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summary after years of making zero moves, you hoped his alter ego would change that
w/c 1.4k
a/n idk why but si keep getting inspo from songs
adam had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. you grew up knowing the tiny and positive prince. you watched him as he struggled. wanting to be more than he was to prove something to his dad, wanting to be something to be proud of. that was all he had ever dreamed of.
over the length of your friendship he had let you see the hard sides of him. the tears and snot that came with being the prince, the nasty thoughts that developed due to the pressure he had felt. all you had ever wanted was to take that pain away. for him to be happy and proud of himself, for him to see the boy you saw. the most amazing best friend you could've ever asked for.
when he had been guided by the sorceress and accessed his power through the sword of power, you saw that switch flip in his mind. you saw him transform into something he liked, someone he was proud to be.
as he trained and became more comfortable and confident in himself, you saw that depressed and secluded boy slip away. this new alter ego was truly changing him.
the sweetness of the man didn't change in the slightest. he was still the same caring and gentle boy that you grew up knowing. but god was this side of him different.
with this alternate side of adam, your relationship had changed. while you were still best friends, it felt like more. as adam was feeling more confident, he became more obvious. the two of you knew you both liked each other for the longest time, but neither of you did anything about it. both of you being complete chickens, you never even thought it would be something. but here he was, learning how to braid your hair for you.
it felt domestic, it felt natural. all you wanted was for him to move the final move, to finally be official. you wanted that strong, passionate, and determined adam that you knew was in there.
maybe it was the masochist in you but you wanted to be at the receiving end of that man. you wanted to be on the receiving end of he-man. so you did what you thought might work. being and absolute bitch.
you knew that adam wouldn't snap. he wouldn't want to handle you in the slightest way if it meant hurting you, but you weren't so sure about he-man. you knew it was in him, you just needed to figure out how to summon him.
"you're doing it wrong," you spoke as he put the wrong strand over the other, causing the braid to come slightly undone.
"i'm sorry princess, i'm tryin" he spoke with a slight chuckle as he tried to fix it.
you moved away from him, causing the braid to fall from his hands. without a word you shook out the braid he had been trying at and quickly rebraided it yourself.
"i was trying" adam spoke softly as he examined your braid. "you call that trying?" you chuckled snarkily. god, this was killing you. all you wanted to do was pull him to your chest and apologize, but you needed this. you needed he-man.
"uh yeah, braiding isn't easy." he replied with a nervous chuckle. "it's not that hard, adam." you snapped at him.
you saw his eyes darken for a moment before he composed himself. "i'm sorry, i'll do better next time princess."
"you think theres going to be a next time?" you laughed at him as you rolled your eyes softly. "you're funny" you mocked.
his eyebrows furrowed slightly as his eyes didn't leave yours. he shook his head slightly. "why are you being like this?" not in an angry way, not yet at least.
"being like what? i'm not being like anything." you scoffed. "you on your period or something? don't be so emotional."
and that was adam's boiling point. you saw as his face went almost completely still. his face dropping and going void of any emotion.
"who do you think you're talking to?" he spoke almost sternly. he inched slightly closer to you as his eyebrow cocked. "hmm?"
you shrugged in response, "you're not gonna do jack." you chuckled. before you could even glance away his hand gripped your jaw. as he held your face to look at him he spoke, "not gonna do jack, huh?"
he shook your head slightly, “you are just mouthy today aren’t you?” you rolled your eyes at him before wiggling out of his grip to speak.
“how would you know? not like you’re my boyfriend or anything.”
“yeah, well i know you well enough to know you want me to be.” he replied. “huh, yeah right.” you laughed.
in a swift moment you were on your back. adam holding your shoulders down, his nose mere inches from yours. “you’re really just a little brat huh?” before you could even reply, he placed his hand over your mouth. “brats don’t get to talk.”
you licked his hand as it was on your mouth. a snobby expression filled your face. he pressed his hand harder to your mouth, pushing your head into the mattress. “are you gonna watch your mouth or do i need to shut you up?” he spoke as he lifted his hand slightly.
“like you could make me shut up.” you scoffed.
within a second of the words leaving your mouth, he picked you up and moved you to your knees. with his crotch meeting your gaze, you saw the bulge in his pants. “oh really?” he mocked as he undid his belt.
“you’re not as powerful as you think you are.” you spoke. “can’t even braid hair.” you chuckled.
instead of replying he let his cock free from the restraints of his pants. his pink tip fell in front of your eyes, the meaty and girth sight causing your panties to dampen. “c’mon brat. we know you want it.” he spoke as you stared.
keeping up your persona you didn’t move. you just sat where he had placed you, hands in your lap. his cock twitched as you stayed still. his hands found the back of your head before shoving you instead of replying. shoving you down on his length.
the heavy member filled your mouth causing a slight moan to fall from your lips. instead of giving you a second to get used to the sensation, adam rutted up into the heat of your mouth. the sudden penetration caused you to gag.
this is exactly what you wanted, for him to take what he wanted from you. for him to take control and be confident. and you were getting just that.
he thrusted up into your mouth as he grunted. bringing himself closer and closer to release. “just a dirty brat huh?” he groaned. “you love this don’t you?”
slipping slightly out of your bratty persona you nodded eagerly around his cock. now moving mostly on your own, his hands slipped into your hair. the braid that started this whole thing. “taking my cock like a good girl huh?” you squeezed your thighs together at his words.
he nudged your legs apart as he noticed. placing his foot right in front of your cunt. you didn’t even need words to know what he was implying. you situated yourself on his foot as you quickly rutted against it. the pressure and sensation electing throaty moans from you. the muffled moans around his cock sent adam into overdrive. his cock pulsating and throbbing with each movement you made.
with a few more thrusts he came into your mouth. the salty cum mixing with your saliva as you moved. dripping down the sides of your mouth as you gazed up at him.
your eyes locked on his as you fucked yourself against his foot. it just felt too good to stop. as you shuddered against him, your orgasm overpowered. you fell slack against his leg as you were blissed out. being an absolutely smart freak, you got just what you wanted. and you would remember this moment for the rest of your life.
adam leaned down to kiss you, the taste of him still present in your mouth. pulling you up onto the bed he spoke.
“you knew exactly what you were doing huh?”
you nodded with a large smile. “yup!” thank god for that alter ego.
your boyfriend is really into his d&d campaign. sometimes it seems like he forgets it's just pretend. because obviously it is, right? {silly & fluffy, adam panicked one day and said orko was the dm. no real warnings afaik, lmk if i missed anything!!}
adam is talking with his hands again.
this is difficult, given that his head is in your lap and his left bicep is trapped against one of your sofa's cushions, but he's managing. he's been talking for—you check the clock—twenty minutes now, about his latest d&d session, and his hands have been going the whole time, painting the shape of snake mountain in the air above him. given how many times he's described it, you think you have a pretty good idea of what it must look like.
you continue diligently carding your fingers through his hair. if the story goes on any longer, you figure you'll give him a few braids to switch things up.
“so cringer is in this glass cage, right, balanced on the edge of a cliff-”
“mmhm?”
“-and he knows it's a trap! he's trying to warn he-man, but the glass is too thick and nobody can hear him.”
“that's awful to do to a cat. your dm- what was his name, okra or something? he's an ass.”
“he's a really big cat.” adam gestures largely and pushes his head back into your hand, almost involuntarily. who's the real cat? you think, scratching lightly at his scalp. “but you're right, it was very mean. and it's orko, baby, not okra.”
“orko! sorry. i'll remember this time, swearsies. what happened next?”
“okay, so cringer runs into the glass and knocks the cage off the edge of the cliff, so i, or, he-man, has to move around the trap to catch him.”
“sorry, cringer threw himself off of a cliff?”
“to save me, yeah.” he's looking up at the ceiling with a sort of unguarded expression you rarely get to see. “he's a good cat.”
adam gets like this, sometimes, talking about his sessions. when things get tense, when one of his friends' characters get hurt, when someone goes out of their way to protect him.
he neglects, often, but especially during these moments, to refer to his character in the third person. "he-man" and the man you hold in your arms are suddenly one and the same. endeared as you are, something about it nags at you.
your right hand slides down from his hair until you're cradling his cheek in your palm. “he's the best cat. keep going?”
adam shifts, smiling up at you all pretty and wistful, and the fondness that rises in you makes you feel sick. you want to crack open your ribs and let him settle inside. instead, your thumb swipes over his cheekbone.
he melts into your touch and keeps going. he's saying something about the sword of power, miming with enthusiasm. you should be worried about how narrowly he's avoiding backhanding you, but your useless brain is all caught up in how pretty he looks when he's passionate about something.
there's more, of course. teela is trapped, some sort of beast-thing attacks he-man with a whip, and evil-lyn—whose name always gets an amused huff out of you—does something-or-other with her wand.
“still with me, princess?”
“uhh-huh.”
you're not, really. you're staring at his lips now. there's absolutely no denying it, so adam puckers up, accompanied by a vile wet smoochy-sound.
“noo, ew, you ruined it,” you say, words drawn out with stifled laughter. you move your hand over his mouth and he changes course, kissing your palm instead.
“i was being charming and romantic!”
“you were spitting on me,” you say squishing his cheeks as well as you can with one hand. he takes your wrist gently, moving your arm to drape over his abdomen instead.
“i thought we shared everything!”
“i could do without the spittle,” you faux-grumble.
