#wow this got. longer than i expected it too

[absfemme]

dirty girl . ♡︎

𐙚 cw ; dom abby. fem-bottom reader. piss kink, like actual piss. strap on usage.

her arms are wrapped around either side of your waist. she’s got you on all fours, black silicon dick pounding inside you with an animalistic fervor; her eyes trained on it going in and out of your needy pussy. all you can do is lay there and take it, your face buried deep into your pillows while you moan.

"just like that, baby," she encourages, more to herself than to you. this is intoxicating—she's intoxicating. really. the two of you had been fucking for well over an hour now, pulling three orgasms out of you and had you nearing a fourth. “suckin’ me in so well.”

you clench around her, tight; almost making it difficult for her to move. "you're close again, aren't you?” she chuckles when you just moan in response. “yeahh..yeah, you are.”

as your fourth approaches, you realize, maybe you should've peed before—

"abby,” you gasp, your voice raw and cracked. "wait—" your body is on fire, every nerve ending lit up and oversensitive. everything hurting in the best way possible.

she abruptly comes to a stop with a harsh thrust, her silicone balls slapping onto your clit. she’s so deep inside you, you can feel her in your throat. she sucks in an irritated breath, “what?”

your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you hide you face even deeper into your pillow, the words coming out in a mumbled rush, "i need to...i need to pee."

she’s rolls her eyes, scoffing as she heard your admission. "fucking..." she muttered, her tone making it clear that she didn't care in the slightest. "well, hold it. i’m not done yet.” she goes back to fucking you, her thumb coming down to rub at your clit. you yelp at the added stimulation.

the contact made your bladder feel even heavier, ridiculously full. or maybe it was the building orgasm. either way it was painfully good. but still.

you shake your head adamantly, pleading for her to slow down, but she ignores you. you’re ruining the mood—for her at least. she tuts and swiftly moves to pull out, turning you over onto your back in a flash. without a word, she leans down, her lips meeting yours.

the kiss is sloppy, wet, barely connecting at times; just fucking filthy. her lips move down to your jawline and then down to your neck, leaving dark bruises behind on top of older ones that were just starting to fade.

with you distracted, she slams inside you to the hilt and pauses. you entire body shivers.

“ah!” you choke out as she grinds into you, your skin erupting in goosebumps. your head falls back down onto the pillow, succumbing to pleasure. the stimulation was intense, edging on too much to handle. fuck, it was going to happen.

you whine, pushing back onto her dick, “i c-can’t..”

"stay still. makin’ this harder on yourself for no reason.” she knows damn well what she's doing, and the tone in her voice shows she's enjoying every second of it. she laughs under her breath.

“i r-really can—can’t hold it please—”

“aw.” she cooed in faux pity, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, betraying her nonchalant facade. “then go.”

you blink. there’s no way you heard that right. “what?”

“then fucking go.”

you couldn’t hold it any longer, so when she gives you her permission, you let yourself relax.

abby watches as you gush around her, soaking the sheets underneath you beyond repair. “yeah..let it all out,” she whispers, thrusting up into your g-spot, making you whine. “there you go.”

she pulls out when you’re done, allowing you to reposition yourself. your cheeks flush a rosy pink as the sheets squelch beneath you, realizing what you’d just done. abby just laughs, jaw slack in surprise like she didn’t expect you to actually do it.

“wow, babe.” she’s standing now. she has to clean up before the two of you can continue. “that’s just fucking nasty.”

@ absfemme, 2025. please do not steal, copy, translate or repost anywhere else ♥︎

[faecaribou]

guys im so lazy if i give y'all my scout mermaid au WIP will someone else take it off my hands and run with it pleaseeeee

MERMAID SCOUT PIRATE AU

Solider: Somebody tell the most outrageous thing that ever happened to you. Spy: heh i fucked a mermaid once. The crew: Dude no one believes you Sniper: YOOOO LOOK WHAT I FOUND Spy: Wow its a merman with hair color unusual for mermaids. He kinda looks like he has my jaw line. And…my ears. And… Merman Scout, waking up from unconsciousness: hngnnf? Spy: AND MY EYES?  Spy: Spy: OH NO. The crew: The crew: Wait Spy why does this merman kinda look like you Scout, rolling his eyes: You mean I look like a human and thats because my father was a human. A pirate even. But I never got to meet the guy. The crew: …. The crew: So do you wanna be part of the crew. Promise Medic won’t kill you Medic: But with this new knowledge I would bring you back to life after!

my actual attempt at writing this:

To say that the RED crew was the most fearsome pirate crew on all the seven seas would certainly be a stretch, but if you asked anyone who actually had met the crew and survived they might say that they were the mightiest pirate crew. None of the RED crew had any great stories about them, their backstories as simple as being a doctor and a military man, and some whose pasts were too mysterious to know. No, they weren’t the most fearsome, but they were strong and always quick to land on their feet.

Of course, you had to be human to know of the RED crew.

“There’s a storm brewing in the distance,” Heavy noted.

“We’ll make it to shore before it hits, Heavy,” Medic replied. “Let’s just batten down all the hatches and if Heavy would please alert the Engineer to make sure none of his tools are rolling around, that would be good, ja?”

“Yes Doktor,” Heavy replied.

Another crewmate was watching the clouds gather in the distance.

(Blah blah setting the scene)

Sniper went to take a walk on the shore the next morning, very early. The sun was peaking over the watery horizon, but the sky was cloudy enough that it cast only a gentle glow on the sands, illuminating the strange lump on the shore without giving enough detail.

“Huh,” Sniper furrowed his brow, and approached.

At first, it seemed to be a fishing net, presumably caught on something if the tides hadn’t taken it back. The storm likely washed all sorts of stuff up, but nothing as big as this.

As Sniper drew closer, he froze. His breath caught in his throat as he spotted the glimmer of colorful scales. His mind drew up stories of old, stories that as a child he had so desperately wanted to believe in, then as a teen he had given up on. Since sailing the seas he hadn’t really started believing again, but there was no doubt that there were things out in the water that just didn’t make sense.

He stared down at the limp, unmoving mermaid, and said aloud, “Well, shit.”

The mermaid twitched at the sound but didn’t rouse. When Sniper pulled the net mostly to the side to get a better look, he saw red smeared across the sand. It bled red then. Like a human. He approached the mermaid, which was laying on its stomach, and flipped it over carefully. He grabbed it by it’s human half, and wasn’t sure if he was surprised that it was cooler to the touch than he expected.

 The mermaid- or merman, Sniper mentally corrected himself as he kept looking, seemed to be bleeding from the head, which would explain why it didn’t wake when Sniper touched it.

“Must’ve hit its head on the rocks,” He muttered nervously to himself.

It had red scales too, red as the flag their pirate ship so proudly waved, though the scales were shimmering slightly where the wet rope had been and turning dull where the air was drying them. It- he? had a tail a fair bit longer than a pair of legs would be, and short light brown hair. 

Sniper stood over it for a while, dithering, mind exploding in confusion, before the sun peeked through the clouds and caught his eye. He grimaced. People were going to be waking up soon, and he couldn’t imagine it would spell out well for the merman.

He was pretty sure that mermaids killed pirates, and that pirates killed mermaids too. Humans always seemed to want to kill what they didn’t understand. But when Sniper stared down at the merman, it looked quite young. Not a child, but certainly not an adult.

He sighed and scooped it up in his arms, fishing net and all, not daring to touch the fishy half of the strange creature. It’s tail flopped loosely and awkwardly, but Sniper managed. He turned back toward the ship, visible in the distance. The spin causes the merman’s head to loll, burying its face into Sniper’s shirt. He pauses, looking down at it hesitantly, before starting his journey back to the ship.

Sniper wasn’t trying to keep it a secret from his crew, but he didn’t want to make a lot of noise about it either. But the moment he boarded the ship Demo, lounging on the deck, glanced over.

“Morni- HOLY SHIT!” Demo barked, and his voice exploded with volume. “HOLY FUCK GUYS, GET OVER HERE, SNIPER’S GOT A-”

“Shh!” Sniper hissed, lurching forward toward the man to shut him up. “We don’t want the whole town knowing!”

“Knowing what?” Drawled a voice, as Spy exited his quarters. “Qu’est-ce que vous-” The masked man caught sight of what Sniper was holding, and his face went pale.

“Bring it below deck, quickly!” He hissed. “Allez, allez!” He ushered Sniper out of sight, Demo hot on Spy’s heels, as Medic poked his head out of the forecastle quarters.

“Vhat is all ze fuss about, hmm?” He asked, but the only answer he got was a series of shushes as the men hurried below deck. Medic sighed.

“Come along Heavy, it seems our friends have gotten into new types of trouble, ja?”

“WHATS THAT?” Soldier barked as everyone scrambled below decks. Pyro sat up from his hammock, mask facing the group that entered.

“Quiet, man!” Engineer leaned forward, pulling his goggles off. “My god, is that a…?”

“A mermaid,” Medic leaned forward, light glinting off his glasses from between the wooden planks above. “How fascinating. My experiments-”

“You’re not experimenting on it,” Sniper pulled the limp body closer to himself, and the merman let out a quiet little noise. He glanced down at it, making sure it was still unconscious, before looking back up at the rest of his crew. They were silent, standing in a circle, watching him hold the merman.

“It’s just a young thing,” Sniper said, unsure of how to voice how he feels. “It’s all hurt, must’ve been tossed ashore by the storm.”

“Being out of the water probably is not helping the merman.” Spy murmured, and Sniper glanced at him. “THE WHAT?” Soldier asked, only to be hushed again.

“What do you mean by that?” Demanded Sniper, and the Frenchman crossed his arms.

“They are like fish, they should not be dried out.” he stepped closer to Sniper and reached out, tapping one of the dull scales on the tail that Sniper had been too nervous to touch with a quiet knowledgeable confidence that left Sniper surprised. “A healthy mermaid’s scales would be shiny and brighter than this.”

“How do you know all that?” Demo asked, and Spy stepped back.

“You see some things, after traveling for so long.”

“See things, ja, not know such things.” Medic’s gaze locked onto the masked man. “I am curious to know what other things you know about mermaids and how you know them.”

Engineer stepped forward. “Everyone here is entitled to their secrets,” he said, but he didn’t sound all that pleased. “What really matters is, what are we gonna do with it?”

“What do you mean?” Sniper asked, grip tightening on the merman again.

“I would love to have it for my experiments,” Medic muttered, and Sniper scowled at him.

“WE SHOULD KILL IT!” Solder loudly declared, and Sniper took a step back.

Spy pulled out a cigarette, then paused and glanced at the merman and put it back.

“It’s just a little one,” Sniper pleaded. “It couldn’t possibly hurt us.”

“It is pretty cool to see one in person,” Demo agreed. “Why, Sniper is right, its just a little lad! If it tried hurting any of us, we’d easily overpower it.”

“MMPH!” Pyro mumbled enthusiastically.

“It is like a tiny baby,” Heavy said aloud, then with a glance at Medic, added, “Doktor should get to take a look at it.”

Sniper hissed at him while Spy lowered his head into his hands.

Engineer stepped forward. “Son, we can all agree that mermaids are supposed to be violent and dangerous. If it turns out to be that way, can we give it to Medic? And if it turns out that it really is just a young thing and can’t hurt us, well.” He glanced down at the unconscious creature. “Medic would still have to take a look at it, because it’s bleeding.”

“Ooh!” Medic leaned forward. “It’s blood is red, like a human. Very interesting.” He pulls out a scratchpad and a pen and scribbles something down.

“IT BLEEDS RED? THEN BY GOD HELP THE MAN!” Solider stepped forward and grabs the merman out of Sniper’s hand, the Australian squawking in dismay as the American pushes him away. He lays the merman down and pulls out a knife. Spy startled, fumbling with his cigarettes as Engineer took an aborted step forward in alarm.

“Now hold on!” Demo protested, but Soldier only cuts the net off of the merman and sheathes the knife. He grabs the remains of the net and takes it away, leaving the merman out on the floor where everyone can catch a better glimpse of it. Spy makes a strange, strangled noise that catches the crew’s attention; it’s hard to tell with his mask, but he’s gone as white as a ghost.

“Mon Dieu…”

[livingthedragonlife]

i want to talk about the mimic chapter!!!!

kui is a genius at weaving overarching story themes and character themes and arcs and details into every chapter, but i love the way it happens in the mimic chapter the most.

the first thing that happens is chilchuck noticing the possibility of a mimic. he notices it instantly, because he remembers what the room looked like the last time the party was there. it's a great demonstration of how perceptive he is, and how seriously he takes his job... but he doesn't tell anybody.

the party could be in danger, there's a monster right around the corner, but he assumes (rightly, but still) that laios and senshi would only want to eat it and marcille would be mad at him for bringing it up. so he says nothing. out of sight, out of mind, ignoring the problem will have Zero lasting consequences. his emotional unavailability demonstrated right after, in a way that feels so seamless!!!

later, he wakes up marcille before he goes to refill his waterskin, but when he gets trapped in the mimic room, he assumes she fell asleep right after he left and therefore can't help him. he finds out later that he's wrong. marcille stayed awake to wait for him and woke up laios and senshi when he didn't come back. they were a little bit late, but chilchuck could have relied on his party members to be there for him, but assumed they wouldn't. he thinks quick on his feet, he figures out the puzzle in the room really fast, but he doesn't come out of it unscathed. he relies only on himself, and it almost got him killed.

obviously getting killed isn't too big a deal in the dungeon, but the point is that chilchuck put himself through unnecessary strife that could have been solved easily if they had just taken out the mimic right when they got into the room together—if he had told them there was danger in the first place. and the mimic turned out to be delicious anyway!!!!

BUT. THEN. when he finally DOES decide to be vulnerable, having learned this lesson, and tells everyone how old he is... they laugh. they still treat him like a child. they don't understand, they assume he's just as young as they did before.

this gets solved too, when he tells them about his family after the griffon/hippogriff fight. and sure, if he had been more open and vulnerable about having a family from the start, he wouldn't have to keep explaining that he's not a child only for them not to listen. but no wonder he doesn't!! no wonder he kept quiet when the one time he tried to open up, he got laughed at anyway! and that's just THIS PARTY, we know he's been through some shit with other parties—he formed a whole union about it

just!!!!!! all the actions from all the characters make sense if you look at it from their perspective, and it's all weaved so delicately into the storytelling you don't even realize how much you're absorbing about the world and the characters. chef's kiss.

[jackie-shitposts]

heyy just wondering if you're gonna make any more random Carmen stuff? i love your crack vids, and if you aren't gonna make anymore Youtube stuff thats totally fine! just love your content. thanks Jackie!

thanks for loving my stuff! but im normal about carmen sandiego now so no more videos (frantically shoving 6 videos worth of notes behind my back so you cant see them)

[fruitjedi]

I’m like nine percent sure anything will happen here (I’ll probably do some of these regardless) but I saw this and found it fun

⭐️15 notes and I talk to my one teacher about respecting me

25 notes and I start seriously looking into medical things I want

⭐️75 notes and I actually tell my director about future plans and ask him for advice

175 notes and I look into getting a private lesson teacher

⭐️215 notes and I start making time for my writing and reading interests

290 notes and I start truly planning my future

⭐️376 notes and I start playing live shows

550 notes and I start caring more about looking into my chronic pain issues

⭐️720 notes and I talk to my audio teacher about forecasting (this has been reached but I competed ig before it was reached cause I had to )

⭐️1220 notes and I stand up for myself more

1559 and I try to prioritize my health and feelings

1780 notes and I ask for help when I need it

2025 notes and I start letting people in more. (Not just close friends)

Edit I’m not setting an absolute limit but if I feel like you spam too much I will cut you off at some point .

