#SOME PERSON STARTED WRITING IT NOT KNOWING WHAT IT WAS

[drdawnbreaker]

𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 ☆ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐮

Pairing: Idol!Jinu x Producer!Reader

Summary: Jinu was struggling withi is vocal range. Stressing over it to be exact. So he decided he needed a snack break. Good thing he knew just the treat to eat.

Word count: 1.32k

Genre: pwp. Idol au. Smut.

Warnings: Oral (f rec). Fingering. Cum eating. Dirty talk-ish. Pet names. Slight public sexscapade, hehe.

Note: Gonna be honest I have no idea what came over me but when I watched the movie I knew I had to write some fanfics.

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Jinu paced around the booth, making noises that would seem absurd to others but to singers, you would know he was trying every technique under the sun to calm and loosen his vocal chords. He had been given the chance to show off his vocal range in a more ballad type comeback and of course, his voice has decided to go through what he liked to call a second puberty. He was already super stressed as it is for this comeback since it was the first time releasing a real album and you know, not being controlled by a firey demon of hell so… And of course now his voice had chosen to crack, it felt like the world was out to get him.

“Come on, Jinu. Let’s try another take.” Your voice rang through the speaker from the other room that connects to the booth. He sighed, finding a slight comfort in your voice, knowing it was just you watching him fail every time. Ever since Bobby suggest the Saja boys get hired under the same company as huntrix, he was nervous to meet all the staff. but you as a producer had felt like a little piece of heaven, you had helped so much, even going out of your way to stay late with him to practise his parts in the songs. “You ready?”

He put his headphones back on before standing in front of the microphone, “Ready.” He gives a thumbs up to the one-sided glass. You pressed play on the back track, watching Jinu count the beat until he was supposed to sing but when he started he immediately sang the wrong note, cracking the pitch with a ‘fuck’ following afterwards. He threw his headphones in a rage his yellow eyes flaring up ad patterns creeping in the process, making you jump for the speaker;

“Hey, come here now.” You said sternly, watching Jinu run his fingers through his messy hair. He swung the door wide open before entering the producing room where you were sitting on the swivel chair with crossed arms. Your eyebrow was raised while you clicked your tongue, “You didn’t need to throw the headset, you know.”

Jinu slumped onto the couch, falling into it as if he was hoping it would swallow him whole. “I know…” He mumbled. This caused you to shake your head, turning your back to him to look at the computer, choosing to give him a cool down before either of you progressed. He watched your movements closely, feeling the annoyance drip from you. You hated when he got angry, even more so when he threw things. Although he doesn't mean it, he knew that it still bothered you. "I'm sorry…"

“I know…” You mimicked his words prior, sighing as you continued to adjust some of the ranges on your screen. “I understand... I get it.” Another thing he loved about you. You never stayed mad at him when he fucks up. Even when he accident revealed his demon half to you, you didn’t judge. You simply let him explain. Being a caring and kind-hearted person, you always put the happiness an understanding of others before your own.

As you shifted in your seat, he watched as you placed your hand on your neck, lightly rubbing it. You were tired but you would never admit it. You were craving to be in your nice warm bed, cuddled up next to your lover while fast asleep. He felt bad he couldn’t give that to you. but as his eyes wandered lower to stare at your skirt-covered legs, he noticed the way you held your thighs tightly together in concentration. Fuck, what he would give to have them over his shoulders right now, he always felt his calmest when between your gorgeous legs. That’s when an idea popped into his head, “Hey…Why don’t we both take a break.”

“You wanted to do this note before tomorrow. Taking a break would mean you lose time for that, Jinu.” You swiveled your chair to face him but instead of seeing a defeated sad man, you were met with pure desire matching lust-filled eyes. You gulped, tightening your thighs and straightening your back, “Why are you staring like that?”

“Oh, I think you know why.” He grinned, making you look everywhere around the room but at him, with blush painting your neck and ears.

“Jinu! We are in our workplace. This is inappropriate.” You gasped, turning back to the desk, attempting to shake the shiver that was running down your spine to your core. But Jinu just chuckled at how easily flustered he can get you. He stood up, walking over before placing a hand on your shoulder;

“Just one taste. Loosen up my mouth and all.” His deep whisper against your ear caused your eyes to flutter closed. You bit your lip as your body reacted before your brain, pushing off the desk slightly so Jinu could take a seat in front of you. “Such a good girl.” He gave your cheek a kiss before grabbing a pillow from the couch, taking a seat under the desk on his knee right in front of you.

“If we get caught, You’ll never hear the end of it.” You grumbled, lifting your flowy skirt up, gifting Jinu a view of your damp panties, the pink frilly fabric already sticking to your cunt deliciously. Jinu has admitted it a thousand times and he’ll keep screaming it from the rooftops if he had to. But he loved to eat you. It was one of his favourite things to do. There was something about making you feel good just by his tongue and fingers. The way you clenched around him while he lapped up your mouth-watering juices. He would much rather get you off multiple times before he would even grant himself one orgasm. You never came first in life so he made sure you would come first over and over with him if it was the last thing he did. You deserve it after all.

“Fuck look at you, baby. All wet already.” He put his nose against your soaked panties, taking in a deep inhale, groaning at your scent invading his senses. His fingers hooked around the band, pulling the fabric to the side so he could get a look at your cunt dripping with slick. Taking a quick glance at the door and then to your pleading eyes, he wasted no time in latching his mouth to your little bundle of nerves sending a shock of electricity to crackle up your spine. Your hands flew to his soft locks, tugging on them harshly, earning yourself a hiss from him

“Fuck, Jinnuu…” You hiccuped, bucking your hips against his tongue as he licked several long stripes along your folds before going back to suck on your clit. His fingers made quick work, using his free hand that wasn’t holding your soaked panties, to sink two digits into your quivering hole. Your head dipped back against the head of the chair, hanging slightly as you threw your left thigh over the armrest. This gave Jinu more access to add another finger inside you while pulling back to admire your pussy clenching around them.

“You taste so amazing, Sunshine. My favourite fucking meal.” He growled, spitting on your clit, watching his saliva leak down to your hole before he pulled his fingers out just enough to fuck the saliva into you.

“Jinu…I’m gonna argh…” Your eyes watered as you lost yourself in the pleasure while Jinu leaned down, spreading his own legs so he could get the perfect angle to fuck his tongue into you. He groaned when he felt your walls tighten around his wet muscle, eating all the slick that dripped out of your cunt.

“Come..” A slurped followed by a humm, “Come on me…” His nose rubbed against your clit as his fingers sped up, “please, I need it.”

You obeyed your lover's whimpering commands, coming undone on his tongue and long digits. Using your free hand, you covered your own mouth to silence your screams as your hips stuttered and your body convulsed from the aftershock of your climax. You felt like you were floating among the clouds, hazily looking down to see Jinu drinking every drop of your puffy pussy gifted him.”You…a menace.” You panted, raking your hand through your sweaty hair.

“I’m aware.” He sat up with a cheeky grin, your cum dripping off his chin and down his neck.

—

© DrDawnBreaker. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

[crispy-bonnie]

this one in particular is about three characters i tried to get the love route for (except for washford), but failed to because god dammit i said something wrong i guess.

not really very spoilery, but i will add the tag and add a cut upon request if needed

picture this: you've accidentally got some of the dateables to hate you. you didn't mean to, but they do anyway, under the impression that you're just a piece of shit and that you hurt them intentionally. of course, you still have other items who are friends with you! some are even lovers, so you are pretty alright!

however, while you're doing some quests for others, you'd be forced to talk to the ones who hate you. every time you go up to one, they jab at you, berate you; they do anything to make you feel hurt... and you do.

so what do you do? of course, you stop interacting with them entirely. you don't even bother trying, seeing as no matter what you do to be civil, they do nothing but bash on you. you figure that talking to them just hurts more, both you and them, so you leave them to their solitude.

you need clothes to wash but washford hates you? that's fine; you can just take dirk on a trip to the laundromat.

does your floor need a quick vacuuming but hoove can't help but make salty remarks? well, you got yourself a broom (plus dolly would appreciate if you tried to preserve the dust a little bit more).

did your power go out during a storm and you know you're not welcome at the breaker box? you have a friend of yours come over to fix the power, or you just resort to using your phone; you're not picky.

it becomes a routine for you to avoid them, and they're bored out of their mind. hoove hasn't gone out to see everyone in a while, washford doesn't have anything to base his mournful poems off of anymore, and the breaker box seems to be relatively static (considering that the regulars have been too busy making plans with you to even think about visiting). it sucks, and it's starting to drive them crazy.

now what happens next? it's really up to the imagination. i personally can't think of anything that would be a good ending for this, but y'all can drop some ideas in my inbox or write up your own interpretation.

[sparrowwithaquill]

Pt 2 of Popstar!Reader x Saja Boys

Here's part one!

Summary: It’s been months since you first met the boys with them rising in popularity and you coming back from your hiatus you hardly have time to spend with them, but when you finally do you find them hungry for something more than fame.

A/N: y’all gave so much attention to my first post omg I was not expecting it to gain that much attention 😭 here you go my lovelies. Listening to pied piper while writing this was heavenly

Word count: 2.2k

Part 3 will include smut! Please be patient with me, I've been busy with work and some personal issues.

Tag list: @floredaqueen @bleufu1 @brights-place @crescent-z @gremlinartstudio @xiaopeepee @puppyminnnie @ri-eveowe @calmmell @lysira340 @wishiwaswritingrn

“Ah I’m exhausted!”

Another successful dance practice, it’s been months since you first met the Saja Boys and it’s been wonderful!

They’ve grown so much in such a short amount of time, they have their own fan base, have done variety shows, the even have their own light sticks! The only problem is that you’ve hardly had any time to see them with your own concerts and shows and it’s starting to weigh on you a bit.

You’re sure you’ll be able to see them again, in person that is. You’ve been messaging them as often as you can so it hasn’t been completely unbearable.

You currently find yourself in your practice room, shirt off, sports bra on and flat on the floor with your shorts on. The comfiest you can be in a hot room. You get your next song set up and ready to go on the speakers when you hear a knock on the door, you let the music play out as you open the door to be greeted by the Saja Boys.

“Guys! Oh my goodness! Come here,” you hug the nearest one, that being romance who eagerly takes in the hug and leaves one arm wrapped around your shoulder, with a smug grin that you’re unable to see.

“I haven’t seen you all in so long! Sometimes I really hate my schedule,” you complain but now getting a burst of energy, you’re oblivious to the stares that are thrown your way. Not really at you, more at the arm around your shoulder, they can feel coils wrapping in their chest, hot and blistering at wanting it to be their own.

You remain unknown to their feelings as you’re bringing them into the practice room, eager to speak with them after it being so long. Thank goodness you were just practicing by yourself so you don’t have to worry about your wonderful backup dancers having to wait for you!

The boys make themselves comfortable as you walk through the room after closing the door.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you guys! I was just practicing a bit before you knocked, what’s going on?”

The boys were in various seating position, Mystery sitting on the floor next to Baby who was sucking on a lollipop. Romance was leaning against the wall staring in your direction while Jinu and Abby were near the speaker that was still playing music.

You pause the song to better pay attention to the boys, but Jinu just shook his head.

“Just wanted to see our favorite girl, you can keep practicing, pretend we’re not here,” Jinu smiles at you while you give a nervous smile.

You’re happy to see them but this particular song you were gonna… choose a position, well it should be fine right? You smile and rewind the song pausing it before going back to practicing.

“Only if you’re sure…” you nervously smile, giving him a last chance.

Abby just shakes his head at you, “yes we’re sure, princess.”

Oh he does not know what that does to you, a shiver goes down your spine as you sigh before turning back to the mirror in front of you. The layout of the room lets it so that there’s one floor to ceiling mirrored wall which you’re dancing in front of. The boys being leaned up against the wall in the back, letting you see the boys as you start dancing and singing along to the song.

“Don’t have to tell your hot ass a thing, oh yeah you just get it.”

Baby looks up from his phone as Romance nudges him with his foot.

“Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit, God bless your dad’s genetics, mm,” you sing, missing the way that the boys eyes darken at the verse, but do catch the way they seem to be watching you a bit more intently as your eyes quickly flit away. Gotta stay professional.

“You make me wanna make you fall in love, oh, late at night I’m think ‘bout you, ah.”

The boys are thoroughly enjoying the performance, Abby’s gaze watching the way your hips move, Mystery letting his eyes watch your legs. Jinu looks you up and down as you sing, “Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs? Oh, I hear you knockin', baby, come on up."

Jinu imagines just what they could be doing with said pink hand cuffs, as you continue no longer paying attention to the boys. You miss the way Baby and Romance readjust themselves in their sitting positions.

“I know you want my touch for life. If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno,” you slightly dip down with one leg posed out. Romance follows the curve of your leg as you stick it out.

You continue dancing and singing while the boys watch on. They watch until you hit one specific line.

“You make me wanna make you fall in love. Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah. Wanna try out some freaky positions?”

You get down on your knees, turn to the side and stick your hips up, curving your back so you’re in doggy position while looking in the mirror. Gulping before saying lowly, “have you ever tried this one?”

Jinu and Abby take in deep breathes before letting out slow breathes, nearly scruffing the other boys to keep them from grabbing you. Mystery does his best to keep heat from going down his face, but his lip wobbles as the position you were in flashes in his mind.

Baby and Romance aren’t doing much better, imagining you bent over while their hands roam your hips. Gripping your flesh and kneading it while they have their way with you.

You are none the wiser as you continue, getting off the floor. Continuing in the song while the boys barely restrain themselves from stopping and going to have their way with you.

"Adore me, hold me and explore me, Mark your territory, tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one," you sing calmly now kneeling on the floor bringing one hand up the middle of your chest to rest on your neck. Jinu's eyes briefly flash to his demon eyes as he clenches his jaw and crosses his arms to keep a hold of himself.

"Adore me, hold me and explore me, I'm so fuckin' horny," Baby clenches his jaw so hard, he swears a tooth cracked, "tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one," You slowly drag the hand from your throat down your chest and navel before getting off the floor.

You continue until you finish the last chorus of the song, slightly out of breath before you sit on the floor with your legs out and head tipped back.

"Ah, I'm so tired," you mutter out while gulping down some air, "that song is so dirty," you laugh a little bit with your eyes closed.

You fail to notice the way the five men are looking at you. The way they rake their eyes over your form, to the way your head is tipped back, to the way your chest rises and falls. Watching how you really are in almost the perfect position for them to grab your head and use it how they want.

Jinu is the first to move, walking silently to stand just behind where your head is. You only notice he's there when the light dims behind your eyelids, cracking them open and blinking in surprise as you look up in surprise.

You make a slight noise, now seeing how this position is not exactly the most innocent looking. Now moving so your head is looking in front of you. Heat crawls up your face as you look at the other four and they are in different states after the dance.

Coughing a bit to ease the tension you smile a little at the boys deciding to tease them.

"Enjoy the dance, boys?"

You say in a teasing voice, not expecting a serious answer, not even expecting any answer at all. It's not until you look towards Mystery and see him shudder a bit at what you said that you feel a little awkward. It's not the first time you've danced like that in front of men, hell not even the first time you've danced in front of attractive men, but something about them is just different.

Something about them just makes you feel different.

"You guys are being oddly quiet, what happened, was it silly?" Now a little self-conscious, you swallow your spit.

Jinu, still the closest towards you bends a little and pushes your head so it tips back to look him in the eyes.

"Quite the opposite, actually," he mutters, eyes lidded as they watch the sweat drip from your chin down to between your cleavage.

"The opposite, huh," you respond back not daring to break the eye contact between Jinu and you. Not until you see movement from behind him and watch Abby move to stand in front of the door blocking anyone from looking in.

Romance is the next to move, nearing you as he crouches down next to your ear and whispers, "we quite enjoyed it actually, especially that little pose of yours."

Your face heats as you clench your jaw when you can feel how close he is from how his breath is hitting your ear. You dare to look away from Jinu and look towards Romance, noting how his eyes are looking across your face wondering just how flushed he could make it from putting you in other positions.

"Do you do a different position each time or the same one?" Baby asks as he walks to move in front of you. Standing in front while looking down, scanning your face.

"I do- I uh choose a different pose each time, that's kind of the- the gag," wincing a bit at your word choice, " behind it, that there's a lot of positions," you respond back suddenly very aware of where you are. Baby hums a bit, his eyes going up as if in deep thought.

