#Stellar One Floor Plan

[gaurcity2022]

Stellar One Phase 2 is a residential project with better lifestyle developments, amenities, and well-defined connectivity. The residential project gives you all the comforts within 3 and 4 BHK apartments. 

[atsgreensproject]

Ivory County is a residential project with 3, 4, and 5 BHK apartments with a promising location at Sector 115. Noida. The residential project gives you some of the promising developments that add to a life of luxury and comforts. 

[madelynraemunson]

Valentine’s Day is coming up and I can’t help but wonder how ex!husband Eddie would handle it. Would he break my heart? Break my back? Please Maddy I NEED to know 🙏

a/n: HE’S BACKKKK i’m clutching my chest 🫶🏼 how about some wholesome heartbreak for valentine's day? i tried to incorporate aspects of the original ST universe into the universe that is ex-husband!eddie. i hope you sweethearts enjoy ♥️

“valentimes” day

ex-husband!eddie x ex-wife!reader

summary: you and eddie share a dance when your wedding song unexpectedly comes on the radio…just like old times :)

contains: fluff, mutual-pining, topic of divorce, co-parenting

“if you’re lost, you can look and you will find me — time after time.”

divider from: @strangergraphics

word count: 1.4k words

‘Valentimes’ Day.

It’s what Junior likes to call it. At first you tried to correct him, telling him to drop the M and replace with N, but you decided to partake in the innocence. After all, nothing lasts forever.

Like the muddy footprints on the light wooden floors.

"I'M RIGHT ON YOUR TAIL!" Junior roars, chasing after his siblings with candied pretzels in his mouth. "GET READY TO FEEEEEL... MYYYYY... WRAAAAATH!"

You know what does seem to last forever though? The sugar high your kids are getting from their Valentine's Day candies.

“Walk, kiddos,” you scorn. “If we’re gonna get ourselves dirty, please take it outside.”

You watch as your Mini-We's respectfully pile out the door, marching in a single-filed line in their crowns and capes their dad had made for them not too long ago. And as you continue to cook, a hearty stew for a heart-filled day, you hear a jangling of keys at your front door.

The only other person who has direct access to your house is Eddie; and assuming he's adhering to the family tradition, you expected no one else.

A familiar sing-song whistle sounds from the entryway as Eddie makes his grand entrance. You smile as your ex-husband comes into sight — hands full with presents you couldn't quite make out yet — ready to greet you how he usually does every Feb 14th for the past few years.

“Yo.”

“Hello, hello!” you chime. “Look who’s become a one-tripper.”

“I know, I’m gettin’ better and stronger by the day,” Eddie chuckles. He closes up the space, welcoming you in his bubble with a hug and offerings for the day. “Flowers... for you…"

You blush in flattery, welcoming the Thanks-For-Having-My-Kids floral arrangement into your arms.

"Aaand chocolate," Eddie adds. "obviously.”

“Ooh, nougat."

“Uh huh," he smirks, proudly. "Everyone loves a nougat moment. I also got these teddy bears with wicked Rock-N-Roll soundboxes for the kiddos. Left them on your couch though. It's a surprise."

Eddie's always been such a stellar dad. No matter the occasion, he always made sure the kids felt included, and always made sure you felt appreciated for all your efforts. He shows out every Valentine's Day, and Mother's Day too. Just because you two have separated doesn't mean your past has been erased. Eddie wants you to know that this commitment is for a lifetime, no matter what it may look like to others.

"Thank you."

You walk over to the island to set your gifts down, then gesture for your ex-hubby to sit so you two can engage in some small talk.

Also, 'cause you’re nosy.

“Any plans tonight?”

“Eh, it was just to drop these off,” Eddie shrugs. “Might go to the bar later with some old high school friends. Try to talk up some ladies...”

“Groovy,” you smirk, eyebrows dancing.

“What about you?” Eddie inquires.

“Mama’s having a night in,” you sigh, taking a bite of some nougat. “Gonna pour myself a glass of wine and read a spicy novel before bed.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums. He crosses his arms, leaning forward to meet your gaze. “The one about the long-haired-adonis-with-steel-pecs-and-a-popped-linen-collar who comes to save the day?”

You cock an eyebrow. “You snooping through my book pile, Fabio?”

“No, you’re just predictable,” he teases.

♡

Your kids remain occupied, playing "beach" in the sandlot, away from the intimacy of the two of you.

Junior is using his disposable camera to take pictures of birds. Beside him, Elijah is digging a hole of sorts, and your daughter Aubrey is off in the corner, making faint heart-shaped etchings in what's left of the sand.

She sighs in dismay.

“I like candy and balloons, but this holiday makes me sad,” Aubrey frowns. “I used to be happy when Mom and Dad were together.”

“But they weren’t happy,” Elijah points out. “Now they are. It’s better this way, Aubs.”

“I wish there was a middle for everyone, though,” Junior says. “Like a halfway-happy.”

♡

Back in the kitchen, you and Eddie continue to catch up. You talk about the kids and how school and clubs are going. Elijah has a crush on a girl in his PE group. Aubrey wants to do cheer. Junior wants to perform in the talent show, but he's having trouble rallying some friends.

And you... well, you were burning through your book piles and watching grandiose Hollywood dating shows, sometimes also dancing around the kitchen to whatever Grocery Store-esque song comes on the radio.

"Can't believe you still have this thing," Eddie tsks, taking the rusty vintage boombox in his hand.

"It still plays the good tunes though," you shrug. "Why would I retire it now?"

Eddie shrugs in agreement, putting the boombox back where he got it. The song currently playing soon fades into the background while the radio host's voice comes back into focus.

"Another great hit from KISS!" the host announces. "I hope everyone is having a beautiful V-Day so far. We're gonna slow it down for you, Hawkins! Here's some Cyndi Lauper for ya — this is Benny and you're listening to WSQK Radio."

A nostalgic tune fills the air, the melodic, dreamy atmosphere reminiscent of a much simpler time.

You and Eddie look at each other in shock, hold the gaze for a few seconds, and burst out laughing.

<< Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you >>

"Of course," you shake your head.

"What are the odds?" Eddie blushes, lightly punching the island with his fist to ease the tension. "Our first dance song."

It was a beautiful ceremony, your wedding. Wayne had too much to drink and was waddling around giving everyone hugs. The "kids" you grew up watching took a dramatic plunge into Lover's Lake at the end of the night. And during the dance, it was if, only for a moment, you and Eddie were the only ones on the dance floor, redefining the fabric of time because while it felt like an eternity, it seemed to have passed by in a second.

<< Flashback, warm nights, almost left behind >>

Time is a thief. That was nearly a decade ago.

"C'mon," Eddie encourages, grabbing your hand.

You're instantly launched back to present day. "What?"

"We're doin' it."

"Doing what?"

"Dancing."

You allow Eddie to take the lead, just how he always does when you two would embark on adventures. He whisks you away from the island and towards the dinner table for enough space to move.

"Eddie..." you stumble into him, chuckling nervously. "Really?"

"I mean..." he says, his chocolate eyes a-gleam. "Why not? For old times sake. While the song is on... while the kids are busy..."

His hands seek your hips and find them immediately. Your breath hitches as you take in the glory of him, his timeless face, and the aroma of petroleum from his day job. He's still the same Eddie. His love is pure energy. Never destroyed, just simply transformed. And you can't wait to explore more of this new form of love.

"I'd love to."

You two begin to sway, the essence of your wedding night illuminating through the dimming kitchen. Eddie smiles into you, his forehead nestled against yours, a strand of his wavy hair tickling your eyelashes that sit prettily against your lids.

<< If you're lost you can look and you will find me Time after time >>

Before you know it, the late winter sunset melts into nightfall and your kids, with chattering teeth, begin to pile back inside.

"Brother! Help me with my shoes!" pleads Junior.

"Please," Elijah reinforces.

"Please."

Suddenly, Aubrey gasps.

"Look!" she whispers to her brothers, pointing with an excited finger. "Mom and Dad!"

<< If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting Time after time >>

"So beautiful," Eddie murmurs into you as you two sway in each other's arms. "You always have been...so damn beautiful."

The warmth was like Christmas morning... a belated gift for the kids to watch two homes become one, for just a brief moment. You and Eddie are too busy wrapped up in one another to notice the biggest smiles on your children’s faces, hope flickering in their eyes as if their worlds were right-side up again.

“Halfway-happy,” Junior whispers breathlessly.

It was their (and your guys’ too, let’s be for real) happiest “Valentimes” Day in a while.

tag list 🏷️: @highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @bloodibambiidoll @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths @let-the-music-take-c0ntrol @meetmeatyourworst @b-irock @spencerssatchel @yes2476 @comeonatmebruh @bendoverncry @only4wakingup @wiltinglovers @sweetsweetjellybean @fromasgardandback @r4fe-cam3ron

[heliosunny]

Yandere! Phainon with clumsy and shy! Reader where he's the popular kid because of his charming looks and skills, meanwhile reader is just a normal student but has a crush on him. Wanting to make a move, they tried all kinds of tactics in order to get his attention like creating a bento for him, etc. (but failed miserably cause they didn't know how to cook and his fanclub would always get ahead of them everytime they tried to proceed with their plans of getting his attention) so in the end, they just sighed, starting to give up.

But little did they know that Phainon had already have his attention on them from the very start—also noticing everytime reader attempted to start a conversation with him (secretly looking forward to it) but before they even started walking towards him, he had already been cornered by his annoying fanclub who wouldn't stop bugging him, watching the look of defeat on reader's face from the corners of his eyes. In the end, he decided to make the first move of talking with them in a quiet corner after school... (Since even he had enough of seeing reader's attempts failing)

Oh and about the not-so-goodlooking-bento, Phainon couldn't help but chuckle at their attempt when he saw it being on his desk (he would always secretly chuckle in amusement everytime he'd see reader's defeated face everytime they failed)

Did he eat it? Of course not, but he appreciated their gesture.

Yandere!Phainon x Clumsy!Reader

The school bell rang, signaling the start of another monotonous day. Students bustled through the hallways, voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of gossip, laughter, and hurried conversations. Among them stood you, fidgeting with the bento box in your hands.

After countless failed attempts: spilled drinks, tripping over your own feet, and being intercepted by Phainon’s overly enthusiastic fan club,... You had made up your mind. You would give him the bento you had prepared last night, even if your cooking skills were… less than stellar.

From afar, Phainon stood effortlessly in the spotlight. Whether in academics, sports, or simply existing, he had an uncanny ability to charm everyone around him. Even now, he was surrounded by a flock of admirers, his usual cool expression barely hiding his impatience as they clamored for his attention.

No matter how hard you tried, Phainon was always out of reach. It felt as though fate itself had conspired against you, throwing obstacle after obstacle in your path. Still, you clutched the bento tighter, mustering what little courage you had left.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward. One step. Two steps. You were almost there—

“Phainon! Can I sit with you for lunch today?”

“Phainon, look! I brought you something special~!”

“Phainon, do you need help with your notes? I made extra copies!”

Just like that, you were blocked, left standing awkwardly at the edge of the crowd. Your shoulders slumped. The hope you had built up crumbled to dust. Maybe… maybe this was a sign. Maybe it was time to give up.

Unnoticed by the crowd, Phainon stole a glance in your direction. He had seen everything—the hesitant steps, the nervous grip on the bento, the way your expression fell the moment the fan club swooped in.

----

A quiet chuckle almost escaped him as his gaze flickered downward. A small, slightly misshapen bento box sat neatly on his desk. The presentation was… lacking, to say the least, but it was endearing in its own way.