"wait, wait!" adam sits up suddenly, nearly headbutting you. "i didn't even tell you what i did with that pepper orko gave me!"
a/n: adam is clingy and touch starved #trust.. not crazy about this, but i wrote half of it at work so i'm kind of reaping what i've sewn unfortunately💔 title is the weezer song bc they talk about d&d and it was the first thing i thought of. i read through it Once kind of so lmk if anything sucks or if anything rocks thank you🩷
a/n 2: i really am not confident in my use of — if anyone could tell👎 pray for me in these trying times
a/n 3: someone who is good at writing should steal this and do it better thanks in advance
“stop talking and just fucking kiss me” you mumbled before leaning up and pressing your lips to his.
with his hands snaking up the sides of your body you shuddered. the sensations that you were once dreaming of, now becoming reality. his lips moved against yours in ways you would've never imagined.
he was soft and gentle, yet you saw how much passion and power was behind it. with a small opening his tongue moved against yours. your hands moved into his hair, bringing him ever closer. you breathed heavily into the kiss, as dopamine coursed through your veins. his hands slid underneath you. softly gripping and kneading the flesh of your ass. your kisses moved down his neck in an instant. in an eager movement, you pulled his hair back as you kissed his neck.
a loud groan fell from his lips. you felt him grow harder as he was now underneath you. sitting in his lap, your hands moved lower.
"you liked that, huh?" you teased as you sucked and nibbled on his soft skin. he nodded quickly in response, his eyes stuck on you. you chuckled softly, "use your words." with your command he shaped up. "yes. fuck yes."
your hand grazed his boner, gently squeezing it to test the waters. even with the hot and dark marks you were too busy making, you could feel his jaw go slack. your hands moved underneath his shirt, slowly moving up his abs, his pecs, and slipping it over his head. you finally got view of the whole thing. without that chest plate covering him, you were able to see every glistening part of his chest.
as he noticed you staring, he flexed his pecs. with a chuckle you commented, "nice titty dance" a loud smile filled his face at that, "thank you very much, worked hard on it."
the two of you laughed for a second, savoring the moment. "you're a dork" you chuckled, "yet you still want to fuck me" he replied with a shrug. "oh i very much do." you smiled, before connecting your lips with his.
heading south with your kisses, you peppered every inch you could reach. soon enough he was leaning back in awe as he watched you toy with his belt. his tent felt like it was pounding against his pants, only that thin layer of fabric separating him from absolute bliss. palming him as you undid his belt you heard the smallest whimper fall from his lips. as quiet as it was you could hear the need and desire behind it. as you freed his cock from his pants, you could see the pool of pre-cum on his boxers. with a soft touch to his tip through the fabric, his hips rutted against your hand. "p-please" he whimpered as he pushed his head back.
with a smile you pulled his boxers down, revealed the prettiest cock you had ever seen; bulging red, girthy, and oh so hard. as you wrapped your hand around him you saw him ease. the stimulation eliciting a breathy moan from his throat. the moans grew louder as you pumped your hands, you watched as his chest moved with his short breaths. he was so sensitive already, and god were you in heaven.
you licked a stripe up his shaft, before spitting onto his tip. as you slowly took him into your mouth you could feel yourself getting wetter. with the sounds he was making and the cock in your mouth, you slipped your hand into your pants.
it was almost as if adam was psychic because barely a second went by as where you were touching yourself, when he flipped you over and took your pants alongside your panties off. with your pants now on the floor, your cunt was bare to him. without a second to spare, he dove in like a man starved. eating you out like there was no tomorrow. it was such a pretty sight to see him down there. his blonde hair sticking to his forehead, his hazel eyes glancing up at you, and the way he was just absolutely ruining you.
throwing your head back into your pillows, you hand gripped his hair. pulling him ever closer to your cunt, a loud groan vibrated against you as you did so.
as the dam of ecstasy was about to burst, you felt his fingers enter you. alongside the noises of your pussy squelching, you could hear him humping against the sheets. his pure need and desire pushed you over the bridge. after the hardest and best orgasm of your life, you didn't even get a moment to recuperate.
licking his lips of your juices, adam guided you closer to his throbbing cock. without an ounce of hesitation he pushed into the best and first pussy he had ever felt. his hands found your breasts as he rutted into you. the urge for released surged through him. he relentlessly pounded into you. with each moan and mumble of his name, his pace increased. his climax was on the brink of exploding. the nasty sound of your pussy, the skin slapping, your beautiful moans, and his greedy whimpering, he sucked your nipple into his mouth as he tried to quiet himself.
"please, please, please, please, please" he mumbled as he felt himself getting closer. with a few more thrusts he let himself go. pulling out of the warmth of your cunt, your stomach got painted with the glistening cum of a prince. as the two of you caught your breath, you chuckled as you looked over at him. you were just about to follow him to clean up but before you could even stand, he pushed you back down.
planting a kiss on your lips, adam left to go grab a washcloth. he came back with a huge smile on his face. he gently cleaned the ejaculate off of your stomach before pulling you into a hug and lying down.
"you're so perfect" he spoke as he held your face in his hands. you giggled softly before pressing a kiss to his cheek. "all you, handsome."
"does this mean i can take you on a date now?" he questioned with a grin.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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summary after him being gone for so long, you didn't realize how much he could really change
w/c 1.4k
a/n i saw an edit of him with sabrina carpenters song and 100% needed to write about it
you had watched adam struggle for as long as you could remember. he was squinky, tiny, and just stuck out like a sore thumb. no one other than teela ever partnered up with him. while you wouldn't have minded, that chance never really came. while you were never really close with him, the two of you chatted once in a while.
your world and everyone elses collapsed when he left. with skeletor reining and controlling Eternos, you had given up hope. you lived your life like everyone else. just slightly getting by, watching day by day as the drive slowly left your soul.
even though your life was dwarfed down, you lived like a normal 20 year old in Eternia. you had a few boyfriends here and there, you gossiped with your friends, that's what made you feel normal.
that normal was sent crashing down when adam came back. when you fought for your life alongside your family and friends, when you watched the city you grew up in fall further into shambles, when skeletor was finally gone, when walls and positivity was rebuilt, and especially when you realized what a hunk squinky prince adam turned into.
throughout the whole skeletor and he-man thing, you saw just how much he had changed. while his attitude and hope for communication stayed the same, his shape did not.
the man was built. you saw how easily he had lifted that heavy ass sword, how quickly he ebbed and flowed, how his muscles contracted with each movement. the muscles that you never would've thought he'd get.
the tiny prince who could barely stand up against anyone except teela. the tiny prince who was cushioned and coddled. the tiny prince who had the future of Eternos in his hands.
the once tiny prince that had embedded himself into your mind.
his form was something that could never leave your conscience. that tiny groin cloth and chest plate that revealed JUST enough. his toned arms and strong legs. you could just imagine what sat between them. and thats what you did. you imagined.
countless times you had found yourself with your hand down the front of your pants. imagining his fingers were there instead of yours, imagining the noises he would make, how he would feel beside as well as inside you.
god you were a fucking perv.
﹒⌗﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧
today was just like any other day, getting up and heading straight out of the comfort of your home. chatting with people as you headed out into town square. as you fell into the groove you walked around without purpose. fiddling with your fingers as you walked, you didn’t realize where you were going.
and neither did adam.
as your feet skidded underneath you, tripping on your own feet you bumped straight into pure muscle. adam, who was futzing around and trying to see how many books he could balance on his head. as he carefully was trying to keep the books balanced, he stepped on a rock and fell backwards. falling off balance he rammed into you.
you let out a groan as you landed on the ground. your tailbone was definitely going to be bruised. with the pain in your bum you didn’t even realize the amount of pressure that was on your ankle. the pressure and weight of the one and only adam.
he clamored up and off of your ankle in a moment. holding out his hand for you he spoke, “i am so so so sorry, are you okay? i really didn’t mean to, god i need to pay more attention” he rambled.
softly gripping his hand he pulled you up with such ease you felt like your legs were going to turn into jelly within a second. “i-i’ll be okay” you smiled through the sharp pain, “no worries” you grimaced as you put weight on your foot.
he watched as you hobbled on your ankle. “you really do not look like it” he spoke “please, let me help”
before you could even reply his arm was under your own to help stabilize you. “i’ll take you to my mom, she’ll know how to help.” not only were you in pain, but you were highly flustered. instead of protesting you let him lead you through the town square, palace halls, and into the closest room you could find.
he got you sitting and elevated your leg before wandering off to go find his mother. you were so fucking embarrassed. the man you were fantasizing about was almost within arms length. he was worried and caring for you. it was strange.
soon enough he came back with his mom. ointments and wraps in his arms as the queen sat right next to you. adam set the things down before skittering off, most likely embarrassed.
“where does it hurt most?” she asked softly as she slowly and carefully slipped off your boot. you pointed to the outside of your ankle, where it was already bruising and puffing up. “right there,” you put the tiniest bit of pressure on it and winced softly.
“i’m okay really, you don’t need to do this” you spoke. “oh yes i do, you’re in my kingdom, i care for all of you. especially the ones that adam ends up injuring.” she chuckled before examining your foot.
“he falls on a lot of girls feet?” you teased. she laughed in response, “no, you’re the first and hopefully the last”
you smiled softly. she quietly started applying the ointment that was brought onto your ankle. rubbing it in gently.
“he’s really grown up” you spoke softly, sparking a conversation. the queen smiled in response, “oh a hundred percent. never would’ve thought that he’d be as strong as he is. i’m proud of him though.”
“definitely, and he’s handsome too.” you added, hopefully not making it awkward. neither of you had a clue where he had wandered off to, so you didn’t think he’d be right behind the door listening.
“he’s very handsome.” the queen replied. “he may need to get a girlfriend, i know there’s a line of girls that want to be on that list.” she smiled. “i’m not getting any younger. ”
“don’t say that!” you chuckled “you don’t even look a day over 25”
“ugh you’re sweet” she smiled, “stay for dinner? please i insist” she said as she rested her hand on your knee.
“well i don’t think i’m able to run away from that offer.” you joked.
