for bed. it became his responsibility the few times he’s had to do it— an unspoken rule amongst you. 

after a hot shower, yunho decided to check on you once more before heading to the guest room for bed. you were sitting over the side of your bed, eyes closed, chugging water from the bottle he’d placed on your nightstand. he only peeked his head in, but you caught him. 

“yunho?” you asked weakly, your voice small. 

he cursed under his breath, but he inched forward, coming into view. he looked around, clothes were strewn about your floor, clothes hanging out of the hamper— he didn’t realize until then how upset you really were. “you okay, teens?” 

you mumbled a mhm then laid back on your sheets, head falling onto your pillows. you turned your head to look at him, eyes crescents, “why can’t i find anyone that’s good for me?”

yunho sighed and walked forward, sitting at the edge of your bed. “you will.” 

“kissing jisung didn’t make me feel any better about mingyu,” you paused, yunho didn’t know if you’d continue. your lip trembled, “he was good for me.” 

yunho pulled his lips into a line— as much as he hated hearing it, if that's how you felt, he wouldn’t argue with you anymore. “why don’t you try calling him tomorrow?”

you whined, then closed your eyes, pulling your duvet over your body, up to your neck. “i’m tired of being mad at you.” 

yunho smiles at that— “i’m sorry i made you mad at me.” 

“will you stay with me tonight?” 

yunho’s eyes shoot open, his lips parting, his mind running a mile a minute. “what?”

“please,” you opened your eyes a little wider, they were still glassy— he was scared you might cry again if he said no, not that he wanted to say no. 

he couldn’t ask why, he couldn’t ask any questions at all. as you pulled up the corner of your duvet, in his tee shirt, all he could muster was “okay.” 

that was a lot, if ur still here i love u. tell me how u feel so i don't lose my mind pls

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags: @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy @yusalterego @velvetring00 @minvxq @moonlightgrleric

[stellerssong]

HOW am I supposed to fit "doesn't actually like musicals" into the existing Swan lore. It's too early in the morning for this

oh i can answer this! when i say i "don't like musicals" i mean it in the same sense that people who have written hundreds of thousands of words of star wars fanfic say "i hate star wars and i wish it was good" or when people who can pinpoint down to the run, issue, page number, panel, and speech bubble where you should start reading their favorite comic say "one day i'm going to burn down dc headquarters and i'm not joking." hope this helps!

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: nightmares, awko moments, kissing?

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6!!!!! -part 7

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

The next morning when John woke up it was as if his life had changed filters, like if he went from dramatic cool to dramatic warm. There was a small pep in his step as he got out of bed. You were usually always asleep before 9AM so he decided he’d go buy the two of you breakfast from this small cafe you like not too far down the road, he knew when he was younger there was nothing like a good breakfast after a night of drinking.

On the other hand when you woke up you thought you’d dreamt it, the kiss couldn’t have been real. You’d never be that bold. But the nervous jitter in your belly at the thought of leaving your room was telling you all you needed to know. Along with the smile that’s been plastered on your face since the sound of your rattling windows from the heavy breeze woke you up.

Thankfully no hangover so therefore life’s great. You did desperately want to shower though after waking up in the same clothes you went out in. Which also meant it was going to have to be laundry day.

When he got back he picked up on the sound of your shower running and the steam that escaped beneath the door. He set the food in the kitchen unpacking what was his and yours, placing it in your usual seats at the table.

After a long shower filled with music and wasted water you dressed into comfortable home clothes, basically pajamas. Gathering the sheets and blankets from your

bed in a bear hug you begin to make your way to the laundry room, when you get there you drop everything on the floor with a huff.

“Doll?” John says from down the hallway as the sound of his footsteps grow closer

“Hey, goodmorning.” Shit shit shit.

“Morning, I got breakfast if you’re hungry.” He notices the way you slightly stiffen and how you don’t look back to greet him.

“Yeah actually, Thankyou.” Back to your shy nature he presumes, except he’s seemingly stepped out of his. There’s nothing John Price loves more than being on the same page as someone and if he’s assured of anything it is that you feel the same way he does.

“Okay, it’s on the table. I’ll eat when you do.” He says, walking away.

You let out a sigh of relief when he left, smiling to yourself at the girlish feelings so alive in you. When you finally made it to the kitchen you saw his silhouette outside. Even in the harsh weather he stood with a beanie and jacket on, lit cigar between his lips.

You give two knocks on the kitchen window catching his attention. When he notices you he snuffs the cigar into the small ashtray you bought for him and heads inside.

“You’re crazy for standing out there.” You say softly as you notice the effort it takes him to slide the door shut.

“I’ve done crazier.” He remarks.

You sit on the table as he does the same. You get that familiar warm feeling in your cheeks when you realize he got your exact order. Maybe it’s from the million times you’ve phone ordered it, regardless it’s sweet.

“So.” You say trying to see if he’ll be the one to bring it up.

“So?” He says with a smirk taking a sip of his coffee.

“So, I kissed you last night.” You have to talk about it, you could never be the one to just let it be.

“Did you?” He smirks.

“I did, and I want to know if that was okay with you or if I misread the room.” He laughs a little wondering if maybe he’s too subtle.

“No misreading was done love, next time I’d just appreciate a proper one.” The blush on your face gives him even more confidence.

“Well for your information I intended on giving you an actual kiss but my coordination had been slightly off.” You laugh as you say it cause although it’s embarrassing it’s very true.

“Well doll, there’ll be more opportunities I’m sure of it.”

“Oh Okay.” Lord save you.

“Besides your rendezvous, I wanted to know if I could have some pals over tomorrow. We have some work to do and I’m not quite keen on going to base.”

“Of course.”

—————

That night you decide to cook dinner, it’s only fair since he bought breakfast. You both agreed on pasta since you have all the ingredients for it. Although you told John you could cook alone he insisted he’d help as it’s the nice thing to do but truthfully he just wanted to be around you.

“So you grew up not too far from here?” He asks as you dice garlic.

“Yeah about an hour away.” You have your hair pulled back and are constantly moving the stray pieces from your face.

“Do you ever visit home?”

“Hah absolutely not, stay as far away from it as possible.” He doesn’t question it further but doesn’t miss the tone in your voice when you speak of it.

“I hear you talk to your sister a lot, are you close?” He loves hearing you talk, loves getting to know you even more.

“Yeah, she’s my best friend.” You smile, reminding yourself to call her and update her on these past two days.

“What about you, any siblings?” You ask looking over to him seeing that he’s done chopping the tomatoes and now just leans against the counter.

“No, only child.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed. You're very selfless.” It’s nice to hear from you. You’re the only thing he can imagine being selfish about.

“Years of being in the military will do that to you.”

He takes the pasta off the burner and drains it through the strainer. When he puts the empty pot back onto the burner you begin on the sauce.

“Will the same people I met when you first moved in be the ones coming?”

“Yeah.” He says while setting placemats and cutlery on the table.

You’re content in the low hum of radio music that fills in the silence amongst you two. He still stands near you but no words are being said. He watches the way you precisely add different ingredients one by one. When you're done you serve onto the plates for both of you.

“Thank You doll.”

“It was a team effort so thankyou.” You offer him a small smile before you both begin to eat. Conversation flows nicely between bites. He makes you laugh over dumb stories from his time in the military and you tell him embarrassing stories that happened in middle school. He feels normal, like a human when he’s around you. Like his hands are clean of all the violence he’s committed in his life.

When dinner is over you tackle the dishes together, you wash, he dries and puts away till there’s no more.

“Well I’ll see you Tomorrow then.” You say washing your hands and drying them on the kitchen towel.

“Goodnight love.” Before you can get the chance to turn down the hall to your room he’s calling out to you.

“Yeah?” He makes his way towards you and it’s slightly intimidating till he reaches you, positioning a gentle and slightly rough hand on your cheek before placing a long proper kiss to your lips. It’s electric now that you’re fully sober. Warm yet slightly needy. He pulls away and places one more on the corner of your lips like you had his.

“That’s a proper kiss doll.” He jests.

“I can definitely tell the difference.” He laughs a little, swiping a stray hair behind your ear.

“Sleep well.” He adds before heading back down the hall.

—————-

“And we kissed again last night too.” You talk into the phone while kicking your feet under the covers as you still lay in bed awake earlier than usual.

“You didn’t.” She couldn’t be happier for you. You worried her sometimes, she knew you never were outwardly going to look for someone new and since she lived so far away she couldn’t just check up on you when she wanted so she smiles widely as you tell her about your escapades.

“We did, I really like him, you know.” You really really do.

“I’m so happy for you.” She laughs but before you can respond there’s a knock at your door.

“Hold on, come in.” You slightly yell out. John opens the door taking notice of the phone by your ear.

“Sorry doll, I wanted to come tell you that my mates will be here soon, just a heads up.” You smile, giving him a thumbs up with your free hand.

If life loved John as much as he wished he’d be lying next to you by now. Instead he smiles at you with a wink and closes the door.

“That was him, did you hear him?” You laugh.

“If the voice matches the man, my sister you are lucky, not as lucky as him though, don’t forget that.”

You talk for a while longer before letting her get back to her busy life. When you get out of bed you hear deep voices enter your home traveling to where you assume would be John’s office.

You change into a simple outfit, certainly nothing extravagant, but also not pajamas. On your way to the kitchen you turn the heater on so it can warm up before it gets colder outside. You search the fridge wondering what to eat for breakfast and decide on eggs and toast.

—

“Captain, do you have a water bottle I can grab?” Gaz asks, they’re doing a lot of talking and debriefing on their last mission filing the paperwork they’ve all avoided.

“Em yeah in the fridge on the door.” The captain dismisses him trying to type in certain coordinates.

“Grab us one too.” The two other men say as Gaz gets up and leaves. When he makes it to the kitchen he notices you but doesn’t know what to say.

“Hello ma’am.” That’s all he could come up with.

“Jesus good god, hello gaz.” You jump in surprise at the unfamiliar yet not complete stranger.

“Sorry sorry.” You wave him off as he apologizes.

“I think I get startled too easily.” You laugh and he smiles.

“Just came to grab water.” He says motioning forward to your fridge.

“Yeah no problem.”

“You have a stunning kitchen by the way, really like the white cabinets.” He compliments.

“Really, when my ex and I got the house I had the old ones which were a grayish color removed and put these ones in, he hated it.” You laugh at the memory.

“A man with no taste. These are lovely and this lighting, it’s really beautiful.” You thank him again and go into mindless conversation about other remodeling projects you had done, he had questions after everything you said and lost track of time.

—

“Gaz, where were you when the explosion happened?” Price questions and looks up after a minute when there’s no response.

“He hasn’t come back yet, captain.” Soap says with a small grin. “I think he’s chatting it up with the lass out there.”

Their captain gets out of his chair. Silently leaving the room to go see what his sergeant is up to. As he approaches the kitchen he hears you laughing and relaxes his tense features before walking into the kitchen.

“So these used to be granite tiles till I changed them to white ones.” You say pointing at the backsplash above the counter.

“You could be an interior designer.” Gaz remarks and you smile.

“Sergeant, where should you be?” John uses the voice of a captain, one you're not very familiar with.

Both of you turn to look at him and you start to defend him.

“Sorry John, I kept him here, that’s my fault.” You say looking at him apologetically. He wants to tell you to stop making those eyes at him because they make him soft, too soft.

“Sergeant back to work.” He says as gaz bids you a smile and mouths Thank You, he quietly passes John to get back to his office.

“Is that your scary man voice?” You ask him with a small smirk.

“It can be a lot scarier.”

“I like it.” He’s weak for you, physically and emotionally this man craves you in ways that are impossible to comprehend.

“Careful.” Is all he says before walking away. He leans against the wall by his office out of view from anyone quickly adjusting his pants like a boy in puberty before getting back to work.

——

By the time they're done it’s nearly midnight. You're laying on the couch watching a movie when you hear the heavy footsteps of the men reach the kitchen and John’s in particular make their way to you.

“You’re still up?” He asks, looming over the back of the couch.

“Can’t sleep.”

“The winds are heavy and it’s a little late. I was wondering if they could stay the night? They’ll sleep in my room. If not doll please don’t be hesitant to let me know.” He asks quietly.

“Yeah that’s fine, where will you sleep?” You smile softly at him and his tired eyes.

“Out here.” You nod letting him know it’s okay before he leaves for a second to tell them. They all Thank You as you get up to grab extra blankets from your closet.