Edit: beacuse I can’t cut the reblogs off in the replies I’ll dm you. If you don’t wish to be dmed to be cut off keep it at a max ten reblogs per person.

Edit: I have achieved some of the pink goals

Edit : thank you everyone ❤️

Edit: I’m adding some more stretch goals and the current 650 (the highest)will become higher (and I ask out teh guy I’m into)

Edit: I had to do 720 early

Edit: 1559 no longer applies

Edit: holy shit- this got above 1,000 notes. I wasn’t expecting it to get more than like 10

Edit I’m removing 1559 (and I talk to the choir director) and beacuse it no longer applies and changing that and changing around 2025 (and I ask out teh guy I like)

Edit: HOW DO YOU GUYS KEEP BLOWING UP THIS POST??? The most notes I’ve gotten ever is like 30. Wow. Thank you.

Pink have been reached

When I actually get to completing the pink goals they will get a ⭐️

@skythesnake you can’t be every single note

[starry-bi-sky]

Damian meets Dani about... oh, a few weeks after he's found out his brother was alive and living somewhere in America, and... lets say a week after he's met Samantha Manson. After that gala, it doesn't take much prodding and stalking to find out that Mansons live in Amity Park, Illinois. And if that's where Samantha was, then that's where Danyal was.

Stalking Manson's social media -- of which required a little bit of hacking as she kept her account private -- to see if there were any pictures of his brother was only slightly helpful. Most of her pictures were either scenic shots of Amity Park, photos of posters and signs of her environmental protests, fundraisers, and other such activities. The photos that did include Danyal were all carefully cropped out or angled to avoid showing his face.

The most recent photo was one of Manson at what appeared to be a gym, sitting in front of a mirror with another brown-skinned boy leaning against her. They all looked like they were coming down from exercising, Manson and the other boy -- Foley, as the tag said -- were both sitting on the ground. But the third boy, Danyal, was laying down, the angle prevented the camera from seeing most of his face and body, and what could have been seen was covered by Danyal's arm that he'd thrown over his face.

Unfortunately, as easy as it would be to take a plane down to Amity Park and hunt down his brother for answers, that would cause more problems than it would solve. Father made it explicitly clear after they'd returned from the gala and found out where the Mansons resided that they were to wait.

"If Danyal finds out that we know he's alive, he will likely try and run." Father told them, sitting at the chair in front of the Batcomputer, Amity Park's page pulled up. "He's spent the last five years in what has been, essentially, deep cover. He will not react well to finding out it's been blown."

(Damian had wanted to argue -- he's waited long enough. He wants to know what his brother's real feelings on him are. He wants to know why Danyal decided to leave the League himself. It had been a decision between Danyal and Damian over who would fake their death, and Danyal had chosen to leave. He wants answers.)

(But, Father's been quieter since the reveal of Danyal's existence was brought to him, and the memory is still fresh in Damian's mind of Father approaching him after the fight and quietly asking him why he hadn't told him about Danyal.)

(It was hard to read his face with the mask on, but the line in his shoulders, the pinch of his mouth -- Father was hurt and trying not to show it. Guilt still bubbles up in Damian's chest at the recall.)

(He feels even worse remembering his response -- rolling his shoulders back and telling Father, his stomach churning: "I thought it pointless to inform you of a son that was already dead." He didn't want his Father to mourn a child he never met, and... Damian didn't want Father to wish it was Danyal here instead of him.)

So, waiting for their plan of attack to finally be initialized, Damian allows Richard to drag him down to Gotham's mall. To get out of the house and do something else.

And it's there that he meets Danielle Fenton. Really, how unexpected. He's in the middle of conversation with Richard when she, well, bumps into him. Its not a huge bump, neither of them go to the ground nor do they drop anything, but she whirls around in utter apology while Damian is already forming an insult on the tip of his tongue.

"Oh geez, sorry! I didn't see you--" Ellie makes eye contact with him, and her voice cuts off, but her jaw stays dropped. Damian can't say he's of the same expression, but he is of similar sentiment. Brown skin only a few shades lighter than his own, black hair, glacier blue eyes that Damian has only ever seen on two people. And, as both of their eyes flick up to each other's brows, the death knell.

Father has a very unique set of facial features -- specifically, the strange shape of his eyebrows. It feels ridiculous to say aloud, but the 'batwing' shape of his brows means that anyone who knows about the Waynes would, reliably, be able to recognize them within minutes.

And this girl had them, just as Father did, just as Danyal did, and just as Damian does. She also shared an uncanny likeness to Danyal, and to mother.

Damian's hands immediately go to a dagger at his hip.

At the same time, the girl makes a strange squawking sound - like she's just had a revelation. And immediately she's jabbing a finger at Damian's face, her other hand slamming over her mouth to smother her annoying, staccato shrieking.

"You!" She squeaks, hopping in place with sparkling blue eyes. She looks around frantically, and Dick tenses up in Damian's peripherals -- likely seconds away from dragging the girl away from the crowd.

The girl laughs, giggly and excited, and lands her eyes back on him. There is an expression of awe on her face as she drops her hand from her mouth, she leans her face close to his, grinning from ear to ear. "You! You're Danny's brother!"

Damian's attention sharpens. She knows Danyal -- she looks like Danyal. She knows Danyal.

The girl couldn't be more than a few years older than Damian, but younger than 15 -- the age Danyal should be right now. She claps her hands together excitedly. "Holy cow!" She breathes, and audibly inhales, "Look at you! Wow! I thought you were a mini-Danny for a moment. But then I realized your eyes were green and you don't have his scar."

She's tilting her head side to side, looking over him like a specimen to be studied. Automatically, Damian is scowling, leaning away from her in annoyance.

That only seems to delight her more, and she laughs again. "You even have his scowl! Amazing!" She exclaims, and long-driven instinct forces Damian to ruffle up in offense, how dare she compare him--

The girl juts her hand out for a handshake, grinning from ear-to-ear. "I'm Dani with an i, but you can also just call me Ellie if it's too confusing." She waits patiently for Damian to give her his hand, and he tamps down his annoyance to reluctantly take it. Dani shakes it hard.

"You know, Danny's told me about you a few times -- never your name, no, he's always calling you starlight. It's incredible how he can share details while also keeping all the important bits out."

'He calls you starlight.'

Dani speaks quickly, excitably, like a child on a sugar rush or a teenager meeting her favorite author. She steamrolls through her sentences like she didn't just hit Damian with a sledgehammer to the chest. It's the second time he's heard someone claim that they've been told about him under a pseudonym, under the same pseudonym.

He's at a loss for words, and Richard steps in with a hearty chuckle and a hand on his shoulder. "Woah," he says, cutting off Dani with a warm smile, "I think we should probably talk about this sitting down, yes?"

Yes, Damian thinks, blinking at Dani, let's pause this for a moment. He needs a moment to breathe.

Dani blinks, and then nods, smiling back easily. "Right, good idea! I know a good spot." Then she turns and bounds into the crowd of other shoppers, and only then does Damian realize that Dani was without a chaperone.

They quickly follow after her, and perhaps if they were anyone else, they would have lost her in the crowd. The ease she moves between people makes Damian wonder about her origins -- obviously she is a clone of Danyal. The eyes, the name, the similarities are all too convenient to ignore.

However, who made her was the question. She was far too bubbly to be made by the League, and the fact that she knows Danyal and was even within speaking terms of him implied that whoever made her was within close range of him as well. Perhaps even knew him, to some level.

Most people who made clones did not do so with good intent, but the fact that Danyal told this clone about Damian meant they were close on some level. Dani likely defected then? Similarly to Superboy. Did she have powers? Did she know of the League?

She's sitting at a table in the food court when they finally catch up with her, and she looks a little sheepish as they draw up their chairs. "Sorry," she says as they sit down, smiling nervously, "I totally forgot to make sure you guys were following me."

Not a lie, Damian thinks, eyeing her up and down as he lowers into his seat beside Richard. He sniffs curtly, hiding only some of his annoyance. "It's fine. We found you, didn't we?"

Dani nods,her mouth twitching into a more relaxed smile. "You did! Yeah, wow." She stifles a round of awed giggling. "Sorry, sorry-- it's just so weird to actually meet you in person. The way Danny talked about you made it sound like he was never gonna see you again, so I kinda thought the same."

...Ah. Right. Because he faked his death without any intention of reveaing that it was fake in the first place. The squeeze of Damian's chest is unexpected and throbbing, like someone put a weight on his sternum in an effort to crush his lungs. In his chair, Richard's arms flexed and unflexed subtly.

"Well..." Damian pressed his lips together, "I am here now. It is interesting to meet you, Dani." He says, he can't say nice, the jury is still out on that one. But it is interesting. Placing his elbows on the table, he leans forward. "Are you Danyal's clone?"

Immediately Richard swats him lightly in the arm with a hiss of his name, while Dani's eyes widen comically at him. However, instead of getting defensive or even fleeing, Dani grins widely. "I am, actually. No point in denying it, right? But you haven't given me your name, Danny's brother."

Damian tamps down an instinctive twitch, a trained negative response to being Danyal's anything. He nods shortly. "My name is Damian, this is my... brother, Richard." He gestures to Richard, and ignores the grin he gets burning into his temples.

"You can call me Dick, Dani." Richard says, leaning over the table to shake Dani's hand. Dani nods, an eyebrow raised amusedly. When Richard lets go, his smile carefully falters, and he feigns looking around. "Are you alone?"

Dani's eyes bug for a moment, and her smile turns strained. "Ah, my -uh, guardian is actually in another store right now. I texted them, they'll meet me here when they're done."

Lie, Damian thinks, and shares a knowing look with Richard. She's alone -- a foolish thing to be for children, especially in Gotham. If there's one thing Damian knows for certain, it's that Danyal would not allow any clone of his to wander around inept or incompetent. Especially when he is supposed to be dead.

He likely allowed Dani to live because she was not only a girl, but had something that prevented her from being easy to defeat or capture. He doesn't see anywhere where she could be concealing a weapon -- so powers, perhaps? A meta Al Ghul would be a useful asset to anyone, if she had no weapons, then powers were the next potential option.

He turns back to Dani, "I see. Can you tell me more about Danyal? It has been a long, long time since I last saw him. I am... curious to see if he's the same as I remember him."

Dani's expression falls flat and deadpan, the illusion only ruined by the toying of her mouth and the amused glimmering of her eyes. "By that do you mean if he's still a stubborn stick-in-the-mud with a mean streak a mile wide, and a weird propensity for breaking out into shakespeare when he's pissed?"

Damian stares at her. "...Yes."

The girl sighs dramatically and slumps against the table, pressing her cheek into the cold metal with her face all scrunched up. "Then yeeesss!" She whines, "I love Danny, I do. He can be a big prickly teddybear sometimes, but oh ancients, I will always hold our first meeting against him for as long as I live."

An eyebrow crawls up Damian's forehead - both at Dani's description of his brother, and the mention of their 'first meeting'. Dick sits up in his peripherals, an equally intrigued look on his face.

"How did you guys first meet?" He asks, barely bothering to hide his interest.

Propping her head up on her chin, Dani remains deadpan -- and perhaps a little pouty -- "Ehh... I claimed to be his third cousin once removed." Automatically, Damian presses his mouth into a line. She was avoiding answering the question in full. "He didn't really... take it that well."

Damian can understand why. Father's earlier explanation brings itself back to the forefront of his mind -- Danyal would not react well to finding out his death was uncovered. If Dani claimed to be related to him, then it is a miracle she was still even alive. Had it been Damian, he would have killed her on the spot.

"Yes," he hums, "I can understand why."

Dani scrunches her nose up, and eyes him warily, "Yeah, don't think I didn't see you grabbing your side earlier." She says, ignoring how Damian stiffens up faintly. "I've learned my lesson."

They fall into almost comfortable conversation after that - trading questions and answers back and forth. Dani, short for Danielle, was in Gotham to explore. She was nearly a year old, and she wanted to see the world before settling down and doing anything concrete.

Danielle asks Damian what he was doing in Gotham, Danny said they lived overseas. Damian tells her that he lives here, and she perks up and asks if he was put into foster care too.

He nearly ruffles with offense -- no, he was living with their Father. He nearly says as such -- only for a hand on his back to stop him. Richard sends him a warning look, and Damian is very vividly recalling just that weekend with Manson.

(He is still wondering how his brother managed to reach Gotham so quickly, because that was his brother. He might not have been able to see his face, but that voice was his.)

Manson was furious with them over something, furious enough that she refused him information on his brother. Enough that she was petty to hang up the phone with Damian's brother without ever even uttering a word to him of who she was talking to.

Damian looks Danielle and lies, and tells her yes, he was also put into foster care. Richard backs him up.

Danielle is a well of information on his brother -- more so than any of Manson's social media was. Despite her explorations, she's still naive -- or, at least, naive to Danyal's situation. With Richard's help it's all too easy to get her to tell them about Danyal.

He learns that Danyal was interested in astronomy. Whenever Dani visited it was like he had new facts to tell her. He learns that his brother listens to goth rock, and was particularly a fan of a band called Dumpty Humpty. Something that Damian was certainly not expecting his brother to be interested, of all things.

And, perhaps the most important piece of information of all, Danielle pulls out her phone with little prompting and shows him a recent photo of his brother. Damian prevents himself from stealing it out of her hands, forcing himself into carefully taking it with permission and showing it to Richard.

It was a simple selfie of the two of them in a park somewhere. Danyal was crouched down beside her, and while Danielle was beaming into the camera, Danyal simply wore a half-tilted, awkward smile. He was in a red muscle-tee, the last thing Damian could imagine his brother wearing.

There wasn't much to put it, Danyal was simply older. With wavy black hair framing his face and his glacier blue eyes, there was no doubt about it that he was an Al Ghul and and Wayne. The scar he's had for as long as Damian can remember -- the one he gained from protecting Damian merely a week into his birth -- split diagonally down his face. It's shrunken more with age -- well, not shrunken. Danyal merely grew.

He had old, familiar scars down his arms. Ones he gained from training. But there were ones Damian doesn't recognize -- a pinkish one near his upper shoulder that looks new. Another laceration on his other arm that still had its stitches. An ugly, mottled wound as if someone had stabbed him with a blunt object.

There was a cut on his throat, healed but certainly not years old, as if someone had meant to slit his neck and missed it's mark. His brother has been in battles, in fights, and they are recent.

Damian stares at it silently. His tongue locked to the roof of his mouth, unable to formulate a sound. He never really knew his brother in the League, he was not allowed to -- not by Grandfather, not by Mother, and encouraged by Danyal. He is a stranger to him. Damian is sick of it.

Danyal and Danielle look more like siblings than he and Damian ever did.

He looks up at the girl, and finds his voice. "Can I have this?"