“good,” she smiled
˚. ᵎᵎ
weeks after the incident it was still all you could think of. yes, you were still in immense pain, but with adam’s thoughtfulness and stopping by every once in a while, made it just a bit better.
with him stopping into your home and making sure that you were healing well, it made you forget about the guilt you felt. the guilt from your nasty and perverted thoughts. alongside forgetting the guilt, you forgot about the journal you had written your perverted fantasies in.
so as adam leaned on your dresser, your heart sunk as his eyes found the journal.
the two of you were friends now. you jokes and hung out when he came to visit you. teasing became apart of your conversations.
“what’s this?” he joked “wouldn’t mind if i took a look would you?” he spoke as he opened the cover.
“stop it! no!” you pleaded. his eyes scanning the doodles and drawings you had put on the cover. “these are really good” he spoke before turning the page.
“ entry one — i can’t stop thinking about him. the way he’s been visiting me and taking care of me. watching his muscles move under his shirt, listening to him talk to me about random things. it’s so fucking hot. i never would have thought that squinky adam would get me so fucking wet. have me thinking about what he could do to me, have me imagining the way his cock would be, fuck. he’s just so mesmerizing “
you snatched the journal away as he started flipping through the pages. entry upon entry of fantasies of him. he was fucking ecstatic.
“forget you saw any of that.” you mumbled. you noticed the flush on his face. his cheekbones covered in red while he bit his lip slightly.
“and if i don’t want to forget?”
you felt your core drench at his words. “what do you mean?” you questioned.
“i mean, you’re the most beautiful girl in Eternos. and-and you fantasize about me?” he stuttered. he sat at the edge of your bed. “you’re all i think about.” he spoke.
“i imagine the things you would let me do, how good you’d feel. the beautiful noises you’d make, and how amazing it’d be if you’d let me see that side of you” he spoke as his hand rested on your knee.
“stop talking and just fucking kiss me” you mumbled before leaning up and pressing your lips to his.
summary who knew that getting a personal trainer could lead to getting the best boyfriend you could've dreamed of
w/c 1.6k
you had dreamed of getting fit since you could remember. you knew you looked good, but you always knew you had the potential to be better. so, obviously when your friend, lexi, started dating a gym rat, and becoming one herself. you knew that this was your moment. as your friend started spending more time at the gym, so did you. it was definitely hard as you had no idea what you were doing. you 100% felt like giving up until you heard from your friend, that her boyfriend's buddy was looking for some extra cash and wanted to be a personal trainer.
while it was a terrifying idea, it might just have been the push you needed. so you said you would be up to it. but you had no clue what you were getting yourself into. of course, you knew his friend would be ripped. absolutely shredded, actually. but nothing would have prepared you for the man you saw when you walked into the gym. your friend had given you a pep talk before heading off to her man, but hell you don't even think 100 pep talks would have prepared you.
after setting your stuff down in the nearest locker, you took a deep breath to calm yourself. you were nervous of course, what if he thought you were wimpy or you were a waste of time? your thoughts got cut short as your new personal trainer leaned against the lockers in front of you.
"y/n, right?" he spoke as he pointed at you. a small smile written on his face.
the two of you had texted briefly to one, get to know each other a bit and two, get a split set up for you and a plan to achieve your goals. it was definitely less awkward texting than it was in the moment.
"yeah," you smiled softly "and you're adam?"
he replied with a small nod, "ready to get right to it?" he spoke enthusiastically as he was already moving to kickstart the workout. you nodded as you followed behind him. subconciously staring at the beast of a man in front of you. not in a creepy way, you were just admiring.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖╭ ┆╰⊹ ࣪
with the first awkward session done, the next few weeks flew by. you were already feeling stronger, happier, and more like yourself. you and adam had already fallen into the groove with each other. he was more than your personal trainer now, he was like your friend. the two of you realized how much you had in common, the similar tastes in music, your favorite shows, favorite colors, it was like you were meant to meet.
the longer the two of you trained, less time was spent going to train but to just hang out. the two of you went to movies, you baked together, went shopping, and did crafts. it was so easy to fall into that groove. you didn't know what it was about him that made him so easy to talk to. but were you glad to have a friend like him.
one night, you had decided to hang out with lexi instead of adam. the two of you caught up, telling her about how life was going, how the gym was, your current job, just all of the above. soon enough, you were talking about adam. you had no clue that you were talking about him so much. you only realized when you were telling the story of how he got whipped cream on the ceiling and got a small smirk from lexi.
"what??" you questioned as you noticed her expression.
"nooooothing, nothing, nothing" she smiled before pretending to fawn over someone. "adam, adam, adam," she mocked with a grin.
you jokingly dragged your hands down your face, "what are you talking about?" you chuckled.
"girl you're in love with him!" she nudged you. you nearly short-circuited at her statement. quickly you shook your head. "i am not." disagreeing with her statement. "you so fucking do. you got all giddy talking about him, your cheeks are red too! you're in fucking love!"
you hid your face in the pillow behind you. shaking your head quickly as lexi laughed her ass off. "i'm not in love with him." you mumbled into the pillow. "he's just my friend."
"your best friend" lexi added.
she rested her hands on your shoulders as she spoke. "you hang out with him more than you do me, honey."
"yeah but stillll" you whined. "he probably doesn't even like me back."
lexi listened to you grumble into the fabric. a smile etching her face as you peered up to look at her. "baby, he definitely does."
"nuh uh," you rejected. "logan told me hon, he talks about you all the time. gets all like this," she said, referencing your flustered state. "you better get your ass going before i knock some sense into you." she teased.
she pushed you up off the couch with a giggle, leading you to put your shoes on. she opened the door for you with a smile. "go get your man!"
⸝⸝ ⟡
you had no clue what you were going to do. you didn't know what you were going to say, what you were going to do. would you hug him? kiss him? give him a pat on the back?? you were terrified. but before you could make any plan, you were already at his door.
the door that you had entered so many times before, the door that you have a key on your keychain to. the door that may hold the relationship of your dreams.
you softly knocked on the wood in front of you. the echo of the smack rang in your ears, quickly replaced by the door squeaking on its hinges. you were greeted with a smiling adam on the other side of the door.
"i thought you were hanging out with lexi tonight?" he spoke, stepping away from the door to let you in. walking in and setting your keys down, you replied "she needed to bring chester to the vet, he got into something he shouldn't have." adam nodded in response before flopping onto the couch.
"so i get to have the honor to be in your presence instead?" he teased. you joined him on the couch with a chuckle, "yup"
all of the anxiety from before faded away. you still had no clue if you were actually going to admit to him that you had a big fat crush on him, but that was the least of your worries. he made you feel safe, he calmed you down, without even trying.
movie nights weren't uncommon for the two of you. getting to step away from reality for a bit was a breath of fresh air, especially for adam. he had told you all about how he was a prince, how he missed his green tiger and how his hunt for his sword was going. you knew how much that break from reality meant for him.
easily, both you and adam agreed on a movie for the night. you guys had watched so many movies over the time you knew each other, yet your favorite one had never made it into the schedule.
you put princess and the frog on the tv before sinking into the couch. your heart felt like it was in your throat as the two of you situated on the couch like you had done dozens of times before. his arm was around your shoulders as you melted into his side.
soon enough, the movie got to your favorite part, where tiana and naveen are dancing as ray shines his light above them. with a burst of energy you speak as you start to get up, "dance with me"
"what! i can't dance" adam replied as he stood up alongside you. "who cares" you giggled, "you've been a dancer since you were three." he replied.
your arms reached around his neck as you made him sway with you. "yeah but who cares." he chuckled at you as his hands wrapped around your waist.
the two of you rocked to the sound of the tv, smiles on both of your faces. naturally, your eyes stayed on his the whole time. he did the same.
the seconds felt ten times slower, you watched as the tv reflected in his eyes. the eyes that you can never seem to look away from. you didn't notice how close you were to him until you felt him clear his throat. before you could register the moment, he spoke.
"i think," he paused for a moment "i think you're my evangeline"
your heart leapt into your throat at his words. "what?" you croaked.
"i'm in love with you." he replied. your eyes widened at his words, a blush scattering over your face. "fuck you, i was gonna say it first." you grumbled.
"oh really?" he teased "you were gonna say it first?"
"well i beat you to it." he smiled.
"i don't even like you," you grumbled, as his hand landed on your cheek.
"we both know thats a lie." he spoke as he tilted your chin up, meeting your lips with his.
the two of you melted into the kiss, your hands snuck up into his hair as his wrapped around the back of your neck. "please tell me i'm not dreaming." you mumbled.
"definitely not." he replied, pulling you even closer. the heat between you two felt suffocating, yet comforting.
"thank god" you giggled as you pulled away gently. his lips chased yours for a second before he rested his forehead on yours.
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adam whines, he's not like other guys (positive), and he needs to be kissed to cum (idea from @st4rfckerz)
MDNI 18+
"oh my g-god."
truthfully, you never knew you could actually have this sort of affect on someone.
every other guy you've ever had sex with seemed so focused on having the sexiest sex ever.
everything felt so manufactured, curated, performative. unnaturally deep, lustful groans. cheesy one liners that were fine while you were being fucked, but caused you to instantly cringe over your coffee days later when it flashed banged your memory. calling you nicknames that have clearly never slipped from their lips until their cock was in you.
thankfully, adam is none of that.
everything about him is so earnest.
that first groan he let out when his tip sunk into you was pure and from the deepest pits of him. the hazy look that instantly took over his puppy brown eyes as soon as he started moving in tentative thrusts was so genuine. the sweet, practically adorable croak in his voice when you began riding him was honest.
the best part: he didn't try to cover up the crack in his voice afterwards. he sat there, soft fingertips digging into the fat of your hips, and watched you through that same hazy look that hadn't escaped his gaze once since you two started this.