You bring them to John’s rooms seeing them all figuring out where and how they’re going to sleep. You ask John if you could talk to him real quick in the hallway and he quickly excuses himself.

“John, those men are too grown to sleep on the floor and to share a bed.” You quietly exclaim.

“Doll, I can assure you they’ve slept worse.”

“Men, you don’t see the issue. They’re not at work though this is their time to get good sleep.”

“Well I don’t have much more to offer.”

“One of them can sleep in my room, one on the air mattress and one of them can sleep on your bed.” He looks at you slightly confused.

“Where will you sleep?”

“With whoever sleeps in my bed.” He looks at you like you're crazy and is about to very loudly protest. “I'm kidding, we can share the couch I only need like one cushion to sleep on.” It’s true you sleep like a Rollie Pollie.

“Fine.” He doesn’t object to the idea at all which you're slightly surprised about and walks back into his room to tell them. Gaz is the one that gets sent out to you and you take him to your room.

“Here’s the remote, I’m sorry about all the pillows but the sheets are clean and the bathroom is right across the hall.” You smile at him and he thanks you for saving him from the hardwood floors. You laugh and take your favorite pillow, you say your goodnight and head to the living room.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” John says as you walk to the opposite side of the couch.

“I know.” You say settling into your usual spot. John throws one of the blankets you gave to him for the boys over you. At this point you're so tired you lay on your side letting whatever action movie John put on lull you to sleep.

You wake up suddenly sometime during the night the tv now off making it hard to see. You hear John murmuring things in his sleep getting louder by the second. You sit up tapping his arm to wake him and realize how warm he is. You reach to turn on the lamp beside the couch so you could actually see. Sweat begins to form on his brow line as his hands shake at his sides.

“John.” You whisper quietly, shaking his arm. He doesn’t wake so you do it again a little rougher. Still nothing.

“John.” You said a bit louder, finally waking him. His wide eyes look around as his left hand reaches to grip the hand you had on his arm.

“Doll?” He says squinting his eyes at you while trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah I’m here.” He continues to breathe roughly as you sit there. The way he refuses to meet your eyes makes you want to cry. He looks distressed and worn down.

“Bad dream.” He whispers gruffly.

You don’t need words to comfort him. You slide down the couch to lay opposite of how you had been before and place your head on his chest. He lifts his arm from beneath you and drapes it over your mid back. You listen intently to the rapid beat of his heart waiting for it to slow. After a while it does as his breath evens out. After a bit you drift back into sleep.

----------

thankyou for reading <3

comments and reposts are always appreciated.

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[undreaming-fanfiction]

Party Animal

Steve hated parties. And who could blame him? The infamous Halloween party of 1984 left more scars on his heart than he carried from all his other misadventures. Alcohol made people say thinks they buried deep inside, but then instead of owning up to them, they'd say "I was drunk", as if that was any excuse. So yes, Steve and parties didn't go together anymore.

And yet he stupidly decided to throw one anyway.

Look, they deserved it. All of them did - Eddie, Nancy, Robin, even Jonathan and Argyle, they all earned acting like actual teenagers for one evening. Steve wanted to see Eddie, now miraculously his boyfriend, just have fun, laugh, be silly. So a party it was.

It all went great - dancing, drinking, nibbling on mountains of Argyle's homemade pizza - but eventually they all got drunk. Not Steve, he just sipped one beer and kept an eye on everyone. Jonathan and Argyle were smoking outside, Nancy and Robin flirted in the most embarrassing way possible and Eddie...

Steve heard sniffling from the bathroom and his heart sank.

He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be told that this was all a misunderstanding, that he pressured Eddie with his flirting, didn't want to hear he's bullshit again.

But no matter how terrified he was, he could never abandon Eddie. So he went in.

Eddie was leaning over the sink, wiping at his face and trying to control his breathing. "Shit..." he muttered and turned away from Steve. "Sorry, I...uh. I'll be there in a sec."

"Eddie..." It came out as a whisper. "Are...are you okay? Did I do something?"

Eddie just chuckled and pulled hair in front of his face. "Sure did," he mumbled.

And it made horrible sense to Steve. Of course he was the reason Eddie was crying. He couldn't help fucking up, he'd tried so hard to change but apparently it was 1984 all over again. So he took a deep breath and waited for the final blow.

"You're just perfect, Stevie."

Oh.

That wasn't what being broken up with sounded like. In fact, Eddie didn't seem angry at him at all. "...sorry?"

Eddie laughed, wet and high in his throat. "Like, you...you are too good to be true, you know? You throw a party for us and then you even don't drink so we're all cared for if anything happens? You...you give your best friend a green light to date your ex who shredded your heart to pieces? You invite the guy that your ex cheated on you with and his friend? You're just so good about it. And you're funny and so bitchy that I want to kiss you all the time. And I just...I love you so much, you know? And I've never felt that way about anyone and it's fucking scary, man."

Steve's racing thoughts came to a screching halt. Where he was too busy panicking and praying he'd still have time to fix whatever he did, now his brain settled on maybe I'm not getting broken up with? "So, uh..." he muttered as he watched Eddie try fix his eyeliner, "...there's, like, nothing wrong? Or maybe...do you want me to go slower? I know I can be a lot."

His boyfriend gave an incredulous laugh. There was no salvaging the eyeliner now, it was getting caught in Eddie's early crow feet, and Steve had never seen a more beautiful sight. "No, Steve. You're not a lot. In fact, you're just enough in every single way, but knowing that you're it for me, that good things can happen...it makes me terrified. I've never put all my drugs in a single lunchbox, or whatever metaphor you want to use for it, but with you I'm just throwing all the caution into the wind. And for the first time, I..." he stopped, chewing on his lip, "...I don't want to run away when I mess up. I want to stay, face the music and fix it. You're re-writing the Munson doctrine again and again and I just...I don't want you to settle for me, Steve. You are the whole package and I'm still cleaning all my messes. I guess today showed me that and I...yeah. Sorry about all this," he pointed at his tear-streaked face.

Eddie suddenly seemed so small, so insecure, and that wouldn't do. It woke Steve up from his frozen state and he took a step forward, cradling Eddie's face in his palms. "I'm not. Settling for you, that is." He was probably smudging the black even more, but Eddie would have been beautiful to him even fully covered in grime, and there were more important things to focus on. "Eddie, you keep talking about the Munson doctrine and being work in progress, but you don't see how you've thrown all the stuff I used to do out of the window, and I'm better for it. With you, I don't feel rushed, I don't have to perform or pretend. I can just live in the moment."

As he continued his speech, something strange started happening. Seeing people cry normally had a guaranteed effect on Steve - just one tear, quiet sob and he pushed his emotions down to be dealt with later or possibly never, someone needed him, and that was the priority. But now, staring at Eddie's wet eyes and shaky hands? He felt his own face crumbling and what better place to hide it than in Eddie's Metallica t-shirt. It smelled of cigarettes, pizza and the cheap laundry detergent that had come to mean home to Steve. "Sorry," he choked out. "Shit. I was...sorry, I'm supposed to be...you know. Consoling you. But I heard you crying and I thought...I..."

Eddie shook his head and tightened his grip on Steve's waist. "Oh Stevie. Whatever that pretty head of yours thought of, it's not happening. Unless it's kissing me, which duh, that's happening, if you want to of course, and staying with me to the point that you're sick of me."

Steve just whimpered into Eddie's shoulder, something that suspiciously sounded like "Now who's perfect, huh?"

His boyfriend just chuckled. "I guess that in a way, we both are. Maybe for each other?" If he'd aimed for self-deprecating tone, he failed. Instead, it was hopeful.

Steve didn't answer, but his embrace said it all.

They remained wrapped around each other for a long while, until Eddie whispered in Steve's ear: "how about we let the others celebrate on their own, hm? They won't be driving, their stuff is already in the guest bedrooms, and I hear your bed is wonderful this time of the year."

There was a muffled "yes" coming from Eddie's shoulder, and a few adjustments and "Good night!"s later, they found themselves in Steve's bedroom. Eddie managed to remove most of the rogue eyeliner, which was lucky. The time in the bathroom wasn't the last time he shed a tear that day, because as they were falling asleep, Steve said:

"You might be the first person who is dating the real me, and I'd like you to be the last one as well."

Tomorrow, he'd hold a funeral for the Munson doctrine. But today, he was going to wrap himself around Steve like a cuddly octopus and know that even if he doesn't manage to hold on tight the whole night, Steve would be there in the morning.

[nqctar]

𖦹 fireworks ; anton lee

pairing. best friend!anton x f!reader. genre. fluff. childhood friends to lovers. inspired by tsitp. synopsis. in the midst of a perfect summer night’s breeze, through flashes of fireworks, your summers spent wishing for anton to give you a sign finally come true. warnings. kissing. physical touch. wc. 1,344 words.

( 🐚 ) ONE SUMMER CAN CHANGE EVERYTHING.

you were in love. you knew it the moment you took glances at anton through your embarassingly large and round eyeglasses. right down to the first brace faced smile the two of you shared, there was always an unspoken mutual pining. though it had been years since that first encounter, seeing him each summer was like the first time over and over again. almost as if anton was a dream you conjured up through fevered nights. he seemed like someone you'd make up in your head to pass time and daydream about.

he was the physical manifestation of all your daydreams. knowing that made your heart ache. every summer you spent with him, digging up seashells along the salty shorelines of cousins beach and pushing each other into the freezing cold water still wasn't enough. you needed more than summers from him. you needed his cello callused hands to run through your hair. you needed to wake up in the morning and see his big brown eyes marveling at you.

you didn't need the summer anymore, if it meant you'd bask for eternity in anton's presence. he was everything to you.

though you wished every lovesick thought you had of him could come true, you found yourself going home at the end of each summer wanting for more. wishing you'd left with a kiss instead of a secret handshake the two of you made up in his treehouse the first summer you met. you deserved more, you thought. with nine years of wishing, something's gotta give.

"i am in control of my destiny," you say through closed eyes while sitting criss-crossed in front of lit french toast scented candles and a mirror. "my fate is up to me." the meditation track booming through your noise cancelling headphones drowned out the sounds of anton's audible confusion.

deep in your own zen and thought, you feel a gentle hand reach out and touch your shoulder. the feeling makes you jump, letting out a yelp louder than you can hear over the music.

"holy shit anton! where did you come from?!" laughter ripples through him, and he clutches his stomach while trying to regain some composure. as always, your heart does backflips upon seeing his beaming smile right in front of you. crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. he looked so, so pretty. you wanted to lean in and-

not now. maybe not today, even. things were perfect between you two. ruining your friendship with a kiss wasn't a chance you wanted to take. not now, not ever.

brushing your feelings aside, you blow the candle flames out and toss your headphones onto the bed. anton had calmed down already, though giggles still shook his body. you rolled your eyes at him. "it wasn't that funny, shut up." anton wiped a tear from his face, shaking his head. "don't be lame, it was hilarious."

"we're about to light the fireworks, obviously i don't want you to miss it so," he stops to brush a strand of long hair out of your face. an action he'd done many times before. it was almost second nature to him, yet it almost made your knees buckle. "finish your weird demonic chanting and come outside with me."

you grab your hoodie, one that actually belonged to anton during his brief stint on the cousins beach rowing team, he'd given it to you two years ago. it was a size too big for you then, and still too big for you now.

"you actually still use that? stop reminding me of my dark past." anton groans.

again, you roll your eyes. “it's comfortable, deal with it. and what 'dark past?' you were on the team for like two weeks. what's the worst that could've happened?"

anton shivers as the two of you step into the surprisingly chilled july air. "i tipped over in the boat and started screaming. people recorded it. they called me the cousins beach klutz." he cringes at the memory, and in turn you laugh. "okay, maybe that does count as a dark past."

the two of you walk down to your special spot, one you both found accidentally after running along the beach back to anton's summer house thinking you'd miss the fireworks. you remember the flashes of red white and blue that lit up the sky, how your hand brushed up against anton's as you both settled on a huge rock. that was the first time you considered your feelings for anton being more than just a normal crush.

it was also the first time you realized how quickly your feelings for him grew.

the two of you both sit down somewhat comfortably on that same rock, closer together than last year. he sets his the stand of his phone down in front of you both, something he does every year to document your reactions to the fireworks. you never questioned it, though something in the back of your mind gives you hope that he's doing it as an excuse to fill his gallery up with pictures and videos of you.

neither of you talk. there's tension in the air for some reason, and anton can feel it too. he peeks down at your hand, covering it with his own.