Danielle is all too happy to give it to him, typing her number into his phone. It's the first message she sends him. Richard leans over Damian's shoulder with a smile, "Would you be willing to send us anything you've got on, uh, Danny?"

Danielle beams at him, looking incredibly touched, "Of course! I can give your number to Danny the next time I see him, if you'd like."

That's right, Damian realizes with white hot panic, to get these photos she has to see him in person. He can't know I know he's alive. He jolts his head up, eyes wide. "No!" He exclaims. Danielle reels back, looking surprised.

"No." Damian repeats, forcing his voice to remain calm despite still feeling panicked. "No, not yet."

"Oh." Danielle simply says, her brows furrow together. She looks like a lost fawn. It's incredibly strange to see on a face that holds Al Ghul blood. "Uh... why?"

Yes, why? Damian can't seem to come up with an excuse.

But Richard can, always a lifesaver. He wraps an arm around the back of Damian's chair. "We recently found out Danny lives in Amity Park, our family was hoping to go visit him as a surprise." He lies, easy as breathing. And it's hardly even a lie. Just the truth re-worded. Damian nods shortly.

Danielle believes it, hook, line, and sinker. She grins widely, near-impishly. She smiles so much. It is equally as strange. "That's so sweet! Okay! I won't say anything, promise." She swears, and Richard feigns a slump of relief. "Dan's pretty good at sniffing out lies, so don't tell me anything about it. The less I know, the better."

Richard nods, smiling warmly and gratefully. "That'd be great. Thank you, Dani."

Danielle and Danyal's meeting... very, very quickly goes very sour from, basically, the moment Danny steps into his room and finds Ellie sitting on his bed (strike one) and reading the comic books Tucker introduced him to (strike two). By the time she's looked up to address him, Danny has the door locked, and a hand hovering near the knife hidden under his shirt.

She gets her third strike when Danny, in a voice that could make the mountains tremble, demands to know how she got into his room, and she lies (with uncertainty of her decision growing in her chest) that Jazz let her in. Danny's hand shifts closer to his weapon, and he turns towards her fully, and says that Jazz would never let someone he didn’t know into his room, and who was she.

(Vlad Masters had underprepared Danielle for her meeting with Danny -- not out of any completely direct malicious intent, but he failed to mention just how... 'touchy' Daniel could be -- he failed to mention the scars littering up his arms, unhidden by the hoodie tee he meets Ellie in. He failed to mention that along with those scars, that Danny was visibly lean, capable of doing very real damage without the use of his powers.)

(He tells Ellie that he’s adopted, and that he is observant and clever, but ungrateful and has a bad attitude.)

Her final strike occurs when Ellie, trying to keep her facade of cheeriness, tells him that she’s his third cousin once removed. Immediately, Danny has his dagger pulled out, and Ellie finds herself with the cold metal of a blade pressing against her throat.

Danyal 'A.G' Fenton hasn’t killed since he arrived in Amity Park. At first it was because mother told him to keep a low profile, and killing would do the opposite of that. But, he's been slowly learning from his sister and friends over the years the value of human life. So it's become a combination of keeping his head down, and also that life has value to it.

But. That doesn’t mean he can’t kill, nor is he opposed to doing it if the situation calls for it. It just means that he doesn't do it. And ‘Danielle’ is an unknown in his room, claiming to be family to him, and appearing uncannily similar to him and his family. Either someone hired her and she was trying to pass herself off as a relative to him because that someone realized Danny was the biggest threat, or, his false death has been compromised, his mother was unable to tell him, and the league was aware he was alive.

No matter how he looks at it, this Danielle was a threat to him, his sister, his friends, to Damian, and to the Drs. Fenton. Danyal Fenton doesn't kill, but he has no problems doing so.

(Ellie, pinned under Danny’s knee and the blade to her neck, is too terrified to think of phasing out of his hold. Not that it would help, he would just chase after her.)

“You have broken into my home, dared to lie to my face, and when I demanded to know the truth, you dared lie to me again." Danny's scowl could cower even Skulker, his glacier blue eyes burning. "Your continual breath has been a favor from me, that I have graciously allowed, from the moment you entered my room, dahkil."

"So I will ask one more time," he hisses, "who. are. you."

Danielle, only a few months old, unprepared for the ice storm that is "Daniel" Fenton, and his clone in only flesh and blood, and not memories, immediately breaks. And tells him that she was his clone, that Vlad sent her to come capture him, and to please not kill her.

Danny's face twists with anger, Ellie thinks he's going to kill her anyways. Instead, he withdraws his knife and gets off her, stringing out curses in Arabic as he sheathes his weapon back into its hiding place faster than Ellie can blink.

He switches to English as she is collecting her bearings (and contemplating fleeing), and Danny paces the room like a tiger in a cage. "--of course that wretched, arrogant, peacocking little ingrate would do something so infuriating. I should have driven my sword into the shrivel of his heart when I had the chance--"

Ellie, for a moment, thinks of leaving while he is distracted. And starts to slowly creep away. But Danny notices instantly, and whirls on her. His too-bright eyes bore into her head: "Where do you think you're going."

"...I'm leaving."

And Danny scoffs at her, "Why? So you can fly back to Masters and tell him that you failed to capture me, and that I know that he cloned me?" He says, and Ellie remains silent -- that's exactly what she was going to do. "He will destroy you within seconds."

Of course, Ellie rears back in offense, and she finds the footing to glare at him. "He would not! He's my dad, he loves me!"

Danny gets in her face, glowering back with an equal intensity. "He does not." He snaps, "Vlad Masters has not a soul in his body nor a heart in his chest. He would sooner cut off the hand that helps him stand, than to take it along with him."

"If you're really made of my blood, then I will teach you only this: we bow not our heads nor our hearts to anyone." Danny's too-blue eyes narrow, and his voice dips into a hiss, "Especially not to a conniving snake like Masters. Your heart: cut it off, or cut it out. He will sooner leave you to bleed."

Then, he unlocks the door and drags her out before she has much time to act. And as he drags her down the hall he shoots Sam and Tucker a text, and they meet up at Nasty Burger. Ellie is a spitfire, but Danny has her too intimidated to leave.

"This is Danielle," he tells them bluntly as he corners her into the booth, "she's my clone. Masters created her."

Ellie is with them for a week, and somehow throughout that time, Danny manages to actually get her to like him throughout that time. He's callous, blunt, and full of sharp edges that you can cut yourself on. But when he's not spitting venom, he's fretting.

When he drags her back to the house after being with Sam and Tucker, he pulls her to Jazz's room and opens the door to tell her the same thing. "This is Danielle." He says upon abruptly opening the door, interrupting Jazz's studying as he pulls Ellie inside. "She is my clone, Masters created her. She needs clothes."

Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Ellie, in that moment, thinks that now's her chance to flee. But Jazz then squeals, and she is trapped in new arms, shaken around by Jazz Fenton, excited for a sister.

(Ellie finds herself complaining to Jazz that night, shoved into old pajamas. She's in utter disbelief that Jazz could care about a jerk like Danny.)

("He's rough around the edges, but Danny does care." Jazz tells her, combing through her hair with her fingers. "We've been working on it ever since he joined the family, but Danny warms up slowly. He's usually less stoney; I think your arrival spooked him.")

("Spooked him?" Ellie repeats, she doesn't believe it at all. "He has a funny way of showing it, he threatened to kill me!" And she turns around just in time to see Jazz's press her lips into a line.)

("He's... very protective. He'll deny if you ask him, but he worries a lot." Jazz's fingers find her hair again. "What I do know for certain though, is that he wouldn't have kept you here if he wasn't worried about you at least a little bit.")

(Ellie doubts it.)

But Ellie is indeed there for a week, and the day after her initially rocky introduction with Danny, he is a little bit kinder to her. Still kinda a bitch, but he's less harsh to her, if... almost uncomfortable around her. Flighty, kinda.

Whenever she gets mouthy at him though, he looks oddly smug about it and, infuriatingly enough, praises her attitude. He is very, very annoying. And still kinda terrifying. But hearing him shout insults via puns at someone during a ghost fight that happens that week lessens the intimidating factor,,, a little bit.

Things go about,,,, relatively,,,, similar to canon. In the sense that it ends with Ellie defecting from Vlad because she finds out that Danny was right and that Vlad didn't actually care about her. (And that Jazz had been right too; Danny, in his weird, mean way, had been worried about her as well)

Danny looks out of his depth as she talks about how he was right, and he cuts her off with a vaguely uncomfortable clearing of his throat. And gives her the most awkward, but genuine apology he can muster.

"I should've used more tact when telling you about Masters, and I... apologize for threatening you when we met. I was..." he makes a face like he's sucked on a particularly sour lemon, "worried. First about my family, and then later about you."

(Ellie will be damned: Jazz was right)

Before Ellie leaves, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: "I wasn't kidding about what I said to you when we first met: you are of my blood, and as such, you do not bow your head nor your heart to anyone."

Ellie looks at him, thinks about the last week, and smiles like she's caught him in a trap. "What about Sam and Tucker then? And Jazz?"

Danny smiles, it's awkward and tilted, like his face isn't used to the gesture. "We bow not our hearts, but that doesn't mean we can't share."

[sturnioz]

Fb!chris reaction to shy!reader flashing him randomly. Just to see that she spontaneously got her nipples pierced

truthfully, i dont see shy!reader getting her nipples pierced. but i lowkey loved this idea so i had to do it.

"i got something to tell you." you say with a bright smile as you shuffle up beside chris, who is sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers expertly rolling a joint, the other one casually tucked behind his ear — maybe forgotten about, you think, but you decide against pointing it out as you wait, hoping to have his attention.

but he doesn't look at you. instead, he hums in response, his eyes glued to the rolling paper, completely absorbed in his task to even spare you a glance. frustration wells up inside you, and your smile fades, replaced with a deepening frown as your brows knit together.

you gently poke his shoulder this time, trying to break through his focus.

"don't. m'busy." he snaps, his tone sharper than you expected — a clear sign that he's not in the mood for distractions.

you can't help but huff at that, your initial excitement now sizzling into disappointment. you grip the bedsheets tightly, longing for his attention and feeling a little annoyed at his dismissiveness that in a moment of impulse, you nudge him, hoping this time to draw him away and into the conversation want so desperately want to have.

"kid.. don't."

"i want to tell you something." you reply, trying again, your tone laced with a hint of attitude that surprises even you, and to your relief, it seems to get through to him as he abruptly turns his head, his glare sharp and his jaw clenched tightly.

"stop bein' a fuckin' brat, kid. i told you that i am busy, yeah? i told you that, 'n now you're gettin' an attitude with me? learn to behave before i—"

you find yourself lifting your shirt without thinking, revealing the new, swollen piercings you impulsively got. you can't help but grin with pride, despite the fact you cried when you got them done — but he doesn't need to know that.

chris' gaze drops immediately to your chest, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he blinks, momentarily taken aback before he tucks the joint behind his other ear, his tongue prodding at his cheek as he lets out a small hum of acknowledgment.

"wow.." he murmurs, and for a moment, you think his reaction is rather bland and disappointing. but then you notice the smirk slowly spreading across his lips, his hand reaching out to gently cup your breast.

his thumb brushes against your swollen nipple, and you can't help but hiss at the sudden sting, instinctively swatting his hand away with a sharp slap.

"sore?" he asks, an amused glint in his eyes.

"obviously," you reply, frowning slightly before gathering the courage to ask. "do.. you like them?"

"do i like them?" chris repeats, pausing as if he's considering his response. but instead of answering your question, he shifts the focus back to you. "what made you wanna do this anyway, kid? didn't think you'd be into this kinda shit."

"kitty was getting hers re-pierced, and i felt a little confident," you admit, feeling the heat creep up your cheeks. "i wanted something done too."

"confident, huh?" chris hums, licking his lips as he shakes his head. "kitty's a bad influence on you, kid. gotta stop hangin' out with her so much."

that is not the response you were hoping for, and you pull your shirt down with a small huff, obscuring the piercings from his view. chris grins, tilting his head to the side as he watches you move up his bed, settling a few feet away and grabbing your phone — you were absolutely going to tell the groupchat about this.

"i like 'em, by the way," you hear chris admit, and you pause, lifting your head in surprised. your eyebrows raise, and a shy smile threatens to spread across your lips at his unexpected compliment.

he nods slowly as he reaches for more rolling papers and a baggy of weed, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary before looking away.

"yeah.. like 'em a lot."

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to their s/o giving birth

Request: Hello!! Can I request a Seventeen OT13 fluff/crack/comfort reaction to reader giving birth? Like for each member the member and reader react differently? Like reader having a hard time with wonwoo’s child because of his wide shoulders, Vernon being unfazed as usual as his wife screams at him, reader having no tolerance for pain and is panicking so Mingyu panics too, etc

A/N: I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting, anon. This took much longer than I expected. I actually finished writing it yesterday, but my draft got deleted, and I was so frustrated that I nearly cried. I had been working on this for a week while juggling other writing projects and a busy, stressful schedule. Instead of breaking down and giving up, I sat down and rewrote everything from memory. Since it was my second time writing it, I at least had a clearer idea of what I wanted to do. I knew that if I didn’t finish it now, it would end up delayed for another week or more, and I didn’t want that. Also, I pushed other queued requests back to finally get this one out since it should've been out earlier but I wasn't done with it. I really hope I did justice to your request! Thank you for your patience 💓

Seungcheol: To me it feels like his leader instincts kicking in like it’s a group comeback 😭 You’re physically drained and can barely push anymore, so Seungcheol will be holding your hand tightly, his voice steadying you: “Just one more, baby, you’ve got this. We’ll meet our little one soon.” On the inside, he’s panicking but doesn’t let it show because he knows you need his strength, "Breathe, babe, breathe!” Wait, should I breathe too?! Once the baby is born, he’s in tears, holding your hand like, “You did so well. I’m so proud of you.” and kissing your forehead. Then proceeds to take the title of Best Dad very seriously.

Jeonghan: “This is YOUR fault!” you scream at him as another wave of pain hits, and Jeonghan, instead of being offended, just grins cheekily, “I know, I know. But look at me—I’m right here. You’re doing amazing.” He is unfazed and mischievous, even while you're snapping at him but don't get me wrong. He's like, "It’s okay, just a little more!” while secretly panicking and muttering, How does one raise a tiny human? He just doesn't want to look panicked in front of you and scare you. When the baby arrives, he jokes, “Wow, this kid’s already prettier than me. Must’ve gotten it from me.” Yes, he's like that—but in a moment of seriousness, he looks at you with so much love, “You were incredible.”