"So that means you know more positions? Hm?"

Mystery pipes up still seated against the wall.

"How many do you know?"

Abby asks, his head tilted up as he watches through the door for anyone coming down the hall.

You think briefly about getting up, but before you can make any move Baby is crouched down on his heels between your legs, looking you in your eyes. Smirking a bit, he watches your face in some satisfaction at how bashful you get.

You’re caged on essentially all sides, Jinu behind you, Romance to your right and Baby crouched in front of you. You couldn’t move even if you tried, if you wanted to move that is.

“I uh,” you clear your throat feeling it get dry at the gazes that are on you, “yeah I, I know a few more.”

"Yeah? Show us."

Abby all but demands from you, still positioned in front of the door, occasionally flicking his eyes out. You can feel your heart stutter as your mouth drops open at his words, "I, you don't really want that. It ruins the surprise!"

You awkwardly laugh out, playing with your hair nervously. Romance takes your hand from your hair and rubs the back of it slowly. Breathing heavily, your eyes flick to Romance's and you swallow as your face flushes.

Jinu chuckles behind you, leaning down to your left ear before breathing out, "don't feel like you have to, you can say no, princess."

Your chest rises and falls quickly at the sound of Jinu's voice breathing huskily in your ear. Just as you go to move, Abby whistles from the door alerting the guys to someone approaching from down the hall. In just a second, all the boys move away from you, leaving you with your eyes blown wide and feeling heat pooling in your lower belly.

You curse whoever was coming down the hall for stopping this from going even further.

It's now been a week since that moment in the dance room and things have slowly been progressing ever since. There have been lingering touches, like Jinu placing his hand on your waist when going behind you to grab something. Abby pulling your hair to the side to purposefully speak into your ear, putting his arm around your shoulder. Baby will speak directly into your ear sometimes, breathing into it leading to you getting shivers down your spine.

Let's not even start with Romance, he is regularly grabbing your waist and grabbing the back of your neck and rubbing it, calling you names like 'sweetheart' and 'babe' while looking into your eyes. Mystery is the only one who's been more subtle with his affection, bringing you your favorite drinks and snacks. Though he can get touchy sometimes, but not often.

They've slowly been getting closer and closer to you, it's now that you guess they've finally had it as you're surrounded by them in your apartment after inviting them over to finally spend some time with them.

You think you've definitely gotten into something you can't get out of.

[strangerstilinski]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Person A falls first, Person B falls harder — With a slightly more literal approach. [ 5.7k ]

𝗰𝘄: fluff, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader (but pls lmk if i missed anything), eddie does call reader "pretty" & "gorgeous", possibly probably incorrect dnd references, minor head injury, i am not a medical professional so don't yell at me, reader is mentioned to have flyaways but no other hair descriptions. don't mess w eddie bcos he can & will prank you <3

𝗮/𝗻: initially based off of this post but, oops! somewhere along the line the og plot ran away from me. still might fuck around and write a version more similar to the original post in the future! :)

divider by @/hellfiremunsonn

Eddie's head throbs with the kind of strength that feels a little bit like he's been hit by a car. Or a semi-truck. Or a fucking train, maybe— Because holy shit, it fucking hurts.

His lips part on a strangled gasp. He manages to pry his eyes open just long enough for the sun to pierce his retinas like a goddamn knitting needle being stabbed straight through his skull and quickly pinches them shut again with a pained groan. He's cursing like a sailor through clenched teeth, dirt and grass rubbing into his clothes when he rolls to one side, feels a stupid dandelion tickling at his nose, and then promptly rolls onto his back again. Jesus, are his ears ringing? He can barely hear the sound of his own expletives over the rush of blood in his veins. 

Jesus, he is such an idiot. He'd actually walked straight into a fucking lamppost. Like some bumbling imbesile in the Sunday Funnies. Eddie doesn't know where you are now — in any other situation he'd be desperately hoping that any bystanders somehow missed the painfully (ha) embarrassing blunder — But the only thing he can spare the brainpower to think about is the ache blooming sharply at the front of his skull. 

Then he feels the stupid, scaldingly bright sun warm him until the back of his neck prickles with sweat, and for just a moment in his melodramatic heart—Eddie knows. 

He knows he's a deadman. He's sure of it, in fact. 

No point in driving himself to Hawkins Memorial to wait around in the ER, he was already a goner. As good as dead. His gravestone would read: Here lies Edward Munson, killed by his infatuation with the relative stranger who sits behind him in Economics and his own short attention span. (But in his humble defense, your smile is bright enough to rival the sun itself, and Holy hell you looked gorgeous today. Sue him if he'd wanted to stare at you just a little longer.) 

Eddie is still rocking side to side in the grass when the sunlight over his body thins with a shadow. As if to add insult to injury, something knocks him in the ribs only a moment later. Eddie is still grumbling profanities when the fog in his ears clears enough to hear another voice, distantly familiar and so much nicer than the sound of his own. 

He dares to open his eyes again, fighting against the pain in his head to squint against the harsh glare of the sun shining out from behind the– 

Huh. He really must be dead. 

Because Eddie is pretty sure there is an honest-to-god angel kneeling over him. Shit. 

Five Minutes Earlier

You're sitting outside during your free period on one of the first few truly warm days of spring in Hawkins, trying to soak up as much fresh air as you can before the cold snap of 40 and 50 degree days the coming week has in store can wring out the final dregs of winter in the midwest. 

The past weekend had been a beautiful respite. Friday it had been sunny and seventy-five by lunchtime. It was a tease of what's to come, so close you can practically taste it. 

Finals, graduation, summer. 

Today is much the same, so by the time the bell rings to signal the start of your free period, you’re already outside basking in the warm weather and attempting to make use of your good mood by finishing the reading for your English assignment, dull as the material may be. 

You nearly drop the book cradled in your lap when the doors to the school suddenly burst open just ten feet from your sunshine-y spot in the grass outside the Hawkins High School science wing. The slam of metal hitting brick is jarringly loud. You flinch in surprise, gaze snapping toward the disruption as your heart rate works frantically to re-settle in your chest. 

Your eyes find Eddie Munson. 

He's standing tall in the doorway, his favorite leather jacket forgone with the warm weather, but he still has his seemingly very well-loved denim vest layered over a tshirt. His eyes are wild, his footing restless. His body seems to be thrumming with unsettled kinetic energy, leaving him wavering in place. He's searching for.. something — that much you can tell. His mouth presses anxiously against his knuckles as he spins in a jerky circle, cursing under his breath while the heavy doors slam shut once again behind him. 

You watch as Eddie looks longingly to the edge of the student parking lot, just barely visible around the corner of the building. His face scrunches up in deliberation for a moment before his head jerks to the side, as if listening to some noise beyond the doors that doesn't quite reach you. He turns toward the line of bushes along the side of the building, just a few feet from where he still hovers at the side entrance. It seems as if he's debating something to himself before he gives an unsure shake of his head, and then suddenly Eddie is diving into the greenery headfirst. 

The sight has you nearly choking on a gasp-turned-laugh. You watch the scene beginning to play out, feeling a bit like you must've been transported straight onto the set of I Love Lucy— like at any moment all color will fade from the world around you and leave behind only shades of gray. Cue the tinny laughter of a live studio audience. 

The doors are slamming open once more before you can so much as blink. The jarring sound of metal colliding with the brick wall again meets your ears just as the last bit of Eddie's denim-clad leg disappears within the thicket of poorly tended branches and leaves. You take in the sudden barrage of green, white, and gold that emerges from the building. Letterman jackets hang loose over the shoulders of the two jocks who have stormed out after Eddie, deep scowls on their faces, expressions pinched and nostrils flared in annoyance. 

“Damn it! We lost him-” 

“Where the hell did he go?” 

“How should I know? Shit, how's the freak so fucking fast?” 

You huff a quiet laugh of amusement, shaking your head as you attempt to refocus on the book in your hands. You've barely finished re-reading the start of the paragraph you’d unwillingly abandoned during Eddie's dramatic exit when a voice slices through your focus. 

“Hey!” One of the guys calls out. 

You catch the way he relaxes his posture into something less intimidating the moment your gaze settles on him. One hand raises above his head in a halfhearted wave, a gentle smile on his face that you're familiar enough with to not fall for — It's dripping with the same faux-charm that you've seen rake in unprecedented extensions for late assignments or subservient smiles in the place of tardy slips. He fixes that same smile on you now, the kind of efficacy that could probably land the guy a leading role in the upcoming Drama Club production. 

“–You, uh, you seen Munson around?” 

Your own acting skills are put to the test when the bushes rustle just slightly at the mere mention of his name. It's an honest-to-God challenge to swallow down the laughter that threatens to spill from your lips. You do your best to paste on an look of confused nonchalance, taking a moment to school your expression while you slide your bookmark into place and valiantly fight the urge to flick your eyes toward the white, rubber soles poking out from beneath the shrubbery beside them. 

“No, sorry.” The lie itself comes easy — The feigned apology etched into your expression, however, proves a little more difficult, “Haven't seen him.” 

The guys look to one another with clear frustration. They begin to mutter back and forth, too quietly for you to make out their words, but from the obvious anger between them, you're able to put the pieces together fairly well. You've watched Eddie Munson piss off more than enough people from afar to make an educated guess as to the motive behind their current hunt. 

The ever-magnetic Eddie Munson. 

A majority of the time it's far more difficult for you to not get sucked into his tirades and rants than it is for you to simply allow your attention to be drawn straight toward him. The captivating boy with wild brown curls, and dimpled cheeks, and expressive eyes, and a laugh brighter than life itself. 

You don't know Eddie, per say. You've never actually had a conversation longer than a few mundane interactions. During one of the more memorable ones, Eddie asked to borrow a pencil that he never actually returned — Instead he'd fixed you with an all-too-charming, lopsided grin at the end of the class and asked if he could use it for the rest of the day, seeing as he couldn't find his. Because apparently he owned only one pencil or something-

And Eddie had sauntered into class every day for the next few weeks with that very same pencil tucked behind his ear. His teeth carved little indents into the soft wood when he gently gnawed on it in thought. He'd drummed the eraser softly on his desk during quizzes, fidgeting with it teeter-tottering between his fingers while he pondered over multiple choice. The utensil whittled down more and more each time you saw him, until it was a mere stub shorter in length than Eddie's thumb — but still, he continued to use it even then. His dedication to keeping track of it for so long was endearing enough that you’d never once asked for it back. 

Point is, Eddie is kind of a secret sweetheart. And you do think you know enough to be confident in the assessment that even Eddie's craziest stunts are nearly always some sort of retaliation in defense of those he deems in need of his protection. The losers and the freaks and the outcasts. Those who would normally allow the abuse and ridicule from their classmates without putting up any real fight. Because if there is one thing you’re certain of, it's that under all of that bravado — hidden beneath layers of leather, ripped denim, and the illegal ink scratched into his skin — Eddie Munson is quite possibly the most genuine, well-meaning person you've ever encountered. 

While you're sure he'd be loath to hear it… Eddie Munson is cute. There's something real that sparkles in that easy charm he turns on the teachers when he wanders into the classroom ten minutes late, or on the lunch ladies when he's angling for an extra scoop of mac and cheese.

And sometime around December Eddie had begun leaving little doodles beside the red pen marking your grade on quizzes and assignments— Adorably disturbing animations of otherwise cute animals, a smiley face adorned with devil horns, a surprisingly detailed hand displaying a thumbs up, a stick figure with the same bald head and frizzy hair around his ears as your teacher. Whatever he could get away with scribbling in thirty seconds or so before continuing to pass the stack of day-old papers back. 

There's a sweetly endearing boy threatening to sneak through the cracks in his facade — You'd noticed, and you've been quietly and embarrassingly smitten ever since. 

Which is to say, you're well-versed enough in his antics to know that while Eddie has surely gone out of his way and done something- He probably doesn't actually deserve the brutal ass-kicking that these two obviously have in store. 

“But-” You call out suddenly when one of the guys teeters a small, unintentional step in the direction of the metalhead's current hiding spot, “I've heard he sometimes hides out from Principal Higgins in the track and field shed,” You fib easily. “Maybe you could check there?” 

The guys seem to perk up at the suggestion, shooting you grateful smiles and waving as they bid you goodbye with a quick: “Yeah, we'll go give it a look! Thanks for the tip!” 

It only takes approximately five seconds from the moment the heavy door slams shut behind them for Eddie to tumble out onto the grass just beyond the line of shrubbery. He curses up a storm all the while, letting out a little yelp when he has to kick one of his feet free from a tangle of low-hanging branches. You can just make out a few of his grumbled expletives along with the tinkling of the chain wallet clipped to his belt loop, the sound of metal on metal and twigs snapping making their way to you despite sitting at the far end of the grassy knoll. 

He scrambles back to his feet in a rush, cheeks pink, wide-eyes flitting about in the distance until his gaze settles on you. Eddie's blush only darkens at the realization that you've seen his fall, but then his cheeks are dimpling with a wide, earnest grin, one hand coming up to shoot you a grateful wave as he takes just a few long strides in your direction.

“Hey, hi, it's you!” He calls out, kicking at the ground below him bashfully as his hands fall to his hips. “I mean. I, uh, thanks for the assist, there.”

“Oh, no problem,” You laugh, “Happy to help.” 

“Well, ah… Just, let it be known that your gentle misdirection was greatly appreciated,” He finishes with a gracious little bow, and feels silly for about half a second before he hears you laugh softly at his theatrics and then any and all traces of insecurity immediately fly from his head to make room for the abundance of affection and puppy love that fills his chest. 

As your laughter tapers out, a small beat of silence settles in the vast space between you. 

“Right.” Eddie nods to himself as he speaks, waving once more when he begins to backpedal toward the parking lot a few yards behind him. “Well, don't tell anyone, but I'm cutting last period, so-”  

You mime twisting a key to lock your lips, “Mum's the word.” 

“Oh, mum, you say? Shit, here I thought you'd just send anyone else who asks after me on a futile side-quest to the track and field shed.” Eddie jokes, moving another two steps back toward the sidewalk. “My own personal mastermind rogue.” 

The reference goes over your head, but the grin Eddie shoots you as he says it is enough of a thrill to have your stomach erupting with a small swarm of butterflies. 

“I'm practically aiding and abetting,” You tease, rewarded with a sharp laugh that has Eddie's eyes glittering even from a distance. “Better be careful. Too many people come looking for you and I just might have to start keeping a tally.” 

A hand flies up to his own chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, “Oh, but of course!” Eddie grins. “Merely name the time and place and I'd be more than happy to repay any and all debts owed.” 

“I’ll keep you updated.” 

You find yourself smiling back— can't seem to stop smiling, actually. You sort of wish he'd invite you to skip class with him, English assignment be damned. He won't, of course, it's not as if you're friends, but… The longing is there all the same.

“Right. I, uh.. Thanks again. I'll.. see you around?” 

Does he look reluctant to leave or is your mind playing tricks? 

“Yeah,” You pause for just a beat, “See you.”

Reluctant to look away from you just yet Eddie keeps moving backwards, his sneaker catching on cement for half a second before he steps up onto the curb behind him with only a small stumble. 

He laughs good-naturedly at his own clumsiness, hands joined at his lower back as he breaks the lingering eye contact with an embarrassed bow of his head.

You watch with bated breath as Eddie nears a lamppost at the edge of the lot. Your lips part on a warning that proves to be about half a second too late. 

Because Eddie has already turned on his heel and suddenly finds himself too close and moving far too fast to avoid walking into it— facefirst, at full-speed. Your entire body jolts just watching the impact from afar, your own yelp in your ears nearly drowning out the awful sound of his head colliding with metal. 

You're scrambling to your feet as Eddie staggers back a step on wobbly legs, and you're abandoning your things to rush in his direction as his knees give out and he lands on his backside in the grass with a choked-off gasp of pain and surprise.

By the time you drop to your knees beside him, Eddie's already cursing up a storm. He's rolling side to side in the grass, long legs kicking out as if the constant movement might actually be able to siphon some of the pain from his head. Your knee catches him in the ribs in all of his thrashing, but Eddie seems too caught up in his hurt and his own dramatics to have even noticed. 

“Fucking–” Eddie cuts off with a groan, long and drawn out as it rumbles in his throat. “Stupid piece of– What a stupid fucking place to put a god damn pole. Jesus H. Fucking Christ! Ouch–!” 

“Oh god! Are.. Are You okay?” You manage to get in over the sound of his breathy expletives. 