"your hands look cold," his voice is quiet. he's coming off shy. something is different.

"i'm just... warming them for you." your heart begins to race faster than it was before. you turn to look at him just as the first fireworks begin to colour the sky.

between the illuminated flashes of colourful lights bursting in the night sky, the earth had a population of two.

just anton, and you.

to your surprise anton was staring right back at you, big brown eyes peering into yours. he brushes a lock of hair away from your face and leans in. "i really want to kiss you." he whispers. the intoxicating scent of his vanilla conditioner calms you. anton is as perfect as he's always been, your very own dream come true.

this moment was the culmination of your winters spent praying to whoever was listening for summer to arrive quicker than last year. every drive back to your house at the end of each summer you held tears back was not in vain. everything you wanted was right in front of you.

"kiss me," you utter. "just kiss me."

with the last few bursts of fireworks blooming in the starry night sky, anton's strawberry chapstick flavoured lips meet yours. he kisses you with the fervor of years spent pining and waiting. his hands run through your hair, your noses bump, he lets a thumb smooth over the side of your face. he's everywhere you want him to be.

his hands drag up and down your sitting frame. the two of you pull away for air, lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

"we just kissed." anton remarks, somewhat in shock. his hand finds yours again, lacing your fingers together with his.

"i've been waiting so long for you to make a move, y/n." he lets out a nervous laugh. "i was worried you didn't feel the same."

your face reddens. "i didn't want to ruin us. i was scared that i'd do the wrong thing and you'd leave me." you admit. sympathy flashes over anton's face. "god no, i wouldnt—" he picks your hand up and kisses the back of it. "i'm not going anywhere, y/n."

"you're stuck with me forever." he grins.

you place a soft kiss to his lips again, savouring the brief moment.

"i wouldn't have it any other way, anton." he blushes at your response, ears reddening with shyness.

an unspoken 'i love you' lingers in the air, both of you too timid to say it out loud.

maybe next summer, you think.

for now, you curl into his side, choosing to rest your head on his shoulder.

everything in this moment feels perfect.

it's just you and anton existing together. you'd spend the rest of forever this way, if only you could.

[fuctacles]

Congrats on 800 followers!

For the request thing…I would love to see something (smutty and/or fluffy) about Transmasc Eddie being comforted by cis Steve. Maybe after being misgendered in regard to their relationship?

I love your writing so much!

Thank you so much <3 I hope this works :3 800 wc for 800 698 followers, M rating | Ao3

"You can't bring your girlfriend into the bathroom, man."

"Excuse me?"

Just this is enough to put Steve into attack mode. He can feel Eddie's hand tighten around his in warning.

"Yeah, we have a no-bathroom-fucking policy after the last incident." The guy that stopped them has the decency to at least look bashful, rubbing his cheek awkwardly. Steve can almost sympathize, if stopping horny couples is a task he's supposed to do on the daily.

Almost.

"I'm sure me and my boyfriend can find a better place to fuck," he says dryly.

The guy's eyes widen, then flicker to the side, where Eddie is hovering awkwardly.

"Shit, dude, I'm so sorry—"

"So do you stop only hetero couples?" Steve interrupts him with a quirk of an eyebrow, bitch mode in full swing. "Or did your management just forget queer people exist?"

He opens his mouth, but closes it, rendered speechless.

"Or are they actually heterophobic and want only gay sex to happen in their bathrooms?" Steve cocks his head to the side.

"I don't—"

"So can me and my boyfriend go pee or...? We'll hold our hands while doing so," he raises their joined palms. "But nothing more, I promise."

"Just go," the man says tiredly, his expression pained.

"Thanks," Steve nods to him. "And consider simple no-fucking signs."

Finally free from the bar worker, Eddie pulls Steve towards the bathroom. Once inside and away from the loud music, he falls against the door with a sigh.

"Sorry," he says, hands hiding his face.

"What for?" Steve asks, latching the door closed.

"I don't know," Eddie groans in frustration. "For not cutting my hair, maybe? Maybe then I'd look like a man," he scoffs.

"Do I have to list off all the guys with long hair again?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"Ozzy Osbourne, Dio, Slash..." he starts listing on his fingers anyway.

"Steve."

Steve drops his hand.

"Listen, if that guy assumes every person with long hair is a girl, then clearly he's not listening to enough metal."

Eddie lets out an involuntary snort, and Steve grins at the sound.

"And should we believe what an uncultured philistine without taste has to say?"

"No," Eddie admits with a fond roll of his eyes.

"Good," Steve smiles and leans down to kiss him. "Because I love your hair."

"I love it too," Eddie groans, his frustration still not gone. "I just wish it didn't make me feel this way."

"I know, Eds. But it's okay to feel like this, it's normal that it hurts," Steve reminds him, wrapping him in a hug. "You're a man to those who matter, who know what good music is."

Eddie's laughs gets muffled against his shoulder.

"That's true."

"And you're not going to change things you like about yourself because of a stranger's opinion."

"Hell no."

They stay quiet, just enjoying the warmth and comfort of their embrace, until Eddie speaks up again.

"Thank you."

"I'm just reminding you your own words."

"Still."

"Well, in that case, you're welcome, baby."

"Okay, but now I really have to pee."

They disentangle themselves to reach the urinals, but not before Steve lands another peck on his lips.

Eddie always takes longer in the bathroom, considering the time it takes him to disentangle and adjust his packer, but once he's free, he sees movement in his periphery. Steve is holding out his hand.

With a laugh, he grabs it, so they can pee hand in hand.

Once at they are at the sinks, they meet each other's eyes in the mirror.

"I kind of wanna fuck in the bathroom now," Steve admits.

Eddie makes a face and looks pointedly around. It's not the worst bathroom he's been in, but it's still a bar bathroom.

"You're not fucking me here," he says decisively. Steve hums.

"No, but you could fuck me."

Now that's a thought. One Eddie didn't plan in advance.

"Sorry, left my dick at home."

"Babe, you can make me come on just your fingers," Steve reminds him, leaning sideways against the sink to properly look at him.

Eddie pulls a strand of hair over his mouth at the reminder.

"Well..."

"Or we can always make a show and pretend just for kicks." His boyfriend suggests with a mischievous smile.

That, makes Eddie's eyes sparkle.

"We absolutely can," he quickly agrees.

Steve throws himself at the door with a rough slam, and moans in his best impression of a cheesy porn star.

"Fuck, I love you so much," Eddie attacks his mouth with no less enthusiasm. He starts moving his hips against his leg and groan to the rhythm, Steve rattling the door and whimpering along. "I can still fuck you after, right?"

Steve moans again, now more genuinely from the mere thought.

"You'd try not to."

I suck at tags: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 28: Games

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 28, Part 29 (Coming Soon)...

AN: lol I'm back on my bullshit. Word Count: 3,874 Warnings: allusions to abuse

It’s a short ride. Neither of you speak, allowing the music to fill the space between you. It’s comfortable. You listen to each song as the cassette plays through the specific mix curated by its maker. Max had shown you a few of these ‘mixtapes' Billy had made the day you waited with her. You don’t fully understand how he’s able to get each song to seamlessly blend into the next despite the variation in artists and rhythms. 

Then a song comes on that grabs your attention. It’s the same loud tune, a guitar continuously strumming along with the beat of drums and bass. The thing that stands out to you are the lyrics. 

“People think I’m insane,  because I’m frowning all the time…  I need someone to show me the things in life that I can’t find I can’t see the things that make true happiness,  I must be blind.”

“Who sings this?” You ask, glancing sidelong at Billy. 

“Black Sabbath.” He tells you, keeping his eyes ahead. “It’s one of their older songs but it still holds up.” He explains pulling to a stop in front of his house. When he moves to cut the engine your hand reflexively grabs his wrist, stopping him. 

“Wait. I want to hear the rest.” You tell him, using your other hand to turn up the volume.   Billy doesn’t fight you, watching you in silence as you listen to the rest of the song. 

“Make a joke and I will sigh And you will laugh and I will cry Happiness I cannot feel And love to me is so unreal… I tell you to enjoy life I wish I could, but it’s too late”

Your heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze for a beat as the song ends. There is a tense moment before the next song begins where you notice Billy's pulse under your fingertips. You don’t know why you're squeezing Billy’s wrist so tightly. You slowly uncurl your fingers, sitting back in your seat. The lyrics bounce around in your mind as you sit there. Billy finally cuts the engine, ending the music as well. 

“You okay?” Billy finally asks, lifting a brow. You nod.

“Yea, it’s just weird. How something can sound so loud and angry but under it all it’s actually really sad.” You explain. “Like a cry for help.” Billy’s lips quirk up slightly.

“Maybe that’s what they were going for?” He says. “Music is just another way to tell a story. I’m surprised you’re not more into it.” He tells you, moving to exit the car. “If you thought that was good I’ll have to show you some Bon Jovi.” He goes on as you follow him out of the car and up the steps towards the house. “I’m assuming you have no idea who that is.” Billy says with a smirk. 

“Yea yea, save it. Max already thinks I’ve been living under a rock for the past 17 years.” You reply with an eye roll. Billy huffs a laugh. 

“That little shit wouldn’t know dick about music if it weren’t for me.” He says, pulling out his keys. His words are harsh but there is no heat to them. 

“Well this is a first.” You quip as he unlocks and opens the front door, stepping to the side to let you enter first. “A whole different experience than coming in though the window.” You joke, stepping into the house. 

“We can always go around back if you’d feel more comfortable.” He jokes back, following you in. You take a moment to really look around as Billy closes and bolts the door behind you. You’ve never been in this part of the house, only glimpsing at it through windows. It’s not a large space and it’s clear that 4 people occupy the small domicile. Bits and pieces of everyones lives are scattered around. 

“I think I’m good.” You reply. You notice that there is a clear clash in interior design through the house. The free weights contrast with the decorative rug under them. Beer cans stacked next to decorative shell decor on the mantle. Someone had tried to make this house a home, but there was something off. It felt like two personalities were struggling to mesh into a comfortable middle, it was unstable, chaotic. 

Billy moves around you to lead you deeper into the house but before you can move any further Max’s voice calls from her room. 

“Billy, I need to go to the arcade! Where did you-oh.” She stops short seeing you in the living room. For some reason it feels like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t, a pit of anxiety taking root in your stomach. 

“Hey Max.” You greet, giving her a half wave. She just watches you skeptically. Her narrowed eyes dart between you and Billy. 

“What’s your malfunction?” Billy snaps after the silence lasts a moment longer than is comfortable. 

“Are you two dating?” Max asks bluntly. 

“What?!” Both you and Billy ask in unison. You share a confused glance before turning back to Max. Your face heats exponentially. 

“Mind your own business you little shit.” Billy bites at the same time you try to explain. 

“He’s tutoring me in history.” A smirk, eerily similar to Billy’s, spreads across Max’s face. 

“Is that what they call it these days?” She asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, a taunting lift in her brow. 

“If you want a ride, I would shut the hell up.” Billy says sternly, narrowing his eyes at the redhead. 

“Jeez, learn how to take a joke.” Max huffs with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She ducks back into her room, leaving you and Billy in the living room. Billy just shakes his head, clenching his jaw as he heads for his room. 

“I swear if her attitude gets any worse Neil is going to lose his shit.” He mumbles, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Be ready in 20 minutes!” He yells after her. The only confirmation that she heard him comes in the form of a dramatic groan. 

“That’s how all kids are at that age. I was so argumentative my mom and I didn’t have a pleasant interaction for weeks at a time, and don’t get me started on Hopper. I’m pretty sure I took years off his life with my attitude.” You chuckle fondly at the memory of your painful growing years. 

“Sometimes being a kid isn’t a good enough excuse.” Billy replies calmly. Your stomach twists uncomfortably remembering how Neil had looked at his own son that night not so long ago. 

“Neil and Susan are in Indianapolis Christmas shopping, so I’m playing chauffeur for the day.” Billy explains, entering his room and heading straight for the bed, flopping down on it. 