You were adorable, really—so persistent, so genuine, even in your failures. It made him wonder just how long you were willing to keep this up before completely giving up.

But he wouldn’t let you.

---

The next morning, you arrived at school earlier than usual for class duty. You stretched your arms before grabbing the broom, ready to start cleaning before the usual chaos of the day began.

As you swept the floor, you heard the faint creak of the classroom door opening. Startled, you turned around, only to freeze in place.

Phainon stood there, casually leaning against the doorframe.

Your heart skipped a beat.

What was he doing here this early? There was no reason for him to be at school before anyone else.

"Morning" he greeted.

You swallowed, gripping the broom tightly. "M-Morning."

His lips quirked upward slightly as his eyes flickered to the cleaning supplies. "You’re on class duty today?"

You nodded, unsure of what else to say.

To your surprise, he walked further inside, plucking an unused rag from the desk. "I’ll help."

"You don’t have to—"

"I want to."

And just like that, the two of you cleaned in comfortable silence. It felt… oddly fun. He wasn’t as untouchable as he seemed from afar. He cracked a few lighthearted jokes. You found yourself laughing.

For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

But that moment shattered the second the school started filling with students.

"Phainon?! What are you doing here so early?"

"Oh my god, did you wait for us?"

"That’s so sweet!"

Panic shot through you. You instinctively took a step back, gripping the broom tightly. The last thing you needed was to be caught in the middle of whatever chaos they were about to stir up.

Phainon’s gaze flickered toward you, almost as if he could sense your hesitation. But before he could say anything, you turned on your heel, muttering, "I should finish up before homeroom starts."

Class began as usual, the room settling into a quiet hum as the teacher scribbled numbers across the board. You were half-listening, still shaken from your encounter with Phainon that morning. It wasn’t every day that someone like him willingly spent time with you, let alone helped with class duty.

But you pushed the thoughts aside when the teacher clapped their hands together, drawing everyone’s attention.

"Alright, let’s have some volunteers to solve these problems on the board."

The usual collective groan spread across the class, but four students were eventually chosen—including Phainon.

You rested your chin in your palm, watching as he stepped up, his confidence unwavering even in something as mundane as solving math. It was almost unfair how effortlessly cool he looked doing anything.

But then… something unexpected happened.

He hesitated. His grip on the chalk tightened ever so slightly, his brows furrowing as he stared at the equation in front of him.

You tilted your head. Was this… really a challenge for him?

Before you could overthink it, your hand was already raised. "Um, can I help him?"

The teacher glanced at you, then at Phainon, before nodding. "Go ahead."

You stood up, your legs feeling oddly light as you made your way to the board. The classroom was silent as you took the chalk from his fingers, your hands briefly brushing against his. You quickly turned your focus to the equation, pointing out the step he was missing.

"It’s just this part" you murmured, underlining a portion of the problem. "If you adjust it like this, the answer falls into place."

Phainon didn’t say anything at first. He simply watched you. Then, after a beat, his lips curled into something resembling amusement.

"So you were paying attention" he mused, his voice just low enough for only you to hear.

"O-Of course I was!"

He chuckled, taking the chalk back and finishing the problem with ease now that you had pointed out the missing piece. When he stepped back, the teacher praised both of you before motioning for everyone to return to their seats.

As you sat back down, you could still feel the lingering warmth of where your fingers had brushed his.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Phainon still looking at you. But before you could question it, he turned back to the board.

Lunchtime rolled around, and you eagerly pulled out the bento box from your bag. Unlike your past disastrous attempts, this one actually looked decent, all thanks to your mom’s help. The rice was perfectly shaped, the side dishes arranged neatly, it was almost too good to be yours.

Your friend had specifically asked you to make her one after seeing your previous, albeit messy, attempts. But as you reached her desk to hand it over, she let out a sheepish laugh.

“Oh no, I totally forgot! My boyfriend already got me lunch.” She scratched her cheek, looking guilty. “Sorry, I should’ve told you sooner.”

You stared at her, then at the extra bento in your hands. “So… what do I do with this now?”

“Just eat it yourself?” she suggested. “Or, I dunno, give it to someone?”

Easier said than done. You weren’t exactly good at offering things to people, and the thought of approaching someone out of the blue made you cringe. Sighing, you decided to just take both lunches up to the school terrace, where you could eat in peace. You settled on the bench, opening the first bento, ready to dig in—

Until you heard footsteps approaching.

Of all places, of all times, he had to come here now.

Phainon noticed you immediately.

“Two lunches?” he mused, tilting his head. “Are you really that hungry?”

Heat crept up your neck. “It’s not—! This was supposed to be for my friend, but she already had food, so now I just… have an extra one.”

Phainon hummed, stepping closer. “Then give it to me.”

“Huh?”

He gestured toward the untouched bento. “You don’t need two, right? I’ll take it.”

Sure, it wasn’t a disaster like your last attempts, but still… would he even like it?

“…Are you sure?” you asked cautiously.

He sat down beside you, reaching for the bento without waiting for your answer. “Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

You watched, stunned, as he opened the box and took a bite without hesitation. He chewed thoughtfully, then glanced at you.

“…Better than last time.”

“You knew about that?”

“Of course I did.”

You groaned, covering your face in embarrassment as Phainon chuckled softly beside you.

A few minutes passed before he suddenly spoke up.

"Got any water?"

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. "Oh! Yeah, hold on."

You quickly grabbed your bottle, fumbling with the cap as you tried to open it before passing it to him. But in your usual clumsy fashion, the moment you twisted the cap

SPLASH!

Time seemed to slow as water spilled straight onto Phainon’s uniform, soaking the fabric across his chest.

You gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth. "Oh my god—!"

Phainon looked down at his now wet shirt, then at you. A single droplet trailed down his collarbone before disappearing beneath his uniform.

Panic surged through you. "I—I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to open it, and—!"

A deep chuckle interrupted your frantic apology.

"You really are hopeless, aren’t you?" he mused, shaking his head with a smirk.

Your face burned. "I said it was an accident!"

He exhaled, still smirking as he grabbed a napkin from the bento box and casually dabbed at his shirt, though it did little to help. "Guess I’ll have to deal with this for the rest of the day now."

You winced. "I have a handkerchief! Wait, let me—"

Before you could reach into your bag, Phainon suddenly leaned in closer.

"You’re surprisingly fun to mess with"

"W-What’s that supposed to mean?!"

Phainon just chuckled again, leaning back as he rested his arm lazily against the bench. "Nothing. Just thinking out loud."

You huffed, still flustered, while he continued to act as if having water spilled on him was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

---

The next day, PE class rolled around, and as expected, all eyes were on Phainon. Whether it was basketball, track, or even something as simple as stretching, he did it all effortlessly.

Meanwhile, you were stuck on the sidelines.

You weren’t feeling great today, so you had gotten permission to sit out. Part of you was relieved; sports were never really your thing, and standing in the middle of a heated game with people charging at you sounded more like a nightmare than anything else.

You sighed, watching from the benches as the basketball game played out. Phainon was, unsurprisingly, dominating. The other students either worked with him or struggled to keep up—it was clear that he was the star of the court.

Then, out of nowhere, the basketball rolled toward your feet.

Right. You should probably pass it back.

Without thinking too hard about it, you picked up the ball and tossed it toward Phainon—

Or at least, you thought you did.

Instead of going toward him, the ball veered completely off course, hitting another student right in the back of the head with a loud thump.

The student turned around, rubbing their head, looking equal parts confused and irritated. "Who—?"

Before they could even finish their sentence, a sharp whistle blew, cutting through the tension.

All heads turned toward Phainon, who had stepped forward, spinning another basketball effortlessly on his finger.

"Relax" he said coolly, as if the entire situation wasn’t your fault. "It was just a bad pass."

The student hesitated, then huffed and turned back to the game. Just like that, the attention was off of you.

You exhaled in relief, but before you could fully relax, you noticed Phainon walking toward you.

He stopped just in front of you, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Seriously," he mused, resting his arm against the back of the bench. "You suck at this, too?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I thought I was aiming at you, okay?!"

"Good thing I was watching, then. Who knows what would’ve happened if I wasn’t?"

"Wait… did you cover for me on purpose?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Figure it out."

And with that, he turned on his heel, walking back toward the game as if nothing had happened.

----

Days passed. Then more days.

And just like that, whatever strange, fleeting connection you had with Phainon slipped through your fingers. It was as if those moments—the shared lunch, the PE incident, the cleaning duty had never happened.

Each morning, you walked into school, expecting to at least catch a glimpse of him. Maybe even just exchange a glance. But every time, he was already surrounded. His fan club, his friends, the people who seemed to exist solely to orbit around him.

You couldn’t even hear his voice from the crowd, let alone see him.

The first few times, you told yourself it was fine. But then, it started to feel… different. Each time you so much as moved in his direction, something blocked you. Someone cut in. A conversation started that you couldn’t interrupt. It felt deliberate, almost like the universe itself was pushing you away.

But then there were those brief moments—when your eyes met across the classroom, when he saw you hesitate before turning away. And you saw it in his gaze.

He was trying, too.

You could tell in the way his head turned the second you walked into the room, the slight furrow of his brows when he was pulled into another conversation, the barely noticeable shift in his body when you lingered nearby—like he wanted to step forward but couldn’t.

No matter what either of you did, something always got in the way.

You refused to just let things end like this, not when you knew Phainon had been trying too. So, after thinking about it for a while, you decided to take a simple approach: a note.

You wrote it quickly, keeping it short and to the point—just asking him to contact you, leaving a place and time to meet if he could. Then, you slipped it into the gap of his desk before lunch, hoping that by the time he sat down for the next class, he’d see it.

But… nothing happened.

No message. No glance in your direction. No sign that he even knew about it.

The next day, you casually walked past his desk, only to find no note.

Had he ignored it? Or… had it just disappeared?

Maybe someone had mistaken it for trash and thrown it away before he ever saw it.

With a sigh, you decided to push it aside for now. There was nothing you could do about it.

That evening, you stayed behind at school to help your club clean up. It wasn’t anything major, just clearing out some old supplies and moving things to the storage room.

“Let’s hurry” your friend said, balancing a box in her arms. “I don’t wanna stay here too late.”

“Yeah, yeah” you muttered, adjusting your own load.

The storage room was at the end of the hallway, dimly lit and barely used unless someone needed something. You and your friend stepped inside, setting down the boxes with a relieved sigh.

But the moment you turned around to leave, the door wouldn’t budge.

“…Huh?” Your friend blinked, trying again. She rattled the handle, pushing at the door, but it didn’t move.

“Don’t tell me we’re stuck…”

Your friend let out a nervous laugh. “N-No way, right? It’s just jammed or something…”

She tried knocking, calling out, but the hallway was empty. Everyone had already gone home. Worse, neither of you had your phones—left behind in your bags since you hadn’t expected to be gone long.

Your friend knocked on the door again, harder this time. “Hello? Anyone still here?”

You swallowed, trying not to panic. “Maybe… maybe someone will come by soon?”

Your friend sighed, leaning against the wall. “Let’s hope so. I do not wanna spend the night in here.”

Neither did you. The storage room was stuffy, the dim light above flickering weakly. The shelves were lined with old equipment, boxes stacked high, making the space feel even smaller.

You tried to think logically. Maybe a janitor will come by. Maybe a teacher will check.

But as time dragged on, no one came.

Your friend groaned, sliding to sit on the floor. “This sucks. If only we had our phones…”

You sighed, leaning against the shelves. “Yeah…”

Would Phainon have helped if he were here?