Joshua: You’re crying softly, scared and overwhelmed, and Joshua immediately cups your face gently, “I know it’s hard, but you’re so strong. You can do this. I’ll be here the whole time.” He's very soft and attentive, the perfect mix of calm and emotional. He never leaves your side, murmuring prayers under his breath. Holds your hand and whispers comforting words the whole time, “You’re amazing, you’ve got this.” When the baby cries for the first time, he literally cries too, “This is the best day of my life.” He lets out a laugh of pure relief and joy as his face says, This is our miracle. He insists on singing the baby a lullaby immediately. Sunday morning rain is falling in form of lullaby

Jun: Wait, I think I need to sit down—oh no, wait, you’re the one doing all the work! Chaotic but sweet, Jun is trying his best to be strong for you, but his emotions are all over the place. You’re gripping his hand tightly, shaking your head, “I can’t do it, Jun. I really can’t!” his heart clenches at your words but he then immediately leans in, his eyes wide but sincere, “You’re already doing it. Look at me. One more push, and we’ll meet our baby.” The sheer trust and love in his gaze give you the last bit of strength you need. After the birth, he’s SO emotional, holding them like the most delicate thing in the world in complete awe with wide eyes, “Wow… they’re so small. Are you sure they’re ours?” He traces a careful finger along the baby’s tiny hand, his eyes softening even more. “They’re perfect… just like you.” His lips press a lingering, grateful kiss to your forehead before pulling back, his eyes shimmering. “I love you. Both of you.”

Hoshi: He's excited and maybe a little too energetic. Freaks out every time you make a noise, “IS IT TIME?!” even if you’re just asking for water. During birth, I feel like, his s/o will be yelling from the pain and accidentally yell at him too lol. “STOP TALKING, SOONYOUNG!” you shout during a particularly painful contraction, and he freezes, wide-eyed. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’ll be quiet—but I’m still here!” When the baby is born, he’s crying harder than you are, clutching your hand, “WE DID IT! I mean, you did it! I’M A PAPA TIGER! Look at our little cub!” while also jumping up and down yelling.

Wonwoo: Wonwoo is the reliable rock you need. You’re biting your lip, trying not to scream, and he notices your trembling. He leans closer, his voice soft, “It’s okay to let it out. I’m here for you, always.” He stays by your side, holding your hand, his thumb gently rubbing the back of it to soothe you. Every now and then, he murmurs, “You’re doing so well,” his voice laced with admiration and respect for his beloved. When the baby is finally born, he doesn’t say much at first—just stares in awe, holding them close with a small, amazed smile. After a long pause, he finally whispers, “So this is what pure happiness feels like.” Theb he looks at you, eyes full of love, and promises, “I’ll be the best dad. For both of you.”

Woozi: Stressed but trying not to show it. Internally writing 15 songs about his emotions while saying, “Do you need anything? Water? Ice? A new husband?” all while trying his best to keep his emotions in check for your sake but low-key failing. “It hurts so much!” you cry, and Jihoon, though visibly worried and internally panicking, keeps rubbing your back, “I know, love, I know. Just a little more, and it’ll be over. You’re stronger than you think.” Once it’s over, he’s stunned silent, staring at the tiny life in his hands in awe, whispering, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write anything more beautiful than this.” Then he looks at you, his voice soft: “You’re incredible.”

Dokyeom: Your overly enthusiastic cheerleader is trying his best. But when you let out a scream, “AUGH!” Seokmin yelps even louder, “ARE YOU OKAY?!” despite knowing full well that you’re not. He’s gripping your hand so tightly—probably too tightly and almost crying with you. “YOU’RE DOING GREAT. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Then, mid-contraction, he suddenly panics, “Wait, do you hate me right now? I think you do.” You glare at him between deep breaths, and he flinches, “Okay! No talking! Got it!” When the baby is finally here, Seokmin completely loses it, his happy sobs are the loudest in the room. “We did it! Well, mostly you, but we did it!” He’s melting, practically sliding to the floor as he holds the baby, overwhelmed by joy. Someone has to hold him up before he turns into a puddle of emotions.

Mingyu: He’s the definition of chaos with a side of tears. “Why is it taking so long?!” you cry out, exhausted and frustrated, and Mingyu, who has been pacing non-stop—pauses for a second before nervously responding, “I don’t know, but I’m here! We’ll get through this together, I promise.” He’s trying so hard to be helpful, but his clumsy ass is in full force. “Do you need water, baby? A towel? Oh no, I dropped the towel! Wait, where’s the doctor—should I call someone?!” The moment the baby arrives, Mingyu’s emotions explode, he’s full-on sobbing, barely able to form words. “You’re amazing! Our baby is amazing!” He cradles the tiny newborn like the most precious thing in the world, holding on so tight that the nurses have to coax him into letting them check the baby. “No! They’re so tiny! So perfect! I’m NOT letting them go.” spoiler: he doesn't. they have the check the baby from his hold.

Minghao: Zen but emotional deep down. He’s by your side, reminding you to breathe like a yoga instructor, “Inhale, exhale, you’ve got this.” But you are still exhausted and losing focus during labor, “I can’t do it,” you mumble weakly, and Minghao immediately takes your hand, his calm voice grounding you: “Yes, you can. Focus on me. Deep breaths. You’re stronger than you know.” After the baby’s born, he holds them with the gentlest hands, his eyes full of tears. “You did so well,” he whispers, brushing hair out of your sweaty face. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.” His face is all smiley with streaks of dry tears down his cheeks as he kisses your nose, “This is the start of a masterpiece. You’re amazing, my love. I love you���

Seungkwan: The most emotional and slightly dramatic of them all. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Am I okay?!” He’s running on pure nerves. The situation escalates quickly when you reach the peak of labor, and it’s similar to Hoshi’s. “STOP TALKING, KWAN!” you snap, breathless from the pain. He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest, “I’m just worried! But okay, okay, I’ll shut up!” He’s jittery, constantly checking on you, the doctors, and the monitors, whispering prayers under his breath. The moment the baby is born, all his anxiety vanishes, replaced by unfiltered joy. He holds the baby, bawling his eyes out, voice shaking as he says, “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Then, looking at you with pure adoration, he sniffles, “I’m going to spoil them so much.”

Vernon: Surprisingly calm but mostly because he’s in shock. You’re gripping the bed rails so hard your knuckles turn white, trying not to scream, and Vernon, who notices how much you’re struggling, leans down, holding your hand. “You’re doing so great,” he says. “We’re so close, babe. Just a little more.” He doesn’t say much else, just keeps his grip firm, standing by your side like an unshakable pillar until you give birth while internally thinking, This is wild. When the baby is born, he stares at them for a long moment before finally saying, “Wow… we made this. That’s crazy.” But then, as he holds the baby, his normally neutral expression softens into something breathtaking. His heart eyes are fully showing— completely smitten, both with the baby and with you.

Dino: Our Dino is flustered but super supportive. “Do you need me to do anything? Tell me what to do—I’ll do it!” He’s hovering, heart racing, watching you struggle through the pain, and it’s breaking him. When you sob, “I can’t do it, Chan!” he nearly panics himself, but he quickly shakes his head and crouches beside you, rubbing your back. “Yes, you can,” he says firmly, “You’re the strongest person I know. Just a little more, I’m right here!” The second the baby arrives, his stress vanishes, replaced by pure joy. His grin is so wide it almost hurts. “I’m officially a dad! We’re parents now, love! Can you believe it?” He holds the baby with so much pride and tenderness, already making promises. “I’m going to be the fun parent. You’re going to have the coolest childhood ever, little one.” and holds their pinky.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[eddieandbird]

How Romantic—

You’re Corroded Coffin’s tour manager and you wake up realizing you drunkenly got married to Eddie the night before.

Part 2 | Part 3

tags/warnings: fluff | 2.7k words | f!reader | rockstar!Eddie | alcohol ment

———

Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary when you opened your eyes this morning. Your head was pounding, but you expected that after Corroded Coffin’s first show in Las Vegas. You went to rub the sleep out from your eyes but you winced in pain as you felt a small object scratch the corner of your eye.

“Ow! What the hell?” You hissed. You sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp.

A diamond ring sat on the third knuckle of your left hand, the sight causing you to flinch like it were a spider crawling up your leg.

“Eddie?” You shoved your sleeping client beside you. “Eddie, I think we did something really stupid last night,”

“What? Of course, we did! We’re rockstars, idiot,” He grumbled, rolling his shoulders to shake off your hand.

He attempted to roll over and fall back asleep, but this wasn’t a situation you could press the snooze button on. In a panic you pulled him up by his long hair, forcing him to sit up beside you.

“Hey!—“

“Eddie, shut up,” You said sternly, interrupting his whining. “Let me see your hands,”

You fumbled around to get a hold of them, light scratches exchanged between the both of you as you slapped each other like bickering children. Somehow you were able to catch his wrist, bringing his left hand closer to the light.

As you feared, he wore a gold band on his ring finger, with white diamonds that glistened, mocking you.

“Holy shit, no, no, no-” You cursed under your breath when you wanted to scream, but the ever-present headache prevented you from raising your voice.

Eddie flinched as you tugged at him, then chuckled when he caught the sight of his own ring.

“Looks like we got a matching set,” He said casually.

His expression didn’t change, leaving you utterly dumbfounded. You could tell he was not understanding the gravity of the situation at all.

“A matching set?— Eddie this isn’t some cute friendship bracelet thing!” You shook your head then forced his hand closer to his face like it could get him to understand.

Eddie wasn’t stupid by any means, but boy did he struggle to get the point sometimes. You knew to cut him some slack considering he was hungover just like you. However, you didn’t think you had to spell this all out for him.

Another moment passed before his eyes opened up fully. “Oh… OH!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, oh,” You sighed, relieved and irritated.

He studied his hand for a moment, tilting it in the light as he observed the jewels embedded into the gold.

“Oh wow, this is-” He mumbled to himself, his voice getting lost in a trail of thoughts.

He then went silent for a moment before suddenly grabbing your hand harshly, and yanking it into the light. “I bet yours is nicer, let me see,” He grumbled, his tone sounding almost jealous. It did nothing but work you up even more. You were unfortunately going to have to spell it out for him.

You flailed out of bed, ripping off the robe that hung on the lampshade, and covered yourself. The bewildered glare you gave Eddie only caused him to look more confused. You sighed and rubbed your aching head.

“I can’t believe I’m even explaining this to you right now,” You mumbled to yourself. You put your hands together and pointed the form at him. “Eddie, I think we got married last night,”

You hoped and prayed he would give you a different look, one that didn’t make you believe he didn’t even know his own name.

“You think? Or you know?” He countered, raising his eyebrows at you. “These rings could mean nothing, we just have to make sure,”

His expression was far more casual than it should’ve been. You didn’t know how much longer you would be able to stay patient, he was making your blood boil. He was treating this as if you were scolding him for showing up late to the gig.

As much as you wanted him to prove your theory wrong, you feared it wasn’t likely. Your eyes scanned the trashed hotel room for any other sign. To your dismay, there was a white dress tossed to the side of the bathroom. Disgust and regret painted your face as you lifted it. It was covered in red wine and smelled even worse.

“I think I found my wedding dress,” You gagged, holding it up to show Eddie.

You groaned as you just as quickly threw it back down on the floor.

Eddie’s smile wavered as he saw the state of your wedding dress. He suddenly looked nauseous as he observed the wine stains and messy wrinkles.

“We must’ve been super wasted last night,” He thought back to the night before, his mind desperately trying to recall any other details. “I can’t remember a damn thing after the first hour or so,” He said, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Yeah, no kidding,”

You examined the dress again from where you stood and bits and pieces of last night suddenly came back to you. The cheap rhinestones on it formed a pattern that haunted you.

The sight took you back to when Eddie and you stumbled downtown, giggling as you tried to keep each other upright. With one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady, he used the other to point out the ridiculously lit chapel you were passing by. A window peered into a showroom with a plethora of wedding dresses.

You let out a low whistle with your finger pointed at the glass. “Jeez what a dress, huh? Have you ever seen anything more gaudy?” You elbowed Eddie in the chest playfully.

You were too amused to see that he hardly gave that stupid dress more than one glance. He was too captivated by the way you looked underneath the twinkling lights.

“I dunno. I bet you’d make it look good,” Eddie slurred back, raising his eyebrows to fight his half-lidded eyes. His sudden suggestive tone took you aback. He was always crass and liked to push buttons, but never had he been this forward with you. You felt a strange flutter in the pit of your stomach that you had every intention of ignoring.

“Alright, buddy, I gotta get you back to the hotel. You’re too far gone if you’re imagining your manager in a wedding dress,” You hiccupped, trying to pry Eddie away from the chapel windows, but he was sturdy like a wall. You yelped as he pulled you by the wrist back into him.

“I think you should go in and try it on,” He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

Shivers went down your spine, traveling down your body and convincing you it was a good idea. The sloshing liquor in your gut and the rasp of his voice was a dangerous combination. It created a switch inside your head that drained you of your professionalism, leaving only traits that would make you the woman of Eddie’s dreams. This included the boldness to slip your hand into his and say “Aw… Fuck it, why not? Let’s see how stupid it looks,”

Eddie hastily led you into the chapel, walking through the doorway and into the showroom full of gowns. The two of you were greeted by a bored employee who couldn’t look less interested in her job, but somehow had the energy to sneer at the both of you. You only took it as a sign that you should try on the stupid dress if only to spite that miserable lady at the front desk.

Just as you were joking about before, you took the gown that sat in the window and brought it with you to the fitting room. It was way too ornate and flashy for your taste, but you had the itch to try it on to humor Eddie’s curiosity. One outfit change later and you came out, propped up against the doorframe with a hand on your hip. Despite your slightly pained expression, you glittered beautifully in the dress.

“Okay I’m pretty sure this thing is a size too small because I can hardly breathe, but here it is. Happy now, Munson?” You gave an ironic smile.

You expected Eddie to laugh along with you, maybe even make a few digs at how awful the get-up was, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared at you slack-jawed. You had brought an entire galaxy to his hazy eyes. His pupils dilated with desire as he took a few sudden strides toward you.

“There is no way you’re actually making that dress look good,” He muttered in disbelief, pawing at your hips.

Eddie dragged his fingertips along your jawline, gently pushing your hair behind the shoulders. He took a step back to admire the skin around your neck that he just exposed. Your silhouette was being squeezed into the fabric and hardly left anything to the imagination. There was really no stopping Eddie now. With an uncoordinated tug, your body was pressed to his.

“What are you doing?” You asked him like he was a toddler getting caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. Delirious giggles rang out of you as half-heartedly pushed him.

“Taking my bride to the altar, duh,” Eddie leaned in, his lips tickling the nape of your neck. He spoke in that false innocent tone that you knew was laced with devious intentions. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his feather-like touches.

“You’re gonna marry me, right, princess?” His silky voice was incredibly inviting in the state you were in.

“I um- well m-” You stuttered. You could hardly stand straight, let alone answer his question properly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought. C’mon, sweetheart, you’re mine now,” He triumphantly laughed.

The receptionist’s eyes widened in complete shock as Eddie suddenly picked you up off the floor. He began walking back out the door, carrying you like a damsel in distress. Your giggling, mixed with the employee’s confused protesting was the only noise heard through the room.

Eddie barreled down the aisle of the chapel. He laughed with misplaced enthusiasm as you both stumbled closer and closer toward the pastor waiting at the end of the aisle.

You couldn’t bear to remember anything beyond that. A full-body shiver came over you as you snapped out of the memory of the night before. You couldn’t hear anything for a moment over the pounding of your heart in your ears. Your mind couldn’t wrap around Eddie and you sharing a moment so intimate and unfortunately so permanent.

“Oh, right… that’s what happened,” His voice pulled your attention back to him.