“I don’t mind helping watch her.” You offer without much thought. You hover in the doorway, suddenly nervous about being in his room alone with him. It’s not like you had never been in his room alone before, you spent many nights sitting across from him on the bed pouring over history lessons, keeping your voices low to not wake anyone else in the house. But something about being here in the daylight, not sneaking around, it makes your stomach swirl. You glance around, his room looks the same as it always does. Bed half made, cigarette butts stamped out in the ashtray next to the cassettes on the nightstand. You do notice that there is now a small dent in the wall next to the mirror, but you can’t be sure that it wasn’t always there.

“Neil would kick my ass if he knew I pawned my responsibility off on you.” Billy explains, propping himself up on his elbow to see you. You absentmindedly skim your fingers over the outside of the doorframe.

“It’s not ‘pawning’ them off on me. We would do it together.” You reason with him. Your fingers catch on something cold and metal on the outside of the doorframe. Leaning back to glance at what you’re touching you see the latch of a lock. Glancing at the outer side of the door you see the other half of the latch. Something cold prickles down your spine.

This isn’t just a teenager wanting privacy, the way this latch is set up, it would function to lock the door from the outside. Why would anyone need that? Your mind struggles to make sense of it. 

“He wouldn’t see it that way.” He tells you flatly. 

“Then don’t tell him.” You say simply, stepping fully into the room. “I’ll help you out today and I’ll be gone by the time they get home. “ you explain, sitting gently on the edge of the bed next to his legs. “Just like when we painted the porch.” You remind him. You watch something dance behind his eyes at the memory from this summer that feels like a hundred years ago. “Consider it part of my tutoring payment. I know the food isn’t a fair trade.” You insist. When he finally nods, giving in, you have to smile. 

“Fine. But only because the idea of dealing with a prepubescent she-devil by myself makes me want to stick needles in my brain… and leaving her alone is not an option.” He tells you, sitting up next to you. His thigh presses against yours, and the proximity sends sparks over your nerves. 

Remembering the promise you made yourself before leaving home you try to scoot away to put some distance between your bodies. Billy notices the movement immediately. 

“Oh sorry, am I making you nervous?” He asks, leaning in even closer, one of his arms going behind your back. He’s not touching you, but he’s close enough that you can feel him if you lean back even slightly. You struggle to hold his gaze.

“No.” You say simply, not trusting your voice to say more without shaking. 

“You sure?” He asks, lifting a brow. You feel him lean in even closer, you swear you can feel the heat coming off of him. You force yourself to hold his gaze and remain still, fighting the urge to pull away. Like a game of personal space chicken.

“I’m fine.” You practically whisper, your voice sounding too loud with how close he is. When he chuckles you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. His eyes shift between yours. You can see the flecks of green in his sky blue iris. Your breath mingles with his and you smell his last cigarette mixed with spearmint gum. You swallow thickly, gritting your teeth together in defiance. 

“You can tell me if you’re not.” Billy insists, his voice just as soft. He’s flirting but you can hear the seriousness laced in his tone. He’s making sure you know he’ll stop, if you ask. Something about that knowledge eases the panic in you. Shifting slightly you tilt your chin up, watching him the way he always looks at you.

“I’m okay.” You say more confidently. You see his adams apple bob as he swallows, his eyes seeming to darken. His gaze flickers to your parted lips so quickly you think you imagined it. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, your stomach flipping at the memory of what his lips felt like against you-

“Right, that’s what ‘not dating’ looks like.” Max’s voice calls loudly from the doorway. You feel like a bucket of ice water has just been poured over your head as you pull away from Billy. Embarrassment floods through you as Billy leaps from the bed lunging towards the door. 

“Fuck off!” He yells, slamming the door closed. 

“I still need a ride!” Max yells from outside the door, pounding on it for emphasis. Billy’s shoulders are tense as he stands with his back to you, his arms braced against the door. You see him take a deep breath, then another, bowing his head as he lowers his arms, slightly adjusting the waistband of his jeans. 

“You sure you want in on this shit show?” He asks, turning to lean back against the door. Max pounds on the door again, shaking its frame. You manage a dry laugh, trying to shove all the mortifying shame you feel into the back of your mind. 

“Oh this is nothing. Try telling Mike Wheeler a campaign needs to end early. Kid turns into a gremlin.” You tell him, pushing yourself off the bed. Billy lifts a brow. 

“I’m more surprised that you know what a gremlin is.” He admits teasingly. You roll your eyes. 

“I do have a life outside of this room you know.” You tell him. You won’t admit that the only reason you know the plot of gremlins is because Steve insisted on catching you up on all the big hits you had missed while you were in the hospital, not that you had actually seen it in theaters. 

Billy watches you approach with a healthy dose of skepticism. 

“Come on Hargrove, put on a brave face. I hear they can smell fear.” You joke, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m going to be late!” Max yells, pounding harder. 

“Be my guest Loca, I always knew you had a death wish.” Billy says with a smirk. Your heart pounds at the memory of your first meeting. It feels like a million years ago, like you were an entirely different person, and looking at Billy’s confident smirk, the teasing glint in his eyes, you wonder if he’s a different person now too. 

Without another word, Billy whips open the door to reveal a very agitated Max.

“Finally!” She exclaims, turning on her heel striding towards the front door, her bag already slung over her shoulder. Billy shoots you a look over his shoulder before following after her. 

“Hey, Max?” You call, slipping in front of Billy to catch up to her. She only glances at you, still heading for the door. “Do you mind if I tag along to the arcade?” You ask. Your words cause her to halt, turning to face you with the full force of her scrutinizing glare. You feel Billy come to a stop behind you, her eyes dart to him before returning to you. 

“Did he ask you to babysit me?” She asks indignantly. 

“No!” You say, throwing your hands up. “I just thought you could teach me some stuff. I’m not very good and I hear you kick the boys' butts on a regular basis.” You explain, hoping it comes off as genuine. She studies you for another beat, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of allowing you to come with her. Finally, she shrugs. 

“Fine. But don’t try to talk to me while I’m playing. It throws me off.” She instructs, turning for the door. When her back is turned you quickly give Billy an enthusiastic thumbs up, earning another eye roll. 

The three of you climb into the car, Billy turning the volume up to his usual bone shaking level as he whips out of his spot, speeding down the road. It’s a short ride into town, especially with how Billy drives. When he comes to a stop outside the arcade you climb out, pulling the seat forward to allow Max out. 

“I’ll meet you in there.” you tell her. Needing no explanation, Max jogs to the doors slipping into the dimly lit building. You can see the boys' bikes already lined up outside. “You coming?” you ask Billy, leaning back into the car. 

“Hell no. I can babysit just fine from here. You couldn’t pay me to go into that dork pit.” He scoffs. You roll your eyes at his stubbornness. 

“Oh come on, tough guy. Where is your sense of adventure and whimsy.” you ask, only receiving an unimpressed look in return. 

“Whimsy?” He asks, his lip curling at the word. 

“I’ll buy you a coke.” you offer, hoping that bribery will soften his resolve. Billy’s lips press into a firm line, you can see his jaw tick as he grinds his teeth. 

“Fine.” he says after a moment. “But I have to run an errand real quick.” He tells you. Thinking this is some kind of trick to get out of coming in, you narrow your eyes. 

“You promise to come in when you get back?” you ask, extending your pinky to him. He lifts a brow, a dry laugh escaping him.

“What are you 12?” He asks. When you don’t show any signs of joking he heaves a sigh, linking his pinky with yours. “Fine, yes. I promise I’ll come back and watch you be terrible at dig dug, dork.” He promises with a teasing smirk. 

“Good.” you smile, letting his pinky go and stepping back. “And I’m not that bad.” you clarify, closing the door and allowing him to pull away from the curb. 

It turns out that you ARE that bad. 

Max allows you to take the first turn, even offering you pointers, but by the end of your third turn she takes over explaining that she can’t stand watching you throw away quarters like that. You’re a sorry excuse for a gamer, your brain having trouble communicating quickly enough with your hands on the controls. It’s alright though, you have more fun watching Max and the boys take turns trying to beat each other's scores. 

The longer you observe the group of adolescents the more you note the change in dynamic among them. Max and Lucus are openly interested in each other but don’t seem to know how to navigate this new realm of relationship. Mike appears distracted, constantly glancing at his watch. You assume he’s anxious to see El. You know that Hopper has started allowing the two to hang out at the cabin and though you’ve pushed for El to have more social time, Hopper's old habits die hard. His paranoia is persistent. You can’t say that you don’t understand where he’s coming from. 

Dustin and Will seem more irritated than anything with the new shift in priorities within the group. 

After roughly 30 minutes of watching Max wipe the floor with the boys scores, you venture to the opposite side of the arcade. You want to give the group space but also stay close enough to keep an eye on them. You scan the games, searching for one that you can play without too much instruction. Ms. Pac-Man seems to be simple enough, and it’s located in a spot that allows you to watch your group bounce from game to game. 

Inserting your first quarter you begin the game. You’re able to keep up at first, but when the ghosts start to speed up you can't seem to evade them quick enough. After your 4th quarter your pride is stinging. 

“Fuck…” you curse to yourself as once again you are cornered by the little red ghost. Before you can insert another quarter, you feel someone approaching from your left, coming too close to just be passing by, tensing your hand itches to lash out but you stop yourself when you realize who it is.

“Hey.” Keiths’ monotone voice greets you. You know him from school, and to your knowledge the two of you had never actually spoken to each other. 

“Hi Keith.” you reply politely. You aren’t sure why he’s approaching you. You know that he works here so possibly you were doing something wrong. “What’s up?” you ask. Kieth seems to swallow past something in his struggle to speak. 

“I see you around sometimes.” he tells you, unable to meet your eyes. You don’t know what to say to that.

“Yea, I babysit so I come in to keep an eye on my kids sometimes.” you tell him. 

“That’s cool.” he mumbles “You know I could help you with some of the games if you want. Are you alone today?” He asks. You know he doesn't mean for it to sound as creepy as it does but you can’t help your slight cringe. 

“No, I’m actually with-” you move to gesture towards Max but are cut off when Billy appears next to you, casually draping an arm over your shoulders. 

“Me.” He finishes for you, keeping his eyes on Keith who looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

“O-oh, cool.” Keith manages to mumble, taking a step back. “Nevermind then” he manages to get out, obviously resisting the urge to turn and run. Understandable with the way Billy is glaring daggers at him.

“I’ll see you around.” you offer Keith a kind smile. He only nods sheepishly before retreating further into the arcade. Sighing, you swat at Billy’s side, causing him to drop his arm from your shoulder with a chuckle.

“What was that for?” he asks, doing his best to look genuinely confused. You see right through it to the self satisfaction he's really feeling. 

“Did you have to mad dog him? He was just saying ‘Hi’.” you tell him. Billy scoffs, moving to lean against the game. 

“Yea, right.” He says, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You didn’t see how he’s been eyeing you, trying to work up the courage to come ‘say hi’.” he tells you, throwing air quotes around your words. 

“And how long were you watching that?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Billy shakes his head, his curls falling across his forehead.

“You’re missing the point.” He tells you, deflecting the question. 

“What point is that?” You ask, shaking your head as you dig a quarter out of your pocket and lean over to place it into the game. When you straighten up Billy has taken a step into your space. You could take a step back to give yourself some room, but you don't. You stand your ground, tilting your head up to meet his stare head on. 

“The point is that you’re playing a game you don’t know the rules of and guys like that-” he jerks his chin in the direction Keith had run off. “Will take advantage of that.” he tells you, his voice low. You know he’s too close. That you should take a step back. That the way he’s looking down at you is too personal. That either one of you could close the distance between you with a breath. 

“I’m not really good at games.” you admit, feeling the heat rushing to your face. Still you can’t seem to look away. Billy’s sharp gaze seems to soften slightly at your admission. 

“I know…” He says softly, his eyes shifting between yours. “I just watched you die 4 times and not even make it past the first level of Pac-man.” He says, his teasing smirk overtaking all the gentleness that had once been in his eyes. Finally, you pull back shocked.

“You stalker!” you accuse, Billy just chuckles turning to face the game. “And I was multitasking.” you try to defend your abysmal performance, gesturing to the group now huddled around galaga. 

“Sure, sure. Let me show you how it’s done.” he says confidently, starting the queued up game. 

“Hey! That was my quarter!” You protest. Billy only chuckles again.

“I’ll get the next one, crazy.” he tells you, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen.

AN: sorry this took so long... again!