"you feel so good," he tells you yet again. you don't know how many times he's actually said those same words tonight, but each time he utters them he seems to mean them even more, if even possible.
with how blissed out he is, you don't know how he hasn't came at this point.
your head tilts and you plant a hand at the center of adam's chest. he's smooth and a little soft there. the force of your bounces on his cock trigger the tiniest ripples in the flesh of his stomach. every so often, you see him tense and there's definition in his abdomen. paired with the strained look on his face, you catch on.
"adam," you coo, your voice strained from effort.
"yeah?" he asks, voice just as strained but definitely from a different kind of effort.
"are you close?"
his eyebrows knit together as if the mere mention of an orgasm puts more strain on him. his lips part to speak, but just then you put your weight into your hand and glide your cunt up and down over the tip of adam's cock.
the groan he lets out comes from the top of his throat—tight and punctuated. his teeth press into his bottom lip and he nods.
"you can cum," you tell him, your voice soft and gentle. "i want you to cum."
you're so close now that your nose knocks against adam's. instinctively, you lean back just a bit. and instinctively, you assume, adam chases you.
"i know," he clarifies.
"kiss me," he says. then, "kiss me, please," he begs.
your lips connect, adam's fingers press harder into your flesh and he gets strength in his hips, strong enough to thrust up into you.
your weight shifts and you topple over, collapsing onto adam's chest. one of his hands rush to the back of your head, locking your lips together.
he doesn't moan when he cums.
he doesn't whine or groan. he just kisses you harder. he breathes through his nose harder, each breath fanning out against your skin. he thrusts harder, punctuating each drive of his hips until he's warming your insides through the latex barrier between you both.
he doesn't pull away until his cock stops twitching inside of you. and even then, his hips remain in their elevated position. finally, his hips sink down, he pulls away from you with a pronounced smack!, and barely a second passes before he's asking you, "can i eat you out?"
begging for someone to write a fic of adam or reader having baby fever
like shes taking care of one of the young children in combat training that got hurt and adam feels so warm and gooey inside cause oh my gosh she so loving and i want my children to have her eyes
like just adam being disgustingly in love or whatever 😭
you knew what you were getting into when you followed adam onto that spaceship a few months ago, hearing his stories, as well as staying up late so many nights listening to him ramble about what he hoped to do when finally going home.
even with that slight idea of what would happen on Eternia, you didn't know what you had signed up for.
・・・
training days were adam's favorite days. getting to make up for all the lost time over the years, having you by his side, and becoming the person he had always wanted to be. with duncan being back to the man he was in adam's youth, he was back to training the younger kids.
adam had dragged you along countless times to these sessions. working hard as well as spending time with you, he was in heaven.
of course it was especially hard for you. having to train harder than before as now your life may actually depend on those skills, but also training with KIDS. some were ruthless and some of them were helpless. with your psychology background you realized a few had fallen into the idea of learned helplessness. many of them knew that they weren't as good as the other kids and instead of using that as motivation, they shut down.
on one of your normal training days you noticed the one kid you had been observing. instead of training herself, she was just letting herself slip by. not fighting back with her partner, just acting as though she was a punching bag. with being a punching bag, bruises and cuts littered her arms. you noticed a grimace as she got hit particularly hard. with a slight wince from you, you looked at adam saying paragraphs with your eyes.
his eyes met yours and he realized immediately. he made eye contact with duncan as he recognized what you had needed to do. duncan called a water break and all of the groups split up. you made your way to the girl without even looking at adam. picking up your water and sliding next to the girl you sparked a light conversation.
your inner therapist slipped out as you talked to her. soon enough, inspecting her newest bruise you walked with her to go get her some ointment for it. adam's eyes tracked you throughout the whole conversation. his gut twisted as he watched you care so much for some little girl.
with the heavy feeling in his gut he thought about how you were with kids. how kind and sweet you were. he could just imagine you with your own kids. the bedtime stories you would read them, how you would do anything to make them happy, how you would snuggle up with them on cold nights. he imagined the idea of watching a life grow inside of you.
a life that the two of you made, together. as well as the life that would come alongside it. being parents, growing old together, and a lifetime of memories.
his daydream got cut short as teela snapped her fingers in front of his face.
"you are in deep, squimp."
"oh, i know." he smiled as he watched you walk back with the girl hand in hand. smiles on both of your faces.
summary from the subconsious staring, the two share a moment that they both were to scared to say
w/c 1.02k
being apart of the party for so long you couldnt not notice him.
the way he would stumble over his words from time to time, the way he would emphasize his speeches with his hands, the way his lisp got a little clearer when he was speaking about something he loves, and just how engulfing it was when he licked his lips in between breaths.
he was your best friend, why were you so mesmerized? you shouldn’t be. you can’t be.
just like every thursday, the four hour campaign drove to an end. with smiles and hearts racing you all packed up your stuff.
even while shoving your books into your backpack you couldn’t help but have your eyes drawn to him. talking with eddie with the biggest smile on his face. his plump lips sitting so perfectly.
quickly snapping your head out of it you flung your bag over your shoulder. pushing your chair in you stumbled out of the room, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone left in the room.
making it out to your car, you huffed quietly. you were majorly questioning yourself on the drive back to your home.
small scenarios filling your mind as you drove on autopilot.
his lips pressing against yours, pulling you in.
feeling his tongue move against your own.
those plump and soft lips in every place you could imagine.
god what was wrong with you? placing your car in park you wandered into your room. a strange feeling of desire and guilt filming your body.
yes, course you’ve thought of maybe dating dustin. but that would never happen. neither would kissing him. he’s not into you like that. totally not.
slumping onto your bed, you rested your arms on your head. a soft sigh falling from your lips as you tried to repress the blush filling your face.
but just as you felt yourself calming down, your doorbell rang through the thin walls of the house.
quietly getting up, you padded around the halls before making it to the door. opening it gently, not knowing who could be on the other side.
“you left your journal at hellfire” he spoke as your eyes moved up to meet dustin. that same blush filled your face as you reached for the book in his hands.
“thanks” you mumbled.
“you good?” he pestered “look like you saw a ghost” a small chuckle escaped him. that same smile you had seen so many times filling his face.
“uh- yeah yeah. i’m fine, just out of it i guess” you replied a small smile now mirroring his own.
“well you can always talk to me about anything you need” he conversed “i mean it.”
your eyes watched his lips as he spoke. the syllables moving past his lips in the most mesmerizing way possible. feeling like you were lost in a trace, you nodded softly. your eyes seemed to be locked on his lips.
what you didn’t know was that he connected some dots rather quickly. “you’re staring, y/n” he chuckled as he inched closer.
snapping out of it, your eyes met his “i wasn’t. you’re seeing things”
“so you’re saying i just imagined you staring at my lips for like two minutes?” he teased with a grin.
“yup, you’re hallucinating” i sputtered as you started to leave.
slipping your hand off the door knob as you moved, you mentally cursed yourself. but before you could get any further, his hand slipped into yours.
pulling you back before you could retreat, your wide eyes found his.
your heart raced as he gazed at you. the heat of your hands intertwined sent a shudder through your body. you felt your heartbeat quicken as the atoms in your hand buzzed against his.
"dustin?" you muttered quietly, almost like a whisper. as your eyes were flickering between his, you felt the atmosphere shift.
"you were staring." he stated again. "like you always do."
"i don't always stare. i never do, don't know what you're talking about." you mustered. he stepped into the house like he had millions of times before. the door clicking shut behind him as he enunciated his words.
"you're lying to both of us here." he chuckled softly.
"nope," you replied, heat rising to your ears behind your hair. you had no idea what to do now. while reading his emotions and thoughts had become second nature, that switch had just malfunctioned and turned off.
with that switch off you missed him inching even closer.
"y/n" he started. with a gulp you nodded, "hmm?"
"please tell me i'm not just imagining this.. this force, urge? look, i don't know exactly what it is. but," he let out a sigh. "if my hypothesis is right..." he continued. your eyes fluttering as you took in his phrases. practically brain dead you had zero chance of giving your normal witty comeback.
"what hypothesis?"
"that this is more than just zoning out.. more than just i always got something in my teeth or whatever." he chuckled. "cause i really want that to be the truth.."
your eyes focused on his lips as he spoke, "want what to be the truth?" you mustered.
"that i'm hopeless and have a hyperfixation on your lips," you chuckled dryly as red dusted your cheeks. "is it?" he questioned.
dropping your hand from his, you threw it up. "yes!"
"i'm a weirdo who can't ever seem to not think about kissing you or making out with you whenever i fucking see you!" you exclaimed.
it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders with that but another was plunged deep in your stomach. "fuck, i didn't just say that.."
"you definitely did," he replied "and i'm so fucking glad you did."
"what?" you mumbled as you turned to face him. with a small tilt of your head to find his, his lips found yours. in a harsh and messy kiss his hands found your waist. your hands wrapped around his neck as you pulled back, staring at his lips for a second before finding his gaze.
"holy shit." you whispered as your forehead leaned against his.
summary: Chandler decides he likes marking you. You let him.
warnings: MDNI, marking, possesive behaviour, p in v, oral f. receiving, praise, overstimulation, kinda dominate!chandler
masterlist
----
July 29th, 1994
You don’t even remember whose idea it was--probably Phoebes--but by 9:30, the four of you are crammed into a booth at a sweaty club with sticky floors, glowing cocktails, and a DJ who refuses to play anything recorded after 1991.
You’re already halfway through your second drink, something aggressively pink and aggressively strong, and you feel it: that buzz that makes the room sparkle, your limbs lighter, your smile permanent.
Phoebe’s on your right, animatedly explaining how she thinks she might’ve accidentally astral projected during an orgasm last week.
Rachel leans across the table, eyes wide. “Wait. Were you alone or with someone?”
“Alone,” Phoebe says, nodding solemnly. “Which makes it even more impressive.”
You laugh so hard you nearly snort your drink. “We are not calling it a solo-cial departure.”
“Why not?” Phoebe grins. “It’s poetic.”