You shook your head at yourself. Why are you thinking about him now?

Still, it stung to know your note had never reached him. Maybe if it had, you wouldn’t feel so distant from him now.

A sudden noise made you jolt.

The door creaked open.

You and your friend stared as a figure stepped inside, the dim hallway light casting a long shadow.

“Phainon…?”

“Figured you’d be here.”

Your friend gawked. “Wait, how did you—?”

“I saw you heading this way earlier” he said simply. “And when you didn’t come back, I got curious.” His gaze landed on you. “You left your bag in the classroom”

Your friend exhaled in relief. “Well, thank god you did. I thought we were gonna be stuck all night.”

Phainon stepped back, holding the door open. “C’mon.”

You quickly followed, stepping into the hallway, finally breathing in fresh air. The moment you were out, your friend turned to you.

“I’ll go grab my things—you can lock up,” she said with a grin, then gave you a knowing look before hurrying off.

That left just you and Phainon.

You turned to him, shifting awkwardly. “Um… Thanks.”

“You really do get into trouble easily, huh?”

“Not on purpose.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Mm.”

You hesitated, then decided to just ask. “Did you… ever get my note?”

“…What note?”

Just as you thought. He had never seen it.

“I left one in your desk” you admitted. “But I guess someone threw it away.”

“Figures.”

Before you could say anything else, he took a step closer, lowering his voice. “Next time just come find me directly.”

----

You didn’t think much of it when the new club member—Leo, a first-year—started asking for your help. He was friendly, a little too eager at times, but genuinely interested in learning. Since he was younger, you felt responsible for helping him out, especially when he asked you to go over homework together.

So when he invited you over to study that evening, you agreed. It wasn’t unusual—just a simple study session.

What was unusual, however, was the feeling of being watched.

Earlier that day, as you and Leo discussed your plans in the hallway, you had caught a brief glimpse of Phainon.

And now, as you walked down the quiet path toward Leo’s house, that same unsettling feeling crept over you again.

You shook off the thought and focused on the conversation.

Leo grinned. “I bet you’ll solve the math problems way before I do.”

You chuckled. “Don’t count yourself out yet. You’re getting better.”

He beamed at the praise, making you smile. It was nice having someone look up to you like this.

----

Phainon was already moving before he realized it.

The moment he saw you walk off with Leo again, something in him itched. He had tried to stop you earlier, had taken a step in your direction, but—again—those damn students swarmed him before he could get a word out.

And just like that, you were gone.

It annoyed him more than it should have.

Throughout lunch, his mind drifted. His fan club chattered away, yet he didn’t hear a word. His gaze flickered to the door every so often, wondering what you and Leo were talking about.

Then, later that evening, when he caught sight of you walking alone, without Leo, he didn’t hesitate.

By now, he had learned how to slip away unnoticed.

Cutting away from his usual followers, he kept a careful distance behind you, watching as you took a different route. You weren’t heading toward Leo’s place this time. Instead, you turned toward a quieter part of town.

You walked at a steady pace, completely unaware of the pair of sharp eyes following your every step.

Phainon trailed behind, hands stuffed in his pockets. His thoughts swirled as he recalled lunch—how Leo had taken up your attention, how again he had been stuck dealing with useless chatter while you just walked away.

He hadn’t heard the conversation, but he didn’t need to. He had seen the way Leo looked at him. That expression—the admiration, the longing to be like him.

So that’s what this is? Phainon scoffed under his breath. That kid wants to be popular?

He had no idea what a pain it was. If anything, Phainon envied him—his ability to sit next to you without a crowd breathing down his neck, to talk with you so freely.

He picked up his pace.

You turned a corner, stopping at a house’s gate. Digging through your bag, you pulled out the borrowed item—some book, maybe—and knocked on the door.

Phainon took the opportunity to close the distance, standing just at the edge of the street. He leaned casually against a lamppost, pretending to check his phone, but his gaze remained locked on you.

A few minutes passed before your friend opened the door. You handed the item over, exchanged a few words, and then you turned to leave.

And that was when you noticed him.

Phainon pushed off the lamppost and started toward you.

“You’re taking a different way home today” he noted.

“Uh, yeah. I had to return something.”

“No Leo today?”

You blinked at the sudden mention of the younger boy. “Leo? Oh, no. He had something else to do.”

“Hm.” He took another step closer. “Guess that means you’re free.”

You hesitated. “I… guess?”

“Then walk home with me.”

Somehow… you ended up at his house.

One moment, you were walking home with him, and the next, you found yourself sitting at his dining table, praying that no one had seen you come here.

Phainon, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease.

“You’re tense” he remarked.

You cleared your throat. “I just—uh, didn’t expect this.”

“Well, you didn’t protest.”

You had no comeback for that. Instead, you focused on the table in front of you, your bag now open with books scattered about. You didn’t know what else to do, so when Phainon mentioned homework, you just went along with it.

The atmosphere settled, surprisingly comfortable as you both worked. It was like that brief time in class when you had helped him. For once, it felt like you actually had his attention.

After a while, Phainon stretched, glancing at the clock. “I’ll order food.”

You perked up. “Wait, I can cook!”

His expression instantly turned skeptical.

“…Can you?”

Your confidence wavered. You had tried before, but every time, something went wrong. He had even seen the disastrous bento you made.

“…Maybe not” you admitted, deflating.

“Yeah, let’s just order.”

As he grabbed his phone, he glanced at you.

“So. Leo.”

“Huh?”

He scrolled through the menu casually, “You two seem close.”

You hesitated, not sure where this was going. “…He’s just a club member. He asks for help a lot.”

“He wants to be popular.”

You nodded. “Yeah, he mentioned that.”

“Annoying.”

You looked up, surprised at the irritation in his voice. “Why?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“…Just is.”

You swallowed, deciding to change the subject. “Uh, what are we ordering?”

Phainon exhaled, locking his phone. “Something you can’t mess up.”

You pouted. “Rude.”

The food arrived soon after, and you both settled down at the table to eat. The atmosphere had relaxed again, but there was still something you couldn’t quite place lingering in the air.

You tried to shake it off, focusing on your meal.

“I was relieved, you know.”

You blinked, looking up mid-bite. “Huh?”

Phainon leaned back slightly, twirling his chopsticks between his fingers.

“When you said you and Leo weren’t dating” he clarified.

Did you hear that right?

“You were… relieved?” you echoed, dumbfounded.

He exhaled through his nose, setting his chopsticks down. “Yeah.” His gaze flickered to you, sharp yet unreadable. “It was annoying, watching you with him all the time.”

Phainon didn’t say anything else after that.

He simply finished his meal, grabbed his jacket, and led you home like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your thoughts were a mess the entire way.

----

The next day, Phainon was back to being surrounded by people, his usual easygoing demeanor in place. If it weren’t for the way he had looked at you last night, you might have thought you imagined the whole thing.

But then, after club hours, you stepped out of the room, stretching after a long day. Leo had been waiting just outside, brightening when he saw you.

“Hey! Since we're done. Let’s—”

“Not happening.”

Leo blinked. “Uh—”

“Y/N's coming with me”

Leo frowned. “Since when?”

“Since now.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed your wrist, tugging you away from Leo like it was a done deal.

You had no idea what just happened. Your mind was still trying to catch up with what just happened when—

You tripped. Luckily Phainon managed to catch and steady you before you hit the ground.

“Did I not make myself clear?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you stop chasing after me…” he murmured, “you’ll see the consequences.”

Before you could even think—before you could stop yourself—

“I like you.”

The words just came out.

You gasped, realizing what you’d just said. “Wait, I mean—”

“That’s it” he murmured, more to himself than to you. His fingers slowly trailed down from your wrist to your hand, lacing them together.

You barely remembered how things end that day.

----

Phainon was not the type to hide anything unnecessary.

So, naturally, your new relationship was not a secret.

The next day at school, it was obvious. The way he hovered near you, the way he casually grabbed your hand, the way he made sure everyone saw—there was no mistaking it.

Some were disappointed, especially those who had always fawned over him. Others whispered, surprised that you—of all people—had somehow captured his attention.

But Phainon didn’t care.

If anything, he wanted them to see.

It was the best way to keep you close—to make sure your name was always beside his.

To make sure everyone knew you were his.

[burningembers91]

Birthday Girl - Cho Sang-Woo x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Biggest Regret

What Makes You Happy

Not Like You

Synopsis: it’s your birthday, but everything about the day reminds you of the man who left you. When he shows up to your party, emotions reach boiling point.

It was your birthday today. You’d always loved your special day, and Cho Sang-Woo had always enjoyed spoiling you when it came around. He remembered your last birthday together; he was up to his neck in debt but he still wanted you to have the best day. He bought you a bouquet of flowers and a necklace from a boutique that you liked. He cooked for you because he couldn’t afford to take you out, and then he made love to you in the bed you’d shared, his tongue tracing circles over your clit as you fell apart for him again and again.

He thought about that day a lot. Thought about how beautiful you’d looked, how sweet you’d sounded as he drew your pleasure from you in shuddering moans. He wondered what you’d be doing today, whether Jason would be taking you out. He hadn’t seen you since you’d kissed him, since he’d rejected you yet again and walked away. It had broken his heart to do it, and for a while he’d seriously wondered what the point was in continuing life. He couldn’t face this world without you; he’d been nothing but a shell for the last two years. You had been everything to him, you still were, and he’d walked away from you.

He’d overheard his mum saying you were planning on going out tonight. She’d seen you around a few times, and couldn’t resist meddling. You were both so unhappy, the light faded from your eyes, and it broke her heart. You and her son were meant to be together, but you were both too stubborn to realise it.

“I heard she’s headed to that bar she likes. What’s it called again? Glow, or something like that?”

Sang-Woo had spent many a night in there with you, drinking cocktails and dancing. He hated dancing, hated it with a fiery burning passion but you made it seem more bearable. When money had been good, he’d buy your friends the most expensive champagne, toasting to you. He’d give anything to be back on that dance floor with you, just one more time.

You weren’t looking forward to your birthday this year. Your meeting with Sang-Woo had broken you, and you’d spent the last few weeks being an absolute bitch. You were a bitch to Jason, a bitch to your friends, and a bitch to your colleagues. He’d rejected you again and it had hurt more than the first time had. You and Jason were constantly fighting, screaming matches that lasted into the early hours of the morning. You weren’t happy with him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him go. It was selfish of you, but you were scared to be on your own.

Despite your less than stellar attitude, your friends were determined to take you out. You hadn’t told them about Sang-Woo because you knew exactly what they’d say, but not being able to tell anyone was killing you. They were taking you to Glow, the place you’d used to love so much. But now it held nothing but heartache for you, full of memories of you and Sang-Woo.

But you forced yourself to get ready, applying your makeup while you downed half a bottle of wine. Jason was coming too, persuaded by your friends. He knew the relationship was ending, but like you, he didn’t want to be alone.

You drank more than you should have that night, you and Jason getting into yet another screaming match. Your friends didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help. They hadn’t seen you like this since you’d been left at the altar and they didn’t know how to help you.

Sang-Woo was sitting outside the club, a cigarette perched between his lips. He didn’t know why he was here, but it was like his feet automatically guided him to you. He was trying to get up the courage to go in, to see if he could find you. He didn’t know exactly what he’d say, but he couldn’t seem to leave you alone. It was torture, the self-inflicted kind that ripped at his soul, tearing him in two. He’d left you twice, and yet he was unable to stay away.