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[growup-thatbeautiful]

Can I get asking gym crush!Dave Lizewski to spot you and needing his help. I think that could spark a beautiful romance

a:n: yes of course!! if anyone wants more of this idea definitely give me any thoughts. college aged dave :)

It's embarrassing. You don't even know his name, and you've never once talked to him. Sometimes he comes in with his friends- two of them- but you haven't caught any information about him besides his frankly impressive workout routine. And it's not like you see him a lot; he comes here way less than you. Yet somehow he seems to be stronger than most other regulars at the gym.

It’s probably for the best that you don’t see him a lot, though. Because when he is there, you find it hard to focus on anything except for him. Everywhere you look he seems to be there in the corner of your eye or in the glimpse of the mirrored wall.

It's unfair, really. No one should be able to look that good while covered in sweat, his curls sticking up in every direction and matted to the back of his neck. The compression shirt that he's wearing is dark with sweat, but his expression doesn't look fazed at all.

Today, though, you're determined for it to be different. You have a few more reps you want to do at the machine, then your plan is to go to the bar and do squats. Then you have your usual cool-down mile and stretching routine. Distractions don't fit into your schedule, especially because you’re already bone-tired today.

You do the last rep, timing your breath in and out to your movement. There's a pleasant, constant tiredness in your legs that you’ve come to love, and the music blasting in your ears pushes you towards your next exercise.

Luckily, the bar is open and you’re able to start your set right away. Maybe it's because you're still a little bit sore from your last leg day, or maybe you're just not feeling it today, but it feels harder than usual. By the third set, your legs are shaking much more than usual and you’re having trouble getting through the reps.

It’s definitely not your smartest decision ever to keep going, but you really don’t to stop early. Some part of you thinks that you can just push through and make it; the reasonable part of you is saying that you’re going to need someone to spot you.

Looking around, you don’t see anyone you know- no friends or friends of a friend. It’s relatively empty for the time of day, but you need to ask someone to spot you.

And in the opposite corner of the gym, there he is. He’s not doing any reps, and from the way he’s checking his phone you don’t think that he’s in the middle of any.

You try to tell yourself that everyone else is busy and he’s the only option, but you know it’s not true. Even if he was busy, you would wait for him to finish and ask him anyways. There’s no telling when you’re going to have another opportunity like this to talk to him- at least you have an excuse to go up to him.

If your legs weren’t already shaking, they are as you walk over towards him. It’s a sin, for him to look at good as he does without really doing anything at all. Your own music blasting through one of your dangling earbuds isn’t enough to calm your nerves. He’s wearing headphones too, so he can’t hear you coming, and he seems immersed in whatever he’s doing, so you stand there awkwardly while he finishes. When he looks up at you, a smile makes its way across his face, and he holds out his hand for you to shake it, not caring about the obvious sweat.

You tell him your name and shake him hand, your stomach doing flips the whole time.

He, in turn, introduces himself. “I’m Dave. Do you need something?” He says it with a pleasant tone, but he must think that he’s been rude because he backtracks immediately. “Shit, that sounded rude, sorry. I just- people don’t usually come up to me.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him with a laugh. “I actually wanted to ask you if you could spot me. I only have a few sets left.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” He looks genuinely excited at your request, and he dutifully follows you to your rack.

You take a deep breath and look at the weights waiting for you. The soreness in your body seems worse now that he’s there standing behind you, his hands clasped behind his back. When you take another breath, it sounds a lot like a sigh. You’re thrilled that he’s willing to help you, but you don’t want him to think you’re weak.

“Hey, you got this,” he says lowly. “I’ve seen you do this a million times before, it’s just another rep, yeah?”

You don’t have the brainpower to think about him saying he’s seen you do this before because all of your thoughts go to his hand on your back, gently urging your forward towards the bar. He doesn’t say anything more, but the message is received.

You step underneath the bar and stand up straight, the bar’s weight settling into your shoulders. You can’t see Dave behind you, but you can feel the heat of his hands underneath your arms as he supports you.

You breathe in. Go down.

Breathe out. Push yourself up.

Do it again. And again 8 more times before stepping forward to rerack the weights.

When you turn around, Dave is looking up at the ceiling, his hands straight down at his sides. You fix your hair and pause your music before taking a sip of water.

“Dave?” you ask. “You can look at me, you know.”

“I didn’t want you to think that I was checking you out,” he explains while he brings his eyes to yours. “M’not gonna be that guy.”

“I appreciate it,” you respond, your heart warming at the sentiment. “Really, I do. But I wouldn’t mind you looking.” It’s not exactly the most subtle hint you’ve ever given a guy, but something tells you that subtle isn’t the right approach with Dave.

“What?” He really looks clueless as to what you’re talking about, his head tilted to the side. Your brain helpfully supplies you with “puppy dog.”

Too subtle, then. “Do you want to get coffee after this?” You’re positive that your smile is uncertain and crooked.

“Me?” he asks.

“Yes, you,” you laugh. “Look, I know you don’t know me, but I’d like to get to know you.”

“I’d like that, too.” The grin on his face is wide and full, bringing light and laugh lines to his eyes. You haven’t seen this smile from him yet, which is probably a good thing because it has a dangerous effect on you. “You have another set left,” he informs you. “So why don’t we finish that up and go get coffee after?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, stepping back underneath the bar, a renewed vigor in your legs. That vigor, of course, goes away when you actually start the last set.

You do the first five without an issue, but you start struggling more with the sixth. By the eighth rep, you’re face is twisted with effort and you can barely get back up.

Dave doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s there. And his presence is fully reassured to you when he mutters close to your ear, “Come on, just a few more. I’m right here.”

He has to help you with the last rep, his arms supporting you underneath your armpits as he takes some of the weight off and helps you get back the the rack. It forces him much closer to you than before, and you can feel his heart racing against your back. You know yours is beating just as fast.

“Thank you,” you tell him, a little bit out of breath still. “You’re a live-saver.”

A funny look comes across his face at that, but it clears away in a blink. “Anytime.”

“How about that coffee?” you ask, grabbing your keys and water before shooting a quick text to your friends so they know where you’re going. Then, holding out your hand, you say, “It’s the least I can do.”

He takes your hand in between his own, leading you towards his own pile of things. “I know a good place around here.”

“Lead the way,” you tell him.

Maybe asking for his help wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[cokoweee]

OKAY.

Took me WAY too long to finally analyze this bad boy but I’m HERE NOW-

Let’s begin. ~

First off- THIS BACKGROUND.

Look at it. Just- LOOK AT IT. This seriously looks like a storyboard from a Disney movie, you wickedly talented person, you. The lights, shading, and perspective are all GORGEOUS.

Next.

We know that Donnie has a huge struggle with drinking ever since his family passed. Drunkenness is what helped him through that horrible time, thrusting himself into the inebriating arms of the liquid that helps him forget and live without feeling all the pain.

And yet- there’s this newest update. Here at an extravagant party, an event where you’re ENCOURAGED to overindulge on the drinks, Donnie has had about a sip. That’s all.

And here he’s actually thinking that he won’t finish it. A drink. In his hand. His old friend that has helped him through every night of his miserable life- he’s refusing completely on his own.

Donnie’s seriously grown so much. 🥹 Getting to know Kendra, having the device in his head removed, and truly FEELING emotions again have been helpful steps in his mental and emotional recovery.

And even how much he and Kendra have grown together- how he protects her and how she fights for him.

And here’s a nice little comparison- DONNIE is helping Kendra when SHE’s drunk. We’ve seen this before, but in reverse! Tello has always been the one in the inebriated pov, but here he’s helping and protecting Kendra.

And that’s just lovely to see. 💜

Even here, Donnie’s having a “spidey sense” moment looking out for Kendra. As well as AGAIN refusing a drink.

Character 👏 growth 👏 YESSSS

And now we get to this panel. And to an important question we’ve ALL been worrying about:

What happened to Kendra while Donnie and her were separated at Big Mamas?

I don’t know about you guys, but I was not convinced that everything was a-okay on Kendra’s end. After she emerged from the bathroom, she was acting strange. Like- not Kendra strange. Almost like she was drunk enough to be calm- but we didn’t see any alcohol- so hmmmmm???????

And then her and Donnie go on a flippin musical date-night montage trying on outfits for Big Mamas party. And AGAIN. Kendra is NOT acting like herself.

And Donnie catches this too, the panel before this one asking if Big Mama did something to Kendra.

And THIS is her reply-

Sooooo OKAY. 😦👌 Now we know that Kendra has most likely seen Big Mamas spider lady form. Fantastic. But what Kendra says AFTER is what’s really throwing me for a loop-

“She could literally peel me like a shrimp before I get the chance to scream.”

That… sounds like a threat from Big Mama. Just add a few “biddlidoos and bobsquinkles”…

So. WHAT. The FRICK HAPPENED.

Also… “watched her eat a bus-boy”

Eh SCUSEEEE ME?!?!?…..

*brain attempting to process information noises*

To add on to the mystery of what’s going on with Kendra- she says THIS.

Donnie’s ACTUAL name. Not “Othello” not “dummy” not “nerd”… she called him by his true name.

THAT AINT NORMAL.

And then- the biggest thing in this update that exploded my perception of time and space~

*brain fizzling and popping noises*

THIS IS ALL WRONG- THEY WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO- NOT NOW- AND KENDRAS MORE INEBRIATED THAN JACK SPARROW-

She doesn’t even know what that kiss just did to Donnie’s brain. (Nevermind his HEART). She probably won’t even remember it after that night-

AAAAA COKO HOW CAN THIS BE SO AMAZING and DEVASTATING at the same TIMEEEE??

(But seriously your story is amazing and I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for what happens next!!)

Okay I’m done. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

Drink water and when you can see what the sun looks like. ;)

~ Melissa

Thank FUCK the background was okay cause I struggle with that shit so much. Love seeing asks like these makes me all giggly kickin my feet n shit like a goof

Donnie’s finally in his “slightly better kinda” arc lol. Bout time innit? He’s been blended enough. Speaking of blenders I’ve been having Kendra in hers 🤓 and she ain’t done yet

Glad you liked the update tho! Actually a lot of yall did hot DAMN. I was planning to have atleast three this week but my backs killin me and I’m bein too slow.

[mythica0]

Rewarding revenge

🎂: epic the musical

🧁: Hermes

🍫:Odysseus

Summary: Hermes has tickled Odysseus one too many times for his liking. Time for a little payback.

A/N; thank you to the anon who gave me this idea! If you see this I hope it’s to your liking! I’m not super proud of the ending but whatever. Also, yay, more shameless lee Hermes! Enjoooyyy :3

Cw: mild swearing, really intense tickles! (But don’t worry, he enjoys every second of it.)

Rewarding revenge

It was another day on the ship, and Odysseus was thinking.

He had just had another interaction with Hermes a few days prior, and like he usually did, Hermes had decided to tickle the shit out of him.

While he didn’t.. hate it.. it was still annoying, and he wanted a bit of revenge.

So, he sent up a hopefully non-conspicuous prayer to summon Hermes.

When Hermes got the message, simply asking to hang out, he was definitely suspicious, but also amused and endlessly curious. So, he decided to go. Might be fun, after all! And Hermes is always up for some fun.

So, later that evening, when Odysseus was spending some time in his room, Hermes appeared.

“Hey, friend! I got your little prayer!”

Odysseus was honestly a little shocked that worked. He sat up in his bed, gently patting the space next to him.

“Ah, Hermes! Come, sit!”

Hermes smiled brightly and sat next to the soldier. “Well, how do you do?”

“Ah, I’m well. You?”

“I’m good as well! I must say, it’s not often I get a request just to hang out! I’m quite delighted you wished to spend time with me!”

Odysseus chuckled a bit. “Ah, well, you’ve been nice to me, and you’re pleasant enough company.”

“I know I am, thanks for noticing!” Hermes winked, playfully posing in a showy manner.

Odysseus laughed. He had summoned Hermes for ulterior motives, but he actually was quite funny.

He scooted a little closer, hoping Hermes wouldn’t notice. Hermes did notice, but he pretended he didn’t. He was curious! Wanted to see where this was going.

“So, what did you want to talk about, friend?” Hermes asked, still grinning.

“Ah, nothing in particular. Just whatever comes to mind.”

“I see, just a causal chat! Always love one of those- I’m quite the conversationalist!”

The joking remark got another laugh out of Odysseus, which caused Hermes to grin proudly. He was always happy to make someone laugh.