Monica returns from the bar with four vodka sodas and a little cup of lime wedges. “Okay,” she announces. “We are hydrating and dancing. In that order.”
“Where’d you get those?” Rachel asks, eyeing the limes.
“The bartender likes me,” Monica shrugs. “He said I look like Demi Moore.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Demi Moore if she developed a type-A fixation with cross-contamination and meal prep.”
Monica rolls her eyes and hands you one of the glasses. “Oh shut up. You’re lucky I even let you borrow my shirt tonight.”
You smile innocently and glance down at your (her) shirt. A black silk blouse, cut low and just loose enough to look effortless, tucked into your shiniest mini skirt and paired with sheer tights. Add the bold lipstick, the shimmer on your collarbones, and the heels Rachel insisted on, and yeah--you look good. Good enough that the bouncer didn’t even ask for ID. The bartender either.
Which was a bit of a letdown, honestly. You’d even brought your fake again--Catherine Wexler, age 23, the very same you used on Chandlers birthday.
“Still can’t believe I didn’t get carded,” you murmur into your drink.
“Oh please,” Rachel says, bumping her knee into yours under the table. “In that outfit? They probably assumed you own the place.”
You smirk, cheeks warm. Chandler would’ve said something like that. Or at least muttered something filthy under his breath. He definitely would’ve stared. And then stared again. And then made a joke that wasn’t really a joke.
You smile into your glass.
Rachel clocks it immediately. “Oh my god. Is that a Chandler face?”
“No,” you lie.
Phoebe grins. “You totally just imagined him seeing you in that outfit.”
Monica leans in, eyes scanning you like she’s assessing a centerpiece. “Well, to be fair, that top does frame them perfectly--it’s a very balanced presentation.”
You hold up your hands. “Can we not psychoanalyze my tits in a public venue?”
“Oh, we like your tits,” Rachel says brightly, finishing her drink. “You should see the way he looks at them. Like they’re a limited edition vinyl box set.”
You raise an eyebrow, smug as hell. “Oh, I know the way he looks at them. I’ve seen it. Up close. From several angles.”
Rachel chokes on her drink. Monica groans. Phoebe claps.
“Oh my god,” Monica mutters, half-laughing, half-mortified. “Why did I let you borrow my shirt?”
“Because you’re a generous soul,” you say sweetly. “And because deep down, you wanted me to look like a slutty little homewrecker tonight.”
Rachel raises her glass in salute. “Mission accomplished.”
Phoebe leans in, grinning. “Seriously though, he's like, obsessed. Yesterday when I visited you guys during lunch he looked like he was about to snap a pencil in half.”
You sip your drink innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Chandler’s a perfect gentleman. Very professional. Extremely respectful of my role as his subordinate.”
“Ew, don't say that?” Monica nearly spits her drink.
“Oh no,” Rachel says, eyes wide. “You did not just say that word while looking that smug.”
Phoebes laughing too hard to be useful now, nearly tipping over in her chair. You bask in it, flushed and glowing and absolutely not sorry.
The music shifts, louder now, and you down the last of your drink, buzzing warm and golden from the inside out.
“Okay,” you declare, setting your glass on the high-top table with dramatic flair. “Enough sitting around. Let’s dance.”
Rachel raises a brow. “Since when do you drag people onto dance floors?”
“Since this outfit deserves to be seen in motion,” you shoot back, already grabbing Monica's hand. “Come on. It’s girls’ night. That means no wallflowers.”
Phoebe beams. “I love when she gets bossy.”
The four of you push through the crowd, weaving past clumps of strangers until the floor opens up just enough to move. Lights swirl above. Synths kick in. Some club remix of Madonna’s Into the Groove.
You lift your arms and let it wash over you, the pulse of the bass syncing with your heartbeat, the shimmer on your collarbones catching flashes of colored light. You don’t need a partner. Not when you’ve got Rachel doing ridiculous high-model twirls beside you and Phoebe shimmying like she’s communing with spirits and Monica laughing harder than she has in weeks.
You dance like you’re not thinking about anything. Not work. Not boys. Not complicated friends-with-benefits setups. Just the beat, and your best friends, and the kind of night that makes you forget tomorrow exists.
Rachel sings along dramatically, eyes closed and hair wild. Phoebe spins into you like a cyclone. Monica does that confident, slightly awkward move she thinks is sexy but mostly looks like aerobics. You love it. You love them.
By the time the next song starts you’re all sweaty and glowing and slightly breathless. You don’t care. You’re alive. You’re young. And for once, you’re not overthinking a thing.
The four of you spill into the apartment sometime after 1 a.m., laughing too loudly for the hour, all limbs and glitter and tipsy chaos. Monica shushes everyone like she isn’t the loudest, and Rachel drops her heels by the door with a groan of pure relief.
“That was so fun,” Phoebe sighs, spinning in a slow circle like she’s still on the dance floor. “I feel spiritually exfoliated.”
You smile, still warm from the drinks and the dancing. “You’re so weird.”
“Yes I am,” she replies, twirling and flopping onto the couch.
You exchange a sleepy grin with Monica before slipping into your room, unpinning your hair as you go. The apartment’s quieter now--doors clicking shut, the sound of water running, the soft murmur of Phoebe asking if there’s leftover pad thai.
The door clicks shut behind you and your heels come off with a sigh. Monica’s black shirt rides high on your waist, the slinky fabric still clinging to your skin. You’re sticky with sweat, slightly windblown, and feeling really good for someone who danced for three straight hours.
You walk over to your stereo, flick your hand over the jewel cases on the shelf, then slot in The Queen Is Dead. The Smiths, because you’re dramatic and romantic and still humming with energy. You press play.
The opening lines play out when your bedroom door opens again.
"Hey,"
You jump a little, startled.
Chandler is leaning against your doorframe, casual as ever, one hand braced above his head like he’s been there for a while. He's in his post-10pm uniform: an old t-shirt and sweatpants. His eyes sweep over you in one slow, deliberate drag.
“How-- how did you know we were back?”
“I heard the door. And Rachel complaining about her feet.” He steps further into the room, eyes still on you. “I figured I’d give it a minute before I came over. Didn’t want to interrupt a sacred post-club debrief.”
You laugh, brushing your hair off your neck. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
“Yeah, I thought I would too,” he says, voice low, edging closer. “And then I figured I'd want to see your little outfit tonight.”
His gaze drags down your frame again--your makeup smudged just so, borrowed shirt clinging, too short skirt riding up.
He exhales, almost a groan. “Jesus, you look--fuck.”
Your breath hitches, and just like that, the temperature in the room spikes.
You stare at him, still halfway between the stereo and your bed, hair falling in messy waves, cheeks pink from the heat of the bar and his eyes on you.
“You look…” He exhales again, like the words are hard to find. “So good. Like, I don’t even know where to start. That top--those legs--your mouth--”
You raise a brow, teasing. “Did you black out just now?”
"Maybe a little,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. “Seriously, I bet half the guys in that club wanted you tonight.”
You shrug, letting the compliment soak into your skin like lotion. “Maybe. Doesn’t matter.”
“No,” he agrees, stepping closer. “Because I get you.”
That makes you laugh--soft and delighted and tipsy-warm. “Okay, territorial.”
“I mean it.” He’s close now, brushing his fingers down your bare arm. “You could’ve had anyone tonight, but instead you’re here, in this tiny little outfit, standing in front of me.”
You wrinkle your nose, grin widening. “You’re lucky I didn’t get arrested.”
“Arrested?”
“For impersonating someone over twenty-one.” You raise your chin proudly. “I didn’t even get ID’d. Not by the bouncer, not by the bartender.”
Chandler gives you a slow, deliberate once-over. “Yeah, no shit.”
You laugh again, hand on his chest now, fingertips playing with a loose thread on the collar of his shirt. “The girls wouldn’t shut up about you, by the way.”
“Oh yeah?”
You lean in conspiratorially. “Apparently you look at my tits like they’re a limited edition vinyl box set.”
He huffs a laugh, eyes dropping instinctively to your chest. “Okay, they’re not wrong. But for the record?” He tilts your chin up, gaze locking with yours. “It’s not just your tits I’m obsessed with.”
Your breath catches. Your smile softens. “You’re being sweet.”
“I’m being honest.”
You giggle, warm all over. “Don’t get too sappy. We’re just supposed to be friends, remember?”
“Right,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your mouth. “Just friends.”
Your heart stutters, and you're kissing, lips brushing his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hands find your waist, pulling you in, and you melt against him as his mouth meets yours fully--hungry, hot, possessive.
You gasp into the kiss, fingers curling in his shirt, and that’s when his mouth starts to trail lower. Over your jaw, down your neck, slow and reverent and aching with want. He murmurs something that might be your name, or just a curse, right before his lips find that sweet spot just below your ear and suck.
You gasp again, hips shifting forward, one of your hands gripping his shoulder.
“Chandler--wait--” you manage, voice unsteady.
He stops instantly, pulling back just enough to look at you, brows furrowed. “What? What’s wrong?”
You laugh, breathless. “I’m all sweaty. I’ve been dancing for like three hours. I'm covered in glitter and smell like tequila.”
He grins, sliding his hand down your back. “You could smell like a Dumpster and I’d still want to bite you.”
Before you can respond, he’s back at your neck, nipping and sucking below your jaw. You let out a shaky moan--until your fingers tug his hair again, stopping him one more time.
“Nowhere visible,” you whisper, breath catching.
His eyes spark.
“Oh,” he says, voice rough with delight, “you’re fun.”
And then he lifts you--effortless, like you weigh nothing--and carries you the few steps to the bed. You laugh through a little gasp, arms wrapping around his neck, legs instinctively tightening around his waist as he lays you down.
He follows you down without hesitation, mouth already dragging along your collarbone.
“Just so we’re clear, you started this. I’m just the helpless victim of your slutty little outfit.”, he murmurs against your skin, voice low and wrecked.