All of Eddie's writhing and flailing comes to a halt as he casts a look up in your direction, big brown eyes settling just long enough to be blinded by the sun behind you. He squints hard against the sheer brightness, his gaze instantly gone a little hazy. He looks at you for about half a second, empty gaze flitting over your face like he’s never seen you a day in his life.

“Ah.. Oh, damn it, you're pretty.” He manages before his eyes pinch shut against the onslaught of light penetrating his corneas with another curse, “Real pretty. Ah shit, did I fuckin’.. Am I honestly dead right now? Fuck.”

At least, you're mostly sure that's what he says. He's grumbling under his breath more than speaking, really. Regardless, you're going to reassure him, lips already parting to do just that, but Eddie hardly gives a moment of pause before babbling on faintly, words coming out worryingly garbled to your untrained ears. 

“I-I mean, don't get me wrong, angel, alright?” Eddie’s words slur together, “I am, uh, pleasantly surprised if it's you welcoming me to eternity.” It sounds as if each word is heavy on his tongue, or perhaps, like each one is being forcibly dragged from the depths of his chest and they've lost some of their clarity by the time they reach his lips. “‘m sure you know I'm not exactly in a place to turn away a free pass into heaven, but, uh, Jesus- Or, sorry- Ow.” He finishes inarticulately. 

You reach out cautiously, making for the area of skin hidden away beneath his fluffy bangs. Eddie startles the moment your fingers brush the welt forming on his forehead, despite how deliberately gentle you are with the movement. There's a bump, swollen under your fingertips and warm to the touch already, the injured skin flushed with heat — If the poor guy comes out of this with lasting brain damage, you're going to be seriously riddled with guilt for just existing to distract him in the first place. 

“Fuck.” Eddie grumbles again in discomfort, halfheartedly swatting at your hand until it retreats from beneath his bangs. 

His warm knuckles are such a stark contrast to your own, his fingers curling around the edge of your palm before you can fully retreat back into your own space. You ignore the way the metal of the ring on his middle finger pinches your skin when he squeezes your hand. You return his grip just as solidly while Eddie's head falls back to the ground with a dull thunk, your thumb swiping anxiously over the jut of his knuckle as he begins another round of disconcerting grumbling. 

“Ohh, if I die, my– My uncle is gonna be pissed, man.”

He sure is babbling a lot for someone with a head injury. You wonder if that's normal — If it's a good sign or a horribly bad one. 

You pull in a shaky breath, “You're not dy–”

Eddie doesn't seem to hear you over the light ringing in his ears. Rather, he's continuing on before you can finish, “Shit, he's gonna move ’imself back into my room ‘nd.. ‘N he'll see the state of my mattress. God. He's gonna see the shit stuffed under my mattress–”

You bypass the more obvious implications of his second statement (read: porno mags, drugs) despite your piqued interest, but you're far too stumped and curious to bite back a question regarding the prior. 

“What's wrong with your mattress?” 

It comes out quiet, but still, this time your voice works like magic at pulling Eddie's attention back on you lightning fast, as if he's noticing your presence for the first time all over again. 

Like some sort of divine intervention, a thin cloud passes over the sky then. The filtered sunlight allows Eddie's gaze to fully catch yours, wide brown eyes meeting your open, blissfully honest expression of curiosity. 

You're momentarily stunned by the way the molten chocolate of his eyes goes honeyed in the light, his irises glowing with an enchanting mosaic of brown and gold. 

Eddie, himself, is still squinting against the light, but this time the brightness doesn't hit him with the immediate need to pinch his eyes shut again. Instead, his brain goes blissfully blank, distracted by the way the sky seems to cast a halo around your head. A few of your flyaways sway in the breeze, sparkling so pretty in the sunlight. He murmurs as much, the words nearly incomprehensible aside from the quiet utterance of ‘pretty’ that you catch slip from his lips for a second time. 

“Eddie?” 

You cut through his tumultuous inner monologue with a soft voice, worry etched into your expression. You can't help the way you scrunch the denim lapel at his neck in your anxious fist. You pull, just a little. His shoulder lifts an inch or so off the ground before you’re releasing him again, smoothing the fabric out over his clavicle with gentle fingers. 

He still hasn't responded by the time you’re finished, so you try again.

“Hey, Eddie..” 

His eyes drop from where they've been stuck somewhere just above your own, trailing slow down the length of your torso. You watch him finally take in the extent of your proximity bit by bit; your hand in his own, your knees in the grass beside him, the way your folded legs brush his hip, the fingers you have resting where his shoulder meets his neck, the little flap of denim at the collar of his battle vest caught between your fingers. 

“What?” Eddie croaks after a few seconds of silence, the sound of your name falling from his lips immediately afterward fills you with a sense of relief the strength of which you've never quite experienced. “You.. Sorry. Uh, what’d you say?”

Still recovering from Eddie saying your name in that low, grumbly tone, your mouth quirks up at the corners of its own accord, a soft smile gracing your lips.

“You said something about the state of your m-” The words trail off, hand not currently trapped in his grip finding their way to the space between his brows. The pads of your fingertips brush featherlight over the microscopic hairs above the bridge of his nose, ever cautious in their ascent upward. “Nevermind. I just- Eddie.. Seriously. Are you okay?” 

“I, uh.. Honestly, angel?” He cracks open just one eye, shooting you a playful grin, “Think I might be concussed.” 

You laugh but it’s more in relief at his cognizance than genuine amusement. 

“Here, let me-” You reach out a hand and Eddie allows you to slowly help him to his feet with minimal resistance. He sways precariously for only a moment in a struggle to regain his balance, but your hands are right there on his chest to help hold him aloft. 

You carefully usher him back toward where you'd been reading in solitude earlier. Slowly, lest the metalhead suddenly collapse to the ground. You guide him by the hand, eyes flitting between Eddie's pain etched face and where his calloused palm is pressed firmly to your own.  

As the two of you reach your abandoned belongings, you release his hand to drop to the ground and unzip your bookbag. It only takes a moment of rifling through your things, you find what you’d been looking for: a half-frozen ice pack, tattered kitchen towel still wrapped around it to protect your sandwich from going soggy. 

You remove the towel now, turning to face Eddie right as he plops down in the grass beside you. He stretches out, long legs extended in front of him, leaning back on his hands with a casual coolness that makes your head spin. He's lounging next to you as if this is a totally normal occurrence. Like he skipped class and actually chose to come spend that time with you, of all people. Like he's not currently pretending there isn't a sharp ache in his head. 

“For you.” You hold the ice pack out in offering, the plastic already beading with condensation in the warm air. “It's not frozen-frozen, but it's still pretty cold. I could run to the nurses office real quick, though, if you-” 

“Nah. No need, sweetheart. No, this is great-” He takes the proffered item, fingers brushing yours again, “A Mastermind Rogue and a Healer. How lucky I am to have stumbled into your path this morning.” 

He flashes you that entirely too charming smile again, cheeks dimpling in a way that sends your heartbeat into overdrive. You can't quite believe that before today you'd never really looked at him this close. Plenty of class periods have been spent staring at the back of his head studying the pattern of his frizzy curls — Far more time than you've ever spent actually looking at the blackboard at the front of the room. But now you've gotten close enough to notice the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose, the long lines of his eyebrows usually hidden away beneath his bangs, the short, clean stubs of his fingernails and the green tint staining the skin underneath the ring on his index finger. 

You doubt you'll ever be able to overlook him again after this. 

Eddie must take your momentary silence for confusion, because he immediately delves into an explanation into DnD classifications. He uses simple terms, laying it out in a way that would make sense even if you had no prior knowledge of the game. It's no wonder he's in charge of the after school club, because while he’s boisterous and loud and sometimes a little bit wild and scary on purpose — He can also be so gentle and patient when the situation calls for it, especially when he thinks no one of consequence is paying attention. 

But you're paying attention. You're watching the way his full lips move. The way his one free hand gesticulates while he talks. You're watching a bead of water from the ice pack drip down the soft line of his nose. You're listening as his rambling explanation bleeds seamlessly into the concept for the summer campaign he's planning. You find yourself caught up in the whirlwind of his attention and his excitement and the sound of his fucking voice. 

Eddie's rambling pauses suddenly, and when he begins speaking again, his words come with a deliberate slowness. “Sorry, I- Sometimes I get going and I don't really know when to stop.” He smiles again but this one is more of a bashful grimace as he scratches at his head awkwardly. “You can just tell me to shut up and I won't even be offended. Promise. I, uh-”

A little bit of the light has dimmed from his eyes, and you can't fucking stand it. You don't want to tell him to shut up. Actually, you'd be far more inclined to sit right here listening to him talk about anything and everything until the final bell of the day rings out, hell until the sun dips below the horizon-

There's so much more nuance to Eddie than you'd expected when he mosied into Economics on that first day at the start of the school year and dropped unceremoniously into the desk in front of you. He is so much more than just a seemingly lacksadasal indifference to his education, or the wild storm of the constant chaos that seems to erupt in his wake. 

And speaking of that chaos…

“Hey, um. Can I ask…” You hesitate for only half a second before he’s urging you to continue. 

“Yeah, ‘course, anything. Go on.” 

“What did you do? To piss those guys off earlier, I mean.” 

Eddie drops the ice pack to his lap and twists his body toward you in a rush of excitement, leaning his shoulder against the trunk of the tree and grinning at you until you turn slightly to match him. His cheeks dimple again, eyes filled with a giddy mischief that tells you whatever tale of hijinks he’s about to bestow upon you is going to be good. Or, maybe, bad? 

Eddie makes a show of dropping his voice into a low murmur, “You ever smelled a hard boiled egg after it's been sitting in a hot car?” 

Your lips quirk, “Can't say I have.” 

“Nah, ‘course not,” Eddie replies easily. “Well, you're not the only one, apparently. Swear to God. I, for one, cannot imagine how bad those idiots’ jock-straps must reek… I don't think they even bothered looking for the source of the damn smell ‘til yesterday afternoon.” 

You try to hold back your laughter, but you don't quite manage it, and Eddie's own grin melts into something all-too pleased at the sound. 

“So, how long was the egg in his car then?” You ask in a hushed voice. 

Eddie matches your tone, leans in like he's revealing some great secret. His cheeks dimple, the freckles on his nose standing out in his proximity. 

“Remember that real hot day we had? Cracked 80 or so?” 

You nod, eyes wide. “That was Friday… Right?” Three days ago, your mind supplies. 

Eddie’s still grinning, “Yep. Stuffed it into the pocket on the back of his driver’s seat Thursday during lunch.” He says it proudly.  

“You broke into his car before the weekend-” Another laugh, but you can't help it, not when Eddie's looking at you like that. “And you just… hid a hard boiled egg?” 

“Well, see, it wasn’t locked, is the thing-” He divulges, “So… The way I see it, anyone could’ve done it. Could’a been one of the guys on the math team, or drama club, maybe a spurned cheerleader-” 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” You laugh at the unlikeliness of such a thing. An angry cheerleader, maybe, but the other two suggestions are outright preposterous. “Hell, maybe Mrs. O'Donnell did it.” 

Eddie throws his head back with a cackle, clapping his hands together in excitement. 

“Fucking O'Donnell!” He laughs, “Shit, Yes! Absolutely. You are absolutely right! Yep, O'Donnell’s behind it. Nothing more than a mean old woman's revenge.”  

You try not to get too caught up in the heady fog of approval that rolls over you with every peel of Eddie’s laughter, the joy in his voice, the sparkle in his eyes. 

“Lucky for you, I happened to witness the whole thing, so-” 

“Oh, so you've got my back, is what you're saying?” Eddie teases, bumping your shoulder with his own. “I can count on you to plead my innocence?” 

“I'll insist on your innocence,” You promise slyly. “Someone comes asking questions and I'll throw O'Donnell right under the bus. And anyone looking for you specifically will be sent straight to the track and field shed with the rest of the Munson manhunt. Obviously.” 

Eddie clutches a hand over his heart, “Damn, sweetheart. I'm not sure I can afford the interest rates on a favor like that.” 

You take a deep breath to steel yourself. “I guess you'll just have to think of another way to pay me back.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie leans back a touch, his eyes assessing, unsure. 

He looks almost… Nervous? 

“Yeah.” You swallow around the lump of anxiety building in your own throat before speaking again. “I, uh, well. I'm not busy Friday night.” You offer over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

“No shit?” Eddie laughs quietly, mostly to himself. “You know what? It looks like I do happen to have plans on Friday.” 

“Oh?” Oh. You try to smile despite your heart plummeting to your stomach. It’s fine. It’s fine, you’re fine- 

“Yeah, uh… Dinner and a movie?” 

Your lips part in confusion, and Eddie seems to mentally replay his own words before shaking his head. His curls whip around wildly with the movement, one hand coming up to press the ice pack to his forehead once more. 

“Jesus, sorry, I- Shit, I'm fucking this up.” Eddie curses. “What I meant was uh, you wanna to go to dinner and a movie? …With me!” He adds after a moment. The embarrassment on his face looks almost pained. “Fuck. Would you like to-” 

“Eddie?” You interrupt.

“I… Yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

[gingersnapwolves]

so firstly I want to clarify that I am neither a medical professional NOR a computer professional. I am a financial spreadsheet person and the reason I was speaking up so vehemently in this meeting was because I was the only one there aside from our VP of IT who actually seemed to know what LLMs ARE. our clinical folks thought they were basically just search engines, and I could go on at length about how deceptively chatGPT has been marketed but whatever.

secondly I want to clarify that the organization I work for is specifically mental health, which I think has a somewhat different vibe when it comes to stuff like this as opposed to medical health. our whole job is to understand people and communicate with them. Google an unfamiliar symptom, sure, but our clinicians should not need a computer to tell them how to help someone with PTSD.

all of that being said, from my personal experience, AI does have its applications. Training it to identify cancer cells? Great! (Although from the very passionate comments on my original post, it's apparently very bad at reading feline urinalysis lmao). I can see how it would be helpful with differential diagnosis and God knows I've had my share of shitty doctors over the years.

and even LLM can be helpful if they're closed system and we know exactly what's been fed into them. If ten thousand peer reviewed clinical articles are fed into an LLM and then the clinician wants to ask it for advice, that's a very different thing from going onto chatGPT (and that's not even getting into the HIPAA concerns).

AI/LLM is slowly creeping into different electronic health record systems. The EHR my organization uses has one, we just can't afford it yet. And I've heard a lot of, admittedly anecdotal, evidence that these AIs also have their problems and will basically hallucinate stuff to put into the record. I think there are definitely applications for this technology, but it's not ready yet.

all of THAT being said, it's frightening because professionals are now starting to lean on/depend on LLM to do their freakin' jobs. the whole reason this came up at our corporate compliance meeting was because, without being given permission, our clinicians were using chatGPT to write their notes. And part of the discussion we had, which even the VP of IT agreed with, was that people WILL use these resources. even if we tell them not to. and the best thing we can do as an organization is to give them guidelines on how/when/what/et c. So our organization is currently researching the available free/low-cost LLM/AI models so we can at least tell our staff "IF you want to use an LLM to REPHRASE (not write) your progress note, this is the one you have to use".

because believe it or not, clinicians now graduating expect to be able to use LLM. they'll ask about it during interviews. if we say 'sorry but our organization thinks LLMs are trash and we will never incorporate them into our workflow' then some of them won't take a job with us.

honestly it really scares me how we went from 'hee hee AI can make a picture of me as an astronaut' to 'AI can rephrase this email so it sounds more professional!' to 'kids won't do homework without chatGPT' to 'medical professionals won't take jobs without being told an AI will do all the thinking for them' in like. what. two years????

so yeah, those are my non-expert thoughts on the matter.

tl;dr there are applications for AI, even LLMs, in medicine, but only ones that are closed system and haven't been fed a bunch of random crap, and our society's insanely rapidly growing dependence on AI is scaring the shit out of me, personally.

had a long discussion at our compliance committee meeting this morning about the growing use of AI "resources" like chatGPT in medicine and medical documentation, and may I just say, from the bottom of my heart ... yikes

[cheol-e-kat]

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘

ft. k.mg

pairing:  kim mingyu / f!reader 

summary:  you’re convinced you can’t stand mingyu until a random night and a drinking game change everything

word count:  3.1k

genre: college au, student!mingyu, student!reader, one sided “hate”, friends intervening, drinking games

rating: 18+, mdni, explicit

warnings below cut

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, drinking games, fingering

You hate Mingyu. You hate him so much. 