“That you are.” Odysseus got a little closer again.

“did you have free time to come down here? Or are you skipping out on your duties?” Ody asked, a playfully teasing tone to his voice.

“Hmm, not telling~” Hermes shrugged and then sing-songed in response.

Odysseus laughed again. “So you are skipping out? I mean, I imagine you’re quite the busy god, with all the various domains you have.”

“True! But I’m also quite speedy, don’t you forget! Nah, I had some time.” Hermes revealed with a laugh if his own.

“Ah, well that’s good. Wouldn’t want to distract you from your job, now would we?”

“That we would not.” Hermes laughed again, his little squeaky giggle.

Odysseus posed a question, seemingly out of nowhere. “So, Hermes- do you like to laugh?”

Hermes seemed a little surprised at the sudden question, but answered nonetheless. He had a feeling this might be why he was actually summoned.

“Why, of course I do! Who doesn’t?”

“Ah, that’s good. Let me help you with that!” Without any further warning, the captain snapped his arms around the god and started to scribble against his ribs.

Hermes immediately bursted into happy giggles, not trying to hold back in the least.

“Ehehehe- Ohohody! Ahahaha!” He called a bit, squirming slightly.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take what you dish out?”

“Ehehehehehaha! Ohoho, thahat tihihickles! Ehehehe!” Hermes giggles were bubbly and almost childish in nature, such a purely joyful sound that it made Odysseus laugh along with it.

“Ha! It’s about time I got a little payback!”

Hermes could easily get out of this. Easily. He was very powerful, after all. But he didn’t want to, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. But. He wanted to see if Ody could figure it out on his own.

“So, how’s it feel to be on the other end, huh?”

“Tihihickly!” Hermes snarked, an obvious statement, for amusement. It worked as intended, getting a small amused huff from Odysseus.

“Well no shit, Sherlock. That’s the point.”

To accentuate his words, Odysseus moved his hands to Hermes’ tummy, starting to press lightly on the surface.

Hermes giggles immediately increased in pitch, such a joyful, silly, sugar-sweet sound that Odysseus couldn’t help but laugh along. 

“Eeehahahahaha ohoho nohoho, dohohont doho thahat- ehehehehehe!”

“You know, you could probably escape easily if you really wanted to.” Odysseus commented, successfully realizing the thing Hermes wasn’t even trying to hide.

“Ihihi knohow! Ehehehehe!”

“So, why aren’t you? Do you perhaps like this?”

Hermes nodded, gleeful and giddy as he laughed. “Yehehehehes! Ehehahahahaha-! Tohook yohou lohong ehenohough toho fihigure ohout!” Hermes teased slightly, never one to hold his tongue.

“Oh, really? Are you in any position to give me sass?” Odysseus teased, getting far more into the role now that he knew his friend was enjoying it. He pressed down harder, vibrating clawed hands into Hermes’ stomach.

Hermes squealed, a bouncy, bubbly laugh falling freely from his chest. “Eeee! Ahahahaha thahahat reheheally tihihickles ehehehehehe!”

“Good. Maybe that’ll teach you not to sass me.” Odysseus didn’t let up, still pressing vibrating claws into the god’s belly, making him laugh giddily, his wings flapping slightly.

Odysseus’ eyes followed the motion of the white feathers, and he smirked. He took one hand and moved it up, grabbing one of the wings behind his ears and starting to rub the feathers in between his fingers.

Hermes squealed, a high pitched laugh leaving him. “EEEE! NOHOHOHO-! NOHOHOT THEHE WIHINGS!”

“Oh? Not the wings? Not these little wings right here?” Seeing how horribly it tickled the god, Odysseus brought up his other hand to grab the matching wing in the other side and do the same thing.

Hermes was completely lost to his laughter, chest and stomach shaking from the force of it as small tears formed in his eyes. That tickled so! Bad!

“EEEHAHAHA PLEHEHEASE, OHOHODYYY!” His laughter was squeaky and happy, and Odysseus found that it got more and more contagious the longer it went on, not being able to stop himself from laughing along.

“Hehe, that’s a pretty contagious laugh you’ve got there.”

Hermes was too busy laughing and squirming to reply, his sanity starting to slip in the best way from the ticklish sensation. It was driving him mad, unrelenting tingles racing across his wings and causing fluttering laughter to swarm in his belly.

“What’s wrong? Too ticklish to speak?” Odysseus emphasized the word with a teasing lilt, causing a slight blush to form on Hermes’ face.

The room was filled with the happy, bubbly giggles of the god of messages, squealing laughter echoing from him as his very sensitive wings were assaulted with happy, tingly sensations.

“EEE OHODY PLEHEHEHEASEE!” He begged through his loud, squeaky laughter, only partially true. Because he could probably get away if he really wanted to, although it might be harder considering how weak he was from laughter.

Odysseus just chuckled. “Tickle tickle tickle~” he spoke with a teasing lilt, and he could swear that Hermes squeaked at the words.

Hermes was overwhelmed but at the same time so happy. The tickles were driving him crazy and he didn’t even care, because it was so much fun, sending waves of pure joy through him with every wheezing laugh, every contraction of the muscles in his tummy and sides. Tears of joy had fallen at the point, trailing past the shaded boundary from his helmet.

“EEHAHAHA OHODY PLEHEHEASE STAHAHAP! EHEHEHEHEE!”

“I don’t know.. you tickled me first. Twice.”

“IHIM SOHORRRYYY PLEHEHEHEASEE!”

He was absolutely hysterical with laughter, face starting to hurt from being stretched into such a wide smile for so long. His thoughts were so foggy, his brain thoroughly turned to mush from happiness that he couldn’t even think straight enough to use his powers to get away. He loved it so much but at the same time he couldn’t take anymore!

Sensing that Hermes was getting a little overwhelmed, Odysseus decided to give him a small breather, just lightly tapping against his hips to keep him giggling.

Hermes took the chance to greedily take in air, letting his warm face cool down.

“Hehehehehe.. ohoho myhy gohods.. ehehehe- thahat wahahas aha lohot.”

“Oh, did you think we were done? Oh no no no, I don’t plan on stopping any time soon. I want you to be an absolute puddle of laughter by the time I’m through.”

Hermes eyes sparkled with excitement, hidden by the shade of his helmet, a few giddy giggles falling from him. He was honestly excited by the idea, even though he had just been wrecked within an inch of his life, he still wanted more.

Ody smirked as he saw the excitement ripple through the god of speed. “Oh, what was that~? Did that excite you?”

Hermes nodded, still unashamed for his love of being tickled.

Odysseus chuckled in response, before responding with a teasing lilt that caused more giddy butterflies to flutter within Hermes, making him giggle more than he already was from the light taps on his hips.

“Any last words before I make you hysterical again~?”

Hermes thought for a moment, before shaking his head, eager to get on with it.

Odysseus nodded and then started with kneading his tummy, making him burst into giddy laughter immediately.

“Ahahahahahaha! YohOU ahahare reheheally gohood ahat thahahat- EE!” He complained and complimented at the same time, half protesting but not really meaning a word of it.

“Oh, why thank you!” He grinned smugly, and then, just to be evil, he moved his hands to attack Hermes’ underarms and started to blow raspberries all over his belly.

“OHOHO NOHO- EEE! Dohohont dohoho THahahAT-!”

Odysseus felt his inner father emerging, putting on a sort of playful act and making silly noises as he blew raspberry after raspberry onto the messenger’s tummy, using his beard to add an extra layer of ticklishness.

“Omnomnom! This belly is really tasty!” He made little growling and nomming sounds, which made Hermes laugh even harder from amusement at the silly act.

Hermes was absolutely hysterical with laughter, kicking his feet slightly to try and expel the intense giddy energy rippling through him. Each raspberry sent waves of laughter and tingles across his belly, and it didn’t go away. It lingered, and then layered with each new raspberry or nibble, growing more and more ticklish as time went on. Hermes was crying with laughter and happiness, the feeling so intense and so amazing.

He squeaked and squealed as Odysseus blew a raspberry on his lower tummy, then on each side, then right over his bellybutton, then on his ribs, all over his torso, leaving waves upon waves of giddy tingles.

“AHahahahahHEHA! Ihihit tihihickles sohoho BaHAD EhehehehEHEHAHA!” His chest and stomach were shaking and bouncing from his laughter, the wide, giddy smile never leaving his face, his genuine happiness being contagious to Odysseus.

Odysseus chuckled as well, unable to stop himself at hearing the silly, contagious sound of Hermes’ laughter. He decided to lower the intensity for a bit, moving his hands down to start scribbling behind his knees.

Hermes kicked slightly on instinct, but he didn’t try to truly escape. His hysterical, squeaky laughter died down to giggles again, allowing him to take in air.

“Ehehehehe ohoho myhyhy! Ehehe- ihihi cahahant breheheathe- hoholy moholy..” Hermes breathed out through his giggles, taking in breaths and still feeling so giddy.

Odysseus gave him a chance to breathe for a moment, wiggling his fingers behind his knees and tracing around his ankles, before managing to pry his sandals away from his feet slightly, and scratching gently at the soles.

Hermes giggles increased, not nearly as hysterical as it was earlier, but definitely more than it was from the more gentle tracing.

“EhHahHaha ohohohody plehehehease! Ehehehehe!”

“Oh, come on. We both know you don’t actually want me to stop.”

Hermes nodded again. He really didn’t. He protested, yes, but he didn’t mean any of it. It was only instinct, the natural reaction to such intense tickles, even though he enjoyed every second.

After a few more moments, Ody smirked and turned to look at Hermes, speaking with a teasing, taunting tone.

“I’m gonna get your wings~” he sing-songed, scratching at the edge of his ankle, right before where the wings met.

Hermes frantically protested, a giddy nervousness filling his chest and stomach. “Nonononohoho!”

“Yes yes yes~ these soft, little wings are gonna get tickled~”

A faint blush dusted Hermes’ face at the teasing words, so many butterflies and zaps of giddy, nervous excitement rushing through him as the anticipation drove him up the wall.

“Are you ready~”

“Nohoho!” Hermes protested again, even though he would much rather the soldier get it over with rather than deal with this anticipation.

Odysseus smirked again, responding instantly and with a faux lack of sympathy. “Too bad.”

Without any pause, he grabbed each wing on one leg and started to scribble against the feathers, scratching at the base of the wings.

Hermes was once again immediately thrown into heavy , hysterical laughter. “EEHAHAHA! OHOHO MYHYHY GOHODS- NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE! EEEE!”

Odysseus chuckled again, the contagious laughter fully infecting him. “Oh my, quite ticklish here, are we~?”

Hermes blushed a bit more at the teasing, the fluster only adding to the ticklish experience, if you asked him.

His free wings on the other ankle flapped frantically, drawing the king’s attention.

“Well, would you look at that. It seems like your left set of wings is feeling a little left out.”

“NohOhOHO-! PLEHEHEHEASE!”

“Please tickle your other wings? Why of course!” He taunted, switching sides.

He once again pinched and rubbed the feathers in between his fingers, making Hermes toss his head back as fits of laughter racked his whole body.

He got such an evil thought just then, leaning to one of the wings being his ears and blowing a huge raspberry right on it.

Hermes squealed with laughter once again, absolutely hysterical as mirthful tears dampened his face.

“NOHOHO- EEEEEHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHI CAHAHANT HOHOLY MOHOLY-EEHAHAHAHA!”

Hermes was in absolute ticklish agony, his whole torso quivering with the force of his hysterical laughter from the blissful torture. It was absolutely horrible and yet he loved it so much, rushes of euphoria filling him with every laugh, every raspberry on his wings, every overwhelming ticklish touch.

After only a minute or so of that, Odysseus stopped completely with a final wiggle in his bellybutton, leaving Hermes gasping for air in between fits of residual giggles.

He wiped his eyes under his helmet from the tears of laughter, his face still split in two from his wide smile.

“Ahahahaha.. wohohoah.. yohou’re reheheally gohood ahahat thahahat… ehehehehe…”

Odysseus chuckled a bit. “Yeah, I really did a number on you, didn’t I?”

Hermes nodded, still giggling and trying to cool his breathing and blushing face.

“Are you alright? I didn’t go too far, did I?”

Hermes shook his head slightly. “No, Noho, yohou’re ahalrihihight. That was greheheat.”

“Man, you really like being tickled, don’t you?”