You stormed out of the front doors, tears streaming down your face. You were so angry, so upset and the fact you couldn’t tell anyone was killing you. You felt like you were about to implode, the weight of your emotions suffocating you. You’d left your friends and you boyfriend staring dumbstruck after you, watching you stagger off the dance floor. The song you always danced to with Sang-Woo had started playing, and that had been the final straw.

He saw you exit the club, saw you tumble down the stone steps. He ran forward, hoisting you to your feet, his eyes full of concern.

“What are you doing here?” You cried, “can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just… my mum told me where you were and I… I couldn’t help myself.” He took in your tear streaked face, your makeup smudged and your hair out of place. Had he done this to you?

“What do you want from me?” You sighed, sitting down on the pavement and reaching up for a drag of his cigarette. You hated smoking, but tonight you just needed something to take the edge off and alcohol alone wasn’t cutting it.

“I want you,” he whispered, “but I’m so scared. I can’t give you what you need. I’ll never be able to own a house, or have nice cars, or even go on vacation. That’s not the kind of person you want to be with.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” You cried, throwing your hands up in the air. “I don’t care about money, or nice cars, or having a big home. All I ever wanted was you. But you always assumed you had to provide me with this life of luxury. I never wanted that.”

You sat staring at each other, the base from the club reverberating through your chest. Even when you cried, you looked so beautiful, and Sang-Woo couldn’t resist.

His lips were on yours in an instant, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as you clung to each other. You tasted like tequila, your tears soaking his cheeks as your fingers gripped his hair.

“Come home with me,” you whispered. “Please.”

Jason didn’t live with you, and after tonight you were pretty sure your relationship was done. But in that moment, you didn’t care; you only wanted Sang-Woo, and in the safety of your apartment, you didn’t need to hide the desperation you felt for him. You didn’t need to worry about being caught.

You hailed a taxi, your lips on each other as soon as you were seated. You tore his jacket from his shoulders, his hands snaking over your thighs and under your mini dress. He could feel the lace of your underwear against the tips of his fingers, could hear you moaning in his ear as he teased you through the delicate fabric.

It took you an age to open the front door, your fingers fumbling with the codes as Sang-Woo kissed your lips, jawline and neck. You were seeing stars, so overwhelmed by the feel of his skin on yours that you couldn’t concentrate.

Stumbling into your apartment, you began removing his shirt, your fingers shaky as you undid the buttons. You gave up three buttons in, ripping his shirt open instead. He was still toned, his muscles still as taut you remembered. You ran your fingers tips over his skin, tracing each line of toned muscle.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, pulling his shirt down over him arms before discarding it in a heap on the floor.

“I’ve missed you too,” his whispered, his arms snaking round your waist, his fingers searching for the zip of your dress. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He removed the chiffon fabric from your body, admiring your curves with awe. You’d somehow become even more beautiful since he’d last seen you naked, your delicate skin so soft to the touch. Your black lace underwear was all that remained, and he could see you tremble as he hooked his forefingers over the top of the fabric, pulling them down.

He sank to his knees before you, his tongue tracing patters through your slick folds. Your hands clung to his hair for support, hooking one knee over his shoulder to grant him better access to your tight, wet core. You were shaking, your moans falling in breathy gasps as he slid his fingers inside of you.

“I need more,” you begged, desperate to feel himself inside of you. His tongue, his fingers weren’t enough. You needed all of him.

Sang-Woo picked you up, making his way to your bed before placing you gently down on the mattress.

“I know you need more.” He soothed, trailing his fingers up the soft skin of your inner thighs. “But I need to show you how much I missed you.”

He buried himself between your thighs, his tongue pressing powerful strokes against your clit. You could hear him moan as he tasted you, could feel his urgency in the way his fingers slid in and out of your tight core. He’d always been able to make you feel pleasure beyond anything you’d ever known. You could feel the fire in your belly burn, could feel the wave of ecstasy building. Your legs shook, your hands grasping your silk sheets as you fell apart for him.

Your moans were fucking heavenly, so loud and unabashed as you shook with the intensity of your orgasm.

“Now you can have all of me,” he growled, pulling his pants off before lining himself up against you.

“I need you to fuck me hard,” you whispered. “Don’t hold back.”

The force with which he entered you was on the precipice of pleasure and pain. He stretched you out so deliciously, your moans swallowed as his mouth met yours. He thrust into you hard and fast, the mattress squeaking as you moved together.

It was like you’d never been apart, your bodies so in sync. His teeth grazed your lower lip, his hands braced against your pillow and headboard as he fucked into you again and again.

He could feel himself about to lose control, the edges of his vision blurring as he neared the edge.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling you into him as he spilled himself inside of you. You could feel him tremble through the sheer force of his release, could hear his whimpers of pleasure as he made sure you took every last drop of him.

You stay entwined together on your sheets, your lips against his as you waited for your heart rates to return to normal. Sang-Woo couldn’t believe he’d ever left you, couldn’t believe he’d walked away from the woman who brought him so much pleasure.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, pushing yourself further into his body, your head nestled on his chest.

“Always,” he promised you. “I’ll never leave you again, I swear.”

This thing between was you was messy and imperfect. Sang-Woo had a lot of making up to do, a lot of atoning for his sins that had to be done. The road wouldn’t be easy, but you were worth fighting for.

You were made for each other. He only regretted it had taken him so long to realise that nothing could keep you apart.

[lavenderchqn]

✧・| spotless, from bottom to top

— the reset to lifve, that's what spring cleaning is dubbed as. well, it's not really spring now... but hey, dust bunnies sleep in the nooks regardless of the season!

[note.] — this is the last post before my title defence. hopefully everything goes fine next tuesday and I'll be free from the shackles of my academic focused mind.

𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘

Arguably, the worst person to organise with. Lyney is a sentimental hoarder. In his eyes everything sparks joy. He’s efficient in cleaning everything that does not involve his stuff. Vacuuming? If Lynette hasn’t broke the machine, he’s good to go! Sweeping the floors? He’ll sing a cheerful tune. Reducing the amount of props he owns? Yeah, no. 

“Oh, but love!” Lyney pouts, sitting on the floor. Boxes, dust bunnies, a bunch of props he hadn’t seen in decades. “How do you expect me to get rid of anything?!” He sobs, his nose running from the dust in the air. All of these things are important. All of them are necessary— even if just for his happiness. 

“At least one box…” You beg, looking at him with pity. His sentiment towards the past isn’t something you haven’t known already. In your eyes, it’s charming. The silly goober has a stellar memory. How attractive. “Only one?” The blond looks at you, shocked. In his head, he already prepared himself to reduce all these memories to half. One is very, very generous. 

You nod. One box is enough. Surely, in this overflowing collection, there must be enough stuff that’s broken beyond repair or too small for anyone. With such a minor challenge, Lyney takes the terms seriously. 

“Okay, okay, okay” His eyes move from item to item. That’s staying, that too… This… can go. Lyney moves like a well-oiled machine, decluttering far more than he’d thought he ever would. As he grabs a folder, something falls out. 

A picture. The dust that had settled on the paper gave it a sepia-like appearance. What a scenery. Three siblings and you smiling, heavens above, how old this must be? The blond blows some of the gunk away. “Oh, that’s staying.” You comment, scaring the living daylights out of Lyney. In the middle of his organising, you’ve managed to sneak up on him. On accident. 

He shrieks away, body flying into another stack of unopened boxes. “Ouch, ouch, ouch…” He hisses, holding his hand. “You okay, bubs?” You ask apologetically, extending a hand in his direction. 

“Perfectly clear belove— ACHOO!”

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

He’s both a good and worst helper. His hair falls into the cleaning solutions constantly and the bobby pins on the floor just seem to pile up. Aided with a previously made cleaning plan, Neuvillette is ready to tackle anything. Oh, but please keep him away from any chemical labels. They make him anxious. 

“Love…” You murmur, looking at the situation at hand. Neuvillette is perched at the sink and filling a bucket full of water. Nothing’s out of the ordinary… and yet. Why does he look so formal? “Are you sure about that?” You ask. 

“Is there something of the matter, Beloved?” He turns around. Hair let down, sleeves somehow not drenched in the water yet. He tilts his head slightly, eyes sparkling. How cute. “Well, will you be comfortable?” You ask, your eyes laser-focused on his hair. 

“I can assure you, I’ll be fine.” And still, he has to brush away the locks falling into his eyes. Silly Neuvillette and his silly thinking. With one of your hair ties, you gently pull all of his luscious hair into a low ponytail. Less official than his regular getup, but handsome regardless.

And as for his sleeves. Gosh, what an annoyance. You can’t but help his sense of justice and commitment. As much as you appreciate it on a day-to-day basis, having it control every part of his life is just… Upsetting. Slightly. You tut for a second, thinking about how to push them back. And make sure they stay in place. Hair ties would stop them from unravelling but… 

You sigh. Aborting the mission, you take a bucket yourself. As it slowly fills with lukewarm water, you reach for the cleaning solution. Before you can grab the cap, your hands are laced with Neuvillette’s instead. “Gloves first, Precious.” He says, handing you a pair. 

You roll your eyes, trying to put them on. They squeal, twisting and turning around your fingers… The latex is so uncomfortable, you think. Seeing your discomfort, Neuvillette jumps in to assist. Like with a non-latex glove, he pulls it up gently. “Much better,” He murmurs, seeing the glove fitting you… like a glove!

Now you’re ready to mop the floors till you can see yourself in them. 

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

Unironically, Wriothesley likes doing household chores. It’s a simple task — one you can unwind to. With a podcast or jazz in his ears, there’s nothing stopping him from catering to the house. It makes you happy, it makes him content. Helping you out (and maybe feeding his ego slightly) is pure joy. 

Oh heavens, the smell. The one, yet oddly specific odour of vacuuming. Wriothesley must have finished the chores minutes prior, you think. How you have managed to sleep through the grating noise is a mystery, however,  one left for solving on another day.

You stretch on the couch, popping your joints. Sleeping on the sofa is not the best choice, by far. The nap was lovely regardless. “You woke up?” Wriothesley asks, the soft echo of his footsteps growing louder. “Mhm…” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. He disappears into a different part of the house — most likely to get stuff ready for mopping the floors. 

“Do we want coffee?” You ask, putting on your slippers. Not only is it safety 101, given you'd rather not slip on freshly cleaned floors. Not getting said floors dirty is another reason. There’s nothing you’d want less than to ruin Wriothesley’s work. 

It isn’t often when he does get a chance to stay at home. It’s even less for him to participate in household chores. Maybe it’s why he likes doing them so much? Chores withdrawal or something. “Sure, why not,” You hear in the distance.  

It isn’t long before Wriothesley returns. Just as you’re getting the sugar ready, you can feel yourself being slightly lifted. Your head whips around, trying to figure out what on earth is going on. “Just me, Buttercup.” He’s holding you like a sack of potatoes while he mops the floor. 

“A little warning next time, fucking hell.” You say, waving a finger in his face the second you’re back on the ground. You pout, handing him his cup of coffee. “Thanks for the treat,” He says, taking a sip. Perfect as always. Oh, what a shame it would be for someone or something to knock down a cup full of liquid on the freshly cleaned floors. 