As he laid his eyes upon the dress, it repeated the events to him in his mind. He was tempted to brag about how steady he kept you in his arms even while he wasted, but he bit his tongue, knowing you’d probably snap at him again.

As the realization hit Eddie, he felt overwhelmed with emotion. Part of him couldn’t believe that the both of him had gotten married so recklessly, but another part felt a strange fluttering in his chest.

“Yeah, how romantic,” You groaned, limping to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face.

Eddie followed after you, leaning against the bathroom door frame.

“You um- You’re not thinking of breaking all this off right?” he asked timidly.

As if this morning couldn’t get any more insane, of course, he had to ask you that. You shot a glare in the mirror reflection for a moment before whipping around with your arms folded.

“Munson… What the hell are you saying?” Although the message was harsh, your tone had no bite to it. You sounded much more confused than upset at this moment. You didn’t want to believe that he was genuinely considering remaining married to you.

“Hear me out,” He set his hands out, gesturing you to stop whatever angry rant you wished to go on. “Maybe this doesn’t have to be the worst thing that could happen to us,”

“What do you mean?”

“I doubt that we weren’t spotted in that chapel. If we’re lucky we have until the afternoon before we see headlines about Corroded Coffin’s main guitarist and his manager getting hitched in Vegas,” He scrunched his nose and shook a hand through his tangled hair.

There goes your deer-in-headlights look again. “God, I really am an idiot! How did I not think of that? I-”

Eddie pressed a finger to your lips, promptly shutting you up. “Yeah, yeah, you’re the tortured manager of our band, we get it. But hey, just stay with me,” He dismissed your spiral before it could even happen. He swept you up similar to how he did last night, but this time to sit you down on the bathroom counter.

“What if we just stayed married for a little while?” He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Think about it. All that press Corroded Coffin would get over something like this. We’d be a household name! It’s kind of genius,” With his hands caging you into your spot on the counter, he smiled proudly at you as he explained what he had in mind.

He could see your mind racing behind your eyes, clearly contemplating the logistics of getting media attention out of this. He leaned closer to you, keeping you to the counter. He placed his hands on either side of your thighs.

“I know you hate the attention,” He continued softly, looking at you with puppy dog eyes. “But this is a good idea. We have to capitalize on our screw-up... For the band of course.”

A choked exhale escaped you before you set your head in your hands for a moment. Your mind drew up a montage of all the disapproving faces you’d have to explain this to, all the uncomfortable interviews you’d have to speak in, and all the death threats made by Corroded Coffin’s fans to you.

“Do I really have a choice in all this?” You mumbled through the spaces in between your fingers.

Eddie flashed a wry smile. “I guess not,” he teasingly held up his ring finger as if he was flipping you off. “Bottom line, when we walk out of this hotel, we are officially husband and wife. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this to make the rest of the tour miserable. So you can either mope around the bus for the next two months and have more rumors spread in your absence, or you can hold your head up high and make a spectacle of our marriage for the sake of the band,”

Eddie’s grin grew wider as he saw the exhaustion creeping onto your face. He knew exactly how much you hated the attention, but he also knew that you cared just as much about the success of Corroded Coffin. He leaned closer to you, his body now almost completely pressed against yours.

“I don’t like either of those options, just throw me off the balcony and be done with it,” You dramatically huffed and smacked your head on his shoulder. He snorted at your reaction.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” he taunted, his fingers gripping your thighs in a tight but affectionate grip. “Where’s that infamous strength of yours, huh? What happened to the badass manager that keeps us in line?”

You gave him the weakest glare you had yet. He was right about one thing: you cared about Corroded Coffin more than anything else. It was time to step up and do what you had to for them, for Eddie.

“Alright!” You blurted out. “Fine, let’s do this, but as soon as tour is over, we get a quiet divorce and we move on like nothing ever happened,”

“Yeah, totally, for sure,” Eddie nodded his head half-convincingly, then lightly smacked your leg with approval. He was beaming, looking forward to all the fun he was about to have with you. “Alright, get all dolled up for brunch, I’m starving. It’s time for your grand debut, Mrs. Munson,”

“Hey, I never agreed on changing my name!” you whined, pushing Eddie off of you to get down from the counter.

Eddie chuckled as you suddenly stood up from the counter.

“Well get used to it, because I’m going to keep calling you that,” he teased. “You’re officially stuck with me now, Mrs. Munson,”

[just-jordie-things]

just like my crush - fushiguro megumi

word count: 3.8k warnings: swearing, reader is doped up from anesthesia summary: confessing that you have a crush on someone really isn't that hard. all it takes is anesthesia clouding your judgment. a/n: brought to you by my lovely nanami flowershop anon's beautiful brain !!!

___

Injuries in this line work wasn’t unusual.  Someone was always occupying Shoko’s little infirmary and keeping her busy.  Nasty gashes, sprained wrists, broken bones- it was practically a part of the job description.  No, it wasn’t pretty, but at least with a master of the Reverse Cursed Technique on site, the mishaps that came with assignments never lasted too long.

Because of this expectation, Megumi had never been put in a position where he worried over someone’s well being after an exorcism gone awry.  He’d had life threatening wounds get healed more times than he could count on both hands, hell, Yuji lost a hand and got that back! 

So why did he feel sick to his stomach when she took a bad hit during an assignment? Why did his throat close up too tight for him to explain the situation to the manager on the assignment? Or to Ieiri when he got her back to campus? Why was there a cold sweat racing down his spine, but his insides felt like they were on fire? 

Despite all of Ieiri’s insisting that (y/n) was fine, that she’d gotten here just in time, that she was healed and would wake up at any time- likely without the memory of what happened- and that she would still be fine then… Megumi didn’t tear himself out of that room in the infirmary even once.  

When she does wake up- two days and a couple hours later- he doesn’t look too good.  He’d pale and he’s been bouncing his leg for so long it’s gone numb, but the relief that washes over him brings some color back to his face.

Her eyelashes flicker about a few times before she finally opens her eyes, but his attention is drawn to the way her hand twitches above the stark white sheets.

“Hey,” He murmurs, as quiet as he can stand to speak.  He didn’t want to startle her, and he thinks that if she were to flinch back at him, he’d flinch too.  “(y/n), you awake?” He asks when she doesn’t say anything right away.

Then her eyes finally find him, and with a hazy gloss over her blown pupils, she smiles.  It’s slow, and so, so impaired, but it’s pretty nonetheless.

“Oh, wow,” 

Her voice is strained, likely from not having been used for a couple days, but the light and breezy way in which she speaks is enough for him to know that her anesthetics haven’t worn off.  The stoner-like smile also tipped him off pretty well, but Megumi’s sure now.

“You know who you look like?” 

It’s not the question Megumi’s expecting, and his confusion is obvious in the way a tiny knot forms between his brows.  He would’ve thought  ‘where am I?’ or ‘what happened?’ would be in order, but maybe the anesthesia was more on top of her than he would’ve thought, so he hums in response and waits for her explanation.  Surely she’ll have something silly to say, it wouldn’t be the first time she called him a sea urchin for his messy hair.

“You look jus’ like my crush” (y/n) half-slurs back.  She tilted her head in his direction, trying to get a better look at him from where she was laying, but the rest of her body felt too heavy to move.

Megumi’s eyes widen, and before he can stop himself a small laugh comes out.  Confusion, humor, and disbelief blend into the overwhelming relief in knowing that Ieiri hadn’t been lying to him to protect his feelings.  (y/n) would be completely fine.

Maybe a little bit high, but still, completely fine.

Her shoulders shake in the slightest when she laughs in response to his own little chuckle, delighted purely by his reaction.

“I’m serious,” She mumbles out, eyes falling heavy for a minute the longer she stares at him.  “And it’s a compliment too, b’cause he’s, like, really cute”  “I didn’t know you were crushing on anyone” Megumi hums, leaning his elbows against the edge of her cot so that he could prop his chin in his hands.  Amusement flickers in his eyes when her expression noticeably shifts.  Her eyes widen and her lips part but no words come out.  Was he actually making her nervous? Who the hell did he look like in her eyes right now that had her reacting like this? 

Megumi can’t recall a time she’d ever talked to him about crushing on anyone.  Nothing of the sort, not even a hint.  And he’d definitely never seen the ruthless sorcerer appear so… 

Well, she looked like a girl with a crush.  A blush was forming on her cheeks the longer he held eye contact with her, and the way the corners of her mouth twitched and betrayed her as she tried to bite back a smile.

“Y-yeah, duh,” She stammers back at him with a sassy roll of her eyes.  Megumi’s quick to push his hand against his mouth to stifle his laughter.  “The point of a crush is it’s secret” 

“So you’re not gonna tell me then?” He asks curiously.

She probably didn’t know it, but (y/l/n) (y/n) was the only person in the world that got to see the playful side of him.  It was hard not to act on his intrigue, though.  It was too entertaining to see her in this state… and the rapid beating of his heart in his ribcage made him ache to know more.

But she shakes her head against her pillow, sealing her lips shut to further prove her point.  She’s still smiling, though, and she hasn’t torn her eyes off of his since she woke up.

“How’re you feeling, anyways?” Megumi decides to steer the topic back to one of more importance.  “Anything hurt? Can I get you anything-?” 

“Even your eyes are pretty like his,” She interrupts him, and then sighs as though this was a large inconvenience for her.  “You must be related,” She says matter-of-factly.

He hopes that when the drugs wear off she doesn’t remember this moment, because Megumi knows his face is as red as a tomato with how fiery his skin feels.  A nervous laugh bubbles out of him before he could choke it down, and her whole face lights up in response.

“You must not get compliments often, huh?” She teases in a slow drawl.

“I… I guess not,” He says, followed by more nervous laughter that happens against his will.  “But thank you, (y/n).  That’s very… kind” 

He’s painfully awkward, and he knows that as soon as he leaves this room he’s going to overthink this entire interaction, but for now he tries to bask in the warmth that sparks from knowing she thinks he has pretty eyes.  Or at least, she does when she’s so doped up she can’t quite focus on a conversation.

But at least she's obviously not in any pain.  Megumi’s worries begin to melt away, but that might just be the work of her flattery.

“You’re welcome,” She grins back at him, but she just as soon furrows her brows and regards him curiously.  Even after staring at him so shamelessly, she suddenly doesn’t appear to recognize him one bit.  “I thought Megumi only had a sister, though”

It comes out in a mumble, and he’s sure that she’s talking to herself in her deluded state, but the rush of heat that floods his chest and shoots up his neck is nearly too much to bear.

She actually didn’t recognize him this whole time? Was she talking about him this whole time? Was the flattery not a drug-induced misconception and actually-?

Before he can settle on a question to ask her to clear his confusion, she’s settling back into her pillow and her eyes are falling shut.  Megumi opens his mouth, ready to force out the first thing that comes to mind, but she drifts off almost immediately.  Her chest rising and falling in slow, steady movements.

It felt like a cruel prank.

Now he was left sitting and gaping at her unconscious form.  His heart is racing and his leg is bouncing again, and Megumi thinks he might be even more anxious for her to wake up this time.

He decides then and there that when she does, and when she’s of sound mind again, he’ll ask her about it.  Because if she really did have a crush on him he’d have to finally get over his ridiculous anxiety and make a move. ___

A week after making a full recovery, (y/n) comes to the decision that if she wants Megumi to talk to her, she’ll just have to corner him.

She’s not sure why he hasn’t been talking to her- hence her cornering plan- but ever since her last assignment had gone awry and she’d been put on a minor hold, he’d been dodging her.  And sure, Megumi wasn’t always the most sociable guy, but he was a friend and even if he didn’t feel like hanging out, he wouldn’t completely ghost her like this.

Of course she’d tried asking Yuji and Nobara about it, but they were a dead end.  They’d been just as surprised as she was that he’d been avoiding her.

I thought you were best friends, Yuji had frowned at the idea of a falling out between his two friends that he cared about so much.

Maybe he realized you have a crush on him and pussied out, Nobara had cackled at the scenario, not feeling an ounce of worry that this weird bump wouldn’t get resolved.

Needless to say, (y/n) was quick to steer her investigation far away from them, before the blabbermouths could do what they do best and blab around the wrong people.

She corners him while doing laundry, of all things.

“Hey,” 

And when she walks into the room while he’s tossing his freshly washed laundry into the dryer, Megumi hits his head on the lid when he swivels around in shock to see her there.

“Oh god, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine- it’s fine,” He answers all too quickly, before she’s even finished her question.  “I’m almost done with the washing machine” 

(y/n) can’t help but chuckle a little bit, seeing as she wasn’t currently holding a basket of laundry, but Megumi’s already back to filling up the dryer.  It appears every piece of clothing he tosses in is monochrome- mostly black, but a few gray pieces here and there.  This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it is a bit funny.

“I actually was looking for you,” She tells him, leaning against the doorframe.  It’s half casual, and half to block his only escape.  Megumi responds with a small hum, still putting all of his focus on moving the laundry.  “Are you upset with me?” 

The question has him swiveling again, finally giving her his undivided attention.  It’s a bit unnerving, the way he straightens up and goes rigid as he stares back at her in bewilderment.  She wants to be annoyed that he has the audacity to look confused when he was the one that had been avoiding her for days, but she gives him the benefit of the doubt 

“Upset? No.  No of course not” He answers, and his words are so certain, that she believes him straight away.  But the small bit of truth doesn’t provide much relief.

“Then how come you’ve been dodging me?” She asks, unable to help her frown.  What other reason could there be? If he’s not mad at something, why would act so flaky?

“I haven’t been dodging you” 

“That’s a lie” 

“It’s not?” 

“It is,” She crosses her arms defensively.  “You haven’t been answering your phone and you always have some excuse to not talk to me.  Did I do something?” 

“Not really” 

He winces as soon as the answer leaves his mouth.  It wasn’t like him to get so careless- but it also wasn’t like him to avoid her.  Really, he was falling apart at the seams and trying quite desperately to appear as though everything was normal.  

It wasn’t working.  (y/n) could see the panic in his eyes as clear as day.  Not to mention the way his lips twitched like he was holding back further explanation.  She narrows her eyes as she studies him carefully.

“Not really?” She repeats his lame answer.  “So sort of? So I did do something?” 

Megumi’s certain that she chose to stand in the doorway so he couldn’t make an easy escape.  Would it be immature to summon the rabbits? 

“(y/n) it’s- it’s fine.  It’s me, alright?” He’s not very convincing.

“So you did something?” Another question he doesn’t want to answer.

“No- just- not really- it was just-” He stammers, and then groans, tilting his head back and glaring at the fluorescent light hanging over him.  

He recalls the way he’d sworn to himself that he’d talk to her about her little anesthesia-induced confession, and kicks himself now for cowering out of it.  Megumi never really ran away from a challenge, even when he knew he was in over his head.  But something about standing before her now and explaining how she’d inadvertently confessed to having a crush on him makes his heart beat out of sync and his throat go dry.

“Look I just don’t want things to be weird between us,” (y/n) sighs, giving up on interrogating him so heavily.  “So just… whatever it is, can we talk about it?” 

And he swoons, actually swoons.  His knees physically feel weak and he has to resist the urge to let all of his muscles relax and sink towards the ground.  It was so sweet, so considerate of her to want to mend the nonexistent conflict between them.  Megumi didn’t think it was possible to like her more than he already did, but she had a knack for proving him wrong.