“You’re the one who keeps showing up in my room like a stray cat with boundary issues.” You tease lightly, hands tangling in his hair.
He hums against your collarbone, kissing you there with something far too soft for the way he’s already tugging at the hem of your shirt. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “you shouldn’t leave the window open.”
You laugh--just a breath--and then the shirt is gone. So is your bra, a moment later, as he unhooks after no less than 3 attempts.
“Jesus,” he mutters, like he’s never seen you topless before. Like you’re new again under the lamplight glow and Morrissey's voice spinning quietly behind you. His hands are all over--raking up your sides, cupping your tits, thumbs dragging slowly over your nipples just to watch you twitch. And then his mouth replaces them. Hot, open, greedy.
You gasp as he sucks a hickey just beneath your breast. Another lower, over your ribs. A third just above your belly button. You don’t even care how loud you are, how wrecked your voice already sounds.
He doesn’t rush. If anything, he slows down--lazy drags of his tongue, soft open-mouthed kisses that burn into your skin like permanent ink. Every time he bites down, just enough to leave a mark, you jolt and whimper and clutch tighter at his hair, but he doesn’t let up. Doesn’t even look like he wants to.
“Chandler,” you breathe, thighs twitching where they rest on either side of him. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even look up. “If you don’t--”
“Shhh. I’m keeping my promise.” he mutters against your skin, mouthing at your stomach like he’s tasting something rare. “Nothing visible. Just making the most of my real estate.”
He lingers there, at your stomach, for what feels like forever. Sucking little bruises into the soft skin, dragging his teeth just enough to make your breath hitch. You fist your hands in the sheets, head tipping back against the pillow, every nerve in your body lit up like a fault line.
“I swear to God,” you mumble, breathless, “you’ve been at this for ten minutes.”
“Nine,” he says calmly, hands stroking slow over your thighs. “But I love that you’re keeping track.”
You groan, frustrated and ruined and so insanely turned on you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing any contact you can get, but he just pins you gently with his hands and keeps his mouth exactly where it is--nibbling along the seam of your torso, biting just above your waistband now, where skin meets the shiny hem of your skirt.
“You know,” you pant, “most people consider foreplay an appetizer, not a full tasting menu--”
“Shhh,” he says again, smiling against your belly. “I’m eating with my eyes first.”
You let out a desperate little laugh--half a plea, half a whimper--and he finally glances up at you.
His pupils are blown, lips red, voice like gravel. “You’re so hot when you beg.”
You shoot him a withering look, but it melts when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your skirt at last--slowly tugging it down, knuckles grazing your thighs, only for his eyes to darken the second he sees the sheer black tights underneath.
The smile he gives you is downright wicked.
You spot it instantly. “Don’t you dare rip them.”
“Me?” he says, feigning innocence as his hands skim higher. “I’d never. I respect tights. Tights are… sacred.”
“Chandler.”
He leans in, kissing just above the waistband. “I’ll buy you new ones.”
And then, without hesitation, he rips straight through them--fingers curling in the fabric, tearing it apart like it offended him personally.
You yelp, half scandalized, half aroused. “Those were new!”
“They were in my way,” he murmurs, dragging the shredded remains down your legs, voice low and reverent now. “And you--" his hands glide back up, settling on your hips as he pulls you closer “--are so worth it.”
He tosses the shredded tights somewhere behind him, not even bothering to look where they land. You expect him to move between your legs, to finally--finally--give you what he’s been building toward for what feels like a lifetime.
But of course he doesn’t.
Instead, he lowers his head and kisses the inside of your knee.
You actually let out a noise of protest, halfway between a moan and a sob. “You asshole.”
“Mmm.” His teeth graze your thigh, just above the bend. “You say that like it’s new information.”
His hands slide up your calves, then thighs, palms warm and possessive, and he settles between your legs like it’s his birthright. And then he goes right back to his mission: leaving a constellation of bruises across your skin, soft and savage, sweet and cruel.
He kisses your inner thigh, then licks a long, slow stripe to the edge of your underwear.
You gasp.
He moves away.
“You’re killing me,” you whisper, voice wrecked.
“At least you’ll die glowing.” He murmurs, kissing a little higher.
You groan, burying your face in your arm as he marks you again, a little higher this time. His tongue flicks over a particularly sensitive spot, and you jolt, hips bucking up involuntarily.
“Chandler,” you plead, breath ragged. “You’re so close.”
“I know,” he says cheerfully, dragging his mouth to the opposite thigh now, starting all over again. “It’s honestly impressive how patient I’m being.”
“You are the least patient man I know.”
“Yeah, well.” He bites down gently, then soothes the spot with his tongue. “Guess that makes you special.”
His fingers trace slow, maddening circles into your hips as his mouth works lower--then higher again--every touch deliberately avoiding the place you’re desperate for. He sucks another hickey just beside your underwear and stays there, tongue swirling, hands gripping your thighs to keep you from writhing out of his hold.
You can’t stop the way your thighs clench. Can’t stop the whimper that escapes you.
He hums, clearly pleased.
"You’re shaking," he murmurs against your skin.
"Wonder why."
He kisses closer, smug look on his face.
Still not there.
You sob out a broken laugh. “You are the worst.”
“And yet…” His breath fans hot over the soaked fabric of your underwear, but he doesn’t move. “You’re still letting me.”
You yank at his hair. “Because I hate myself.”
“No you don’t.” His voice softens, but it’s no less smug. “You love this.”
You don’t respond--can’t, really. Because he’s right and you do and he knows it. So he keeps going. Another hickey. Another kiss. Another filthy murmur into your thigh, making your stomach clench and your whole body tremble. Your panties are ruined, your nerves are fire, and your pulse is pounding in every part of your body. And still--still--he doesn’t give in.
But he’s getting closer. His tongue drags over your inner thigh again--just below the edge of your underwear--and he kisses you like it’s the last place he ever wants to be. He sucks another hickey there, slow and deep and sinful, and your hips jerk helplessly.
“Chandler.”
“Hm?”
“That’s enough.”
He lifts his head just barely, blinking up at you innocently. “Is it?”
You reach down, grab his face in both hands, and pull him up until his body is flush against yours and his mouth is on your own. It’s messy, desperate, hot. All tongue and teeth and need. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your legs hook around his hips, and you kiss him like you’re trying to make him feel everything he’s doing to you.
When you finally break for air, he’s panting, eyes glazed and lips shiny.
“You should let me mark you up now,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Be fair.”
He laughs, delighted. “Fair? You think I’m playing fair?”
You pout. “Come on, I’m good at it.”
“Oh, I know you’re good at it,” he says, grinning, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “You leave bite marks, not hickeys. And you put them in the most visible places.”
“Exactly,” you say sweetly. “Poetic justice.”
“Uh-huh.” He presses a kiss to your chin. “You want me to walk into work Monday with your teeth marks on my neck?”
You smile, saccharine and unrepentant. “Little collarbone dent never hurt anyone.”
He kisses you once more--quick and smug--before sliding back down your body, mouth dragging heat over your skin.
“Nice try,” he murmurs against your hipbone. “But I’m not done.”
“Chandler--”
He sucks another hickey into the soft skin beside your hip, then another just below the curve of your thigh, where no one but him will ever see it.
You gasp, hands tangling in his hair again. “You’re not fair.”
“Nope,” he says, far too pleased with himself. “But at least I’m consistent.”
Your fingers pulling at his hair, thighs shaking, heart hammering as he keeps going, determined to ruin you in the slowest way possible.
And you let him. Because even though it’s torture, you love it.
You barely register the latest hickey blooming on the inside of your thigh before you’re gasping, thighs twitching beneath his palms.
"Chandler--please--"
He hums low against your skin, lazy and amused, like he could keep this up forever. Another kiss to your hip. Another infuriating pause.
“God, look at you,” he murmurs, dragging his nose along the edge of your underwear, breathing you in. “Dripping. Shaking. Completely wrecked. And I haven’t even--” he nips gently at your hipbone “--touched you yet.”
You let out a broken sound, half whine, half breathless laugh. “Then maybe you should, you smug asshole.”
That makes him laugh. Really laugh. But it’s rough now, breathless.
"Only because you asked so nicely."
His fingers hook into your waistband, dragging your panties down slow, baring you inch by inch. His breath stutters as he takes you in, hands spreading your thighs wider.
“You’re--” He breaks off, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it. “You’re unbelievable.”
You open your mouth for a quip, but before you can form a single word, he dives in.
Your whole body jolts like it’s been struck. His mouth is hot and greedy, tongue parting you with a groan so deep you feel it echo in your stomach. You cry out, back bowing off the mattress, hands flying to his hair as he licks you with slow, devastating precision. It’s not sweet anymore. It’s filthy. He’s not trying to tease you now--he’s consuming you. Moaning into you like he’s starved.
“Fuck--Chandler--” you gasp, trying to pull away from the overstimulation, but he just grips your thighs harder, anchoring you to him. His mouth works you open, tongue flicking over your clit in firm, focused strokes that have your vision blurring.
It builds fast. Too fast. But you can’t stop it--don’t want to.
"Don’t stop," you gasp, voice breaking, trembling all over. "Don’t you fucking dare--"
He doesn’t. He doubles down.
And then he slides two fingers into you, curling them perfectly while his mouth never stops moving-- and you shatter.
It’s loud. Full-body. Dizzying. You cry out his name, legs locking around him as you ride it out, shivering and clutching his hair like it’s the only thing tethering you to the planet. Chandler groans against you like he’s the one coming. Like just making you fall apart has ruined him too.
You don’t know how long you lay there, pulsing and breathless, but when he finally lifts his head, his lips are wet, his pupils blown, and he looks like a man undone.
He takes one long look at you-- sprawled out, flushed, glistening-- and exhales a low, shaky breath.