Well, thank heavens you’re not feeling daring today. 

date of posting — june 15th 2025

[lovelycrawfishy]

It seems your mal du pays has returned... the style is a little weird tho-? (THIS ISNT MY BEST WORK SO EXPECT MORE SNATCHINGS OF YOUR MAL IM STILL LEARNING HOW TO DRAW THEM <3333)

plus i have this ONE IMAGE IN MY HEAD THAT I PLAN ON DRAWING

AAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAA @amaya-143 OH MY, THIS IS AMAZING IM SCREAMING ROLLING AROUND ON THE FLOOR HANGING UPSIDE DOWN I OPENED MY INBOX EXPECTING TO SEE ONE OF THOSE SCAM ASKS BUT THEN GOT MY EYES BLESSED BY THIS?? THIS IS STELLAR THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DRAWING THEM WHAT. RAHHHHH <333333333333

[its-time-to-write]

Hi!! Thank you for all the amazing writing you do!!! My humble request is of a reader who brings Jamie to meet her family and he’s appalled that someone so kind and gentle is treated w such lack of love/respect (ex: first comment out of her granddad’s mouth is sm about her weight/job/look/etc) and it puts a lot of things about her into perspective. At some point he can’t take it anymore and defends her and then vows to her that he will undo all of that pain and will prove to her she is worthy of all the love:) sorry it’s a long one (got lots of personal experience lol) so no worries if u can’t but it would mean the world thank you!!!

Hi cutie! Here you go! I’m sorry that you have personal experience with this, families can suck sometimes. It’s definitely from Jamie’s POV, so keep that in mind😅 Boy’s a rambler.

stuck by you

Jamie sure knows how to pick them.

No really, he does. He’s always had stellar taste in girlfriends, except usually they have shit taste in men.

It’s different this time, he swears. Keeley swears, too. Swears she’ll break every bone in his body if he so much as looks at you funny, and Jamie… well, Jamie’s not actually terrified of Keeley, just respectful, like.

So he’s going to make sure he doesn’t fuck this up because you’re funny and gorgeous and brilliant and he's also those things, so you’re like a power couple. And when you beg- no, ask, because you only have to ask once- him to come with you for a family event, he says yes without a second thought. 

It’s off-season, but he’d do it in-season in a heartbeat (just with a bit of fear because Ted’s alright, but he’s a little gun-shy since the whole ‘practice’ thing).

It’s also fucking BOILING, so he’s going to wear his least-slutty shorts (it’s a family event) and a shirt that is not see-through. 

He’s not going to fuck this up, not with how sweet you are, how generous, how-

A football hits the side of his head, and he’s brought out of his thoughts. 

“You’re daydreaming, bruv,” comes Isaac’s voice. “What’s the point of a friendly if you can’t even pay attention?”

Jamie gives himself a shake, and he’s firmly in the present. He’s at the mid-off-season-Richmond-party or whatever, and football is a mandatory affair. He makes the mistake of glancing to where you’re standing under a tree in Colin’s backyard and fuck you’re sneaking sweets to the few kids who are flitting around the grass. Fucking Declan and his adorable children. You catch his eye and give him a little wave, and his heart jumps like he’s in primary school and not a world-renowned Premier League athlete. 

Yeah, he’s good and fucked. 

He makes a mental note to get you into bed tonight, he’s pretty sure it won’t be too difficult, but he’s going to have to convince you to leave early. But can you blame him?

(No, no you fucking can’t.)

—

Jamie isn’t nervous to meet your family. Seriously, he isn’t. It’s your family and a) he’s fucking greatwith families and b) he’s fucking great with you. He rocks up with you on his arm, and he’s already making plans for the sundress you’ve got on, mainly how to get in on the floor once you go home. 

You’re both looking fucking fit. Jamie hopes a little bit that someone sneaks a picture of you two and it ends up in the press because this look CANNOT be wasted. 

He almost misses the way your grip tightens as you walk up the steps. He tilts his head in your direction, assessing your expression. 

“You okay?” he asks and receives a tight-lipped smile. 

“Yup,” you reply. “Let’s fucking do this.”

Not the response Jamie was expecting, but he’ll roll with it. You push open the door and walk into the family room and the first thing out of your granddad’s mouth is, “Oh, there she is! Bold of you to wear that dress with the way you’ve been eating, my dear,” and Jamie half-expects you to say something. 

Or for someone to say something. 

Except no one does, they just carry on, and an aunt comes up to you to make a snide comment about your job. 

“You absolutely must be struggling financially dear, but aren’t we all? I just wish I could screw a footballer and have my rent paid.”

She’s gone before Jamie can say anything, and he only needs one look at your face to understand exactly what’s going on. 

You’re not sweet and kind because your family is sweet and kind. Oh no. 

You’re the way you are out of sheer willpower, out of spite; kindness born the way of a weed in concrete. Out of a refusal to die. A decision to be different. 

And it pisses Jamie off. 

He squeezes your hand once, twice, in reassurance, letting you lead him to your parents. He recognizes them from pictures and still retains a vague hope that they’ll be like you. 

Vain, vague hope, but still. 

He catches the way your mum’s lips tighten into a line at your approach, and the way your dad barely suppresses a scoff. 

“Oh look,” your mum says without an ounce of inflection, “you’re here. That’s wonderful.”

“Good to see you mum, dad,” you say with more grace than Jamie would have if the roles were reversed. Your dad holds out his hand to shake yours, barely acknowledging Jamie. Jamie opens his mouth to say something but you clock it, and shoot him a warning glance. 

He freezes and meets your gaze. You shake your head almost imperceptibly and mouth don’t and he almost ignores you, but you’re begging him with your eyes and he swore you’d never have to beg him for anything. 

So he turns away and doesn’t say anything, because he won’t be responsible for breaking you today. 

And it’s just… like that. All day. It’s relentless and he feels powerless to do a single thing except watch as you refuse to let your armor crack, barely letting it dent the surface. 

How did he not know?

It comes to a head when your cousin (a banking twat who Jamie’s certain had a shriveled dick) manages to comment on your weight, (supposed lack of) beauty, and finances in one fell swoop. 

And that’s it. Jamie’s done. 

They want to be pricks? Well, Roy’s been calling him the Prince Prick of all Pricks for fucking years, so let’s fucking go then. 

“Fuck you, you giant limp-dicked twat,” he says with a smile on his face. You freeze, and so does your cousin. 

“What did you just say to me?”

“I said,” Jamie repeats loudly, taking a step closer, “fuck you, you giant. Limp-dicked. Twat.” He punctuates each word with a poke to this arsehole’s chest and fuck, does it feel great. 

He loves you, he’ll respect your wishes moving forward, but he’ll be FUCKED if he lets your family’s behavior continue. What would mummy say?

The entire room has gone silent, and you’ve gone pale. 

But Jamie, Jamie loves an audience. 

“Fuck you all, actually,” he sing-songs, and there are audible gasps. 

Jamie doesn’t give a shit. “You’re all fucking arseholes to my girl, who, by the way, is the fucking best, except you’re all too fucking busy taking shots at her to notice. Don’t know what the fuck she did to all of you, but you can all piss off with that. We’re fucking leaving.” He grabs your hands and pulls you toward the door. 

It’s not like you need much prompting, you’ve been counting down the minutes since you walked in the door. 

“Oh,” he says turning around one last time. “Don’t bother calling. Or writing, or whatever you old twats do, unless it’s an apology for however fucking long you’ve been this shitty. I’ve only got one shit parent, can’t imagine the hell it’s been having two.”

And with that, he ushers you out the door. 

“Jamie,” you gasp as soon as it shuts behind you. “What was that? What were you thinking?”

There’s a strange tightness to your voice, one Jamie’s having trouble placing. 

Or maybe it’s the fact that the sun is setting and it’s tingeing your skin with gold. 

Either way, it’s starting to get to him. “Dunno,” he says with a trace of belligerence. 

You gape at him for a moment before saying, “Can we get in the car, please?”

Jamie says, “Yeah,” and then helps you in, suddenly aware of every bone in his body. 

He swore he wasn’t going to fuck it, and he did. Christ, Keeley’s going to skin him alive. 

He drives in silence the whole way home. You’re just staring straight ahead, and he can tell you’re still processing. Still replaying. You’re better than any VAR, that’s for sure. 

“Jamie,” you say slowly once he’s parked in the driveway. You’ve unbuckled, but you’re still in your seat. “Why did you say all of that?”

Jamie says again, “Dunno,” but you don’t believe him. 

“Why?” you ask again, voice cracking. “It’s not worth it, I’m not worth it.”

And just like that, Jamie understands. 

“You are,” he replies forcefully, except that just makes you cry. 

(He’s pretty sure they’re good tears, though, so he tests it by reaching for your hand. You don’t pull away, which is a good sign.)

“You are worth it,” he says again, in case you didn’t get it the first time. “Shit family’s… it’s shit, babe. I get it, I really fucking do. I’m sorry about them, I really am. And I’m sorry about me, too. Didn’t mean to say ‘fuck’ so many times, suppose I’m around Roy too much.”

That succeeds in lightening the mood, and you smile ever so slightly. 

He says, “They don’t deserve you,” which just makes you laugh. 

“I know,” you reply. “I just always wanted them to be a good family.”

Jamie hesitates. He knows what you mean. 

Finally he says, “People don’t change like that, love. It’s almost- hardwired into them. They get fucking stuck and you can’t change them, no matter what you do. Sometimes you just gotta let them go.”

You nod and take a deep breath. Easier said than done, you suppose. 

Jamie cups your cheek. “I’m with you, babe. It’s you, me, and whatever family we can put together. We’ll put in the work, yeah? Be different.”

“Yeah,” you echo, “we’ll be different.”

[remae-freyae]

"Title: The Executive Distraction" (Fanon/All 4 Boys)

she walked in, handed over a report, didn’t even look at them…

and somehow became the most important topic on the executive agenda 💼👀

---

The boardroom at Stellar Apex Corp was more warzone than workspace.

“I’m telling you, launching the neuro-link tech before Q3 is reckless,” Sylus growled, arms crossed and suit immaculate, tension radiating off him like a dark cloud.

Across from him, Xavier leaned back in his chair, perfectly unfazed. “Oh please. We both know you just want more time to polish your broody aesthetic for the PR shoot.”

Sylus narrowed his eyes. “Unlike you, I don’t need eyeliner to have depth.”

“Boys,” Zayne cut in smoothly, twirling a pen between his fingers. “You’re both pretty. Can we move on to the actual point? Our market share’s about to plummet if we don’t pick a direction.”

Rafayel looked up from where he was sketching something—was that a flower crown?—in the margins of his tablet. “What if we added a virtual garden feature in the next deep-space sim expansion? It’d calm users down. Especially after listening to these two scream at each other.”

“I don’t scream,” Sylus and Xavier snapped in unison.

A silence stretched—interrupted only by Zayne’s smirk and Rafayel’s gentle humming.

Then, without knocking, the door creaked open.

In walked Y/N, plain clipboard in hand, her eyes calm and her footsteps measured. She didn’t flinch at the tension in the room. Didn’t pause. Didn’t swoon. Just calmly walked to the head of the table, where Zayne sat, and dropped a crisp folder in front of him.

“Report from Mr. Neechan. He said it’s urgent,” she said, deadpanned.

Four pairs of eyes locked on her.

Her tone was professional. Not flirty. Not breathless. Not... interested.

And somehow— that was the most interesting thing of all.

“Thanks,” Zayne offered, lifting the folder. “What’s your name?”

She was already halfway to the door. “Y/N.” And she left.

The room fell silent.

Sylus blinked first. “Who was that?”

Xavier sat up straighter. “She didn’t even look at us.”

Rafayel gave a dreamy smile. “I liked her energy. Very grounded. A touch of melancholy. Like a sunrise in winter.”

Zayne adjusted his collar, watching the door as it clicked shut. “Does Neechan need her down there?”