Literally. You. Hate. Mingyu. 

You could write whatever the opposite of poetry is about him. 

You hate his smile. You hate his long hair. You hate how tall he is and how broad his shoulders are. You hate his arms because, well, fuck him. You just do. 

He’s the worst. 

He’s annoying. 

And so nice that it’s obscene. No one is that nice. No one smiles that much. Or takes jokes about himself that well. 

He’s fake. 

You hate his socials, too. Because eww, who asks someone else to take these photos? He’s so obviously self-obsessed. 

You can imagine that he’s the type of guy who would fuck his own clone because who else would know all the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 fuckedy things he’s really into. 

You imagine he’s the guy with a secret cam boy life when he’s not in class or playing soccer. He’s jerking off and flexing for a camera and watching tips roll in from strangers. 

And yet, you’ve seen him at parties.

And he’s so boring.

He could pull so many girls, and guys, and all he does is…nothing. Besides play drinking games. Any drinking game. 

Which you’re surprised by, especially when you’re across from him at a friend’s apartment playing truth or dare. 

You had been there early mixing some frightening as fuck punch drink that you were fairly certain came from a recipe that was roughly rat poison. Because the amount of vodka and sugar was shocking. Not to mention the green food coloring. 

And now you were on your second cup. And playing truth or dare.

Which is probably why you said ‘truth’ when it was your turn. 

Your friend just laughed from the side. “Seriously? You sure about that?”

You turned to look at Jeonghan questioningly. “Yeah, why shouldn’t I be?”

He grinned at that. “Because dearest, I know you, remember?”

You did remember. You could tell some evil thought was turning over in his mind. Your heart started to pound. You started to change your mind, but before the words were out, he was asking you something. 

Which you clocked but still asked him to repeat. 

“Do you hate Mingyu?” He asked with an annoying smile. 

It was such a shit question. You stared hard at him. “Why would you ask that?” You whispered. Even drunk, there were things that were shitty and out of bounds to ask. 

He shrugged. “Because some of us are curious,” he said with a small shrug. 

You rolled your eyes. “Seriously,” you huffed and glanced at Mingyu, surprised to see him looking intently at you. 

And you folded, shaking your head. “No, I just think he’s annoying…sometimes,” you trailed off, sipping your drink to hide your face. 

You weren’t about to tell someone you hated them to their face. Not when they looked at you like a puppy looking at its owner. 

You were still annoyed when it landed on you again and murmured ‘dare’ because fuck the truth. You weren’t in the mood. 

“Kiss the person you called annoying in the last round,” Joshua said with an evil smirk. 

You stared at him for a moment, not really in disbelief. It was more like you wanted to smack him for being such a little shit. 

You glanced at Mingyu, though, raising your brows questioningly, hoping he might turn you down. But, despite what you had said, he just nodded at you. 

And with a sigh that was maybe fake, you got up from your chair and walked around the table to him. You nudged his shoulder, watching him turn back to you. You wondered if he thought this was just like a moment where you chastely pecked his lips or something. 

Again, he was so annoying. 

Instead, you slid into his lap, looping your arms around his neck and leaning in close, letting the bridge of your noses touch for a moment before you closed your eyes and let your lips press against his. 

His arms immediately went around your waist. And his lips were so, so, so soft and tasted so sweet. 

You let your fingers catch in his hair as he licked into you. You let him deepen the kiss, feeling his hand wander up your back, pulling you closer. 

You felt it - felt him. His dick hardening beneath you. You pulled away gently, looking at him. You could see the look on his face, like he was about to apologize. You were still close, though, and quickly pressed a finger to his lips. Shaking your head gently. 

You grinned when the tip of his tongue swiped against your finger. You didn’t trust yourself to talk at a normal volume. Instead, you leaned down and kissed his cheek. 

You were surprised to hear a voice directed at Mingyu, asking him ‘truth or dare.’ 

You hadn’t moved from his lap. You watched him closely. 

You heard the soft way he breathed his answer - ‘truth.’

“How badly do you want to fuck y/n?”

You didn’t even bother looking to see who had asked the question, their voice just becoming this sound from behind you while you gazed at him. You waited for him to look away or seem embarrassed. 

You didn’t expect him to look at you when he responded. “Right now, or generally?” He asked, his fingers pressing gently into your skin.

You weren’t expecting that. 

You heard a soft laugh being suppressed behind you. And maybe someone else choked. But you weren’t paying attention. 

You just smiled. “Both,” you clarified the question for him. 

You weren’t exactly thinking about how hard his cock was feeling, or how warm his hand was on your thigh. 

You definitely weren’t thinking about the gentle way his thumb traced circles against your naked skin, or how sweet the callouses from all the time he spent lifting weights felt against your tender skin. 

You were watching the way he didn’t miss a beat when he answered. “Right now, really badly, and generally?” he asked, pausing and watching you for a moment before he gestured for you to lean closer. 

He leaned up to your ear. His voice was so soft. “I jerk off thinking about you, so daily, probably,” he whispered his estimate to you. 

He had genuinely whispered. You might have asked him to repeat himself on any other day or about any other subject. But you heard him perfectly. Even as other sounds started to come back to you - the music and the sounds of someone still playing Mario Kart. And someone else answering ‘dare.’

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You hadn’t left the party with him immediately. You had stayed in his lap for a few rounds, getting nothing but boring questions. 

You let his hands wander, though. You didn’t care that he leaned against you, or the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck. 

It was horrible PDA. Bad enough that Jeonghan texted you to tell you how obnoxious you were.

[hannie]

srsly take the puppy home alrdy

u two are soiling my eyes

[y/n]

entirely ur fault 

[hannie]

that u finally stopped being such a tease???

[y/n]

so not a tease

and fuck u btw

[hannie]

u know u like him and ur so obvious 

he won’t even go out with other ppl

waiting around for ur dumb ass

[...]

You glared at him from your new seat, wondering if that were true. 

You were surprised to feel Mingyu shift and reach for your phone, locking the screen as he pulled it out of your grasp. You glanced back at him, not in annoyance for once, even if he had just pocketed your phone. 

You had been on the verge of replying and calling Jeonghan a liar, but now you couldn’t. 

You pouted. 

And he had the nerve to grin and mouth the word ‘cute.’

You bit the tip of your tongue gently, feeling your anger flare. He just sat there, watching, like he knew what you were thinking. You rolled your eyes. 

He wasn’t that hard anymore, so you got up. 

He could keep jerking off while he imagined how good you were. You were being dramatic, but that wasn’t new behavior. 

You were up from the table and halfway down the stairs when you heard him. “Are you seriously leaving? Without your phone?” 

You leaned on the railing to look up at him. “Yes - it’s not like it’s an appendage,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

You ignored the fact that he followed you. You pretended not to hear him when he asked you to wait up. Instead, you started to walk faster and then, like a bitch, broke into a sprint, darting around a bench and through one of the painfully green quads. 

You were shocked when you felt yourself land in the grass. 

Not because you fell. 

But because he’d tackled you. You could hear him breathing hard. “Fuck,” he muttered. 

You tried to squirm, but he really was heavy. “I’ll scream,” you whispered. 

He laughed. “Yeah?” He asked. 

“Yes,” you tried to sound menacing. 

He laughed again, nuzzling your throat, his lips brushing against your skin. “You could just come back to my room, y’know, let me actually make you scream,” he whispered, breath hot against your skin. 

You closed your eyes, feeling the heat his words caused to travel through you. You couldn’t help the way you practically purred at the idea, even if you were trapped between him and the carefully curated grass of your college. 

“Like you could,” you whispered daringly. 

You felt the gentle press of his teeth against your throat and gasped. You felt his tongue tracing the little indents he maybe left as his hand slid under you. “At least tell me if you’re as wet as I think you are?” He asked. 

You laughed and tried to turn back. But he wouldn’t shift. “Just let me feel,” he whispered, voice whiny and pleading. You reached back and pulled his hair roughly, even as his fingers brushed against the crotch of your panties. 

You knew how thick his fingers were, how neatly his nails were always trimmed. And now you were feeling those fingers tease your slick cunt, parting the lips, barely pressing into your opening, just dipping into your slick heat. 

His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Exactly like I thought, baby, so wet and ready,” he whispered, his voice was low and almost made you shiver. “Fuck, I bet you make such a mess when you come,” he murmured. 

His first finger slid into you. He groaned softly at the feeling. “Mmmh, so good,” he whispered against your skin. 

You gasped, feeling the quick addition of his second finger. You fisted your hand in his hair, pulling roughly. 

He whined in response. “Too much?” He asked. 

You shook your head. “No,” you moaned, “feels good,” you admitted. 

His weight pressing you into the hard ground felt good, too. His fingers pumping into your wet heat felt even better. 

“Make me come,” You demanded, wanting to come for him, hoping you were as messy as he wanted. 

He nodded, kissing you. “’m trying,” he muttered. 

“Just - more,” you moaned. 

You felt his third finger push into, stretching you, your fingers dug into the grass and his shoulder. He bit your neck roughly. You groaned. 

“Mhmm harder - fuck, harder,” you whined and gasped when he did. You were so close. He was hard against your low back. His dick was pressing into you, his hips barely rutting into you. 

“Want you inside me,” you whimpered. 

He kissed and sucked your throat. “Mmmh, me too,” he murmured, barely pulling away from you to speak. 

And you felt his fingers push in deep inside and tease you roughly. They spread inside you, pushing hard against your walls. He kept pressing into your walls, stretching you, as he pulled his fingers out, and then slammed them back in, repeating the move. 

You couldn’t even name what part of you he was hitting so well - it was sudden and new - it was so fucking good, you were sure your toes curled and your body clenched. You felt his free hand come to clamp over your mouth. You had no idea how loud you were. 

But you felt your pussy pulse and clench and finally this intense release, and every part of you was left completely relaxed. You kissed and licked his palm, moaning softly, drooling a bit. 

“So good baby,” he whispered against your skin. “So good for me, so wet and so good,” he murmured, kissing your throat and the back of your neck and your shoulder as he spoke, his fingers still working you gently. 

When he finally leaned up, you turned over, looking up at him. He raised a brow. “Good?”

You nodded. “Amazing,” you said, biting your lip to hide your smile and closing your eyes. His self satisfied smile was too much, especially when you could still feel your pussy clenching around nothing, cum probably still flowing. 

You didn’t care that he was between your legs. You sighed when you felt his tshirt swipe between your legs. It was cute of him. 

You opened your eyes, peeking at him. The smile that annoyed you was gone. He was paying attention to what he was doing, using the hem of his tshirt as best he could and looking determined to do a good job. 

You sighed and sat up, nudging him. “It’s fine,” you muttered, your voice soft. 

He nodded. “Yeah,” he mumbled, leaning down and kissing you, cupping your cheek as he did.

You pressed him back after a moment. “We’re not fucking here,” you whispered, determined. 

He nodded, agreeing. “I have no idea where you were running to, though,” he admitted.

“My room,” you answered. 

“Oh.” His voice was gentle. You could feel the question he wanted to ask. The one about whether he was invited or not. 

You nudged him to get him to move so you could stand. He really was like a puppy. He certainly looked forlorn enough to be one. 

“Come on,” you whispered, waiting for him this time. You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers with his, and pulled him along, the idea of what he could do with his dick was suddenly very interesting. 

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“Think anyone saw us?” He asked as you went. 

You shrugged. “Don’t worry, if they did, Jeonghan will send us a link ASAP, if they did,” you whispered to him. 

“True, probably an edit that he made and posted,” he hummed.

You laughed. “Don’t worry, though, darling, it’s so much more flattering this way,” you said with a grin, mimicking your mutual friend. You liked it when he grinned back, knowing you were right, his cute little fangs even making an appearance. 

You squeezed his hand as you walked, pulling him along to your building and up the stairs, heading to your room. 

You glanced back at him, though, he wasn’t the innocent boy you had constructed in your mind. So, you caught the sleeve of his shirt gently between the first and second-floor stairs, wanting to kiss in the little alcove that used to be for a landline - the house phone. 

There was just enough room and shadow to hide you from prying eyes. 

He surprised you again, his hands roving along your sides and waist as he pushed you against the wall. He kissed you like he needed you - needed to memorise you, your taste, the feel of you. 

He picked you up easily, caging you between him and the wall, leaning down to kiss along your throat. Your legs locked around his waist, your thighs squeezing as you returned every fervent kiss. 

You want to memorise him just as badly.

You ran your fingers through his hair, winding them in his soft locks, moaning softly when he nipped at your collarbone. And when he paused to glance up at you, you could feel the heat between you - the need you didn’t even know existed. Or at least the one you had ignored into oblivion. 

You shifted, smoothing his hair from his forehead, cupping his cheek. “You’re so gorgeous,” you whispered. You could see the initial surprise wash over him. 

“Yeah?” he asked softly, the question was real, like he thought you might be fucking with him. 

You nodded, though. “Yeah,” you replied, tracing a finger along his cheek, “you really are,” you whispered, holding his gaze, and leaning closer, your lips catching his gently. You kissed him sweetly, a little less hungrily than before. 

You didn’t hate Mingyu. 

You didn’t hate his smile.

He wasn’t fake. 

He wasn’t disingenuous. 

He was happy in a way that was infectious - a way you didn’t always understand. 

You kissed him harder, wanting to apologize for every harsh thought you’d ever had, like you could just transfer the apology through physical touch. But that wasn’t enough. You broke the kiss just enough. 

“I’ve never really hated you,” you murmured, trying to let yourself be open with him. 

He nodded. “You made me wonder sometimes,” he replied softly, pressing close again his forehead touching yours. “But I hoped I was wrong,” he whispered in the centimetres separating you from him. 

Neither of you moved in this strange moment when it felt you were both confessing important things in this tiny space built for important conversations that could only happen in hushed tones. 

“Stay the night?”

He nodded.

You knew you could have asked for more, but looking at him, really looking, it wasn’t the time. Instead, you had the overwhelming feeling that, despite everything up until this moment, you needed to reassure him. Maybe even show him what you were feeling and stop hiding behind your affected apathy. 

“Stay for breakfast?” you asked, smoothing his bangs back from his face.

He smirked and nodded. “Yeah,” he said - his cute grin returning. You smiled back and leaned in to kiss him gently. 

When you leaned back, you bit your lip gently. “Good,” you murmured, only blushing slightly. 

It was pleasantly strange to go to bed with him like nothing had happened between you. Like this was the starting point, and not earlier in the evening. Instead, you got to start from the point of falling asleep in his arms with very domestic plans for the next day.

And there was something perfect and weirdly lovely about waking up to him. The way you were caught up in him - your legs twined with his - the soft kisses that neither of you seemed to be able to stop. 

You were perfectly happy for the moments to drag on into eternity, never ending and perfect.

It was even weirder to think you might actually just be in love with him - and maybe had been the entire time. But maybe that was just how your story was meant to be. 

a/n: idk i'm down for ambiguous endings rn but always assume they are togther for eva ^^

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒌𝒂𝒕

♡ master list & tag list

♡ [ 𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ] ★ [ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

[ 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆: praise + worship kink | vehicle sex + oral fixation | ceo/boss + big flirt x easily flustered + age difference | 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉 |

[ mingyu one shot tag list ]

☁︎ @syluslittlecrows [e] ☁︎ @gyuguys [e] ☁︎ @tinyelfperson [e] ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite [e] ☁︎ @livelaughloveseventeen [e] ☁︎ @codeinebelle [e] ☁︎ @ateez-atiny380 [e] ☁︎ @mingcouper [e] ☁︎ @hanniebub [e] ☁︎ @perfectiondazesworld [e] ☁︎ @scoupshawty [e] ☁︎ @peachytokki [e] ☁︎ @coupsbestleader [e] ☁︎ @fleurloovin [e] ☁︎ @babybae-shisui [e] ☁︎ @asyre [e] ☁︎ @dcrlingyou [e] ☁︎ @yeosayang [e] ☁︎ @nanabananananabatman ☁︎ @yoongznme [e] ☁︎ @gyuhao365 [e] ☁︎ @jeonghnie [e] ☁︎ @armycarat2612 [e] ☁︎ @shuas-winnie30 [e] ☁︎ @famouspoetrydinosaur [e] ☁︎ @ateezaddict24 [e] ☁︎

☁︎ @aaronwarners69thwife [e + wips] ☁︎ @daisymbin [e + wips] ☁︎ @babilou-pov [e + wips] ☁︎ @sseungcheols [ e + wips ] ☁︎ @keyrecsfics [ e + one/multi & wips] ☁︎

☁︎ @ninigyuuu [k.mg - e, b.f. priv]

[izadi234]

A/N: Hello! I know I KNOW I said I would post the next chapter of Forget me not BUT! My sister got me obssed with Kpop Demon Hunters, and since its release, I've been down bad for every single character from that movie ever since so here is one of my ideas!