“Yeheheah! It’s fun to laugh like thahat.. ehehehe.”

“Well, I’m glad to have provided that for you.”

“Thahank yohou, daharling.”

“No problem!”

After another minute or so, Hermes finally stopped giggling, and dusted himself off before standing.

“Well, I best be off. I do have a job to do! But don’t be afraid to send a message whenever you want to hang! This was splendid!”

Odysseus chuckled a bit. “And you dont be afraid to come down and ask me for tickles anytime you want.”

Hermes giggled a bit in response. “I’ll keep that in mind. Ta-ta darling!~”

“See ya round!”

And with that, Hermes flew off, leaving with a light heart and a wide smile.

———THE END———————————————————-

[spookberry]

Shadow High series 3 my new beloved

I didnt even like most of em until i saw them in person, but the knowledge that they'll probably never be in the show has my brain in a "well its free realestate" kinda mood

Random list of information cuz ive been plotting out friend dynamics and background lore

-i like to pretend Rainbow High/Shadow High are actually Rainbow University/Shadow University cuz im in art college Right Now and i think it makes more sense with the whole dorm room situation. And also major makes more sense than focus IMO

-I changed Pinkie's major from film to just undeclared. I think she eventually does land on Film. She just has a lot of interests! Her dream has always been to one day direct films, and I think she comes to love them even more while developing ideas her with the group as she winds up in a Director/Producer position for most of them. BUT also every time she takes a class in a different program she cant help but fall in love with that way of making art too. So she has a hard time picking for a while and changed her major a couple times before landing on Film.

-Pinkie and Berrie bond a lot over a shared interest in vocal synths (tho Berrie knows more about them than her).

-The two made Pinkie's vtuber model together!

-the fandom wiki says PJ is from germany?? Idk how canon that is tbh but ive decided to embrace it i guess

-Rooney's canon name is Scarlet Rose, but i thought it was kinda lame especially when Rosie Redwood is also in this line sooo I renamed her! Stuck to the color name puns tho. Mar Rooney. Maroon. Haha

-Speaking on her though i love that shes from texas and likes writing scifi mystery type stuff and that being said i just Know deep in my bones that she was a Voltron Legendary Defender fan and Keith was/is 100% her favorite. She has a continued fondness for mothman specifically cuz of this.

-PJ and Rooney actually talk about fandom and shows/movies ALL the time. They dont have a ton of overlapping interests, but where they do? The two literally never shut up.

-Rosie is such a random character, like outside of her design she feels very poorly considered. So I scrapped the cosmetology thing and made her an illustrator instead! I think it works better with her love of making art in nature. I can see her being really into illustrated guide books. I think shes a bit snooty when it comes to art too. It takes being friends with other artists to become more open minded.

-I like the idea that Rosie is mainly friends with Rooney and Berrie ontop of that. The three of them often tag team storylines and how theyd interpret them into different mediums. Rosie will draw up a bunch of concept stuff while Rooney writes up a pitch bible and Berrie will start making shit move and throwing in her own ideas on camera angles and character designs.

-as an animation major Berrie was required to take a sound design class early on, which is where she met Oliver! Hes very laid back, and likes to go with the flow, but functions a little like the "mom" of the group. Often reminding the girls to take breaks, drink water, stop looking at their screens lest they get eye strain etc. He's multi-talented tbh but Music is his one true passion and he likes how the girls are always giving him collaboration opportunities.

-Oliver and Rosie like to talk sports a lot, both having played a bunch when they were younger and throughout high school.

-Lavender Lynn is Oliver's number one "person who needs constant reminders to settle down" she is in a constant buzz of trying to get the best shots and is utterly obsessed with the process of artistic documentation. Everything must be documented.

-the whole school loves her for this actually, she has a whole side gig where other students hire her to help photograph their projects. She saves everything she earns from this for her future dream plans to visit paris. She has it set really, many of the artists who she helps photograph now will remain steadfast clients of hers forever onward.

-PJ and Lynn actually took a print media class together at one point. Which didnt at the time spark an everlasting friendship. But it did give PJ an easier in to ask for Lynn's help documenting a project the group was working on. One of Lynn's first times photographing them work happened to fall on a day where Rosie had planned to trick everyone into going on a nature walk sans devices... Lynn wound up really appreciating this outing and decided to continue hanging around the group even after that project had ended.

[monkiewompus]

Shadwpeach. headcanon. cuz im crashing out.

Wukong and Macaque knew each other BEFORE the brotherhood. Maybe they met because Wukong was interested in Macaque's ears, or in another way... I'm still not sure abt that part...

i remember hearing about how after Wukong came back from training with Shifu Subodhi, he found out a demon was tormenting the monkeys at ffm and he beat the shit out of it. but i ALSO heard (not completely sure this is true) that he tried to train the monkeys to defend themselves, so that smth like that wouldn't happen again. What if Macaque was, at first, really bad at fighting? Like, didn't understand it at all. I know macaque is also called the six eared macaque, which is an all-knowing being, but that is also all i know about him... I don't know if he learned all these things or if he was just born knowing it. So uh. sorry if this is inaccurate </3

So, lets say, wukong and macaque pick up dancing from observing human behavior,, what if wukong uses that to teach macaque how to fight? how to be quick on your feet, how to plan your movements? with this in mind,, what if they danced at that same shore that tree they always sat at was by? dancing to music or even just the sound of the waves crashing.

After the brotherhood was established, maybe they would spend most of their time there. Dancing, or eating. This is where it gets romantic chat im soz. What if they used dancing as a way to be romantic without actually being romantic? Whether it be from not knowing they can do that, or from being too chicken to make a move on each other. Dancing was their way of relaxing with each other, their way of letting go. It was how they really saw each other.

Now, to after season 5, when they don't hate each other as much. What if wukong catches macaque dancing and swaying to the sound of the waves? What if he joins him? Seeing each other again, like that. Relaxed. Able to let go for a moment. Able to breathe for a moment. What if it gets them talking? What if, now, when they look at each other, its not a look of hatred and disgust and guilt, but a look of longing? the same looks they'd give each other during and before the brotherhood.

"Dance with me, Macaque!" to "Dance with me, Macaque.."

do u guys see the vision or am i just crazy

[whowantslovergirl]

hey! can i req a spencer reid dating someone that’s like ,,, taylor swift level of famous? and like maybe the team teases him whenever a romantic song that’s clearly ab him plays?

An: YESYESYES ima use Taylor swift songs and I don’t really listen to her so bare with me guys 😍 all for you my lover 🤍 and please bare with me I’m going to write the teams dynamic as best as possible and I took notes on how to write Spencer the way matthew gray gubler is my husband he just doesn’t know it yet 💋

Style

Dr.Spencer Reid x famous af! reader ( reader is female with she/her pronouns)

warnings: some cursing, fluff af, and i think that’s it hope you enjoy my lovers 💖 criminal minds masterlist

Summary: The team finding out about Spencer’s kinda famous girlfriend

posted: April 6,2023

When Spencer woke up this morning he knew that he was going to have a great day. The team had no cases. He talked to you last night to compliment your new song. And he found out that you’re coming over later tonight.

The day couldn’t be better.

Until he actually went to work.

_____

You got that James Dean daydream look in your eyes

And I got that red lip classic thing that you like

And when we go crashing down, we come back every time

‘Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

He heard your song blasting through the BAU. He saw Penelope singing and dancing.

He never been more confused in his life.

“Hey pretty boy!” Derek yelled since he can’t hear himself think.

“Hey Morgan! What’s going on?!”

“Garcia and her fascination with Y/N L/N!” The music paused.

“I just want it to be known that Y/N L/N has blessed your ears with her angelic voice this morning.” She saw Spencer. “Hey Reid!”

“Hey Garcia.” She continued playing the song.

“What’s going on? It’s way to early for this.” Emily said walking in with her coffee.

“Babygirl’s favorite singer released her new single.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Oh! Replay it! I want to hear it!” And she did what she was told.

_____

Long story short everyone heard and loved his girlfriend’s new song.

“Hey guys, is it just me or the lyrics sound like Spencer?” JJ said out of nowhere.

Everyone looked at him and agreed.

“Yeah I can see that.”

“You make a good point JJ.”

“It does make sense.” Derek said while inspecting him.

“What! No it doesn’t!”

It does.

“Oh come on Spencer! You got that long hair slicked back white t shirt. That is so you!”

“Just because I have long hair does not mean she is talking about me Penelope.”

‘Besides half of the song isn’t even true.’ He mumbled hoping they didn’t hear them.

But they did.

“What did you just say pretty boy.”

“Shit. Did I say that out loud?”

Penelope gasped. “You never curse unless your hiding something or you’re frustrated! And I’m pretty sure you are not frustrated right now Spencer.”

He didn’t know what to say.

“How would you know half the song isn’t true? You don’t even listen to modern music.” Emily said with a questioning tone.

“Unless you know the song is about you!” Penelope exclaimed.

“Come on! I would not be able to get with Y/N L/N! We are in different calibers. I am a profiler and she is a pop-star with a huge- no, massive fan base. It just would never work.” Everyone looked at him surprised.

“Are you dating Y/N L/N?” Hotch walked in.

“No!”

“You ramble when you’re nervous a lot.” Emily said.

“And he’s getting sweaty.” Derek said with a questioning tone as well.

“Guys I am not dating N/N!”

Shit.

Penelope gasped once again. “You said her nickname!”

He once again was speechless.

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

You were going to be so mad at him.

_____

“That’s hilarious!” You said laughing over the phone.

“What! No it’s not N/N.” You rolled your eyes. “So how did your team of profilers find out?”

He told her everything. And she laughed even more.

“Y/N stop laughing!” He said while his face was heating up.

_____

It was the next day and Spencer found out that you can’t come until next week. So of course his mood is a little down.

_____

“Why the long face pretty boy.” Derek continues. “Your N/N isn’t coming?” Spencer rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t know because I’m not dating her.”

“Keep telling yourself that Spence.” JJ said and Emily laughed.

“Eek! Y/N is coming out with a new album!” Penelope exclaimed while walking in. “My whole life is complete. I have no more reason of living after such extraordinary news.” Everyone just laughed at her.

“ We should go out together. I need to express my gratitude for this album.”

Everyone just agreed, even Spencer.

_____

He really missed you but at least he has his friends.

He wasn’t ready for tomorrow.

_____

Everyone came in work at the same time and saw someone at Spencer’s desk.

“Who is that?” Penelope asked.

The person in the chair turned around and Spencer’s face lit up.

“Hey guys.” You say waving not noticing Spencer yet.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! That’s Y/N L/N! She’s here!” Penelope said hitting Morgan excitedly.

“Oh my god it is.” He said surprised.

“Have you guys seen Spencer?”

“Y/N” Spencer said surprised as well.

“Spencer!” You said running up to him and jumping into his arms.

The whole team just looked at you guys with shock in their faces.

You guys are totally oblivious at the looks that are being given.

“I thought you weren’t coming until next week.”

“It was obviously a surprise Spence now shut up and kiss me baby!” You say smiling.

You press his lips onto his and he melts in the kiss. Your hands went up to his hair and his hands rest on your hips. Hotch cleared his throat. You two broke apart.

You turn around and apologized and you saw Penelope shaking with excitement.

“You must be Penelope. I have some gifts for you.” You walked over to Spencer’s desk. “This is my new album on a disk and it even has some songs that didn’t make the cut.” You say winking. She was just staring in awe.

“And it’s also signed. I also have backstage passes to a tour that hasn’t been announced yet.” She squealed and you just laughed.

She looked at your boyfriend. “I’m never letting her go.”

Everyone laughed.

Spencer is not living this one down.

An: AHHHHH I just want to apologize for not giving exactly want the request said this just took a mind of its own fr but I hoped you enjoyed until I post again my lovers 🤍

[medusapelagia]

13 Missing moments

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt:"Please, stay?" ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: found footage ) @aug-kissed (prompt: Gentle peck) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: established Steve/Eddie, implied reference to cancer, sick character, mention of vomit, open ending Words: 1141

Eddie knocks on the door softly, not wanting to wake Steve if he’s finally asleep. It was a hard night for both of them. Steve woke up at three am, struggling to breathe and he was determined not to call the ambulance, so the only thing Eddie could do was hold him tight to his chest, brushing away the hair from Steve’s sweaty forehead, promising he would feel better soon and hoping it wasn’t a lie. And when, almost ten agonizing minutes later, Steve’s breath finally slowed down, Eddie took a big breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding.