Sylus stood. “I’m going to check on the fifth floor. For no reason.”

Xavier rose too. “No, I’ll check. You’ll scare her.”

Zayne sighed, already pulling up the assistant registry. “Let’s all calm down. We can’t all go down there.”

Rafayel, smiling serenely, murmured, “So we’re agreed then. The next company initiative is… finding excuses to summon her?”

“Executive-level project,” Sylus muttered.

“I’ll draft the memo,” Xavier added.

Zayne grinned. “She won’t know what hit her.”

They all turned toward the now-empty doorway. Business plans forgotten.

The war was about to begin—just not the one they’d scheduled on the agenda.

---

Let me know if you want to read the same thing.. but a spicier or more chaotic version xD because I can definitely deliver. XD;

[barnes-n-howlett-lit]

Between Two Suns

Chapter 2 - Two to Tango

Story Description: A timid good girl meets her match when a brutish gentleman interrupts the day she had planned. A succinct meeting with a crypto mogul leaves her to swoon. Which side will she pick?

Chapter Summary: Y/N reluctantly accepts Anakin’s invitation. What happens is a big surprise for the both of them. 

Pairing: Obi-Wan x F!Reader ~ Anakin x F!Reader

Word Count: 7,065

Warnings: Language and Alcohol

Authors: Barnes and Howlett 

Author Notes:

Pay no mind to the woman's body or skin color in the top right of the mood board, it was simply put in for the dress. Thank ~ Barnes 🚬🗿

Hey y'all sorry this was late, one of us had 3 midterms and the other was about to get evicted lmao enjoy ~ Howlett 🌙

You head back up stairs, the elevator now lonelier than before. The hallway had emptied, the sound of students footsteps retreating out of the lecture hall after that stellar speech. Toting newly purchased Force tote bags, hats, and buttons. A poster of Dr. Skywalker was available for purchase as well, some were even signed. You found yourself back in professor Jinn's, less than bustling office, collecting your things to go home.

Your mind swept up in a flurry of thoughts. What would I wear tonight? Should I even go? The chaos of the day leaves you just tired enough to want to stay home and relax with your cat. 

“Y/N, you actually managed to do really well today.” Professor Jinn remarked. 

“Yeah nice job…for once.” Casey sneered, a self-assured smirk plastered across her lips.

You nod a quick thanks before exiting the room, honestly you didn't want to be there another second. Although the praise from professor Jinn was welcomed, you couldn't stand Casey. Her disgusting display of unprofessionalism from before is still fresh in your mind. Your eyes could have gotten stuck in the back of your head with how hard you rolled them. 

You exit back down to the first floor heading out the building's main entrance. You are greeted by the security guard at the door. He was a blue skinned Chiss man with a hearty build, his uniform stretched across the expanse of his back.

“Hey girl, ‘nother beautiful day outside!” He remarks as you walk past.

“Always is Tir, always is.“ You sigh as you begin your trek home. The hovertrain had always been a reliable and easy way to get home. 

However, today the usual crowding and loud noise was almost unbearable. Forcing you to get off a few stops early and just walk the rest of the way. 

After what seemed like long grueling hours, you found yourself at the doorstep of your run down apartment complex. Unlocking the door, you were met once again by the ever-present Miles, your sweet little baby. After a long day of mistreatment and burnt coffee, Miles was always there to brighten your day.

You make your way into your bedroom, dirty clothes lay across the floor, fresh ones lay scattered atop half of your bed, and a few dirty cups on the nightstand. Not necessarily a mudhorn’s den, just proof of how exhausting your life really was. You make your way over to the dresser, finding a nice pair of joggers and a comfortable baggy t-shirt. Changing into your lounge fit, you wipe the makeup from your face and ruin your curls by throwing them into a messy bun.

You make your way to the living room plopping down onto your worn out leather couch with a big bowl of microwave popcorn. Immediately browsing Jetfliex for some trashy rom-com to veg out to. Then your eyes lay on one, Billionaire Babe. Its description reads, “A charming billionaire seduces a secretary into a date night that turns into an unforgettable unexpected evening.” Seems good enough.

The movie starts off with cheesy royalty free music and a poorly built office set. A handsome man comes onto screen, sitting poised and with an air of arrogance around him. There’s a sleek leather chair he sits on, illuminated by harsh studio lights. A cheesy gold name placard reading “CEO” lay front and center on his desk. The room was seemingly large and had a carpet runner to the big double doors of the office. The door slowly creaked open as a young woman meekly pokes her head inside. She had a mousy smile with long brown hair laying in waves over her shoulders. A small pair of glasses edged on the front of her nose.

“Mr. Dawn, your 4pm is here for that stockholders meeting.” She states her voice light and airy as she speaks.

His eyes lingered on her, a slow motion shot of her hair falling into her face as romantic music played.

He smirks, “I'll be there in a minute.” He sends her a quick wink before she leaves the room. The opening shot of the next scene is her flustered outside of the door, unsure of what to think of her overly flirty boss.

You sigh, shovelling handfuls of popcorn in your mouth. The suave and albeit cheesy demeanour of the man brings you back to earlier in the garage. How Anakin had talked to you, how he made you feel. Your stomach fluttered recalling the feeling of his warm lips against your knuckles. 

The screen goes black before an ad, you briefly stare at your reflection on the screen. A harsh reminder of your current state, hair a mess, clothes disheveled, and little bits of popcorn lay scattered across your chest and stomach.

You glance over at the wall clock to your left, 6:14pm. A thought fills into your head, maybe going wouldn’t be all that bad…

You wrestle with internal turmoil, debating on if it’s even professional for you to attend or if you should go to see the handsome, over flirty, family man for a second time today. You sigh, as the screen goes back to the awful movie. You glance over at Miles, who is seemingly uninterested by the movie, swatting at the array of popcorn bits surrounding you. 

You make a split second decision and turn off the tv, brush the discarded popcorn onto the floor, and head to your closet. You weren’t one to go out, especially on a weeknight, and definitely not to a high end club filled to the brim with people making over 700k credits annually. You quickly rifle through your best dresses, and finally lay eyes on a simple black cocktail dress that you got at a DomeGoods for 25 credits. It’ll have to do. You make your way back into the bathroom and hurriedly reassemble your face. 

Dropping powder and brushes along the way, you do the most simple yet elegant look you can think of. A simple black eyeliner wing, with a light shimmery pink on the eyelids, accompanied with subtle yet bold lashes. Your lips tinted in a dark red, slight blush along the cheeks. 

Good enough.

Undoing your bun from earlier, your hair still had traces of a curl form this morning. You'd decided on doing a half up look while recurling some bits with your finger, making sure to leave out some framing pieces. You hurriedly make your way back into the bedroom and throw your lounge clothes into the week's worth of the accumulated dirty pile. You slip on the dress, and find a nice faux fur white shawl to lay along your arms. Slipping on the first pair of black heels that you can find, chunky mary jane heels with X straps along the ankles. 

Glancing at the clock now it was about 7pm, just an hour before Anakin had asked you to meet him. You reach for your jewelry box, opening it to reveal the sparse contents inside. You choose gold jewelry with pearl accents, praying it wouldn't turn your skin green while you were out tonight. Looking at yourself once more in a mirror you do a little spin checking out the expanse of your curves through the snugly fit fabric. You looked nice. You realize you have to take the train looking like this, not a train friendly outfit, so an overcoat would have to do the work to hide your body. You pullout your phone and decide to text Anakin on the cell number his assistant had provided

Y/N: Hey Dr. Skywalker, it’s Y/N, running a little late. Gotta catch the train. See you soon. 

You write in hopes of not sounding too eager. He texts back after a few beats.

Dr. Skywalker: The train?? I'll send a car over to pick you up. The investors are getting here at 8 sharp. Don't want you to be late :)

You want to protest but, why not just let the rich man spend his money. After all, just a ride wouldn't be too bad. You text him your address and a quick thank you before tucking your phone into the small clutch you had decided to bring with you for tonight. A spritz of perfume perfects the look. You were definitely ready to enjoy the evening. 

You stand by the window anxiously, watching every car that passes by, hoping that you could still make it on time. Finally, one stood out from the rest, a blacked out tinted window stretch Jummer that stops in the middle of the street. Then your phone beeps. 

Dr Skywalker: Your chariot awaits madam :)

You chuckle at the message and give Miles a quick kiss goodbye on the head. You make your way down the stairs, locking up. Turning around, the nerves twisting and writhing in your stomach the closer you walk to the stretch limo. Upon stepping closer, the driver, dressed in all black with a classic taxi hat, steps out to open your door. His golden name tag read Soont Felian.

“Mrs. Y/LN, Dr. Skywalker is waiting, please hurry along.” The driver remarks, somewhat annoyed. 

“My apologies.” You mutter as you make your way into the vehicle and gasp upon entering. The inside was not what you had expected. Purple lights cover the trim of the cabin above. Long leather seats lay on one side, and on the other, a mini bar. Accompanied with a few lavish snacks and an ice bucket filled with a couple of bottled waters, the expensive kind, imported straight from the mountains of Hoth according to the label. Laying next to it was a bottle of wine that definitely cost more than your rent, paired with wine glasses slotted perfectly just along the wall of the bar, folded golden napkins in each. 

Along the back side, where more seats occupied, lay a flat screen TV just above. Playing a video with Anakin's face on it. He wore an all black suit that was perfectly tailored to fit his body. He held a smile that was severely contagious. The video began with subtle whimsical music in the background. 

“Greetings and salutations, on behalf of The Force, we want to say thank you. Please, help yourself to some refreshments as our driver safely and promptly assists you to your destination. We look forward to meeting with you. Have a safe trip. May The Force be with you. Now this is where the fun begins.” With that, he smiles once more and the video fades out, soon to be replayed again.

You chuckle before muting the TV with a nearby remote and settle into your seat as the driver takes off. The road was long and bumpy but you could feel none of it due to the expensive suspension system. You decide to open a small bottle of water and take a sip. Amazingly the drink was more refreshing than any other water you’ve had before. You were used to the tap water in your apartment which was less than conditioned and often just cold enough to be drinkable. 

You fumble with the phone in your hand wondering if you should text Anakin again, just a quick OMW might suffice. But you decide against it, he knows you're coming, after all he sent the car. These guys were literally paid to be reliable. 

You arrive at the club by a smooth 7:57pm a few minutes earlier than expected. The driver climbs out, opening your door, ushering you towards the entrance.

The building you pulled up to was in a district you had never visited before. The sound of techno music filling your ears before you could finish taking in the size of the building before you. It was a tall building that had a myriad of floors to it, just enough to reach skyscraper status. It appeared to have offices just within the dimly lit windows high above. The club appeared to sit just below the offices. The blacked out windows of the club were accompanied by stone outer walls littered in neon. A large sign read HOLOBAR above you. A line of different characters awaited down the block to enter the bar, guarded by presumably armed security and a dark purple velvet rope. Without question the driver walked you into the bar, the security opening right up for you, as if you were an expected guest tonight. 

Anakin had informed the staff of your awaited appearance and had them greet you at the door. A smiling lady walks up to you and introduces herself as Anakin's assistant while taking your coat. She led you up short stairs into a VIP section that was empty at the moment. You look over the railing at the bustling club. Bodies on bodies stacked against each other, enjoying the night. The scent of alcohol and fancy perfumes filled the space. Lights hung overhead illuminating patterns on the partygoers' skin as they danced the night away. You feel a slight tap on your shoulder and turn around expecting to see Anakin’s smiling face. 