Then, without warning, he pushes himself up and says casually, “Well. That was fun. I should probably head out before traffic gets bad.”
You blink, still halfway in the clouds. “…What?”
He’s already standing, pretending to look around for his shirt. “Yeah, I mean -- I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow. Taxes. Laundry. Maybe cry in the shower.”
“Wait--what?”
You sit up fast, heart still racing from your orgasm and now also from sheer panic. “You’re leaving?”
Chandler turns just enough for you to see the twitch in his mouth -- he’s barely holding in his grin.
“You asshole.” You grab the nearest pillow and throw it at him. It bounces off his chest and hits the floor. “You’re such a dick.”
He grins fully now, smug and glowing. “Took you long enough.”
You glare, breath catching as he makes his way back toward the bed.
“I just--” you huff, collapsing back into the pillows with a pout. “You can’t do that to a person who’s literally still seeing stars.”
“Oh, but I can,” he says, climbing onto the mattress again, bracing himself above you. "Especially when she looks like this."
His mouth brushes yours, teasing and warm.
"God, look at you," he murmurs, eyes tracing your face like he can’t believe you’re real. "Still shaking. And all because of me."
You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
"Oh, honey,” he breathes, grinning as he kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, “it’s already there."
Then his hand slides back between your legs --and this time, he’s not teasing. But you stop him.
A long, frustrated groan escapes your throat.
He pauses instantly, concern flickering. “Too much?”
“No,” you whine. “The album’s over.”
He blinks. “Wait, seriously?”
You flop your head back on the pillow with a dramatic sigh, staring at the ceiling. “That’s 38 solid minutes of you not fucking me.”
Chandler, still hovering over you, glances toward your CD player. The silence is deafening now that The Smiths are gone.
“You dragged that out for the entire runtime of The Queen is Dead,” you continue, voice flat. “You turned Morrissey into foreplay.”
Chandler laughs-- cackles, really-- as he drops down to kiss your jaw. “I didn’t know we were racing the discography.”
You shove at his shoulder. “Pick something else, jackass.”
“Yes ma’am,” he says obediently, hopping off the bed, shirtless, and beelining for your stack of CDs. “Let’s see what pairs well with utterly ruining you.”
You throw a pillow at him again, but it’s half-hearted. You’re still boneless.
He skims your collection, hips swaying just enough to be distracting. “Fleetwood Mac? No, too emotional. Bauhaus? No, I’m not trying to hex you. Ah.”
He holds up a disc triumphantly. “Space Oddity. You’re welcome.”
You grin. “You’re such a slut for Bowie.”
He shoots you a wink. “Takes one to know one.”
The opening notes of Space Oddity fill the room just as he climbs back onto the bed, crawling over you with a purpose now--his mouth dragging down your neck, his voice warm against your skin.
“Okay, no more teasing,” he murmurs. “You’ve waited long enough.”
“Thirty-seven minutes,” you remind him, breath hitching as his hand skims your waist. “I should file a complaint.”
"File it with my tongue--"
You cut him off with a kiss, fast and a little messy, your hands already moving to his sweatpants. He groans into your mouth as you fumble with the tie, urgency taking over now that the teasing’s finally behind you. He lifts his hips helpfully, letting you shove them down, his boxers going with them.
And then--without warning--you flip them, swinging one leg over his hips and straddling him. His eyes go wide, hands automatically gripping your thighs as you smirk down at him.
“Hey--woah--what’s happening?” he teases, breathless and grinning.
“Shut up,” you mutter, lowering your mouth to his skin.
You kiss down his chest, just soft and slow enough to make him squirm a little, and then you move lower--trailing kisses down his stomach, your fingers dancing over the sharp lines of his hips. And then, with a wicked grin, you sink your teeth in just above his right hipbone, sucking a perfectly dark mark into place.
Chandler gasps--more surprised than pained--and then laughs, all low and stunned. “Jesus--okay--”
“See?” you murmur, your lips still on his skin. “I can hide them.”
You press your tongue over the bruise you just left, proud of your work. “Not everything I do is a bite to the neck, you know.”
“I can see that,” he says, a little breathless, a little wrecked. His hand curls around your hip, thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin. “And here I thought I was the only one who liked claiming things.”
You press another hickey on the opposite side, slower this time, feeling his muscles tense beneath your lips. You don’t stop until you’re satisfied, until he’s marked just enough to prove a point--but not enough to make him suspiciously sore tomorrow--not like you will be.
Then you reach over to your nightstand and pull open the drawer, fishing out a condom. He watches you with dark eyes, still catching his breath when you tear the foil and roll it on him yourself, deliberately slow, deliberately smug.
“Still complaining?” he asks, voice rough and a little shaky.
You look up at him with a smirk. “We’ll see.”
You line yourself up and sink down slowly, your mouth dropping open as he fills you, inch by inch. The stretch makes your thighs tremble, your nails pressing into his chest for balance as you settle on top of him, already overwhelmed by how deep he is from this angle.
Chandler’s hands are everywhere--your hips, your waist, your thighs. He’s looking up at you like he’s never seen anything more obscene or beautiful in his life.
"Fuck, look at you," he breathes, his voice low and wrecked. "You feel so good, baby--"
You try to move, riding him slowly at first, but it’s useless. You’re wrung out, legs shaky, arms barely supporting you. Your body’s still humming, your orgasm having left you melted and soft and so sensitive.
After a few uneven rolls of your hips, you whimper and brace yourself against his chest again, frustrated.
Chandler watches you for a moment, eyes dark and a little amused. "You look like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time."
You groan, dropping your head to his shoulder. "I hate you."
"No, you don’t." He grins and runs a hand down your spine. "C’mon, let me help. You're too pretty to be working this hard."
“Shut up--"
But before you can finish, he flips you easily, holding you steady as he rolls the two of you over. You gasp at the shift, head falling back against the pillows, heart racing as he settles between your legs and pushes back in, all at once, deep and perfect.
"Oh my god--"
"There we go," he murmurs, voice hot against your jaw. "Don’t worry, I’ve got it from here."
You try to sass him, but the words die in your throat the second he starts to move.
His thrusts are slow at first, deep and deliberate, like he’s trying to feel everything--but his eyes won’t stay still.
He keeps flicking his gaze down your body, drinking in every hickey, every flushed inch of skin he spent the last forty minutes worshipping with his mouth. His pupils are blown wide, mouth parted, like he still can’t believe you let him do this.
"Jesus," he mutters, fucking into you with a steady grind, his hand sliding up your ribcage. His thumb brushes over a dark mark just under your breast, and he groans under his breath. “You’re so fucking pretty like this.”
You arch into his touch, whimpering. “Like what?”
He leans in, voice low and rough in your ear. “Like you’re mine.”
A whine escapes you before you can stop it, thighs clenching around his hips. “Chandler--please--”
His hand wraps under your thigh, angling you even deeper, and you cry out as he drives into you again. “You don’t have to beg, honey,” he says, a teasing edge to his voice that does nothing to hide how wrecked he sounds. “You earned it tonight.”
He kisses your jaw, your cheek, your temple. But his hips are unrelenting, grinding deeper with every thrust. “You let me touch you,” he whispers between kisses. “You let me take my time. Let me mark you up just the way I wanted.”
You’re nodding, panting, nearly crying with how desperate you are.
“And now,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look down at you, at the wild mess he’s made of you. "I’m gonna make you come again. Just like this.”
You clench around him, gasping, and he feels it--groans like he’s losing control.
"Chandler--please, I need--"
He cuts you off with a kiss, but his hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit. “I know what you need,” he breathes, fingers circling perfectly. "I’ve got you, baby. Just stay with me."
You’re trembling under him, breath catching on every thrust, every perfectly timed circle of his fingers.
“Fuck,” you whimper, voice wrecked. “I--I can’t--”
“Yes, you can,” he breathes, barely holding it together. “You’re so close. I can feel it.”
And he can. The way you tighten around him with every roll of his hips, every sweep of his fingers--it’s like your body’s begging for it even before your mouth does.
“You’re doing so fucking good for me,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe, with want. “Look at you--marked up, falling apart, and still taking me so well.”
You moan, loud and desperate, fingers digging into his back like you’re trying to anchor yourself. His hand doesn’t stop moving. Neither do his hips. Bowie’s voice is in your ear, but all you can hear is Chandler telling you to stay with him.
Your body tightens. Your breath stutters. And then it hits you, Harder than the first. Blinding, breathless, a second orgasm tearing through you like it’s been building for hours--which, in a way, it has.
You cry out, eyes squeezed shut, every muscle tensing as you shatter beneath him. Chandler groans, holding you close as your walls pulse around him, clenching so tight he nearly follows you right over the edge.
“Fuck--fuck, baby,” he grits, burying his face in your neck. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”
You’re shaking. Gasping. Boneless under him, tears pricking at your eyes from how intense it is, how good he made you feel.
And he just keeps holding you through it, kissing your shoulder, your cheek, your hair. Whispering quiet, reverent things between his own ragged breaths--because watching you come undone like that ruined him, too.
You’re still fluttering around him, every little aftershock making you gasp, whimper, tremble beneath his weight. But he doesn’t stop. Not yet. His thrusts are slower now, but deeper—more desperate. He’s chasing his own high now, gritting his teeth as your slick heat pulses around him, dragging him closer with every broken sound you make.
You whimper again, body twitching beneath him.
“Shhh, I know,” he whispers, brushing his lips over your cheek. “I know, baby. You’re so sensitive right now. But you can take it.”
You nod even as your thighs tremble, even as your hands fist in the sheets.
“That’s it,” he groans, voice wrecked. “You’re doing so fucking perfect for me.”
You feel it--the way his hips stutter, the way his rhythm falters as he loses his grip on the edge.
And then, with a low, broken moan of your name, he pushes deep, stills, then comes. Hot and helpless inside the condom, buried in you to the hilt as he trembles with the force of it.