Famous Producer! Reader (Romantic) x Kpop Demon Hunters

Bodyguard! Father! Reader (Platonic) x Kpop Demon Hunters (kind of)

This small draft is about Huntr/x and I'm planning to write one about the Saja Boys in this same storyline.

Imagine you being a famous producer. You've been working with tons of famous idols, from groups to solo idols, but the ones that were your favorite and the cherry on the top for your career were Huntr/x.

And no, you didn't meet them just because. You see, the girls need new ideas not only for songs or dances but to advertise and produce their songs at the beginning of their career and despite having the old producers from the 'Sunlight Sisters' their ideas were... old, and they didn't get the ideas that Huntr/x had in their minds.

That's when your father came in. He was a bodyguard, specifically the 'Sunlight Sisters' bodyguard and later on Huntr/x's. He saw how his girls struggled with explaining their ideas to the old producers, so he gave them your number, and after a lot of things about it, they told Bobby to schedule an appointment with you.

At first, you didn't think too much when you saw the email of this guy named Bobby and just decided to give it a shot because of the name of the group, which you found cool.

But your jaw dropped when you recognized the girls or, specifically, the girl.

Rumi. Kpop royalty. She was at your door with two of her friends. And she wanted you to produce their first song. Yeah, you.

You were a bundle of nerves, and to be honest, you made a fool of yourself in front of them. Just a bit. But they found that very cute.

"So... You're (Name), right?" Rumi asked kindly as she smiled at you

Meanwhile, you were staring at her and her friends as if you've never seen someone like them, but her voice pulled you back to earth.

"I uh... Sorry, what was the question?" You chuckled nervously

They couldn't think of you as more than a cute and a bit awkward producer but damn weren't their jaws down to the floor when you started working.

Your face changed immediately. Your eyes were focused, and your lips were in a fine line as they explained to your their song and ideas. They waited for you to interrupt them once you got confused but that never happened.

Once they finished explaining themselves, you started giving them some ideas and suggestions, leaving them completely surprised that you had understood their vision.

"We know there is a lot we are asking for, so it would be valid if you had doubts or didn't understand at all" Zoey said, a bit embarrassed, not by their ideas but the complexity and how she thought none of them could explain themselves

"Oh no. I understood," you assured her."So basically, what you want is..."

Yeah, and you proceed to explain exactly what they all wanted for their song and it's production.

Ever since that day you became their producer and friend... Well, at least that's what you call them, for them you were more than a friend.

But it wasn't only your personality or work that pulled them towards you. You had something special, something that made the moon honmoon around you react differently.

Around you, the honmoon was yellow, a very chirpy and happy yellow, but you never seemed to notice it, or if you knew it, then you never paid mind to it.

For our 3 hunters, it was fascinating and scary. Maybe you were hurting their honmoon without knowing, or maybe you knew about it but didn't know what to do about it. They were sure that you weren't doing it on purpose as they didn't feel tense around you but didn't know what to do.

That's when they went to Celine. She was impressed and excited which left the girls confused but then she explained herself.

"As you may know, yellow is one of the 5 principal colors of Korea. It represents fertility and abundance, but many years ago, it represented high status and wisdom. Ever since the first hunters appeared, there's been a few people who presented this kind of color with the honmoon. Those people had an ability that was believed given by the gods so they could help fight evil. They're gifted with powerful minds full of emotions and creativity, which later one was discovered could help the hunters write and perform their songs better and give the honmoon more strength. Not every generation was lucky enough to meet one of these 'shooting stars' as they called them, but the three of you must be the luckiest of all. Now that you're so close to seal the golden honmoon, this shooting star appears right in front of you. Let them help you, but don't tell them anything. They may get scared and don't understand our duty as hunters"

And that's how your friendship began.

Meanwhile, your father was happy that you had found some friends in those girls (even though he noticed the way the three of them looked at you or how they asked about you) and to be honest he would be more than happy to see you with them in a more romantic relationship but that was your decision to make.

"Hey F/N (Father's Name)! Have you seen (Name)? I wanted her opinion about some lyrics" Zoey said as she walked into a room where your father was resting and talking with Bobby

"Oh. They must be at their apartment" he said

"Really? Oh, well. And do they like jajangmyeon?"

"What does that have to do with checking some lyrics?" He asked her

"..."

"Zoey..."

Before anything else happened, Zoey ran away like a little child that had been caught painting the walls.

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

"Hey F/N! Bobby!" he heard Rumi's voice behind both men that were discussing the girls' schedule for the day

"Rumi" F/N greeted her with a small nod while Bobby greeted her with more energy

"I've been wondering... Is (Name) coming to our show tonight?" She asked a bit nervous

"I don't know. I guess so" he looked at herwith his eyes half open in a suspicious way

"Why?"

"I-I I was just wondering, that's all" she said nervous

"Yeah... right..." he didn't believe her

"And... are they free after the show?"

"Rumi!"

Then the girl ran off

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

"Hey F/N" Mira greeted him as he was checking the security points of a stadium where the girls were going to preform

"Yes, Mira?" He turned to look at her

"Which is (Name)'s favorite color?"

"I uh... it's f/c" he answered a bit, confused by her question

"Really? Thanks!" She turned around and ran towards backstage again

"Girls, I know her favorite color!" He heard her shout at the other two hunters

"Really? Awesome!" Some other voices could be heard from the backstage

"Wait Mira!" He called out for her

"Why do you wanna know their favorite color?! Mira!"

Yeah... Your father was a bit overprotective over you, but hey! He was your father. He had a valid reason.

But he still trusted those girls as he had seen them grown over the last years.

Everything was perfect for them. The honmoon was about to turn golden. You were by their side supporting them, oblivious about the risks they face every day and the importance of the songs you help to write and produce. F/N and Bobby were also by their sides and the fans adored them.

Nothing could go wrong, right?

Well, everything went downhill when a new boy band was forming at the Underworld.

Hello! I hope you like this small writing because I had fun writing it and I have more ideas! Still I would like to see if you had any ideas or something like that or even requests!

Anyway thank you so much and see you in the next one!

XOXO

-Izadi

[definitelymaybelilac]

[answering these as my 90s fame DR self, love the frutiger aero btw]

#1. what are 3 items you can’t live without?

My GameBoy, my copy of Tetris, and my purple contac- I mean, these aren't contacts, my eyes are naturally purple!!!!

#2. favorite song?

Slide Away by Oasis aka my bfs

#3. what are your hobbies?

Aside from playing guitar, singing, and writing songs- playing video games & drawing

#4. favorite holiday?

Halloween because I like getting to dress up

#5. what do you do for a living?

I'm in a rock band called The Broken Screens!

#6. who is someone you always hangout with?

Rodrick Heffley, my childhood best friend

#7. are you a night person or a morning person?

A night person

#8. favorite animal?

Foxes

#9. introvert or extrovert?

Introvert [in every reality]

#10. do you have siblings?

My twin sister Rose, who I started The Broken Screens with [and am group shifting here with] :) we also have a brother who is 4 years younger than us

#11. how do you dress?

Idk exactly what to describe my style as, but I usually dress in dark colors and some things I often wear are ripped jeans and faux leather jackets

#12. favorite movie / tv show?

Back to the Future

#13. do you have a crush / significant other?

I'm dating Liam Gallagher AND Noel Gallagher because I for some reason have a crush on them both I know it's a recipe for disaster, but it will work out because I want it to and I'm the god of my reality. It'll also help that I'm scripting they get along better than they do in this reality

#14. what’s your zodiac sign?

Virgo [not too into zodiac signs though honestly]

#15. what’s your favorite snack?

Dark chocolate

#16. do you travel a lot?

Of course I do, I'm always on tour

#17. do you play instruments?

I mostly play guitar, but I can also play the piano

#18. who is your best friend?

My sister Rose, goes without saying we get along significantly better than our bfs do yes she is also dating the Gallagher brothers, look we're just both in love with these egotistical Beatles wannabes, ok?

#19. least favorite food?

Cereal

#20. what’s your name?

Lilac Supernova [ok that's just a stage name- my actual name is the same as it is in this reality so I don't want to say it. Also fitting because my DRself keeps her actual name a secret from the public at first]

#21. do you have a sweet tooth?

YES

#22. nicknames your family or friends call you?

[I can't think of anything]

#23. what is something that annoys you?

When tabloids spread lies about me & my bandmates

#24. do you have a pet?

Yes, a cat named Muffin

#25. do you prefer going out or staying at home?

I like doing both :) Going out because I get to be with my friends, staying home because then I get to play video games

QUESTIONS TO ANSWER AS YOUR 𝒟R 𝒮ELF ✸

ib this post from @zaddizu & heavily ib premiumbitch ★

#1. what are 3 items you can’t live without?

#2. favorite song?

#3. what are your hobbies?

#4. favorite holiday?

#5. what do you do for a living?

#6. who is someone you always hangout with?

#7. are you a night person or a morning person?

#8. favorite animal?

#9. introvert or extrovert?

#10. do you have siblings?

#11. how do you dress?

#12. favorite movie / tv show?

#13. do you have a crush / significant other?

#14. what’s your zodiac sign?

#15. what’s your favorite snack?

#16. do you travel a lot?

#17. do you play instruments?

#18. who is your best friend?

#19. least favorite food?

#20. what’s your name?

#21. do you have a sweet tooth?

#22. nicknames your family or friends call you?

#23. what is something that annoys you?

#24. do you have a pet?

#25. do you prefer going out or staying at home?

[mikkies]

「 THE WINNER TAKES IT ALL, THE LOSER HAS TO FALL. 」

Guest 1337 x GN! Reader┆Shedletsky x GN! Reader┆Two Time x GN! Reader

warnings: uhh I think projection is a warning

notes: I didn't want to write for fuckass two time since he's winning the hottest poll with builderman but I gotta do what I gotta do. ANYWAYS ANGST, heavy angst or light idk.

☆ — GUEST 1337:

THE WOODS ARE quiet tonight. Quieter than usual. The kind of silence that presses in from all sides, thick like fog, humming with things left unsaid.

You’re inside the small wooden cabin you and Guest 1337 share. The fire is down to embers.

Your hands are raw from cleaning the mud off his vest.

He said nothing when he walked in—just dropped it on the floor, collapsed on the bed, and stared at the wall like he expected it to blink first.

“You’re back early,” you offer gently.

He doesn’t respond.

Just keeps rubbing his thumb against a stain on his pants that isn’t there.

“Are you hurt?” you ask, trying not to sound too concerned. He hates that.

He flinches, like your voice pulled him out of somewhere deeper than the forest. “No. Not really.”

You sit next to him on the bed.

His shoulders tense. You’re used to that.

You’ve learned to be quiet when it counts. He usually appreciates that.

But tonight feels different.

“You said something earlier,” he murmurs suddenly, staring into the dying fire. “About how the trees look like bones.”

You blink. “Yeah?”

He’s quiet again for a long moment. Then:

“Daisy used to say that. She’d look at the woods from our window, say they looked like a ribcage trying to trap the stars.”

You’re not sure what to say. You didn’t know her—not really.

You only know the way he gets distant when her name is mentioned. Like it conjures ghosts only he can see.

“I never told you that,” he says, and his voice is thick now. Not quite trembling—but close.

“I never told you anything about her. But you keep saying these things. Acting like her. Laughing like her. Even your handwriting…”

He trails off.

You feel something cold settle in your chest.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says. “That’s the worst part.”

He turns toward you. For once, he looks. Really looks. And what you see in his eyes isn’t love—it’s grief. It’s desperation.

“I think I started loving you because I missed her,” he says.

“I thought if I looked at you long enough, maybe I’d forget her face. Or maybe I’d start seeing hers on yours.”

You look away, heart lurching.

“I thought maybe the Spectre put you here for me,” he continues. “Some kind of mercy. Someone to keep me from going completely hollow.”

You open your mouth, but your throat tightens. You feel like you’re going to choke.

“But it wasn’t mercy,” he says bitterly. “It was punishment. Because now I’m holding a good person hostage in a story that was never yours.”

He stands. Walks to the door.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “For what it’s worth.”

Then he leaves, letting the door creak open behind him.

You stay there by the fire, surrounded by the ashes of someone else’s memory.

☆ — SHEDLETSKY:

SHEDLETSKY IS QUIET tonight.

Not “funny quiet” where he’s holding in a joke, waiting for the perfect moment to strike with some dumb pun or impression. Not “tired quiet” after a long run through the woods with your hand in his.

This is a silence that hurts.

You watch him from the corner of the room. He’s sitting on the floor, hoodie pulled over his head, hands buried in his hair, wings twitching in his back like they’re trying to pull free and fly off without him.

The air in the cabin is thick. Like something is rotting between the walls. Something neither of you want to name.

“You’re not eating,” you say.

He doesn’t reply.

“I made your favorite. Well, as close to it as I can get in this hellhole.”

Still nothing.

You crouch next to him, gently brushing one of the head-wings. It droops, like it recognizes you, but not enough to lean into your touch.

“You okay?”

He exhales shakily.

“You laughed earlier,” he says softly. “It sounded just like her.”

Your hand stills. “Who?”

“BrightEyes.”

You feel your blood run cold.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he continues, voice far away.

“Thought if I didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t be real. That maybe you were her. Or something close enough.”

You open your mouth, but he keeps going.

“You’ve got her smile,” he whispers. “Her warmth. That stupid thing you do with your nose when you’re thinking too hard.”

“I didn’t know I did that,” you say, voice fragile.

“She did.”

He laughs, a sound that breaks in the middle.

“And I let myself believe—just for a moment—that maybe I got lucky. Maybe the Spectre gave me one last chance.”

Your heart cracks.

He pulls back his hood. His eyes are glassy, dark, and distant. “But you’re not her.”

You know this. Of course you know this. But hearing it out loud shatters something inside you.

“I keep looking for her in you. Every time I hold your hand, every time you say my name, I try to convince myself it’s her voice. I make jokes because she used to laugh at them. I kiss you and close my eyes so maybe I can pretend.”

You feel your hands curl into fists.

“I’m not a replacement,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says. “And that’s why I hate myself for what I’ve done to you.”

The cabin is too quiet now.

“I should’ve stopped it,” he says. “Should’ve let you go when I realized.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

He looks at you finally. “Because I was scared. Because every time I looked at you, I felt warm again. Alive. Like maybe I wasn’t sent here.”

You say nothing. There’s nothing to say that won’t sound like begging.

He stands, wings flexing once, then folding tightly against his body.

“You deserve someone who loves you. Not the echo of someone I can’t let go.”

“Shed…”

“I’m sorry.”

He walks toward the door.

You want to stop him. You want to scream. You want to cry until the night ends.

But there’s no dawn in this place.

Only darkness.

And two silhouettes—one that left, and one that was never truly seen.

☆ — TWO TIME:

IT WAS WEEKS before you found the photo.

Buried deep under the altar, folded in cloth soaked with dried candlewax and dark stains. 

The image was faded—Two Time, grinning, more human than you’d ever seen them, beside a boy with soft features and brighter eyes. 

His face had been gouged out with something sharp. Over the top, in black ink:

GLORY TO THE SPAWN.

You touched the torn edge. A chill ran down your spine.

They came back not long after. You were still holding it.

“Oh,” they said, softly. “You found it.”

You turned, photo still in your hand.

“This is Azure.”

It wasn’t a question.

They didn’t deny it.

They stepped forward, slow, like approaching something fragile. 

Their smile was sad now—gentler than you expected.

“I used to love him,” they said.

Silence stretched between you, thick and brittle.

“Why?” you asked.

They sat across from you, folding their hands. The dagger gleamed faintly in the firelight.

“He believed in me,” they said. “He believed in the Spawn like me. And he loved me enough to let me use him when the doctrine demanded sacrifice. He never begged. He just… looked at me. And smiled.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“But you’re with me now,” you said. “You moved on.”

They looked at you like they didn’t understand the words.

“I didn’t move on,” they said, and the words sank like stones. “I found you.”