So with an anxious breath, he thinks screw it and just lets it out.

“Do you remember waking up and talking to me in the infirmary?”

Her brows furrow, giving him her answer, and then her features soften with realization.

“You visited me in the infirmary?” She asks, almost in a whisper.  No, she didn’t remember, and no one had told her she’d had any visitors during her short stay there.

Megumi nods his head.

“Yeah, I… I stayed till you woke up.  And you did, for a couple minutes anyways, but you were pretty out of it.  Anesthesia and all” He explains.

She tries to rack her memory for any hazy glimpse of talking to Megumi in Shoko’s clinic, but nothing comes to mind.  She feels a little guilty now, having forgotten so easily.

“Okay…” She trails off, waiting for the rest of his explanation.  “So… something happened then?” 

Megumi hesitates, his expression twisted in mild displeasure, like he just stubbed his toe or has to deliver an oral presentation.  (y/n) tries to be patient, she really does, but the longer he draws this out the larger the pit in her stomach grows.

“Yeah,” The word comes out through a heavy breath, and he pauses for just a moment longer before admitting the last detail.  “You… you sort of confessed that you have a crush on me” 

“Oh,” 

Relief settles into her bones, and then a spike of panic.

“Oh” 

Her eyes are widening and her arms wrap tighter around herself, fingers digging into the sides of her ribs as if she could possibly ground herself with her anxiety reaching an all time high.

For fuck’s sake, she wasn’t this anxious when that Grade One tried to take a massive bite out of her body.

“You were really out of it, though,” Megumi says quickly.  “You were just… high.  You probably just couldn’t see or think straight-” 

“No, I wasn’t just high,” She cuts him off with surprising calmness in her voice, and a short shake of her head.  “I do.  Have a crush on you, I mean.  I didn’t… obviously I didn’t intend to tell you that, but, I guess high-me can’t keep a secret, so…” 

She trails off with a bashful giggle that would have embarrassed her if she wasn’t already filled to the brim with embarrassment.  Megumi’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything.  The corner of his mouth twitches a few times too, and still, he’s standing in bewildered silence before her.

It’s not that he didn’t believe her, he was eighty-five percent sure that she’d meant what she said while she was still under the influence of the anesthetics, but that fifteen percent of uncertainty was his paranoia getting the best of him.  But now she was of sound mind, dead sober, and dead serious as she stared at him and awaited some sort of reaction.

No real reaction came, unless you counted the drumming of his fingers against his side, slow at first, but picking up speed the longer they both stood there and waited for the other to say something.

Megumi knows he should say something, and probably something along the lines of; well that’s a relief because I’m actually crushing on you so hard I don’t know what to do with myself… but unfortunately, he really didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Do I even want to know how badly I embarrassed myself?” (y/n) breaks the silence with a nervous but curious smile.

“You said I looked just like your crush,” He explained, heat flooding to his face as he recalled the other things she said.  “It was actually the first thing you said when you woke up,” 

She has to laugh at that a little, to which Megumi feels some of the tension in his shoulders disappear.  The tension in the room also starts to thin out, much to his relief.

“Then you went on about how cute your crush was.  And when I tried to ask how you were feeling, after, you know, surgery and all that, you ignored me and said…” He rubs the back of his neck, growing shy as he realized he was rambling and the subject matter already had his heart racing.

“Oh god… what?” (y/n) gasps, eyes widening, hoping she didn’t let out some dirty thought that she worked very hard to keep in the back of her mind.

“You said I had pretty eyes, and then you sorta let it slip that I was your crush, so I guess you didn’t realize you were talking to me the whole time… and then you passed back out” 

She’s laughing again, but this time she covers her face with her hands in a pitiful attempt to hide her blush until it goes away.  A small groan dies at the back of her throat.  The second hand embarrassment from her past-inebriated-self was just too much.

After all this time she's done so well at keeping her feelings under wraps, of never letting it be known with a slip of tongue or lingering touch, only to tell him so brazenly while in a hospital cot… it was ridiculous.

“God… I’m so sorry, that’s… wow, that’s probably the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done” She starts off looking at him, but ends up muttering to herself and looks away, still overwhelmed by the mortification of it all.

A small smile graces Megumi’s face, and in a moment of being true to his word, he musters up the courage to speak up before she could walk away and pretend this didn’t happen.

“It was more cute than humiliating,” He tells her, and she peeks back up at him in soft surprise.  “Maybe just a little embarrassing, just a little… but… still cute” His voice gets softer the longer she looks at him and he starts to lose the confidence he started out so strong with, but he still holds her gaze, hoping that she’ll know he means it.

“Cute?” She repeats in quiet disbelief.  Megumi nods back at her with absolute certainty and sincerity.

He gives into another bout of a confidence boost and takes a few steps forward, closing some of the space between them.  (y/n) practically scrambles to straighten up away from the doorframe, her shoulders squaring and her eyes widening as she watches him move towards her.

“And for what it’s worth, I think you have pretty eyes, too,” 

It’s quieter than he intends, but his words are effective in replacing the nervous tension in the room with something much more palpable.  The electricity buzzing between them was so thick they were practically choking on it.

(y/n) smiles, slow at first, processing the sudden compliment, and then all once.  Every inch of her skin warmed from the sweet words, and she’s not sure she’s ever felt flattery like this before.  She’s never taken a compliment so to heart, never known that she was going to go to sleep that night playing it over and over in her head.

Megumi’s eyes flicker between hers for a moment, admiring the way she lights up with delight before him, and then he opens his mouth again.

“They look just like my crush’s” 

Her brows furrow and despite that feeling of embarrassment spiking in her chest again, the corner of her lips curl into a smirk that gives into a smile almost immediately after.  Megumi’s clearly amused by this reaction, laughing to himself like he was so proud of his own tease.

“That’s so corny” She mutters, before stepping away from the doorway and closing the last bit of distance between them.

Despite his nerves he anticipates her movements, large hands finding purchase on her hips and practically yanking her the rest of the way that it takes to have her body against his.  There’s no extra time for words before their lips crash fast.  The kiss is surprisingly tender for how rushed their movements were, but it had them both melting into the other right away.

Her hands are gentle as they smooth over his shoulders before wrapping lightly at the nape of his neck.  Her fingers poke into the dark strands of hair that hang there, and when she curls a few locks between her index and middle finger, he presses his lips against hers with a little more fervor.

Even once they part from one another, neither one goes very far.  Gasping for air with lips still brushing each other’s, noses bumping, and hands still holding on tight all in the name of not putting an inch of distance between them.

Still no words are exchanged as they share a look before both glancing at the open doorway behind them.  It doesn’t take verbal communication for Megumi to reach behind her to grab the door by the handle and swing it shut.  The only sound that fills the room is the white noise buzzing from the dryer cycle, and the soft giggle that’s immediately suppressed by warm, inviting lips pressing against hers again.

___

a/n: thank u again my amazing nanami flowershop anon for this really fun idea. also i just love playful megumi. he's so cute n shy &lt;3

xoxo ~ jordie

[wlwprker]

just a weekend - s.r. x fem! reader

a/n: fake dating my beloved, b99 inspired this whole concept i can’t lie😭 minimal proofreading!! i’m still new to writing for spencer so i apologize if it’s not great !! italics indicate flashback!! this was so self-indulgent omg this was longer than i expected (likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!!)

summary: spencer reid had very little “game” as it is but he has had enough of his family asking when he’s bringing someone home and so he blurts out that he has someone… a complete and utter lie. it’s just one weekend, right...?

warnings: swearing, pining, fake dating, suggestive comment, reader has insecurities

w/c: 1,829

spencer walked into the bullpen with his head down looking into the contents of his coffee cup as he walked to his desk in silence.

“good morning!” you greeted him with a big smile, but your smile changed into a look of confusion and worry when he didn’t even glance your way. you sighed and got up from your desk and stood next to his chair.

“spill right now”

spencer knew you would spend hours annoying him until he said something, so he caved.

“my family kept nagging me about a girlfriend again and so i told them that i have one and now they want me to bring her to my cousin’s party this weekend”

you tried so hard not to laugh because oh he got himself into quite the mess.

“oh spencer, that is rough but that does not explain why you didn’t even greet me this morning”, you looked at him with an accusatory glance and his stomach dropped.

“ha-ha funny thing...”

he didn’t even have to say it, you knew and the whole thing made sense. he was awkward because he’d have to ask you to be his fake date for a weekend. that’s why he didn't look at you or speak to you.

“funny joke, spence”

spencer did not even show a sign of joking and you groaned. you weren’t a party person to begin with but attending a party as spencer’s plus one where you had to meet his family as his girlfriend instead of his best friend?

what could possibly go wrong?

“you owe me, i mean it!”

he agreed and thanked you a million times. you ruffled his hair and sent garcia a text and suddenly you were in her office telling her all about the situation.

“babe, don’t you like... adore him?”

you ran your hands through your hair in frustration and that was the moment jj walked in and looked between the two of you with confusion written all over her face. garcia caught her up to speed and jj placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

this is going to be a long damn weekend.

the dreaded weekend came much too quickly for your liking. you invited all the girls over to help you get ready and to try and ease your nerves.

after sifting through multiple outfit combinations, you finally found the perfect fit and once your makeup was done, everyone cheered and oohed and awed at you.

“spencer is going to trip over himself when he sees you”, garcia exclaimed as she brushed a piece of hair out of your face. you rolled your eyes playfully at her.

“you know he’s like starstruck by you, right?”, emily added as she helped you pick out some jewelry to match.

“he is not, he is just nice!”

all of your friends looked at like you were crazy. you just couldn’t even entertain the possibility that he saw you more than his friend.

now you have to be his fake girlfriend, no big deal!

“hey, if anything happens or you need an excuse to get away, we are all a call away, okay?” garcia reassured you and you were grateful to have such amazing friends.

the sweet moment was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door and your heart dropped.

you took a deep breath and smiled as you opened the door for spencer.

“hi spence, i’m just going to grab my bag and then we can head out”, you told him as he looked at you as if he’s never seen you before.

jj snorted as she saw spencer staring at you like a lovestruck idiot. garcia swatted her arm to keep her quiet.

“wow. y-you look amazing. i mean you always look amazing but wow. you’re just really pretty, like you always are but i- uh woah”

you laughed his compliments off because you could not let yourself even consider for a second that his words ran deeper than a compliment.

spencer kept sneaking glances at you the whole night and it was making you shy.

you pulled up to the venue and that’s when the nerves kicked in. a million questions raced through your head at a mile a minute.

what if i’m not good enough for him? will they still like me as his girlfriend and not his best friend? what if they don’t approve?

spencer put his hand on your thigh and that stopped any new thoughts from coming in.

“hey, they know you; they love you”

“spencer, they love me as your best friend, but girlfriend is new territory”

“sweetheart, it’s going to be okay, i promise, just one weekend”

sweetheart. the pet name made you feel dizzy, he was just trying to reassure you but hearing that fall from his lips made you wish this was real and he was yours.

but he wasn’t.

you didn’t respond and you both got out of the car, and he intertwined your fingers together and your heart was racing, he definitely had to have heard it.

his hand in yours felt so right, as if he was meant to always hold your hand.

this was going to be difficult.

“spencer, thank you for coming! is this the special girl?”

your heart ached at the term “special girl”. why the fuck did you agree to this?

spencer looked over at you and put his arm around your shoulder.

“happy birthday! yes, she is my girl, brought her to meet the family”, spencer said smiling.

he was killing you little by little.

“hopefully she stays after meeting them”, his cousin joked, and you giggled.

spencer was practically glued to you the whole night which was not a problem but when this was over, you were going to yearn for his touch, and you wouldn’t get to have it.

after a while, you met spencer’s family, and they all adored you and were shouting praise at spencer for picking such a good one. the night went better than you expected but you didn’t want this to be over.

just a weekend.

you barely got through a night.

you and spencer said your goodbyes and headed back to your house and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to kiss him.

i mean you’d have to look like a real couple, right? not like you’ve been hopelessly in love with him for a while and you’ve always wanted to know what it was like to kiss him.

“what are you thinking about, sweetheart?”

sweetheart. he is trying to kill you, like genuinely.

“it’s a secret”

“hmm can’t i know?”

you laughed and didn’t respond as you got ready for bed and started to walk towards the couch, but he grabbed your wrist, sending chills through your entire body.

“stay.”

you had to fight every bone in your body from kissing him right there.

two more days of this. for fucks sake.

you silently got into bed next to him and none of you mentioned how you cuddled closer together in the middle of the night.

the events of tonight’s party were still fresh in your mind as if it just happened, but it was hours ago and you were at home turned on your side, thinking about it.

“this is your girl?”

spencer held you closer as he placed a kiss to your hairline, and everyone awed at the sight.

you and spencer spent the whole night laughing, dancing and talking to everyone.

the night had come to an end and spencer stopped in front of the car and you sent him a curious look.

he didn’t say anything. he placed a kiss on your cheek.

you touched your cheek and still felt his lips there, it was a small action, but it left you feeling lightheaded.

the feeling of spencer so close to you in bed felt so right even though you knew, this would all be over soon, and you’d go back to being… friends. the word sent shivers to your whole body.

how were you supposed to go back to being friends after this?

you want to be relieved the weekend is nearly over, but you can’t. not when you’ve gotten a little glimpse into what being with him was like, you wanted it to last.

spencer was actually losing his mind. he did not know if he could handle having you this close without wanting to kiss you, he’s been hopelessly in love with you since the day you brought him his coffee order simply because you know him.

this whole weekend has made him realize that he wants to be with you and not just for a weekend.

he can’t go back to friends after this, he will actually drive himself to an early grave if he has to. he tries so hard to make the night last as long as he could but even, he can’t control time. he is now faced with the reality that at work, you will just be friends again.

spencer can’t take it. he won’t take it.

“wait!” spencer calls out as you start walking to the car. you stop in your tracks.

“why are you so far behind? your legs are longer than mine!”

he laughed at that but made no effort to walk any faster which made you even more confused.

“are you training for the slow walkers marathon? you might just win”, you shouted as you sent him an unamused glance as you pointed to your heels.

he finally caught up to you, but he stopped you from opening the car door.

“spencer! i want to go home, what are you doing?”

“prolonging the night”, he replied with a big smile on his face.

you raised an eyebrow at him but urged him to elaborate.

he didn’t respond which frustrated you. you sighed dramatically and looked at him.

“now you don’t respond? spencerrr, come on!”

“can i kiss you?”

your eyes widened comically like a cartoon character because there was no way this was real life.

“the night is over, spencer, we don’t have to pretend anymore”

“i know but i want to kiss you”

you didn’t know what to say but your eyes spoke all he needed to know.

he cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss and it was as if the world had stopped for you and him. it was only you and spencer in the middle of a dimly lit street, and it was all you've ever wanted.

you pulled away hesitantly and he smiled at you. neither of you said a word but no words needed to be said. you knew this was bound to happen.

you don’t have to pretend anymore.

“what about the whole dating coworkers thing?”, you teased as you pulled on his tie.

“quiet now”

“make me”

“i don’t think that’s a challenge you’ll win”

you hit his shoulder and he raised his hands in mock defense.