His breath catches. His whole body shudders. And he slumps forward, catching himself just barely on his elbows before he crushes you completely.
For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing--his, ragged and hot against your neck. Yours, shallow and high, like your lungs haven’t caught up to your heart.
Then he presses a kiss to your cheek. Another to your collarbone. One more, just above a still-blooming hickey on your chest.
“Holy shit,” he whispers, forehead resting against yours, eyes still shut. “I’m gonna be riding that high ‘til, like, November.”
You let out a dazed laugh, fingers pushing gently through his damp hair.
“Yeah,” you breathe, still catching up to your own body. “That was… a lot.”
He stays inside you for a moment longer, breathing hard against your shoulder, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of your skin even while his body slowly winds back down.
Then, carefully, he pulls out, earning a soft, overstimulated whimper from you. He murmurs an apology as he slips the condom off and ties it, tossing it into the small trash bin beside your nightstand.
The second he straightens up, your hand finds his wrist and pulls him down again.
Your lips crash into his--tired, messy, a little desperate still. He smiles into it, breath still unsteady as he kisses you back, cupping your cheek.
“Well, someone is needy,” he murmurs smugly, when he finally pulls back just enough to speak. “Did I not absolutely wreck you like I promised, or…?”
You roll your eyes, but you’re too blissed out to even fake being annoyed. “Shut up.”
“You’re welcome,” he teases softly, brushing a damp strand of hair off your forehead.
You sink back into the pillows with a groan. “Okay, I need a shower. Or a bath. I don’t think I can stand.”
"Good,” he says smugly, already pulling on his boxers.
You swat lazily at his hip. “Go be a decent human and run it for me.”
“Oh, you mean this human?” he says, pointing to himself as he steps toward the door. “The one who just gave you 38 minutes of foreplay, a god-tier orgasm, and carried your soul out of your body with his penis?”
“God-tier orgasm?” you echo, face buried in the pillow. “You really are riding this high until November.”
He winks. “Bubble bath, coming right up.”
And just like that, he disappears out the door--still smug, still shirtless, humming something under his breath as the faucet turns on.
You smile to yourself, muscles aching in the best way, skin still buzzing with every hickey, every touch, every teasing word.
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summary one side of the bargain getting held up, it just happens so that music may be the thing that brings the two of you together
w/c 1.75k
chapter 3 ; happy accidents
and with those words that eddie had uttered, gareth basically froze. his eyes flew wide as he imagined the scene. there was no way in hell. there was no way that he would purposely go out and probably publicly embarrass himself. especially considering how the morning had gone.
“never in my right mind am i gonna do that” he mumbled as he slipped him head into his hands.
just as soon as his shoulders sunk, eddie’s had slapped down. “man, all or nothin!” leaning down towards the shell of his ear, “just imagine it, gareth. havin the girl of your dreams right in your hands. she’s just a few words away”
jeff snickered slightly at the sight of the two. the plan unfolding right before his eyes. he watched as geared churned within gareth's mind. as his eyes lit up in the slightest bit he felt the thoughts as his eyes dimmed with shake of his head.
"can't.." he mumbled. "probably thinks i'm a creep if i talk to her after bulldozing her earlier."
eddie ruffled his hair at his words, "y'know, i do have an inside source.." he spoke as his eyes flickered over to oakley. the two of you seeming to be highly engrossed in your work sprawled across the table.
as a small smile filled your face at the words of your friend beside you, he felt hope flush over his frame.
"they come in here all the time," eddie spoke once more. "i can do my end of the bargain now, get some insight for you. and then, you get to make your move." as gareth's blue eyes flickered to eddie's dark ones he muttered quietly. "okay, then."
with a small push off of gareth's shoulders he ventured over to oakley. a smirk was etched across his face as he slipped into the seat right next to her.
"hey oaks." he spoke as her eyes stayed down and towards the game of tic-tac-toe they were still going at. "eddie," she greeted. "what do ya want?" she questioned.
his chin rested on his palm as his vocal cords moved. "i wanna try us again, for real this time. my days feel as bland as pop music without you. please, be mine again?" he basically begged. her eyes fell off of the game and came up to meet his. just as you watched silently, next to the brunette girl. your eyes flickered to the table he had come from. meeting gareth's eyes, you panicked and suddenly found the table very interesting.
you listened as you heard oakley pretend to weigh out the pros and cons of getting back together with him. both of you knowing that she would go back to him either way.
neither of them could really pull away from each other. they found a way every single time to make their way back to each other. no chance they would actually stay apart for long. kind of strange and slightly toxic, but thats what worked for the two of them.
lifting your gaze back to the two next to you, you really wished you hadn't. your eyes fell upon their lips interlocking just like they never left.
"god not right here you freaks!" you groaned with no real heat behind it.
a cackle fell from the boy as oakley kicked your shin. "we are in the library and we are still at school. but what's off the table for you two." you mumbled. noting how they could never take their hands off of each other when they were together. it was insanely hard to not notice.
"jealous much?" eddie teased with wicked grin. the said grin basically got a growl in reply. "get out of here, super senior." you grumbled as you brought your attention back to your note book. the note book that was filled to the brim with stickers from your favorite bands, movies, shows, and really anything you got your hands on.
"i'll take my girl with me too then" he snickered. you sighed as his hands found their way around your best friend's shoulders. fitting together like a puzzle piece. just as the two of them started standing up the loud scream of the bell slit through the air of the library.
oakley quickly packed her stuff up to bolt out of the door, hand in hand with eddie.
you took your time cleaning up your things. shoving things into your cramped backpack you silently hoped that the two of them would actually last this time. you didn't want to be the one oakley was going to fall back onto. just like she had the many times before. you prayed that they would prioritize communication this time around.
・・・・・
as the next week passed, you didn't forget about the other morning. being you, you continued to overthink the whole time. you snuck around the school cautiously. you avoided the blue eyed boy in hopes of stopping another run in. watching the halls where you knew he lurked. the map that you had made to hopefully see him for the past few months, you clung to so you wouldn't see him.
embarrassment radiated through your body every time you caught a glance of the back of his head. you couldn't stand it.
gareth couldn't seem to bare it either. even while he was embarrassed too, he wanted to see you. he needed to build up the courage. eddie had talked with oakley about you. he got the inside scoop of your big fat crush on gareth. eddie wouldn't let the boy know that right off the bat. he wanted to watch him get nervous at the thought of talking to you.
the slight information that eddie did tell him was very slim, but could be one of the most monumental news to learn about. the information that eddie had told him was very small. even though the news were just teeny tiny, he had composed a plan.
your favorite band was coming into town soon.
while they weren't the most popular band on the planet, but they did tickle your fancy. gareth hadn't heard about them at all. but you bet your ass, as soon as he heard the news he rushed to the record store.
even though the two of you knew each others school schedules like the back of your hands, neither of you ever had the guts to run into each other outside of school. so there was no way that either of you would somehow run into each other in public right?
it was one of the stormiest days in hawkins that anyone had seen in a hot minute. as you rushed into work for your shift, you quickly made your way to the back. clocking in and setting all of your stuff down you let out a sigh.
replacing the newly finished cassette in the player with the newest album from oingo boingo.
as you placed boi-ngo in the player the whole store seemed to change in an instant. with home again blasting you grabbed a box of new releases and moved over towards the shelves to put them away. the door chimed as you sorted out the cassettes,
"welcome in!" you spoke as you kept your head down and organized.
when eddie had mentioned to gareth that you liked music. he didn't know that you liked music to the point where you worked at the only record spot in town. he thought he just meant you listened to it when you did homework or whatever. he truly underestimated your liking.
gareth noticed that you seemed preoccupied to he scattered away as quick as he could.
on a mission he walked towards the 'o' section. he was hoping he would be able to be in and out as fast as possible. not only was the reasoning behind hunting these cassettes embarrassing, but having to talk to you to check out? that takes the cake.
as his fingers scan the titles he lands on the one and only. picking up their newest, boi-ngo, as well as scanning others.
as you finished stocking the new releases you noticed someone over by your favorite section. you moved your way over, not really paying attention to the person over there but speaking as you approached.
"nothing to fear, only a lad, and dead man's party are pretty good too."
his eyes snapped up at the syllables that came from your mouth. your own eyes moved up towards the boy you had become so engulfed in.
"uh, i'll take your word for it." he chuckled nervously.
you nodded meekly before retreating. a blush filling your face as you mumbled to yourself. a small smile on your face at the tiny interaction.
you hadn't known that he was interested in oingo boingo. maybe he had already known that those albums were good and you just embarrassed yourself for no reason. you sighed silently as you moved behind the counter. drumming on the cold surface, you hummed to the song echoing throughout the store.
gareth had picked out the three other albums you had mentioned. he wondered to himself if it would look weird to just be buying their whole discography, so he moved to get an album he had been eyeing up for a little bit.
he made his way up to the counter, now carrying 5 cassettes. the ones you had known pretty well as well as the newest van halen album.
you cleared your throat softly, "will that be all?" with a small nod he assured your question.
"didn't know you liked oingo boingo" you chuckled softly, trying to start a conversation.
as you rung him up, he scratched his neck nervously. "yes and no? honestly, i haven't listened to them but i was planning on going to their concert in a few weeks."
your eyes lit up at his words. "you're going to see them too?"
with a small smile and a nod, you spoke once more. "si guess i'll see you there, then."
"i guess so" he chuckled. "also, i wanted to apologize" your eyebrow raised at the statement. bagging up his cassettes as he spoke, "uh for running into you last week, wasn't paying attention to where i was going"
with an almost silent giggle you replied, "no worries, i wasn't paying attention either. happy accidents i guess." you mumbled the last part as you handed him the bag.
your fingers brushed his as you handed him the bag, "happy accidents." he replied.
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