“Come in. I’m awake.” Steve replies in a graveled voice.

“Did you throw up?” Eddie asks, worriedly, smelling the acrid scent in the air.

“Sorry. I opened the window.”

“Hey, I don't care, I’m just worried about you. You sure you don’t want me to call the doctor?”

“It’s the new meds. We knew it could happen, right?”

Right, they knew Steve’s new meds had some collateral effects but not that Steve was going to experience every single one of them.

“Maybe we should tell Owens you’re feeling like shit.”

“And change meds again? I’m halfway through. Just give my body a few more days to get used to the new meds and I’ll be ok.”

Steve’s thick mane is now as thin as a baby's hair. Stupid meds that are making him feel worse.

“I guess you don’t want to eat, right?”

Steve shakes his head quietly, patting the other side of the bed, “Please, stay?”

Luckily today is Sunday. The girls are at Aunt Robin’s home and he doesn’t have to leave for work, so he moves as slowly as he can not to jostle Steve too much and lies next to him.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Eddie asks, even if he knows by now that getting a true answer from Steve is almost impossible.

“I’m better. Thanks.”

Eddie gives him a gentle peck on the forehead, frowning when he finds it too warm but he says nothing. He knows that Steve’s immune system is way too weak right now and he really hopes that the little fever is his body trying to fight the sickness.

“Do you want me to read something for you?”

“Don’t think I could follow if you read for me.”

“You don’t have to. I know you find my voice really soothing.”

“I love your voice. I’m your biggest fan, did you forget?” 

Eddie chuckles, remembering that both Robin and Steve got to the first official Corroded Coffin’s concert with twin homemade t-shirts with that sentence.

“Yes, you are. Maybe you prefer some music?”

“Yeah. Can you fetch me the first tape you made for me?”

“When we started dating? But it’s almost thirty years ago! I have no idea where it is!”

“Maybe the attic?”

Eddie stares quietly at Steve, “Are you trying to find me something to do to keep me occupied?”

Steve shrugs, “Maybe? I’m going to fall asleep soon and I know you won’t dare to move if you’re in the bed with me and I don’t want you to spend all the Sunday morning lying in bed with me.”

“That sounds like a perfect way to spend the Sunday morning, actually.” Eddie replies, kissing Steve’s cheek, “But I’ll let you rest. I’ll be back with that tape. I swear it on my honor.” he promises.

“I know you will. You’re my champion, aren’t you?”

“Of course, I am, my king.” Eddie kisses Steve’s hand before leaving the bedroom, then he moves toward the end of the corridor and pulls down the ladder to the attic.

The attic is dirty and dusty, they haven’t been here in ages. Everywhere there are cardboard boxes with Steve’s neat handwriting. 

Melissa and Elisa’s toys.

Eddie’s show costumes.

Hawkins.

And a little one: VHS.

Eddie opens the VHS box, wondering if inside there are the Disney movies the girls were obsessed with when they were kids: Cinderella, Pocahontas, and The Little Mermaid.

But under the Disney VHS, there are some older recording tapes that Eddie doesn’t remember. He lifts the box and takes it down in his studio, where he still has an old television with a VHS player that he really hopes is still working.

The first VHS is just a mix of blurred images of Robin, while Steve’s voice, out of the screen, asks, “Do you think this thing is recording?”

“The light is red so I think so.”

“You sure? I can’t fuck up! Eddie will be mad if I did.”

“You won’t, dingus, come on, let me see what we recorded.”

“How?”

“Oh my god! Steve! Turn off the camera and let’s see what is recorded.” Robin says, stepping closer while the camera is pointed to the red moquette.

“Dingus! You’re still recording! If Eddie doesn’t have a feet fetish I don’t think he’ll appreciate footage of your feet and the ground. Turn the camera off!”

“I did!”

“You did not! You have to push here-”

The images stop abruptly leaving space for a series of grays and whites.

Eddie smiles, years have passed but Steve’s relationship with technology is still very complicated. He accidentally sent a lovely meme to the family’s group chat instead of sending it to Eddie, causing a series of fake gagging from the girls and a lot of mockery for a couple of months.

After the interruption the video starts again, this time the camera must have been positioned somewhere to film Steve and Robin. Their heads are abruptly cut out from the shot but they are both wearing the ‘Corroded Coffin Biggest Fan’ t-shirt and they are talking about how excited they are for the first official Corroded Coffin’s concert.

Another interruption and then a very clumsy and shaky shot of Eddie, playing The boy with the nailed bat in his heart begins. 

Eddie can barely hear his own voice over Gareth’s drum. The acustic in that forum was horrible, but it was their first officially paid gig.

He can’t hear himself sing, but he can hear Steve’s voice singing as loud as he can. He’s definitely out of tune, but Eddie smiles fondly at the footage. He sounds so happy.

Eddie grabs the VHS cardboard boxes that he found, and he discovers a treasure of memories he forgot. Silly little moments that got lost in all the time they spent together. Robin’s graduation. Dustin’s wedding. Their first family holiday with the twins and many other little precious memories. But Steve is not on the tapes. Not even one. He’s always the voice behind the camera, asking to look at him, or describing what’s going on.

When the last tape ends Eddie’s eyes are full of tears, and he promises himself that he’ll make sure not to miss any moment lived with Steve. 

[duckchu]

Duckyyyy, I seriously need a change from the KDA!reader stuff going around, could I mayhaps beg of you for anything romantic with whatever heartsteel boy you feel like writing for with a Pentakill reader?

(I seriously recommend listening to Pentakill if you like old metal, I can also help give a brief description of Pentakill if you need it)

-🎃

While Pentakill is (musically) my least favourite band from lol, I'm a Sona main and a Mordekaiser simp, I know them by heart, 🎃 (this sounds way more threating than it was meant to lmao) (and I do not know them by heart, I just love Sona and Mordekaiser and would very much enjoy being stuffing to a sandwich if they're the bread if you know what I mean

And you know what? I'm feeling like writing them all so enjoy my lovely pumpkin

Also sorry for kinda insterting Battle Academia Yone in there but I couldn't stop myself

Enjoy 🖤

(mmm wife gif)

Kayn

You're a hottie AND you're in THE Pentakill? He was instantly hooked on you when you two met

Though you weren't as keen on him, thinking of him as just another fanboy

After some time of him bugging you and trying to impress you as much as he can, you warmed up to him

Eventually landing yourself into a relationship with him

Everyone in both bands thought you two were just a short phase

But then the public learned about you

And my god, was it a storm

Especially since everyone suspected you were dating someone...more like you

But you two are still going strong

He loves your style, especially if your outfits include some chains (he's a kinky man what can I say)

Though he also enjoys your style outside of the stage, no matter how much it differs from your metal queen image

Honestly he just loves when you look happy

Probably wrote a few songs about you, which he will never show you, since he thinks you're too cool for love songs

Aphelios

Honestly? Wasn't interested at the beginning

You're from Pentakill? Ok, don't care

Honestly you were the one who fell first

He had no idea, untill he noticied you telling Sona you thought he was cute using sing language

After that he started noticing you in his surroundings more often

Especially if you wore tight clothes

I mean he's not a pervert, but you look really good

Finally Alune made him realise he's in love

Oh shit he is

So after some time to gather courage he goes in an confesses

Thought it wouldn't be a problem to do it in front of Kayle, since why would she know sing language

SHE'S IN THE BAND WITH SONA TOO FUCK

He may be stupid but you still love him

But rumours spread fast

So next day the press was on the asses of both of you

Honestly doesn't care. He loves you and that's what matters

Though the rest of Heartsteel might care

Oh well

Yone

You two met before Pentakill was even a thing

So he isn't intimated by you being in the band

He's actually very happy for you

Though he does miss the days when you two were just teenagers and could hang out more frequently

Especially since now you usually were with the band or touring

I mean he was happy with you

But he might not have gotten past his little high school crush on you

Ah, the old days, when he thought dying his hair pink would impress you

Now he knew he just had to tell you that he liked you in that special way

You two might have lost some time, but now you have plenty of it to make up for it~

Ezreal

Him? With you? Nooo, this had to be joke

A joke so good Karthus spilled his morning coffe out laughing

Oh wait, you actually were? Oh shit

No one ever thought the intimidating metal diva would be with someone like him

Everyone was sure he would be dating another popstar to break up after a week

But it's been half a year since the news broke out and you two are still going strong

He loves seeing you on stage

You're so...

He secretly wants you to step on him and call you mommy

But he can hold back

For now

Sett

Holy shit

The hottie from Pentakill

And him

It's like a dream come true

Although he is worried what his mom will think

She doesn't care

As long as you treat him well, she will welcome you with open arms

Sett loves how ferocious you are

He finds it so hot how intimidating you look on stage

Especially since you have such an effect, even against Mordekaiser and Yorick, who look...well scary

K'Sante

Won't tell you that, but you inspired him so much

He just loves when you mix up your stage style and home style

Like wearing just a normal blouse with that gorset belt? You look great!

He of course loves you for so much more

For example how you always take care of him

Turning into a big softie whenever he needs your help

Or the way your eyes light up when you see in the crowd at a concert

Though the music is not his taste, he will do anything for his partner

He won't admit it, but in the depths of his files there's a whole set of outfits he designed for Pentakill, inspired by you of course

[ganondoodle]

i have seen people talk about how hard it is to draw anything if you have aphantasia (which is good to talk about and true and valid and also intersting to read and this post isnt to devalue that, two things can coexist etc etc)

i personally struggle with the opposite; i have incredible imagination, i'd say it's my best and only "inate talent", (this is not a brag ..) all stories i think about are movies, i can stop them, change camera angle and poses, rotate ever object however i want, place lighting sound and voices, even styles, i switch from ghibli to botw to fortiches style, even into the style of a comic i recently read which wasnt even animated, the only thing that only works half the time is music-

and that all might sound fantastic, but its a mess, it goes too fast and too quickly, things never play out one way, theres interruption, involuntarily sudden changes to other subjects, i feel like struggling to keep an angry horse on one path, it makes me waste HOURS each day just reversing and redoing a scene like im a movie director wizard in my head, theres no ONE finished version, it changes everytime yet i go back over and over again to make it better, i forget most of it within a few hours anyway; even IRL when someone tells me about a memory and they are not sure if i was with them during it once they start to explain trying to make me remember it instead i will imagine it, in the end i wont be sure if i actually remembered or if i just imagined it too real, it scares me how much i forget and cant remember only for my mind to make shit up, makign me doubt my own memory (its weird how it works, i have horrible geographical memory, when i drive somwhere i have known my entire life i need to remember the path to it by imagining driving it, i remember significant things but not the path to them or how they connect or in what order, i have to go through it in my head every single time)

by far the worst part though is that extreme disconnect between whats in my mind and what i can do, just because i can imagine things like that doesnt mean i can draw it (god i WISH), nothing i have ever drawn is how it was in my head, the few things you get to see are the ones i won the fight against myself with to keep going and say 'good enough' at some point the speed is a problem too, the things playing in my head, sometimes even multiple at the same time, play like, again, a movie, whatever im trying to draw is rarely ONE thing, its a whole scene that plays over and over, i want to draw it all but it wont work bc my mind is too fast and i am too slow, it makes me try to skip ahead and get things done as fast as possible, it NEVER works (also too much, theres so many things in my head, i have almost the entirety of the totk rewrite in my head already, novels worth of lore and story for my other projects, its overwhelming how much is in there that i cannot get out and on paper)

its why comics take me so long to make, why detailed paintings are so rare, its the rare times i can force myself to try and tune out my mind and just work on what is in front of me, usually works for a few hours .. if i can manage to reach that sort of focus at all, its why basic sketches of characters are so much easier to do bc i dont have to fight as hard to just draw a character doing nothing- as soon as i want to make it a sketch page of things and scenes the movies are back and are there to haunt me until i cry and give up after hours of trying to keep up with my mind that i will never be able to catch up to (and this is only about drawing .. )

i know skill and speed increase over time, but i wont ever get to where my mind is, its always ahead and trying to skip and jump towards it only makes me stumble and fall flat on my face- maybe its ADHD, maybe its the autism, maybe its the depression, maybe its just me, maybe its just all of that

what im trying to say is, head full, too much thought, too fast, never able to translate it into viewable things in the way and speed as my head works, i explode