[dilfismz]

gihun fluff and make out sessions please 🙏 i love him ugh

Stargazing

Pairing: Gi-hun x reader

Summary: Gi-hun takes you out on a surprise date, ready to reveal his feelings. Although you've only been together a few months he can't deny the strong feelings he has towards you.

A/N: No timeline is specified, it's ambiguous.

Life with Seong Gi-hun was like a series of unexpected detours—you never knew where he’d take you next, but it was always worth the ride.

You met him on a day when everything had fallen apart. Your job closed unexpectedly. You’d been sitting on a bench in the park, staring blankly at the papers that had to be signed, when a stranger sat beside you.

“Uh, do you want some hotteok?”

You’d blinked at him, startled.

He held up a bag of steaming pancakes, his awkward grin almost as warm as the food itself. “It’s, uh… really good. And you look like you could use something good right now.”

      *. ──── ❍  Δ □ ────*.

That day had changed everything. Seong Gi-hun wasn’t the kind of person you expected to fall for, but his honesty and endless optimism were magnetic. Over the months that followed, he’d become your rock, and somehow, you’d become his.

Tonight, he’d promised you something special. You didn’t know what, but you trusted him enough to go along for the ride.

“Okay, are you ready?” he asked as you walked out of your apartment building, his excitement palpable.

“That depends,” you teased. “What are you planning, exactly?”

He grinned, pulling you toward his car parked at the curb. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

You got in, watching as he fumbled with a map he’d printed out.

“Gi-hun,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Are we going somewhere that’s not on GPS?”

“Exactly!” he said proudly. “It’s a secret spot. You’re going to love it.”

The drive was longer than you expected, the city lights giving way to quieter suburbs and eventually open countryside. Gi-hun filled the silence with stories about his childhood and terrible attempts at singing along to the radio.

“Okay, close your eyes,” he said as the car slowed to a stop.

“Close my eyes?” you asked skeptically.

“Trust me,” he said, laughing. “I promise it’s worth it.”

You complied, feeling the car come to a full stop before he helped you out. His hands were warm on yours as he guided you a few steps forward.

“Alright,” he said, his voice soft. “Open your eyes.”

When you did, your breath caught.

Before you was a wide, open field dotted with wildflowers, the sky above glittering with stars. In the middle of the field was a small picnic setup—blankets, pillows, and a basket lit by the soft glow of string lights wrapped around a nearby tree.

“Gi-hun,” you said, turning to him in awe. “This is beautiful.”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking shy. “I wanted to do something special. I know things have been… tough lately, so I thought we could use a night like this.”

Your heart swelled as you took his hand. “This is perfect.”

The two of you settled on the blanket, the night air cool but not uncomfortable. Gi-hun opened the picnic basket to reveal an assortment of snacks, including the hotteok he always insisted on bringing.

“You know,” you said, laughing as you bit into one. “I think you’re singlehandedly keeping the hotteok business alive.”

“And I’m not even sorry,” he replied, grinning.

The night passed in a haze of laughter and easy conversation. You shared memories of your favorite childhood adventures, swapped embarrassing stories, and debated the best constellations in the sky.

At one point, Gi-hun lay back on the blanket, pulling you down beside him.

“See that one?” he asked, pointing to a cluster of stars. “That’s Cassiopeia. She’s the queen.”

“Didn’t she get punished for being too vain?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, queens make mistakes too,” he said with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered. “I guess that makes you the court jester.”

“Wow,” he said, feigning offense. “And here I thought I was your king.”

“Not with those dad jokes,” you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He chuckled, his hand finding yours. The silence that followed was comfortable, the two of you simply soaking in the moment.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice quieter. “I need to tell you something.”

You turned to him, your brow furrowing. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I know I joke around a lot, and maybe I don’t always say things the way I should, but… you’re the best thing that’s happened to me. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m really, really glad you’re here.”

Your chest tightened, his words hitting you harder than you expected.

“Gi-hun,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek.

He turned to you, his gaze meeting yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tentative but deeply heartfelt.

You responded without hesitation, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as the kiss deepened. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—just a slow, deliberate exchange that left you both breathless.

You move to straddle him, knees on each of his sides. Gi-hun blushes in surprise and tangles his hands in your hair, earnestly pushing you back towards him, connecting your mouths. The fingers on your right hand pull on the bottom of his shirt, while your left shoots up to stroke his curly hair. 

He groans into the kiss, hands now moving to your sides, squeezing slightly. When you let out a small whine Gi-hun cracks a smile and you feel his lips contracting during the movement, causing you to smile as well. 

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured.

“So are you,” you replied, your fingers still curled in his shirt.

He kissed you again, this time shorter but no less meaningful, before pulling you into his arms. The two of you lay there beneath the stars, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

As the night wore on, you drifted into a peaceful silence, the occasional sound of crickets filling the air. You traced patterns on Gi-hun’s chest with your fingers, a contented smile on your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you said softly.

He pressed a kiss to your hair. “Thank you for everything.”

And as you lay there in the middle of the quiet field, you realized that with Seong Gi-hun, even the simplest moments could feel like magic.

[cherieberri]

𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 ۶ৎ a levi ackerman drabble series

“Y/n, she’s not letting go.”

Levi’s voice was calm, but you could hear the strain beneath it as he stood in the living room, holding your daughter. Or rather, attempting to pry her tiny hands off your leg. She was like a barnacle, clutching your pants with all the strength a two-year-old could possibly muster.

“I know, Levi,” you sighed, tossing yet another pack of baby wipes into the already bulging baby bag. “She’s in one of her moods.”

“Mood?” Levi deadpanned, glaring down at the toddler who was now clinging to your leg like her life depended on it. “She’s acting like she’s being sent to war, not daycare.”

You crouched down, brushing a strand of hair from your daughter’s tear-streaked face. Her big, watery eyes looked up at you, and your heart softened. “Cherie, it’s just for a few hours. Mommy and Daddy will come pick you up, I promise.”

“Nooo!” she wailed, tightening her grip. “I stay with Mommy!”

You glanced at Levi, who stood there with his arms crossed, clearly waiting for you to handle it. “A little help?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He scoffed. “I tried. She screamed in my ear like I was some kind of monster.”

“She gets it from you, you know,” you muttered, hoisting her up into your arms. Your daughter immediately buried her face in your shoulder, her tiny hands clutching the back of your shirt.

Levi frowned. “She does not. I don’t cling.”

“No, but you sulk,” you teased, slinging the baby bag over your other shoulder. “Same energy.”

He rolled his eyes but stepped forward to take the bag from you. “Give me that. You’re carrying her.”

“Obviously,” you said, adjusting your daughter on your hip as she sniffled into your neck. “She’s not letting me go anytime soon.”

Levi sighed, opening the door for you. “This is why we should’ve left ten minutes ago.”

“Wow, thanks for the groundbreaking advice, Levi,” you shot back as you stepped outside. “I’ll be sure to tell time to stop for us next time.”

He gave you a flat look but didn’t respond, instead walking ahead to load the baby bag into the car. You followed, murmuring softly to your daughter in an attempt to soothe her. She was calming down, but her little arms were still locked firmly around your neck.

“Alright, car seat time,” Levi said, turning to take her from you.

The second she saw his hands reaching for her, the waterworks started again. “Nooo! Mommy!”

Levi sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “Y/n, she’s doing this on purpose.”

“She’s two, Levi. It’s not a master plan,” you said, handing her over despite her protests. “She just loves me more.”

Levi shot you a look as your daughter wailed and flailed in his arms. “You think this is funny?”

“A little,” you admitted, biting back a smile. “But you’re doing great, Daddy.”

He muttered something under his breath that sounded a bit too much like “brat” before maneuvering your squirming daughter into the car seat. After some strategic maneuvering and a few soothing words from you, she was finally buckled in, though her pout could rival Levi’s.

As you slid into the passenger seat, you glanced at Levi, who was gripping the steering wheel like it had personally offended him. “She’ll be fine, you know. It’s just daycare.”

“I know,” he muttered, backing out of the driveway. “But she’s got your stubbornness.”

You smirked. “And your attitude.”

Levi glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching. “Wow. Great combination.”

You reached over to squeeze his hand. “It’s perfect.”

From the backseat, your daughter piped up with a sniffly, “Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” you said, turning to look at her.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered, her big eyes welling up again.

Levi sighed, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Operation daycare might take longer than expected.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Levi muttered, but there was a soft fondness in his voice as he glanced at the rearview mirror, catching his daughter’s teary gaze.

You leaned back in your seat, already preparing yourself for round two.

post-read notes; I wanna make this a series , but im not sure if anyone will read it lowk so tell me if you guys want me too! also im open to requests..hahah!! ur soooo shy ahahah. check out my masterlist <3 part two

congrats you read 691 words!

[rhiannonsknife]

That one scene where Rhiannon visits Craig at work, but it’s Reader…💭💭

(Also, could I be 🪩?)

— summary: rhiannon visits you at work…

— warnings: nsfw content. mdni. face slapping. fem!reader. r is craig’s coworker.

the loud creak of the door catches you off guard, sharp and unexpected in the quiet hum of an otherwise severely uneventful afternoon. you glance up, expecting to see a courier or maybe someone from the team. instead, it’s her.

rhiannon lewis stands in the doorway, one hand holding the strap of her purse, her expression unreadable. for a moment, you’re too caught up in the surprise of her presence to speak. “you must be here to see craig,” you finally manage, tilting your head as you wipe your hands on the fabric of your jeans. it’s a guess. a safe one, given the circumstances. ever since tommy passed, he had stepped into the role of your unofficial boss, handling everything with a precision that bordered on self-importance. technically, the company wasn’t even his yet, but everyone had adjusted to treating him as if it already was.

and, besides, you have seen the two of them together.

you had been keeping an eye on the former boss’s daughter for much longer than you’d care to admit, watching her from afar at every single work event that she happened to attend, but never finding the right words to approach her beyond the occasional polite nod. unprofessional? most likely, and just another reason for you to never make a move on her. craig, however, did not seem to have your decency. watching rhiannon meant watching his prying eyes too, always a little too close for comfort at said company events.

that’s why he’s the first thing that comes to mind, now that she’s in front of you. your lunch break has just started and you feel severely underdressed: rhiannon is in a blouse, a neat pair of shoes, and a skirt whereas you’re in stained jeans and a thin tank top, your flannel stolen by one of your coworkers, who’d been teasingly dangling it in front of your face before rhiannon showed up. oh, the lovely perks of working in a still mostly male-dominated field and having to deal with their endless, stupidly boyish teasing.

“no, actually,” she says. “i was hoping i could speak to you”

your coworker lets out a low whistle beside you, earning himself a playful slap as you use the distraction to your advantage and snatch the flannel from his grip.

“shut up” you hiss, just as rhiannon interrupts, sharper: “now?”

ignoring the teasing comments your colleagues call after you, you get up and quickly stumble after her. she knows her way around the place, of course, and leads you back into what’s soon to be craig’s office. she holds the door for you before pulling it shut, locking it on her way in.

“sit” rhiannon orders, pointing towards the chair in the center of the room. taken aback by the sudden, stern demand, you can’t think of anything but to do as you’re told. you quickly move to sit, pulling your flannel on in the process.

“who said you could put that back on?”

your fingers freeze where they’re working on the buttons and you shoot her a glance of disbelief, not entirely sure if you got any of that right. a pleased look flashes over rhiannon’s features before she moves closer, hips swaying with every step it takes her to reach you. your throat visibly bobs at the sight and the fabric of your flannel slides from between your fingers.

“uhm-“ you try to tear your gaze away. “you said you wanted to- to talk?”

“craig and i broke up” she informs you nonchalantly, not looking much like she cared for him, to begin with.

“that’s-“ great to hear. “i’m sorry”

“no you’re not” rhiannon stops in her tracks and, as if the whole situation isn’t absurd enough already, reaches for the hem of her skirt.

“wow, uh-“ this time you do look away, just to keep yourself sane. from the corner of your eye, you still see her: pushing down her tights, then her panties too, before stroking her skirt back into place, leaving herself a little less exposed.

“you’re not sorry” she repeats again, firmer, then walks around your chair and into your view. once again somewhere where you can’t ignore her, she pouts mockingly. “or are you?”

“n-no” you stammer, eyes tracing over her features.

“right” rhiannon rasps, lifting her skirt enough so that she can slip into your lap, her legs spreading around either side of you. your breath hitches in your throat when you feel the heat that has pooled between her thighs and is now pressing against your crotch.

your gaze is fixated upon the place where she must be soaked until rhiannon grabs your chin and forces you to look up at her.

“i saw the way you look at me,” she tells you, leaving no room for questions. the hand she has been holding your chin with becomes gentler as it trails the side of your face. her eyes follow the path it’s taking, up your jaw and then into your hair by the side of your face.

even though you should know better, you scoff. there’s no way you’ll just outright admit it to her. “i wasn’t-“

you instantly fall silent when a sharp, sudden slap to your cheek cuts you off. “ow” you whine, only half complaining. not only do you feel the sting on your cheek, no, it also shoots right between your legs when she strikes you like this.

rhiannon slaps you again, harder, for good measure. your head is moved by the force of it but she instantly makes you look back up at her, not giving you any time to think.

“shut up” she demands. while taking in the shock (and arousal) that is written all over your features, rhiannon drapes an arm over your shoulder and pulls herself closer. the fact that you can see right through the thin fabric of her blouse is not helping your case; the outline of her breasts is clearly visible. she must've ditched her bra before coming here or maybe she never wore one to begin with. rhiannon uses the position of being sat on your lap to her advantage and draws herself in so that her bare center is dragging across your jeans. you can almost instantly feel the way her arousal soaks the fabric, leaving a stain on it.

with your body moving on instinct, you lift your hands, putting one on her hip and the other on her lower back. to your surprise, rhiannon lets you and doesn’t instantly bat them away like a part of you had expected. instead, she starts rocking against you slowly, grinding her cunt against your thigh.

“fucking hell” you mutter under your breath, taking in the way her body moves.

rhiannon won’t let you for long; as soon as you drop your gaze, her palm sneaks up your throat until your chin is between her thumb and index finger so she can push your head up all over again.

“look at me” she instructs. the breathless tone to her voice does not go unnoticed.

“wha- fuck-“ you’re cut off once more when she repositions on top of you, giving herself much easier access to the firm muscle of your thigh and pressing her chest to your face in the process of lifting her weight, then lowering it back onto you. who are you to complain?

once she’s found a good position, rhiannon picks up her pace, panting heavily as she begins to properly ride you. she’s still holding your face in her hands, moving it around mindlessly as she uses your body to get off.

eventually, she tilts you in a way that allows her to lean over you and eagerly press her mouth to yours. whenever you had dared to imagine yourself kissing her, it had been tender, and soft. the way rhiannon kisses now is nothing like that. she’s hardly using her lips at all, instead, she sinks her teeth into the flesh of your lower lip until you can taste blood on your tongue. noticing the metallic flavor in her own mouth, rhiannon pulls back. when she sees the drop of crimson bubbling from your lips, her eyes widen. she only moves her hips faster. at this point, she’s practically bouncing on your thigh and you can feel her stain she's leaving on your clothes underneath the denim.

you kind of wish she had approached you beforehand: there’s no way in hell you would have turned her down. instead, you would’ve been prepared: you could’ve put on the strap, so you had something proper for her to bounce on. for now, your thigh will have to do.