“Hey, you made it!” An unexpected yet familiar voice chimes behind you.

You turn around and are met with that dreadful man from this morning, Obi-Wan. You blank as you try to process who is standing in front of you. The voice of the barista ringing out in your memory.

“What?” You say deadpanned without thought, hoping he didn’t hear. 

“My, you look lovely tonight. I’m pleased that you accepted my invitation, although I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight. However, I can’t wait to have you by my side for the evening.” He speaks with such arrogance as he gives you the up and down, way too many times. 

“I’m sorry, you didn’t invite me here, somebody else did. Excuse me.” You turn around 

and start to walk the opposite direction of this train wreck. 

“Y/N! Glad you made it, and it seems you’ve already met Dr. Kenobi!” Another voice chimes in, the one from a few hours earlier. You turn around once more back to Obi-Wan, seeing Anakin pulling him into a hug, clearly happy to see him. 

“What.” You say deadpanned once more, evidently unsure of the current situation.

“Anakin, you know this lovely young lady and never introduced us before? You were keeping me back from such beauty.” Obi-Wan speaks with charm, questioning how Anakin had the pleasure of knowing such a gorgeous being. 

“Well, we actually just met this morning at that university lecture I was telling you about. I was charmed by her work and intelligence, so I had to bring her along tonight to help me win over some more investors. Having such a dashing young lady by my side would surely raise my stakes.” He made sure to emphasize that he invited you here tonight, and that you were to be on his arm and not Obi-Wan’s.

“How interesting, it appears I may have beaten you to that punch. I met her this morning at a coffee shop and invited her here as well. So unfortunately, she will be by my side tonight, Anakin my dear boy.” He puffs out his chests, and makes his way over to you. 

Anakin chimes in once more. “Well how about we ask, hm? Because I didn't think your name was on the lease of the extravagant car that dropped her off.” He remarks playfully. 

“No, but I own half of this club.” he scoffs. “Then, let's ask the lady, surely an independent woman such as herself can make that decision.” Obi-Wan haughtily states, for some reason, confident that you would pick him. 

They both walk over to you, you were now a witness to their pissing contest. You staved off the urge to roll your eyes as they bickered like children.

“Wel if you must know, I accepted Anakin’s offer, he had me driven here, and I am here for the sole purpose of helping him out.”

Anakin's smile wavered for a split second at your choice of phrase. Sole reason? He thought. Quickly shaking it off, smiling at Obi-Wan as he had just won their friendly competition. He stands next to you, gently extending his arm for you to take, leading you to a group of unoccupied tables, surrounded by booth couch style seating. Their hologram watches flickered on as the live feed of a group of men entering the building illuminates from them. 

“The investors just arrived, we’re going to go and meet them, stay here we’ll be back.” Obi-Wan states, hastily making his way to the entrance with Anakin just following behind him. 

While the men took off, a little too hurriedly, you glance around the room. It was quite alluring despite all the debaucherous things that surely happened here. Expensive glass chandeliers hang from the coffered ceiling, fixed with white and purple light bulbs. Purple is the theme tonight, you thought, must be one of their favorite colors. On the tall gray walls hung shiny silver fringe tassels that fell just a few feet above the very expensive black sleek couches. The floors were decorated with large, glossy, black tiles. Some white fur rugs lay under the couches, lined with glass tables. Without a doubt it was real fur from some animal you hoped had died from natural causes, or at least had died a swift death. 

While glancing around the lounge, you stand pondering at the situation. A few thoughts crossed your mind. 

Doesn’t Anakin have a wife? Why is she not here tonight? Why can’t he have her by his side? Obi-Wan and Anakin, co-owners? What have I gotten myself into?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice, “May I pour you some champanage miss?” A bottle girl stands there in a uniform that is all too revealing but rather very flattering. She held an all too big smile, one that might hurt anyone who made an attempt to replicate it. 

“Oh, why not? Thanks.” You say, not thinking about where you should be. Which was at your apartment, laying in bed, getting a good night's rest for your long day of classes tomorrow. The worker pours into your glass, she then accidentally drops the bottle, which then it falls to the floor shattering, just barely missing both your heels.

“Oh my! I am so sorry, please, let me clean this up.” She immediately gets on her hands and knees, laying her tray on the floor. She attempts to pick up the multiple shards of glass that lay around the two of you. 

“No worries, let me help.” You squat down, accompanying her in the attempt to pick up as many big pieces of glass as you can. 

“Y/N, what are you doing?!” Anakin exclaims, surprised to see you in such a state. He hurriedly makes his way over to you abandoning the group of men and trophy wives that had just poured in making Anakin’s acquaintance. Obi-Wan directs their attention elsewhere as Anakin helps you up, while sneering at the bottle girl. 

“Sasha, how many times have you dropped a bottle this week? This one is coming out of your paycheck, you're lucky to still be on the schedule at this point.” He was clearly annoyed and frustrated, “Y/N, you don’t need to assist her, you are with me tonight. You should act like it.” He pulls a charming smile onto his face, not realizing how offensive that statement was.

“Excuse me, what do you mean act like it?” You say in a mocking manner, “Is there some sort of way that I am supposed to act around you? You may be able to boss your wife around like this, but not me.” 

For a split second, the air stills. His face blanks, completely unreadable, not many people talked to him in that manner. The mention of his wife struck him like a punch to the chest. His throat tightens, as if his words were lodged in there refusing to befall his lips. He cleared his throat and spoke measuredly in a hushed tone grabbing you by the upper arm speaking succinctly into your ear. “Don't talk about my wife.”

He lets you out of his grip as he adjusts his suit jacket awkwardly. You create more of a distance between you as the bottle girl continues to clean up her mess. 

“You know what Anakin? I think I should just go, this really isn't my scene. I don't treat people like the help.” She spat back at him before turning on her heel.

“Hey, look I’m sorry,” he apologizes following after you. “It’s just, I’m kinda-” he pauses. “Not with my wife anymore, I shouldn’t have reacted that way, I’ve just been high strung is all.” All you heard from him was excuses. “How about this? I’ll give Sasha a bonus, you stay here, and we have a good rest of the night. How’s that sound?” You looked towards the poor bottle girl a few feet away and decided if he treated her this way often, she deserved that bonus. If someone was getting something out of tonight you rather it be her than any of the other rich snobs around you. 

You reluctantly agree, nodding your head a frown still evident on the corners of your lips. “Fine but, act like that again and I walk.” You didn’t know if your threats really meant anything to him. He had invited you here to make him look good, but all he’s done so far is use you to to make himself look like an ass. 

You compose yourself, putting on a fake pleasant smile. “Let’s just get to work.” 

You don't accept his arm when he offers it to you, walking ahead of him up to the group of investors. Obi-Wan had seen the whole exchange as he dazzled the men in front of him. A subtle smirk plays on his lips as he directs the focus of the group towards you.

“I’d like you all to meet the lovely Y/N.” Obi-Wan announces to the group, “It is my understanding that you work at a university, is that right?” 

You join the group, and clear your throat. Slightly anxious, trying to sell yourself to this group of exorbitant rich snobs. “Yes. That's correct, Obi-Wan. I am a graduate student at the University of Coreseant. I am seeking my masters in business administration, with a concentration in urban development. I also work as a teaching assistant for Dr. Qui-Gon Jinn, in his lovely class on economics.” You speak with poise, trying to talk yourself up and romanticize your overly worked and stressful life. 

“Earlier, I had the great pleasure of meeting with Dr. Skywalker and assisting Dr. Jinn with a lecture introducing the students to The Force. He had done such an amazing job with keeping engagement and speaking highly of his business endeavors.” You smile, glancing over at Anakin, who appeared to display a shy smile, not expecting praise after the previous encounter. 

Obi-Wan attempts to divert your attention, about to speak. Until another voice spoke up, “Y/N, it sounds like you're quite the worker. Tell me about other projects or collaborations you have had while working or studying at the University. I’d also like to know what your capstone will be on.” An investor says from the group. It startled you, but also flattered you to know that you were saying all the right things. 

“Well, my research for my capstone is heavily focused on severely underserved communities and how to approach developing new buildings and remodeling old ones. I’ve done collaborations in the past about many topics. At this point, I could go on and on about the work I’ve done. Is there any topic that piques your interest by chance? I may have already done a project on it.” You speak, glancing over the crowd, surprised to see such interested faces. 

Anakin is awed by the engagement you were getting from this group of investors. They usually were not that forthcoming about ethically sound ideas, as was part of the hustle. He watched how the dim lights caressed your features. He hadn't told you how captivating you looked tonight for fear of coming on too strong, but it was hard to keep that hidden. You were gorgeous, you had been gorgeous the whole time. The moment he saw you step out of those doors this morning he noticed. He admired how eloquently you spoke, how your lips moved, a light smile never leaving your face. He knew it was a good idea to invite you here tonight. He could practically see the credits rolling in, each investor a new link in his chain.

Obi-Wan admired the way the dress formed over your body. The blouse you wore at the coffee shop that morning was something he would consider frumpy. Your jewelry shined in the light, the gold accents complimenting the tone of your skin, he could tell by the sheen that they were cheap but he didn’t care because you were wearing them. The fur accented the outfit ever so nicely. Such a smart girl, such a nice pick. Obi-Wan thought.

Thoughts flooded into his mind that were a little too inappropriate for having just met you this morning. Clearing his head, he makes his way over to you. 

“Excuse me greatly, but, Y/N have you had a drink tonight? Would you mind accompanying me to the bar?” Obi-Wan abrupts, clearly not understanding how unprofessional it was to cut off such a conversation. 

You reluctantly agree, remembering your attempts at getting a drink earlier. “Why of course Dr. Kenobi, it would be my pleasure. Excuse me, everyone.” He grabbed your hand, forcefully pulling you away from the conversation.

“My dear, you did such an amazing job back there.” He exclaimed, leading you to the bar.

“Well, I was, until you interrupted.” You snap, almost annoyed he would try to steal your thunder.  

“Did I mention how lovely you look this evening?” He steps back, keeping your hand in his, looking at your body for probably the 100th time tonight. “Absolutely stunning, that dress was made for you. Absurdly gorgeous.”

You blush, looking away, trying not to be entertained by this man yet again. You’re at a loss for words, not knowing how to respond.

“Now, darling, what would you like to drink tonight. Anything you want at any point, is on the house.” He gives you a wink and a smirk. Showing you the array of alcohol on the shelves just beyond the bar. 

“Well, how about some champagne for now?” You speak, still flustered from his comment.

“Right away, my dear.” He snaps his fingers at the bartender, “Bring out the most expensive bottle of champagne we have, go and hurry along.” The way he barked orders made you forget about how flattered he made you feel. You roll your eyes and cross your arms, sighing.

“You know it doesn’t take much to be kind to your employees. A simple, excuse me, can I have this please, would have sufficed.” You chimed, upset that you, yet again, had to ask another rich asshole to act with a little bit of decorum. 

His gaze softens for a second not necessarily considering the feelings of the waitstaff at his behest. They were just workers, they were paid well enough. He should be able to speak to them however he pleases, he thought. 

“Well then…that's my bad. I guess” he snivels. “Darling, bring the bottle to our table.” He says his tone altered slightly from before. It no longer held that authoritative lilt from before. The bartender nods at him, as he pulls you away from the bar. She was appreciative that she no longer had to deal with being verbally accosted by the two owners for tonight. 