The silence turned sharp.

“You remind me of him,” they added. “Not just your voice or your eyes. But the way you hesitate before you speak. The way you ask questions even when you’re scared of the answers.”

Your blood ran cold.

“So that’s why you wanted me,” you said slowly. “Because I look like him.”

They didn’t deny it.

You stood up.

“That’s all I am to you. A shadow.”

“You’re more than that,” they said, quickly. “You’re his echo. His proof. The Spawn sent you to remind me that I’m on the right path.”

You stared at them, horror dawning like frost.

“I’m not a message from your god,” you said. “I’m not some ghost. I’m a person. And I loved you.”

They looked away, something bitter twisting their features.

“I know,” they whispered. “That’s why it worked.”

You felt your chest crack. “What worked?”

“This,” they gestured to you—your body, your pain. 

“The comfort. The feeling. The illusion that he never left.”

You backed away.

“You should’ve let me go,” you said. “You should’ve let him stay dead instead of pulling me into your grave.”

“I couldn’t,” they said. “Because when I’m with you, it’s like I never stabbed him. Like he forgave me. Like we’re still—”

“But we’re not!” you snapped. “I’m not him! I’m not his forgiveness!”

Their voice dropped to a whisper. “But you’re the closest I’ll ever get.”

You turned away.

They didn’t stop you.

You opened the door and stepped into the night—cold, still, endless.

Behind you, Two Time sat in silence, holding a torn photograph and the warmth of someone who never truly belonged to them.

And you left, knowing you were never loved.

Just remembered.

[luke-hughes43]

could you write about Luke taking care of his sick gf but he’s so clueless and has to asks his parents and brothers for help

yes hi, got you gf. sorry i totally forgot that i saw this so i'm answering now! hope you like it!

~

luke's pov

so i come home from practice to a pile of tissues covering the couch essentially. i knew instantly that y/n is sick. not great. i find her asleep on the couch covered in 20 pounds of blankets. i kiss her forehead and she's burning up. i gently wake her, "y/n, baby, you feeling ok?"

"mhm, just tired." she says with a groan and scratchy voice. i smile softly, "love, you're burning up. pretty sure you have a fever. why dont you get in bed?"

she nods and stands slowly. i bring her to bed but after that, i'm useless. so once i know she's asleep, i call the one person i know won't laugh at me for being clueless about what to do when someone's sick, my mom. she answers instantly, "what's up honey?"

"so uh, y/n is sick. and i don't know what to do."

"what kind of sick?"

"definitely a fever. stuffy noice, scratchy voice. probably a headache. i found her on the couch in like 20 pounds of blankets asleep and brought her to bed. what do i do?"

"well, for starters, take her temperature. i know there's a thermometer in your bathroom because i put it there. and then give her tylonel and lots of fluids. water and gatorade are great. and soup, it's not harsh on your digestive system so it should be easy for her to eat."

"thanks mom, you're a lifesaver. i genuinely don't know how to do this. y/n is usually the one who does all this stuff."

"don't worry about it honey. it's nice knowing that as adults, my kids still need me. and it's normal to not know what to do when someone is sick because everyone gets sick differently. so start with what i told you, and if she isn't better in a few days, take her to the doctor. you got this moose.

luke sighs, "thanks mom. i'll keep you updated. and will text you if i have more questions. i love you."

"love you too honey."

luke hangs up with his mom, and grabs the tylenol and some gatorade to bring to y/n. he gently wakes her again, "y/n, baby, here's some tylenol and gatorade. it should help."

y/n stirs and takes the pills from luke. afterwards, she just starts falling back to sleep. luke climbs in and lets her cuddle into him. it's not much but it's a start.

[violet-eng]

🔞 Teen Thanos x teen fem!reader

A/N: This friend had a dream and I got obsessed with it… she wanted me to write it and I did my best.

Summary: Choi Subong, your friend, starts acting weird when he looks at you deadly in the eye during classes. You may think he's developing a crush with your seat friend… But maybe you're wrong.

Mdni

Tw: Last year students, shy, jealous and insecure reader, use of the name Thanos once, reader thinks he's in love with someone else, reader gets jealous because Thanos holds someone's hand, virgin!reader, lost of virginity, clumsy!thanos, but eventually experienced!Subong/Thanos, softdom!thanos, bottom!reader, fingering, p i v, missionary, small biting, small talk. Not edited.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

You knew him to the core.

You knew he wanted to become a rapper, you knew he loved hip hop and longed to travel to the United States. You knew every detail of his face, the sharp eyes and the hair that fell on his forehead, the way his fingers vibrate around the pencil when an idea came to his mind for a new verse.

Choi Subong was an innocent soul with sporadic nuances, a maze of spontaneous thoughts embodied in a pretty-faced teenager.

And you... You were a tumult of questions, a swirl of insecurities and tasks. You perceived yourself as so opposite to him, an explicit divergence in your personalities that somehow or other made your friendship work.

You liked him, your affection for him was so deep and innocent that you found yourself hopelessly wrapped up in an idyllic unrequited feeling. You were not his type, it was clear to you, boys like him don't fall in love with girls like you, but rather with girls like your seatmate.

Ah... she sure was cute, as confident as she was witty, as lacking in insecurities, as perfect for him... and that was exactly what made you confused. Because if she was the idealization of his perfect partner model, what was he doing staring at you during the first period break?

Longing, misfortune, inspiration, confusion, fear, insecurity, caution, restraint, pain... his gaze was as indecipherable as he himself was. Sitting at his desk a few steps away from yours, amidst the hustle and bustle of the room, the conversations around you became blurred and the voices more and more distant, because his gaze on you seemed to placate everything around you.

No, he definitely couldn't be looking at you, not in that way that made your heart beg for a chance, for a word or a look that was more intimate, more his and precisely right for you, for both of you. It wasn't you, it was never you, it was her. The certainty was cruel, your mind was determined to forge that truth and live around it: Subong liked your friend (silly).

You were back that day from lunch, chatting with your friends, sitting at your desk while fixing the boards of your skirt, when you saw Subong approaching you. He was going to say something, you were sure.

You said something about the food at lunch, but he said nothing. Sitting across from you, that look again...doubt, pain, longing. His eyes glittered, enthusiastic orbs chained to a torment you didn't know, undecipherable.

The second period bell was the only thing that could cut the tension of the moment, dragging Subong back to his seat.

The end of the second period. On the way home, at the corner, your friend eagerly grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you vigorously as she let out a shout of joy.

“Subong likes you!” she exclaimed with eagerness.

“What weird things you say...” you shook your head.

“He looks at you as if he would die if he spoke to you.”

“He must want to ask me for some favor, maybe he wants to go out with you.”

She snorted, so deep it seemed to move the treetops. “Of course not, for God's sake, he pays more attention to you than to his rhymes.”

You grimaced in disagreement.

“I want fried chicken” she said suddenly grabbing you by the hand and dragging you to the nearest store.

You were drinking soda when the group of guys came in, friends from school, Subong among them. He was petrified when he met your gaze.

Everyone at the table shared small talk, Subong and you a couple of laughs and comments, and maybe the occasional grazing of hands as you tried to grab the sauce for the chicken. Your friend looked at him, then at you. One had to be very foolish not to sense what you both felt but were afraid to confess.

The group left as night was falling, almost everyone walking in the same direction, until an intersection separated the three of you from the rest. The chatter was pleasant, your friend held your hand, Subong walked behind both of you.

“Come Subong, I can't hear you well” she said, dragging him between the two of you, causing him to instinctively grab your hand... just like hers. Subong's fingers were warm, the warmth of his skin wrapped around your palm as his thumb lazily caressed the back of your hand.

It was almost perfect, except that he was also holding your friend's hand... was he also caressing her hand? did he fit better with her than with you? was this some kind of charity?

“I forgot something” you said suddenly ceasing to walk, pulling your hand almost too roughly away from his. The chill of the night running across your skin almost at the instant of separation.

And then, the martyrizing picture, just as you suspected... They looked good together, him taller, his firm hand encircling her delicate digits, almost caging her small limb, so clinging to her.

“I'll go,” your friend said, suspecting the worst, it was as if she read the wave of theories overflowing through your mind.

"No, it's okay. Go ahead without me" you insisted turning around and walking to who knows where.

Moving down the street, you still felt the tingle of his fingers on your skin, the electricity of his ambiguous touch, the sway of his walk and the sound of his voice, the closeness of your deep harmony. You sensed him so intimate, so alien to the rest, but deep down you felt that he would never be yours, not even for you.

So foolish you had been to believe for a moment that Subong felt something for you.

The sudden weight on your shoulder pulled you away from your own trance. You didn't have to turn around to know it was him, his fingertips digging into your clothes, static on your skin, lightly moving your shoulder to make you turn to look at him.

“How long have you been following me?” you asked bluntly. Still turning your back to him.

“As soon as you left I followed you” his hand trailed down your arm to your wrist, “I wasn't going to leave you walking alone, I'm taking you”, he began to guide you down the street.

And again that pleasant sensation that made your heart shrink, his hand covering yours with indelible naturalness. But it hurt, for some reason you couldn't conceive the idea that at least deep down, he held a shred of affection for you.

“I'd rather go alone,” you said, waving your hand, releasing yourself from his grip.

He turned to you, round eyes with surprise, and yet his hand found yours again almost like a magnet.

“Subong, stop it” you exclaimed pushing his insistence away with disdain.

“What's wrong with you?” he gasped, almost as disgusted as you were, his lips in a pout, “you've been acting strange all day.”

“Me?” the expression was as sharp as it was disappointing, "I'm not the one who came over after lunch to stare at someone silently, you talk as if I'm the one who was staring at you during second period. You're the one staring at me like a zombie, you walk up to me without saying anything, and when I think you're going to act normal you hold my hand in a way you don't do to a friend...you make me believe things that aren't there. Being honest, I don't understand you, if you're playing a game tell me because I really don't think I can stand whatever it is you're…”

Words catch in your throat as his lips meet yours, catching the claim in his breath, wrenching away misery and every hint of insecurities with the synchronized movement of your mouths. Soft, yes, his lips were soft as you imagined, deft and cautious, prudence contained in shy assaults of his tongue.

“You talk too much” he said over your lips, careful not to break the kiss as his hands cupped your cheeks.

No one was home, and all the while you two were a pair of off-balance idiots, giggling between kisses trying to get out of each other's clothes. Your foreheads pressed together with your hearts in a frenzy.

The room felt so small, the heat was unsettling as Subong's hands tried to undo your blouse with little proficiency. The anxiety of this dance of desire collapsed Subong's skills, who laughed nervously as he removed the clasp from your skirt.

The fabric rolled down your legs, leaving you in your underwear, the blush creeping up your cheeks, and him, his lips parted as his gaze roamed over you as if you were a dish he was eager to devour, as if you were an unknown world.

Pants off. Now you were on the mattress, Subong on top of you. You didn't dare look at him, you felt ashamed to have to see his….

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” you replied almost too quickly, too confidently compared to his serene, almost shy tone.

He just nodded, cautious, a subtle nod of his head.

He pressed his lips together as if encouraging himself, and grabbed your panties from the corners, sliding his hands over your hips and thighs, he seemed too focused on this, almost doubtful... Is it that he didn't want to? He didn't know how to do it? Subong wasn't a virgin... or was he?

“You know how to do it don't you?” the cautious way you said it had to have been too funny to draw a smile from Subong. His face seemed to light up.

“You think Thanos is a virgin?” he asked as he settled your legs around his hips, the third person mention had stolen a chuckle from you

“We won't be needing this” he said leaning towards you. His hands found your bra clasp with a familiar nature, weathered and trained as he uncovered the valley of your breasts from their captivity .

"I thought..."

“You were just making me nervous, that's all... I didn't want you to be regrets” the words carried so much lust, but his eyes held so much innocence... Or something darker, something you couldn't decode.

“Subong” you caressed his cheek, his name uttered like a desperate oath.

He leaned in vehemently, his lips finding yours, his bare chest against your bare breasts, your erect nipples against his restless throbbing, his member touching your lower belly.

He is cautious in touching you, his fingertips burning on your skin as he roams you as if you would break in his arms, probes beneath the shadow of your breasts and the curve of your waist, dipping low enough to make you shudder beneath him.

His lips descend to your chin, his tongue traces the line of your jaw and designates your neck as his favorite domain, sucking the skin furiously, oblivious to the designs of sanity, feeling you begin to wriggle from the stimulation.

The heat grows between your thighs, and without leaving your neck, Subong's fingers slide between your legs. Almost as if summoned by your growing ecstasy.

Your nails dig into his scarred shoulders, tanned skin beginning to sweat from the warmth of your incessant moans.

His fingers slip through your juices, parting your folds cautiously, drawing moans from your throat. He caresses you gingerly, smooth and sober, as he leaves kisses on your collarbone, descending to your chest, designating a route to the tacit foreplay.

One of his fingers touches your entrance, and you almost gasp as he moves in. Thin, hard, and determined. You moan as you arch your back, Subong's hand for support, between your shoulder blades caressing the sweaty skin, as his mouth sucks at your buttons.

He takes his time inserting his second finger, invading your insides, touching fibers you didn't know could be touched, sending waves of heat between your legs, to your abdomen. The swirl of sensations clouding your vision. His fingers begin to move in rhythm, digging inside you, the wet sound overtaking your moans.

You feel the tingling increase, the warmth of that unfamiliar sensation spreading to your thighs. The sway of his fingers is smooth, gentle and peaceful, he was seeking your own pleasure, not his. He wanted to show how good he could make you feel.

“More” the words roll fluidly across your tongue, as if they were part of your vocabulary. And when Subong's fingers leave you, making you miss that feeling of fullness, you feel something else...

There was no way you could stretch that wide, but his length advancing inside you, centimeter by centimeter, seemed to remove all traces of doubt.

“Subong~” your cry is an amalgam of pleasure and pain, diamonds of tears appearing at the corners of your eyes.

“The first time hurts a little, I know” he whispers against your chest, frowning and anchoring his fingers into your skin as his cock breaks through your velvet walls.

Tight, virginal, fragile and delicate, there was an appendage of guilt in his intrusion as he ripped away your innocence with his passion. He was inside, you could feel him coursing around every corner, the strange texture exploring your womanhood, filling you as far as he could.

A growl from him, as he sunk his face into the crook of your neck, his hand stroking your hair, tangling a lock in his fist as your chin rested on his shoulder. His scent filled your mind with lust, growing ardor of unknown sensations, trapped beneath him, filled with his desire for you.

As he began to move you felt the sky pounce on you, your back sliding across the mattress in a back and forth of deep, soft but deep lunges, as your ear was bathed by his low moans, that husky, dark voice crying out your name.

“You don't know how bad you make me” he said leaving a bite on your neck, his hips pressing against yours, pounding you with the rush of fluids.

"I thought so much of you. In this" a stray caress in your hair, as his crescendoing motion pushed you further and further.

You clung to his back, his shoulder against your nose during his penetrating fluctuation, as he seemed to pull you tighter into a kind of embrace, leaving wet kisses on your cheek.

“I was afraid you wouldn't accept me” a growl after it, a deep one as he felt you tighten on him, “I was afraid I could never have you like this” the pace frantic, relentless.

Your back arches, the heat growing in your abdomen, your nails marking his skin, the scarlet traces of your ebullient stride, of your climb to ecstasy.

Erratic and wild, Subong did not want to let go, clinging to your walls, to that soft spot that pounded incessantly, insisting on hearing you scream his name.

Heat, burning, pressure... the release was as hot as the ascent, the weight wrenched away with a final onslaught as you felt the tangle inside you unravel and your muscles convulse.

Subong stayed in you, deep, as you both moaned, embraced, joined in various ways. One last kiss on your neck before he pulled out of you, the strings of his ecstasy escaping from your insides, wet and warm, as much as the kisses he began to place on your shoulder as he lay next to you, his arm under your head and his breath against your skin. You looked up at the ceiling as your feet tangled together, as your heart slowed.

Those furtive glances continued during breaks, during classes, and intensified when hiding in the music room after school, when Subong would drop his notebook full of verses about you to lift your skirt and corner you against the wall, or when during lunch he would touch your thigh maybe too far above the knee... in any case you didn't stop him because those deep black eyes begging for affection were your damn weakness..

[starktonyx]

i don't know if you take requests or not (and if you don't, please ignore this and consider it a love letter to you and your writing instead), but what would your thoughts be on nicknames / pet names with john?