“god” you groan weakly, only able to hold your head up because she’s holding it for you. “you are so-“

“sh!” rhiannon hushes you harshly, pressing her hand over your mouth to shut you up. her thumb runs over the broken skin of your lower lip. it stings, but her reaction makes up for the discomfort: when she realizes that there’s still blood on your mouth, rhiannon lifts her palm back up, and stares down at the place where it has smeared across her hand. instead of the disgust a part of you had expected, rhiannon’s jaw drops and the first actual moan is drawn from her lips. it spurs her on, you realize, when she removes your hands from her waist and starts to go even faster, clearly chasing her height at this rate, a pending oragsm fast approaching. you don’t know where to look anymore, now that she’s moving erratically on top of you, so rhiannon -once again- makes the choice for you, and snaps: “look at me!”

the sight of her hips grinding and breasts bouncing under her blouse with every move is heavenly already, but nothing compares to her face when it’s contorted in pleasure like this: her jaw slack, her brows drawn together, her eyes heavy, yet still watching your every move, ensuring that you keep watching.

“look at me” she repeats, again and again, like a prayer that grows more frantic with every time it is spoken. like this, she keeps going, until it becomes too much for her body to take. until she can't keep up with the pace she has set herself without letting herself fall over the egde. you feel it before you see it: the way she grows tense, the way her legs tighten around you, and her thighs begin to tremble. the way rhiannon throbs, right before she’s cumming on top of you.

then, and only then, her head falls back. she breaks the eye contact and she cries out in pleasure. her fingers tighten around the nape of your neck and, as her orgasm crashes over her, she falls forward, her body spent and exhausted. her moans subside slowly, only after her cunt has stopped twitching where it is pressed against you do the low, raspy whines stop.

rhiannon holds you close like this for a long moment, recovering and catching her breath. you don’t dare to move, don’t even dare to touch her, afraid it’ll make her uncomfortable or pull back altogether. her cheek is smudged against the side of your head whilst she pants into your ear. she does pull back, eventually, and leaves you breathless and turned on beyond words in your seat.

she steps back to the pile of clothes, putting them on one by one: the white panties first, then her tights, before she’s readjusting her skirt. only when all that is done, does she turn back to look at you one last time:

“i’ll call you” she says, hand on the lock and ready to leave.

“wait!” you call out. “wait you don’t- i never gave you my number. you don’t have it”

“yes i do” rhiannon winks, then turns around and abandons you in the office.

[loveshotzz]

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Melt With You

summary: A cancelled movie night, Steve’s first high, and a realization you weren’t expecting.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: my blog is 18+ but this will be pretty safe for work. takes place in 1988 when Elvira Mistress of the Dark came out. post season four but no mention of the upside down, fem!reader, mentions of weed smoking, mentions of being stoned and being high for the first time, mutual pining, cuddling.

A/N: first I want to dedicate this to @bewilderedbunny for pointing out that Steve Harrington is Bob coded which made me fall even more in love with him. You can also thank @dr-aculaaa for putting this brain worm in my head where it spiraled and then she entertained it again and it spiraled some more. p.s. I know her movie macabre was cancelled in 86 but brought back in the 90’s but let’s pretend.

mini series masterlist -> chapter two 🎃

Steve was close. Too close.

His thigh is warm pressed against yours, long legs spread wide taking up most of the room on the couch. The cedar that clings to the threads of his maroon sweater mix with the old spice that he’s almost sprayed too much of, and you’re surprised at how much you actually like it. You blame it on the joint you both shared, and you do it again when his socked foot touches yours from under the blanket draped across your laps and your heart rate kicks up a few beats. This was just Steve, your new friend. Eddie’s new unlikely friend.

The living room in your apartment is dimly lit in a mess of Halloween colored string lights strung up along your walls that Eddie helped you hang up last week on the first official day of fall. They fill the small space in bursts of warm orange pumpkins and tiny purple bats while Elvira Mistress of The Dark glows from the screen of your TV in front of your couch. The couch where Steve is still sitting too close. 

The flicker of your candles dances across your walls and you’re tempted to blow them all out when they keep catching the corner of your eye. Maybe that's why you can't focus on the movie you were so excited about. The movie you raised a big fuss over when the group canceled your weekly night in favor of dates and work. The movie Steve still offered to watch with you saying he had no plans anyway. You really contemplate it when you realize it’s filling your living room with the kind of smell that’s eerily similar to the one embedded in the leather of the BMW you recently started getting more rides in.

When Steve laughs you can smell the berry on his breath from the Red Vines he can’t stop eating, his fingertips glisten from the half finished tub of popcorn on the coffee table. His arm brushes the length of yours when he leans forward to toss the almost empty pack of candy with the rest of the snacks and your stare immediately finds the sliver of tan skin revealed to you when the maroon hem rides up. Stomach flipping when you spot more freckles than the ones that seem to dot the endless expanses of his perpetually sun kissed skin. 

“Wow, she’s funny!” He snickers like he just got a good surprise, leaning back into the cushions. “I didn’t know she was so funny.”

The shift in his weight makes the couch dip, bringing you closer to him. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Why is your chest tight?

Turning your head, you meet his blood shot, heavy lidded gaze and lazy smile that pushes up his pink cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve Harrington so content. So relaxed. It might have something to do with the fact that the joint you both shared was his first.

“Beauty, humor and brains? How could you go wrong?” You grin and it makes the amber in his eyes light up.

“Yeah,” He stares at you for a second longer than he’d have the guts to on a normal day before adding with a sigh “tell me about it.”

There was something different about the way he was looking at you tonight, and it makes your palms sweat. The fly away honey strands that stick out wildly by his ears look softer than normal too. Why do you want to find out? Clearing your throat, he raises his eyebrows up at you in an unphased offering of his attention.

“How are you doing big boy? You coughed quite a bit earlier.” His gaze narrows at the nickname letting you know that Steve was still very much in there.

“I think it’s perfectly normal for someone who hasn’t smoked before to cough when they take an accidental big hit,” he challenges, his sock covered toes finding yours again seemingly on their own, “and to answer your rudely asked question, I’m having a very nice time.”

He tries to keep his face straight but the smile that stretches a mile wide across yours makes him snort, the whites of his perfect teeth blinding in the dark when you wiggle your feet with his. 

“Good, I wouldn’t want Robin to come hunt me down or something.” You giggle leaning back letting your own high relax you into the couch.

Your eyes find Elvira’s generous cleavage on the screen as you try to ignore the feeling of Steve’s hand touching yours when he scratches his thigh and again when he leaves it there. 

“Robin won’t care, it’s Nance you gotta worry about. Worry wart Wheeler.” The nickname rolls off his tongue too easily and makes you both stop, letting the sounds of the towns committee trying to get Elvira out fill the silence before you both fall into a fit of laughter.

It was the kind of laughter that left hot tears streaming down your faces as you leaned even further into each other trying to catch your breath, only for one of you to mutter ‘worry wart wheeler’ when the other would finally be holding it together just to start all over again. By the time it was done, and the last few chuckles subsided, his head had found a new home on your shoulder with his forehead buried in the crook of your neck. 

The smell of his hairspray, and the soft flyaways you’d wondered about tickle your nose with his hair pressed to your cheek. Your socked feet stay tangled together as you try not to think about the size difference and that stupid saying you’d heard in middle school, and you definitely try not to think about how the tip of his pinky bumps into the side of your hand and how you don’t hesitate to hook it with yours.

Cozy. Too Cozy.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you both when your attention is finally brought back to the movie and you wonder if he’s having the same existential crisis as you at how good this feels. Eddie would never let you live it down. You and the hair?! Steve’s amused hum breaks you out of your train of thought and you already know you’ll have to watch this again when you aren’t so…distracted. 

Elvira and Bob are fighting with a monster she accidentally concocted inside of a pot instead of the casserole she was trying to make, and his finger tightens around yours when Bob almost loses the fight before he shakes against you with a chuckle. The longer the movie goes on, the more you start noticing Steve’s similarities to the hunk who stole the Mistress of the Dark’s affections, mumbling an ‘oh my god’.

God dammit, you have a crush on Steve Harrington.

The weed makes the realization floor you more than it probably would on a normal day, because you aren’t blind, anyone could tell you how handsome the former king of Hawkins is. But no one could have warned you about how soft he is, especially right now with sleepy eyes and messy hair that smells like pine and too much hair product. They wouldn’t be able to tell you how big of a dweeb he is, or as Robin affectionately calls him a ‘dingus’. They also don’t know how good of a friend he is to anyone who’s lucky to have him, like refusing to let you spend the night alone and watching a movie he knew you were excited about just because he’d actually listened when you talked about it for weeks, even saving you the first copy in Keith’s possession. 

Too bad you’ve barely retained any of it. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, you feel the slight turn of his head and the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. You try not to give yourself away and keep your gaze locked on the TV where the town has Elvira ready to be burned at the stake, and Bob has to rescue her. You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, the universe just rubbing it in now. 

The side of your body he’s been leaning against starts to go numb, and no matter how much you want to stay exactly like this for whatever is left of the night, the need for circulation becomes too much. Your eyes flick down to his that haven’t haven’t wavered and that slow happy smile spreads across his pink lips when they meet. 

“You doing okay, honey.” The nickname he’s called you sarcastically in arguments sounds different when it’s wrapped in affection like this. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying -,” nerves make your throat close up and you have to clear them out before you finish, “not that I’m not enjoying this. My arm is just kind of going numb.”

Heat rises to your cheeks with embarrassment that you know is misplaced, and his eyes go wide when your words click. His reaction is fast despite the smoked joint that's snuffed out in an empty coke can on the table when he pulls away. The warmth of his body that’s invaded what feels like every inch of yours for the last hour is gone and the tightness in your chest worsens now that you miss it. Stupid crush. Stupid blood flow. 

“Oh my god, sorry, sorry, I was just so comfortable I wasn’t even thinking.” There’s stress in his tone that you haven’t heard all night and you decide that you hate it, he’s always stressed.

“Hey,” Your fingers curl around his bicep, and it flexes under the thick material of his sweater when his eyes meet yours, making you forget how to speak for a moment, “if we lay down on our sides we’ll - we’ll be more comfortable?” 

Your heart beats loud in your ears after you throw out your suggestion fully knowing there’s gotta be less than twenty minutes left of the movie at most. 

“Yeah, we can do that, like, big spoon?” He points to himself, with eyes as red as his cheeks before pointing to you with a small grin, “little spoon?”

You bite your bottom lip to contain the smile that threatens to break across your face, and it only makes his grow. 

“Yeah, just like that Harrington.” You giggle and you don’t miss the kind of glint in his eyes that sparkles because of it.

“Harrington? I thought I was big boy?” He mocks with fake offense, clumsily clambering back onto the couch letting himself fully extend.

His socked feet almost hang off the armrest but the problem is quickly solved when he turns onto his side leaving just enough room for you. One of his big hands patting the cushions in an invitation that makes you both laugh. 

“I thought you hated that nickname?” you tease, butterflies that never existed before erupting when he watches you with soft eyes climb into the spot next to him.

Your head lands in the crook of his elbow, amber and spice enveloping you while one of his long fingers curl around your hip not hesitating to pull you flush against his chest like he missed you. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a wandering mind tonight. 

“I don’t,” he agrees, lips coming up right next to your ear and you wonder if he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, “but I kinda like it when you say it.”

Your body curls into him when you giggle with a throb in your core that makes your thighs press together. Steve chuckles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and his feet find yours at the end of the couch like they did under the blanket. Grabbing the throw off the floor, you drape it back over the two of you when you both finally get situated. 

He feels like he’s everywhere and it’s even harder to concentrate like this, especially when all his fingers are laced with yours now. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on the top of your hand, and you can feel the way his cheeks push up into a grin every time something makes him laugh. You spend the last bit of what’s left of the movie tangled up with him like this, and neither one of you try to move when the credits roll or when the screen goes black. 

The air buzzes with the kind of tension that’s laid dormant until there’s nothing to distract you from it anymore in the new silence. His breath fans hot across your neck while the strokes of his thumb get slower, adding a little more pressure to the muscle there, and feels good enough to have your eyes flutter closed. 

Maybe it’s the darkness of your living room, or the way the tip of his nose starts to trace the shell of your ear but you get the surge of confidence you need to turn around and face him. Steve doesn’t protest at all, letting you move with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if he was waiting for it all along. The small smile on his face tells you he absolutely was.

The new angle has you looking up at him from under your lashes, while his hand that held yours all night covers the middle of your back bringing you to his chest, getting you just as close as before. Your legs slot together while warm lights flicker across his face, they bounce and reflect off the lingering glaze that coats his eyes. Embers burning in a mossy ground. 

It starts to feel like Steve Harrington wants to kiss you, and you’d be lying if your said you didn’t want him too.

“Hi” You whisper, the corners of your lips pulling up because they can’t help it when he looks at you like this.

“Hi” the rich honey of his voice comes out low as he dips his head down to rest on his forearm right above yours.

The tips of your noses are dangerously close to touching, and you swear you hear his breath hitch when your feet find his again. Holding his gaze, you silently dare him to read your mind so you don’t have to say it out loud. You do it first.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You try not to think about how it sounds like something you’d say at the end of a date.

“Me too, I’m uh -“ a puff of hot air fans across your face when he laughs, and you notice his first sign of nerves all night, “I’m glad I didn’t make a fool of myself or anything.” 

“I have to say I’m impressed, you handled your first joint like a pro.” Your hands dare to run up his chest, plucking a piece of lint from the threads of his sweater. You feel the way the muscles in his stomach flex for you, and you have to bite back your smirk.

“I had good company is all.” He hums, the blunt ends of his nails scratching along the dip of your back, before whispering “Is this okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut with contentment you haven’t felt in a while, your whole body melting into his with a mumbled ‘mmmhm’

“Does Elvira have any other movies we could watch sometime?” His question makes your eyes pop open, and he tries to look as nonchalant as possible before adding, “you know just me and you.”

“Not a movie, per say but she has a show I like to watch where she does funny commentary on B rated horror films.” Your two feet trap one of his between them playfully to try and ease the nerves he shouldn’t have, earning you that megawatt smile that’s made half the ladies in Hawkins swoon. 

So, Steve Harrington wasn’t a mind reader.

“That sounds like fun,” He lets out a relieved sigh that you didn’t know he was holding, close enough now for your noses to touch.

“Yeah? You wanna come have fun with me?” You tease, but it comes out sounding like a double entendre that makes your skin heat up, especially when Steve closes his eyes and groans. The nails that scratch your back freeze as he tries regaining some semblance of self control. Licking his lips, he exhales a breath out of his nose before he speaks,

“Abso-“

His answer gets cut off by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the bellowing voice of the only other person who has keys to your apartment.

“I’ve come for boobies and I brought beer! Better late than never am I ri- Whoa, whoa, WHOA, what is going on here?” Eddie’s shock is quickly replaced by amusement, dimples poking deep holes in his cheeks when he grins wildly as he takes in the two of you on the couch.

What was going on here?