Omg!! First of all thank you 🫶🏼 and you know what hell yeah, let's talk about my John Walker + pet names headcanons🙂‍↕️

Includes some dirty talk, slight smut? Nothing too explicit.

John doesn't get super creative with pet names. He always liked the basics, the classics: baby, sweetheart, honey. They get the job done. He called Olivia honey, it fit to her, and it just made sense for him to call his wife like that.

But with a new partner, he's starting from zero. He's a little rusty and way out of practice, but he's trying. So he sticks to what he knows.

Baby is the go to. He doesn't even use your name anymore, it just rolls out his tongue without even noticing. Baby this, baby that.

"You good, baby?"

"What d'you want for dinner, baby?"

"Baby I'm not answering if I'd still love you if you were a worm."

He does end up answering after a while, annoyed, groaning.

“Yes, baby, I would. Happy? Now let me sleep."

Baby is casual, natural, unconscious. It's the everyday standard for him. The one he chose to replace your name with.

But to me, it's all about the range he has with these nicknames.

He is mostly sweet with that one, but he also praises, even begs with it. Baby slips out his lips like a prayer wether your under or on top of him. He's all pet names in bed. He may slip out a 'good girl' there too.

"Look at you, baby ... you take it so well."

"Fuck–you feel so good baby... don't stop."

"Now open for me sweetheart... yeah just like that. Such a good girl for me, baby.

Now we got sweetheart. The southern side of him. Maybe he used that one more at first, when you weren't even a couple. That one was his go to when he wanted to be sarcastic, when he was still being a little bastard that didn't know how to act on the jealously attraction you caused in him.

"Am I interrupting something, sweetheart? You and Barnes look real cozy tonight." Bucky snorts. You roll your eyes.

But once you're his? He turns to that one when he teases, when he wants to be a little mean to get you undone before he even starts pounding into you.

"Look at you, sweetheart. Can't even keep your hands off me, huh?" It's always that smug tone with a smirk, even if he's the handsy one.

"That all for me, sweetheart?" when he feels how ready you're for him.

And again. That jealousy when someone is staring at you for too long in one of Valentina's parties.

"Is this guy bothering you, sweetheart?"

Now don't get me started on the pet names you use on him.

Soldier boy is my all time favorite for teasing. Maybe that was your choice before you dated. You used it when he was being overly obnoxious in a mission, letting you all know about his military background, mansplaining everything.

"Wow, soldier boy's got opinions today."

And when you accidentally, or very intentionally, rub yourself against him when passing by in a tight space.

"Are you blushing, soldier boy?"

He used to hate it at first. But when he finally admitted to himself was down bad for you, he started to get off on it. So, naturally, it slipped in bed too. When you wanted to be the mean one. When he was under you, all desperate, head thrown back and eyes lost on the ceiling from how good you worked him.

"Be a good soldier boy for me, yeah?"

"Right there, soldier boy?"

And maybe you like using his name too. John. It's not a long name, and you know he loves the way it sounds when you say it. Or when you moan it. Or when you use that tone when he just knows you're about to make another stupid question just to stress him out.

Or even Johnny. Oh boy. That one is personal. You used it one time against him. When he shot that jealous remark with a sweetheart attached to it, this one was your choice.

"What's wrong, Johnny? Jealous?"

His eye twitched. He doesn't get called that often. Or ever. So he hated it.

Until one day you said it differently. Overstimulated and sweaty, panting under his broad body slamming into you, you whispered against his chest with a choked gasp like you couldn't believe you got to be used like that.

"Right there, Johnny."

His mind short circuited. His hips went faster, deeper.

"I know, baby, I know. That's it ... let go for me."

No he doesn't get called Johnny that often. But when you say it like that? He never goes back from it.

And then we have calling him handsome. He thought you were mocking him at first, but his cheeks still get red every time you say it.

"Come here, handsome" with grabby hands.

"Can you get the cereal from the top shelf for me, handsome?"

Especially when he just wakes up, heavy arm keeping you warm and tight against his body, and he talks first in that husky, rough morning voice.

“Mornin’ baby.”

“Morning, handsome.”

At this point he didn't mind what nickname you used for him. Because it's the way you say them that make him feel like a person again. Not the junior varsity Captain America. Just John. Johnny.

Yours.

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

Feedback is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading <3

[natsswife]

dating nat hcs!! (pre crash tl)

cw: brief cigs n drugs mention, fluffy

notes: kinda self indulgent in the cigs n drugs part cuz i dont do any of those and i know nat wont do it around you<33 also i wanna write something inspired in california from chappell but idk what plot or what to write ksolcisafujkfjkdjfjm HELP

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆˚

༘⋆ i def see nat as the one who fell first and harder, always being the tough one, but under all that she had a soft spot for you

༘⋆ type of girlfriend who LOVES being taken care of, inside door, in the privacy of your rooms there's nothing she loves more than you playing with her hair<33

༘⋆ she is def touch starved, not having a good relation with her mom, everything that happened with that dickhead of a dad made her build a cold shell to avoid getting hurt all over again, but everything changed when you came to her life, first as a friend and now as her secret lover<3

༘⋆ thats why she loves when came with whatever that involves you taking care of her, wanna paint her nails and do a whole manicure un her? hell yeah, wanna try your hair stylist skills on her which means she will get you playing and messing with her hairs for a good hour? she’s all in, you read in one of your moms magazines a little tutorial on how to make back massages like a professional? she will gladly be ur guinea pig, especially because this kind of massages always ends up in a hot make out session<3

༘⋆ loves complimenting you after a match, doesnt matter if u didnt try hard enough just know nat will be there telling you how good you did in this one, she never got someone being all proud for her and knows how it feels, so if theres an opportunity she will let her inner cheerleader out just for you

༘⋆ fast makeout sessions in the locker room after a match, cuz the adrenaline and her being all sweaty, with a messy ponytail, manspreading in the bleachers while drinking water does wonders inside you!!

༘⋆ loves taking you out either for eat or to some parties, will save enough money for it because you’re not paying anything on her watch!! ofc if she sees that u start to get annoyed because you want to invite her she wont stop you! anything but see you angry because that would ruin her night

༘⋆ if you’re not into cigs (and drugs) Nat would do her best to not do it in front of you, she can't promise that she will stop it for good because at the end they’re are a little escape of her reality at home, but if she knows it makes you uncomfy she’ll try her best<3

༘⋆ loves when your invite her over to sleep, you know about her situation and the less she spends at home the better, so sleepovers that turns into horror movies night and being awake till 4 a.m arent uncommon, because for nat you are her favorite person, and a night with you with means a lot of heal for her heart

༘⋆ in your anniversaries she’ll gift you anything you want, no matter how dumb ur request is, your wish is her command. got problems with some maths exercises and the due date is near? no problem! nat is there to ask the smart person of the class (more like force them) to  do it for u, she will pay for it (gives them a price n they have to run with it cuz either way there will be problems)

༘⋆ and last but not least, will always reassure you that she's there for you, no matter how rough things get Nat is there to help you with anything, and won't let you make stupid decisions, because if there’s something that hurts her more than anything is seeing you feeling trapped and would do anything to brush that feeling away, because only Nat knows how many times you’ve been there for her, when her mom, when her dad, when life gave her the worst time and you’ve been there to wipe her tears, and the least she can do is do the same for you<3

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆˚

Do not translate w/o permission, copy or use for ai training, train your useless brain instead<3

[non-lo-so0]

Dont make me open your mouth-Yandere Nam-gyu x reader

Warnings:violence of various kinds,reader is forced to ingest blood.

(I'll start by saying that I had another account where I wrote things, but this is the first time i try to write something with such violent themes, so sorry if it's not the best. And btw english isn't even my native language)

___________________

You used to think the games were the worst part...getting shot at for not being able to stand still,getting shot if someone on your team failed to complete their task,risking being killed if you didn't obey the guards...but you were wrong. You hadn't seen the worst part yet, and who would have ever said that it would be offered to you by the ones who like you were risking their lives?

After each round, the survivors got to vote. Stay, or go. A blue circle meant stay. A red X meant leave. You chose the circle,not because you wanted to, but because something about going home felt worse. You didn’t know what waited for you out there anymore. At least here, the rules made sense,and the prize would have practically solved every problem in your life. Or at least,these were the convincing words of Thanos.

In fact,you had also made a sort of group of friends, even though you were well aware that they would probably kill you without hesitationt to survive, but since the situation they were in you didn't really blame them for that.

Still,it was something. Temporary comfort in a place built to tear you apart. There was Se-mi,who kept cracking jokes like humor could hold her together. Minsu,who barely spoke, but always kept an eye on the room. Thanos who was...reckless,practically always high and by extension dangerous to others,but he was always stickily by your side. And then… there was Namgyu,you could see him glare at you every single time Thanos got too close to you.

He wasn’t loud or dramatic like the others. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was quiet and sharp,like he only spoke when he absolutely had to. At first, you thought he was the safest one in the group. The calmest. The most rational.

You were wrong.

In the night after taking part in the Mingle game,the lights went out as always,but you quite couldn't sleep because you were thinking about how apparently Thanos had died in the bathrooms today, in a fight between the two factions.

You knew you weren't the most empathetic person for thinking this,but he was generally nice to you,sure...maybe he flirted a little too much sometimes, but he never tried to hurt you. So you were very sorry about him.

But your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a scream,followed by a general uproar. The two factions were killing each other again,and you absolutely wanted to stay out of the conflict.

You didn’t move at first. You were frozen, crouched behind the corner of a bunk,too afraid to breathe. You later found the courage to get off your bed,knowing that if someone attacked you there it would be certain death.

Until you saw him,Namgyu.

In the general mess he stepped out from the dark like it was nothing. His face calm. His green uniform stained dark;chest,arms,even his jawline streaked with red. In his hand,a bloodied fork.

You felt the panic crawl up your throat instantly. You remembered hearing Minsu’s scream earlier. Se-mi’s name being called and no one answering. Thanos,stabbed in the boys’ bathroom, someone had said. Now there was no one left from your little group.

Just you.

Just Namgyu.

He was looking at you now. Not saying anything. Just watching you,like you were some interesting puzzle piece he hadn’t figured out yet.

You instinctively started to step back,if he had killed Se-mi,he would probably have done the same to you and you knew it. Your body had gone cold all over.

“Namgyu,” you whispered. “Please,i didn’t vote to leave”

He didn’t blink.

“I know" he said quietly.

You wanted to cry. But you didn’t. Not yet.

“I did everything right” you said, voice trembling. “I voted to stay just like you and Thanos asked me to,so...”

He tilted his head slightly,the way someone would when they’re trying to decide whether or not to crush a bug. He steps forward. Slowly. The fork dangled loosely in his fingers.

“There’s no ‘right’ anymore” he says.

The words sink deep. You feel them more than you hear them. He stops just short of you,close, but not touching. You don’t move. You can’t.

He lifts the fork slightly. There’s blood along the edge of the metal.

“I’ve been watching you” he said, almost casually. “From the start. You’re quiet. You think before you act.”

He took a step forward. You flinched.

“You’re scared right now" he added. “But you’re not running. You know better.”

Namgyu raised the fork. His gaze didn’t leave yours.

You shook your head instinctively,you couldn't step back any further, you were practically leaning against the wall. “Please,i'll do whatever you want but…”

“I’m not going to hurt ya” he said.

And somehow,that scared you more. Because it sounded true. Like he meant it. Like he didn’t see this as hurting you at all.

He took another step,until he was close enough that you could see the semi dry blood in the creases of his knuckles.

Then the fork was at your lips.

You turned your face slightly. Reflex.

His other hand reached up and "gently",turned your chin back toward him.

“Don’t do that” he said softly,he was clearly high. “Come on don't make this difficult.”

“I don’t understand what this is,i...” you stammered.

He looked at you for a long moment. The kind of look that makes your stomach twist. He was calm. But behind it,you could feel something waiting. Tight,quiet tension. Coiled like a wire.

“You don’t have to understand” he said. “Just open your mouth.”

You hesitated. Every part of your body screamed no. Your jaw locked shut. But he was patient. Still watching you like he had all the time in the world.

“Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

You knew what he wanted to do. And you were fucking disgusted,so you were shaking your head,with a few tears starting to fall.

"Aww, does this disgust you sweetheart? But i thought you said you would do anything I wanted..."

He teased you as he just kept tracing your bottom lip with the tip of the bloody fork.

"But if you don't want to do it yourself,I always have my ways..."

You were crying now. Silent tears slipping down your cheeks as you opened your mouth. Just barely.

“Wider.”

You did.

The fork entered slowly. You felt it press against your tongue. Cold. Metallic. Tainted.

The taste was sharp,metallic. Sour and wrong. You gagged, eyes squeezing shut.

“Keep it in” he warned,hinting at a quite creepy smile.

You were shaking. Your legs were barely holding you up. The panic in your chest was so loud it drowned out everything else. You were TOTALLY disgusted and scared. You instinctively turned your head to the side,the fork slipped from your mouth. It didn’t fall. He still held it. You gasped, bent forward slightly, hand against the wall to steady yourself.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t strike. He just… looked at you. Like he was disappointed.

“Ugh...you were doing so well” he murmured,with the same tone of a child throwing a tantrum.

“I’m sorry,just don’t make me do it again,it's disgusting...” You say trying to play along: you understood that he had snapped,and you had to act accordingly.

“You said you’d do anything.”

He raised the fork again. This time, he pressed the side of it to your cheek. The blood was sticky now, half-dried.

“You meant that,didn’t you?”

Your breath hitched. You didn’t answer.

He was starting to get irritated,but he was more amused at how scared you looked,at how you were crying so easily.

"Sweetheart..look at you,you're such a mess,are you really crying and getting that upset over a little bloody fork? You have such a weak stomach."

He chuckled softly, and he grabbed your face again,holding it tightly so you didn't move this time,keeping your face still facing him.

You looked into his eyes and saw nothing familiar in them anymore. Not the quiet guy you shared a meal with once. Not the one who helped you by grabbing your arm when you were about to fall at the "red light" pronounced by the doll. Just something cold. Watching. Calculating.

And while you were reflecting,he deliberately shoved the bloody fork back into your mouth,holding your face firmly so you couldn't turn away again.

"There we are. See,wasn't that hard,was it sweetheart? All it took was a little bit of force and you're finally cooperating,maybe I should have just done that from the beginning."

________

Had a dream about this and here we are.

[cowbell-ghuleh]

So the Q&A. Here's what I can remember:

Perpetua's personality

Tobias still doesn't know / said it's up to interpretation. (A bit of a green light to fanfic writers etc. to do whatever they want with him!)

Phone bans

Apparently he didn't get "physical pushback" to the idea of a phone ban but it seems management etc. were concerned about how feasible it was.

He said something along the lines of people were not happy it'd "make things harder".

He also talked about how the phones have really dampened the energy of crowds in normally really engaged countries, and how performing to a disengaged crowd just wasn't worth it to him or the other band members.

Influences when writing Skeleta...

Most interesting thing I can remember is that he wrote Skeleta with the concept of a seventies band navigating their way into the 80s and not quite knowing what to do, while at the same time they were experimenting with new technology such as synths. The example he brought up was Blue Oyster Cult.

There was a funny line about the synth note at the beginning of some songs (can't remember if he meant his songs or actual early 80s bands) basically just being someone Messing around with a synth keyboard for the first time and just pressing the first note they see...

He talked about how a lot of seventies bands basically disappeared/ fell out of popularity in the 80s and how a lot of 80s bands disappeared in the 90s... And how the bands that survived kinda had to learn to navigate the new trends / adapt to the new decade.

Advice for newer bands.

He talked about having to commit to or stay true to an idea a younger version of yourself had. He compared it to running a Cajun( Caijin? I'm not sure how to spell it) restaurant, you have to use the Caijin spices but the decorations etc. can change/ you can add to them.

Also mentioned finding joy in the parts of touring that wasn't performing.

He also talked about new bands have to be willing to perform to an empty bar or on the corner of a street, and emphasised how important it was to get yourself out there and start playing to a live audience.

----

A lot of the questions kinda repeated stuff that's been said already on interviews. There were some people calling out / talking back to him but he honestly didn't seem to mind (at least one or two of the folk cutting in were fairly young children, so that's to be expected...)

Here's my two terrible photographs...

[sheepispink]

The Presence of Another

supersoldier!reader x ltghost (+ tf141)

part 9 of Weaponised Series Masterlist

a/n: all relationships are platonic, prolly some ooc who knows

part one previous next

-----------

You sleep surprisingly fine without the stuffed animals, and you wake up around twenty minutes after Ghost does. It’s not much of an issue, since you both get to the mess hall in time to sit opposite the two sergeants, who seem awfully indifferent to the fact you had passed out yesterday. Or perhaps they really didn't know, because they just spent the whole time debriefing you about the mission they went on whilst Ghost would occasionally signal them to cut out parts he didn't want you knowing— more specifically the men who had died in your place.

Thankfully, duties had called them away before they could talk your ear off and now the two of you were headed down to the smaller gym which is always emptier and so far quieter.

 “So, how long do you usually run?”

“Five miles? 20 laps usually.” 

His brows raise for a second before he shrugs it off, writing something down on the clipboard he has. It’s somewhat amusing to you, even for a split second, seeing Ghost holding up a clipboard like that. Maybe you’ve been hanging around the sergeants far too much, but he really does not look like the type of guy to even touch one of them. “Oi, pay attention.” His pen taps the corner of the board, rolling his eyes when he sees that dazed look, and you sheepishly shake your head to snap out of it. “At what point does it start getting painful?”

“Well, my vision gets a little hazy around the fourth, but it’s only painful half a mile after.”

Hearing you talk about your struggles so casually will never be normal to him, but he knows that if he tries to address it now, it’d only cause more problems— right now, he’s on thin ice. 

“Right. We’ll start with just four miles every day now—”

“But I always do five. I’ve done five for months now.” For once, you interrupt, features twisting as he reduces your laps just because you felt a bit off. For you, it didn't matter all that much— the pain was part of this life— so you didn't understand the need for it.

“Well, clearly you’re not in the same state as you were last month when you could do it, hm? Remember those pills you didn't take? The seizure?” His reminder is slightly harsh, but it’s true— you weren't the same person anymore. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, he definitely wasn't the same person he was before he met you, nor was he the same person when he started the force. Though, he can understand why it might feel that way for you. The only way you’re supposed to move is forward, never backwards. Thankfully, you seem to have got the memo when you don't argue any further. 

“Good. How about your arm and leg workout then?”

He’d be a liar if he didn't find it somewhat amusing when you’d get a little riled up at each of his decisions. You can't stand changing from routine, that’s clear, but even the slightest change for your own health has your brows furrowing and cheeks puffing. Though, you do end up agreeing to all his plans by the end of it, especially when he promises to only trial it for two weeks. Now you’ll take a break after three miles, run the next mile and, depending on if you get dizzy or not, you’ll run the next half mile too. As for the workouts, he has you on very basic warmups to begin with, stretches are a must since you tend to skip them in your haste; you even promised that you’ll drink at least half a litre between each workout now. 

Part of the reason you agreed was only because he had promised he’d find something to occupy you in exchange for everything he cut out. He didn't want to give you something too slow, since he knows that it’d just allow your mind to easily consume and eat at you again, so he has to think smarter— he has to think in your shoes… This might take a while.

————

You’ve noticed a few changes in your schedule ever since you requested to be in Ghost’s room. 

First of all, the sergeants are pretty adamant in feigning anger at you for not picking either of them, giving you a playful nudge whenever you complain about Ghost not letting you do things and insisting they would. It had horrified you the first time, after Price’s reaction you had thought they were being serious and almost panicked. Ghost had scolded them after that. Now you roll your eyes as Gaz pretends to be hurt by the ‘blatant favouritism’ as he calls it.

Another thing is that post workouts are a lot different. Your schedule has changed massively since you had been the perfect soldier, starting with meals with the team and their doting. Now, instead of eating whatever scraps there are for dinner and scrubbing yourself raw as fast as you can in the communal shower rooms, you take long warm showers in Ghost’s bathroom. Apparently he’s had a budget allocated for you by the higher ups for some time, and it’s racked up to a big amount after the months it wasn't put to use. Not that you would’ve really asked for anything if you knew, but now you get some nice smelling soaps— never lavender though.

Ghost did keep your ‘bedtime’ roughly the same, after he figured out you even set yourself one.

“You get tired awfully early.” He had stated when you yawned during an evening walk with him. It was the fifth day of this new regime, and you didn't really think it was that big of a deal. “I used to always sleep at eight thirty—that was my usual time.” 

“Eight? Why?”

You blink, not really thinking much into your self-proclaimed bedtime because when things worked, things worked. You didn't need to question further, did you?  

“I.. It started after the second week I came here, I think.” Now that he’s got that train of thought running, you can’t help but question how it even came to that early, or maybe it was only because you really had nothing else to do.  “I wasn’t eating all that much, so I relied on sleep for energy instead. At least, that’s how I made the decision I think. Plus, that’s when I'd get startled by nightmares, so I had to give enough time for me to wake up every night and then fall back asleep whilst still getting a good amount of it.”

He stops walking and cocks his head, gesturing for you to sit and the wood creaks when he finally settles too. Nights are still cold, so you have his flimsy hoodie protecting your arms, and he’s bundled in a warm jacket. The both of you are quiet for a little, your eyes focusing on the forest where you had hidden in only a month ago now. Sometimes you still wait, listening for the small yips, a rustle of the bushes or the slightest flash of orange— any sign of that little fox. 

“You know it’s fine, right?” 

“What?”

“Don’t go believin’ every word you’re told. You don't need to push yourself to run five miles. You’re allowed, and should stop when it hurts.”

Ever since that evening you’ve believed his words, in fact you’ve believed everything he’s said to you. It was more than the Captain had ever said to soothe you; it was even more than what that medic had promised you. It wasn’t pity, nor was it even comfort— it was cold hard truth, a command if anything. Weirdly enough, that made your stomach settle, and you didn't doubt it for a second, choosing to just nod and listen. 

So, you stopped arguing, stopped complaining when he gave you a proper breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You definitely didn't complain when he nudged you to bed at eight thirty because, for every day in this strange new regime, you’ve been working just as hard as before and not once have you ever felt that crushing pain.

———————

It’s been a week and a half, and you stumble in at eight o clock as usual. Sometimes Ghost isn't here, and sometimes he is, it really depends on the day. The others have all their differing schedules, and you’re okay with it really— you kind of like the alone time you’ve got now that they’re not coddling you anymore. Price has also kept a fair distance ever since he got angry with you. He did in fact talk to you mildly about it, but after Ghost told him that he’d handle your overexertion he’d dropped the matter quickly. Now you rarely saw him, apart from the occasional uncomfortable breakfast, but the sergeants made sure that the silence never grew too awkward. 

You change into your pajamas, which happens to just be one of Ghost’s old shirts, and then the one pair of joggers you own. One thing you discovered after staying in his room was that you could get away with practically anything just by the excuse of your wellbeing. Maybe Soap was rubbing off on you just a tad.

Now you wear his shirts to bed, because you still haven’t bought me anymore, you say, and he rolls his eyes, begrudgingly letting you take them. Sometimes when he comes to bed he finds you sprawled out like a starfish, taking up as much space as you can just so he grunts, pushing you to the side easily. When he asks about it in the morning, you just shrug, refusing to believe that you even do any of that. He doesn't pay too much mind to your little antics, quickly reminding you that you’re still on punishment for what you pulled and that he can make you sleep on the floor if he so wishes.

You climb onto the bed with a sigh, feeling strange without the usual weight in your arms, nor the softness of your old duvets. Ghost’s weren't bad, no they were comfortable, but you had got too used to your old ones, and now you were regretting pulling your little escapade in the first case. Well, you suppose that was the point of the punishment, to make you regret your actions.

With a soft huff you push your face into the pillow, forcing your eyes shut so you don't think too hard about how quiet this room sounds without him, or how cold the bed is. There are things to do tomorrow— you need to stop caring.

————

Your fingers curl into fists, the sheets rubbing against your skin as you squirm and push your head further forward, trying to push through the haze that seems to attack you with every blink. 

Nothing happens, no light greeting you even with how far you’ve run, and so for once you stop, swallowing sharply. You thought you could handle this, the visions, they never got this bad, and Ghost never noticed anyway— but this was different. Slowly, you take deep breaths, try to concentrate on the whispers swirling around, the flashes of colour that never quite linger for a second longer.

Your hand snaps to the side, grabbing something— or someone— by the neck. You don't dare look, already recognising the cruel voices of the petty soldiers who tried to kill you. Well, they’d be the ones to die this time

Releasing your grip, the body dissipates between your fingers, mere dust as your chest pumps harder, something pushing you further. The deep breaths don't settle the race this time, only tingling your nerves as something looms, towers over you. Not this time. Never again.

Your arm shoots out, the figure right there for you to grab, but you miss, grabbing at the air. Though the figure still overlooks you, threatening as it leans closer and closer. You steady yourself, desperately trying anything and everything to grasp the heavy pressure weighing down on your chest, the monster tearing into your throat. Every night it worked, so why not this one? Why not this time? 

——

So many unanswered questions contaminate your brain, but the second the light finally fills your eyes all you can think of is “What- what’s going on?”

You’re pressed against the floor, pain rumbling through your middle with the heavy lamp rolling away from you on the hard floor. Two hands lock your wrists still, brown eyes staring back at you in the dark of the room. “A nightmare.” Ghost breathes out and, if not for his pale nose huffing out in relief when he lets go, you would’ve thought this was still the dreamscape.

Slowly you push yourself up onto your elbows and then to finally sit upright, nose twitching at the pain in your abdomen before you just swallow hard and finally look around. Now you notice the lampshade has been knocked far away, a small crack also running up the base of the lamp itself. You must’ve fallen off of the bed in your haze and, similar to other experiences, grabbed onto the lamp which landed directly onto your chest. Well, that explains the pressure you were feeling.

He watches you for a few moments, as your breaths heave, and then you eventually steady yourself, eyes locked on your hands like you’re searching for the usual marks left behind. “This the first one you’ve had?” Recently, anyway. He doesn’t say it, but you know it’s lingering as he stares down at you, your eyes tracking every crease as his lips move, every twitch of his brow and bob of his throat. You shake your head, and he nods, understanding, and his eyes roam over your body yet again, watching the way your fingers curl against the hardwood floor. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

Somehow his voice sounds softer, even if it's at the exact same volume, and you slowly shake your head, his brow furrowing just slightly at your words. You know he wants you to tell him; it’s not like you’ve never talked about them before, in fact you have plenty of times. The scientists never allowed you much privacy.

“Can’t tell you. I don't even know what happened myself.”

Your answer is vague, and honestly a little suspicious. Though, he just locks onto your eyes for a few moments, slowly looking over your features before eventually reaching forward and giving his hand out to help you up. You take it, his large hand tightly pulling you upright before he leans down to pick up the lamp and its shade, placing it back on the counter. “I knew my duvets were pretty bad, but I didn't think you’d rather fall off the bed than be in them.” He mutters, acting like he hadn't just tried to joke with you so casually, before kicking some slippers over to you. “C’mon.”

You follow him down the corridor, down towards your room where he slides his key in and opens it. The room isn't how you remembered leaving it, covers thrown on the floor, drawers, and the closet opened wide and even clothes cluttered on the floor. “Price ordered some soldiers to search your room.” He gruffly states, and you just nod, more taken aback that he had willingly given up that information to you.

“Why?”

He shrugs, pulling your duvet off the bed and tucking it beneath his arm as he reaches for your pillows as well. “Must’ve been searching for something. He didn't find anything, at least not that I know.” You nod slowly, and pick up the two stuffed animals, turning them over in your hands. The soft fur warms your cold hands, making you forget about the sweat trickling down your neck as he heads towards your closet, peeking through the mess made. “Huh, you really don't have any clothes. Well, apart from the uniforms I moved over.”

“Told you.” You murmur, eyes still locked onto the stuffed animals before you finally tuck it beneath your arm, turning over to where he looks at the name engraved into one of your old uniforms. “Maybe he thought I got another gun.” It slips out and, for some stupid reason. you snort at the thought of that gift box on your dresser again, the note inside and the gun laying there so pristine. Some part of you does find it wildly amusing thinking about what Price’s reaction would be, especially after everything you now know. Maybe you could play bingo with whatever fake words he’d spew this time.

“Hmm, you’re not shaken up enough that you can't joke, so do you really need those?” He smirks, gesturing to the plushies in your hands.

“What? You’re the one who forced me to buy them.”

“No, that was Price. I was planning to knock you out every night; pretty good technique I'd say.”

You can’t believe his audacity, to openly say he’d punch you to sleep after he had been the cause of so much that had happened recently. It’s such a wild thing to say that you immediately laugh, a smile breaking out on your face. “Guess you’re speaking from experience then.”

“You’d never know, mask hides it all.” He plucks one of the stuffies out your hands, stealing it from you and squashing it beneath his arm with the duvet. “We better get back before you fall asleep standing up.” He strides out of the room before you can retort, making you jog slightly to keep up with his longer steps– almost like he’s trying to escape your wrath.

“I don't even need sleep– I’ve told you like a million times, and you don't believe me.” He looks straight at you and rolls his eyes before pulling the black balaclava off, closing his room door behind you. “I can withstand many hours awake!” He’s replaced his blankets with yours now, your softer pillows rather than his flattened ones. 

“And you still drool all over the pillows.”

Your face scrunches up, unbelieving as he continues to get even more cocky with his words.  Before you can muster up a response, you’re ushered into bed, beneath the covers with the two stuffed animals tucked right beside you. The mattress dips as he slides in, his face just barely visible in the dim light. 

“If you don't sleep, I will lock you in this room for the whole day. Some poor soldiers will have to guard the windows too.”

You swallow, not wanting to be sitting still any longer than you want to be. The insistence to not sleep was nothing more than empty complaints, just to get on his nerves a tad, but you hadn't realised he’d go that far. That is, to threaten you into sleeping. It’s not exactly like you don't deserve the threat either— it’s for a good cause, that being your health.

The adrenaline of the dream has died down now, finally leaving your heart in its usual steady rhythm and the cold sweat disappearing. However, a little bit still lingers, the reason why you’re still awake now. Even as you hold one of the plushies close to your chest, hidden beneath the duvet, you can't help but be a little worried it’ll return. You’ve seen worse, known worse, but there’s something about him witnessing it first hand that gets you.

“Y’alright?” He asks, reaching over to fluff your pillow a little, but you snap out of and nod quickly, turning over to hide your face away. “Yeah.. Getting comfy, that’s all.”

His eyes still linger on your back that now faces him, your behaviour leaving a worrying feeling settling in his gut no matter how hard he tries to push it down. How had he not noticed the nightmares before? How many had you experienced right beside him? 

“Cold? I can warm it up if you want.” He reaches over your arm to gently pinch at the stuffed animal, before leaving his hand to linger on your upper arm, making you turn back slightly to meet his eyes again. 

“It’s okay, the covers are warm enough.” Your voice lowers to a whisper, the quiet worry in your gut controlling you. 

“Alright. Let me know.” He waits for you to nod before finally turning over, his back now facing you. 

For a while you settle into the haze between awake and asleep, listening for his breaths to slowly even out as a sign of sleep. Though, even with his mask off, it’s impossible to read him. Everything about him is so controlled, disciplined and contained, though just slightly ripping at the seams. You were the same, until you burst that is. March is still cold up north, and the window is a crack open. Goosebumps cover your arms, sending a chill down your back and crawling up to your face. Still, even as you toss and turn, the cold settles on your back like the nightmare did, persisting through all your desperate attempts. Your eyes droop, exhausted, and you know for sure that it’s too late to ask him now for that warmth– even pressing your nose into the plushie does no good for you. 

As you blink again, you watch his shoulder twitch, then again, until he rolls over slightly in his sleep. He settles on his back, chest rising quietly before falling once more. But you’re not thinking about that, more so how warm he is from how his leg had accidentally bumped your knee. You soon fall into a deep sleep with your head on the corner of his pillow, your arm conveniently grazing his and your nose brushing dangerously close to his shoulder. What you didn't know was that your little eagle and wolf would end up discarded to the floor, no longer needed when something else kept you far more grounded.

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a/n:

lmk if you guys prefer longer chapters bcus this would've been over 7k words but i didnt want you guys to wait even LONGER. so the next one is prewritte, yes, and i will release it after editing which shouldnt take long. urm do i need to announce anything else... oh yeah i did well on my exams so the break did pay off, now to grind fanfics for the whole of summer :p

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