“Looks like the party is getting settled,” he remarks, heading towards the booth seating you had seen before. The investors had now taken their seats and begun commingling. You walk back to them with no drink in hand, but the bartender in tow, a bottle of champagne on ice and a tray with a few glasses in hand. Obi-Wan settled down by his lonesome, enough room for two next to him as Anakin sat in the middle of a bench, next to their company, a seat open right next to him. This was a dilemma, so you let the bartender decide for you. 

To your surprise she puts the tray and champagne down in front of the empty seat by Anakin. Obi-Wan knew when you sat down that that was just the standard placement of the bucket holder, it didn't mean you had chosen Anakin over him, right? Anakin knew it too, but made sure to flash you a toothy grin as you sat next to him, you paid little attention, giving him a thin lipped smile in return. Thanking the bartender for pouring your drink, you bring it to your lips at an instant, the liquid buzzing against your tongue, crisp, dry. Wasn’t how you liked your champagne but, if it'll get you through tonight, you'd be okay with that. 

The group speaks to Anakin as he explains his business ventures. You silently join in on the conversation as Anakin speaks. “So, that's how I got a stake in the hovertrain industry back in my sophomore year of college.”

The whole group gives him praise and intrigue, as he clearly captivated them with such a boring story. Ankain turns to you, speaking softly as the rest of the group continue to chatter amongst themselves. 

“Y/N, how are you feeling? Everything going okay so far?” He spoke with actual care in his voice, bringing you comfort knowing you weren’t just for show. 

“Well, despite a few slip ups, I seem to be actually enjoying myself. Better than staying at home drowned in studying.” You chuckle, knowing that is what you should be doing. 

“I’m glad to hear it. I was worried I may have ruined your night with my actions from earlier. With Sasha and about,” he pauses, “my wife. I just want to make sure we are on good terms.” He brings his lips into a soft smile, he was plagued by his interactions with you from earlier. He wanted to let you know he was truly sorry and didn’t want to ruin the evening with a few sour remarks.

“It’s alright Dr. Skywalker, I appreciate the invite and the apology.” His smile grows bigger from your kind words, not sure as to why you would accept his apology so soon, probably just for sake of the night. 

He clears his throat, adjusting his posture. “I didn’t get the chance to say this earlier, but I just wanted to let you know how beautiful you look tonight.” He lets out a chuckle, grazing over you.  “You just look very pretty.” He sheepishly states, awkwardly laughing once more.

He wasn’t sure what made him so nervous, as he made more suggestive comments earlier in the elevator. Perhaps it was the fact that there was a room full of people, who could at any chance take you away from him. Or perhaps it was Obi-Wan, who clearly was just as interested as he in you, making for a little competition. What he knew for sure was that he didn’t want anyone to whisk you away from him for the rest of the evening. He hoped you would be able to stay just in his sight so he could gaze at your infectious smile, sparkling eyes, and soft features until the night was over. 

“Thank you Dr. Skywalker.” You blush, as does he. 

“Hey everyone, now that you've gotten to know each other. How about we get this party started, huh?” Obi-Wan announces loudly to the group, interrupting the private moment you and Anakin were sharing. 

The party that had loosened up due to the socializing, met Obi-Wan's announcement with glee and delight. Earning him a few cheers and whoops. 

“Sasha, my dear. A round of shots!” He yells as she walks by. Sasha, already balancing a tray of cocktails gives him a curt nod before disappearing to the bar. 

The group laughs in excitement, as music swells from a hidden speaker in the corner playing something repetitive and thumpy, designed more to vibrate your body than to command much attention. The whole group began migrating to the open dance floor just below the vip section, you all could have danced privately but Obi-Wan insisted everybody join the general population of the club. Sasha danced along onto the floor, tray of shots in hand, she began to pass them out. You take one into your hand nodding a quiet thank you to her. 

“Cheers!” Anakin grins as you both arrive on the floor, knocking back the shot as a group. The sharp burn of the liquor lingered on your tongue as the music shifted, the beat drawing out heavier, the ambient sound pulsing in the room like a living being. Sasha was already clearing the glasses, in a much better mood than earlier, no doubt because of the tips she had been receiving. A few of your new acquaintances pull each other towards the center of the floor.

Obi-Wan grinned at the sight of the dancing bodies, theatrically holding out his hand to you. 

“Care to dance?”

Before you had a chance to respond, Anakin was there too, stepping in just close enough to make it clear he wouldn't be giving Obi-Wan an easy chance.

“She hasn't had time to loosen up yet” Anakin says smoothly, his voice cutting above the music. “Let’s not overwhelm her.”

You tilted your head up caught between their competing gazes. Obi-Wan had a daring twinkle in his eye, met solely by Anakin’s intensity. Despite yourself, you smiled, the alcohol warming your belly. Speaking up, they trained their eyes on you. 

“I can handle a dance.” You said feeling boldness swell within your chest, fed both by alcohol and the way their attention made your skin tingle.

Anakin seemed almost disappointed by your statement, until without permission, you caught his hand in yours ushering him deeper onto the floor. Feeling a thrill as he followed willingly, he chuckled slowly, winking at Obi-Wan over his shoulder.

The thick crowd of dancing bodies swallowed you immediately, but you focused only on Anakin at this moment. You moved together so naturally to the drumming beat, your hips finding the rhythm, his hands gently finding your sides, grip deliberant yet hesitant, as if he were fighting the urge to pull you closer to him. Tension similar to that of the elevator just earlier in the day. 

Across the floor you caught a glimpse of Obi-Wan weaving through the dancers, his gaze locked on you with an unreadable expression. You thought he might intervene but he simply smiled, lifting his drink in a salute. His shirt was now half unbuttoned, a gold chain glinting against his chest.

Anakin held you close as you danced, but never tipped into anything indecent, his hands staying respectfully on your waist, gaze filled with reverie as he looked at you. You felt a sense of safety, you felt seen, even admired under his attention.

Which was why the sudden hand at your elbow made you jolt. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Obi-Wan's voice was smooth, beholding a charm. He didn't really wait for a response, rather just pried you away from Anakin, spinning you into him, his hands settling at your hips.

Anakin stiffened but did not protest, his eye flickering to Obi-Wan, a silent warning boring holes into his skull. 

Obi-Wan led you a few paces away from Anakin, laughing to himself as you both moved to the beat. You smiled politely but something about the situation unsettled you. Obi-Wan’s charm felt so performative, like you were the means to amplifying his persona.

“You know,” Obi-Wan shouts over the music. “If you like this party, you should come to my private gala next weekend. Penthouse, rooftop, open bar, the best credits can buy.”

You blinked at him, unsure with how to react. Was he really trying to flaunt his money to win a date with you?

“I’m sure it's beautiful,” You said carefully, taking a step away from him, creating space between your bodies.

Before Obi-Wan could press you any further Anakin reappeared, effortlessly slipping between two nearby dancers. He didn't touch you, just stood by your side, a steady countenance from Obi-Wan's bravado. 

“Actually,” Anakin cuts in. “I thought I might take her somewhere better” He flashed Obi-Wan a grin before continuing. “There's a little private art showing in town, exclusive access, you have to know someone just to get in.“ He bragged.

Obi-Wan scoffs at Anakin, taking a step closer to you, making an attempt to continue your dance. “Art showings are fine and all, if you like looking at dusty old paintings.” He chuckled mockingly. “But my parties are more exciting, we even have exotic dancers, very exotic.”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, not elicited by flattery rather from discomfort. The two men circled you now, their competitiveness palpable in the space between them. 

Anakin crossed his arms lazily, a smirk ghosting across his lips. The men no longer focused on you as they squabled back and forth. “You know, not everyone is impressed by champagne towers and tailored suits.” 

Obi-Wan laughed heartily, turning his full attention to Anakin. ”Says the man with a car worth more than most people’s houses.”

You sigh, a curt laugh leaving your lips, the absurdity of their not so subtle contest struck you as almost childish.

“Maybe,” you state with a matter of fact tone to your voice, taking a step away from the two men. “I'm not looking for exotic dancers, or dusty paintings. Did it ever occur to you that I just want good company?”

Both men froze looking at you with an air of disbelief. Obi-Wan faltered for the first time since you met him, blinking as if he didn't quite know how to respond. Anakin, however, was quicker. His face softened the corners of his mouth, losing their sharp edge. He offered you his hand.

“Then let's just dance.”

As the night wore on, the party began to die down, the once crowded dance floor thinned as business associates and socialites alike began to trickle out. They offered slurred goodbyes and half empty promises of “talk soon.” Even Sasha, who had been tirelessly serving the group, leaned against the bar exhaustion pulling at her features. 

The music softened no longer loud or raucous, morphing now into a mellow background hum. Around you, laughter and conversation grew quieter as the evening moved into its last phase.

Anakin's hand slipped from your waist respectfully as he sensed the shift too. His eyes still lingered on you, unwilling to fully break the connection just yet. You had barely had time to wind down before Obi-Wan stepped in at your side, his expression noticeably less cocky and more genuine.

“May I steal a moment?” He asked, his voice less boisterous now, more cautious.

You nodded, curiosity getting the best of you. Anakin watched, but did not follow immediately, hanging back a few steps. Giving you space, but never quite leaving you alone with the other man.

Obi-Wan led you just far enough aside for a scrap of privacy. He hesitated, his hand running through his hair before looking at you fully. His face was flushed mostly the result of the alcohol he had consumed tonight, he spoke, his words slightly slurred but genuine.

“I owe you an apology….for earlier. I can be, uh, competitive. It wasn't fair of me to put you in the middle of it.” His lips quirked into a smile. “I'm just not used to having to fight for attention.”

You studied him for a second, his charm and bravado had melted away, you could see it, the glimpse of someone who wasn't always trying to play games, someone more sincere.

“I appreciate you saying that, but you don't have to impress me. Either of you.”

Obi-Wan chuckled under his breath the tension around his shoulders easing slightly. “Noted.”

The moment softened between the two of you. Just in time, Anankin wandered over hands tucked into his pockets, his posture mostly relaxed, but gaze sharp and trained on Obi-Wan.

“Everything alright?” He asked, trying his best to act as nonchalant as possible. He was undoubtedly irked by the private moment you and Obi-Wan had just had. 

“Perfect,“ Obi-Wan replied softly, glancing at you, throwing you a wink that had lacked the innuendo from earlier. It felt friendly now. The three of you drifted back into the VIP section, a quieter place lined with plush seating and half finished drinks abandoned by the earlier guests. 

You sank onto one of the wide couches, the two men seated at your sides, not too close for comfort, an easy silence settling between you. For a few minutes you simply sat there catching your breath, the warm feeling permeating your body. Then Obi-Wan broke the silence.

"Hey," he said, his voice thoughtful. "The night doesn't have to end here."

Anakin leaned forward, elbows resting casually on his knees. "What’d you have in mind?" He hoped that Obi-Wan wasn’t already trying to invite you over for a one night stand. 

Obi-Wan glanced at you, "Something less chaotic. A night drive, maybe? Quiet. Stars." He suggested, somewhat leaning into you, smirking in the process. 

You smiled, the idea appealing in a way you hadn’t expected. After all the noise and posturing, the thought of something simple, something wholesome just you, and these two forces of nature felt right.

"I’d like that," you said, a soft smile accompanying you.

Anakin's lips curved into a small smile. "Count me in." 

Anakin knew he could not risk you spending time alone with Obi-Wan. Not that he felt any less confident with himself, he just couldn't stand to think of the two of you hitting it off, at some romantic cliffside, stargazing. 

Obi-Wan stood, redoing the buttons on his shirt, offering his hand with a playful flourish once again.

"Then it’s settled. Let’s get out of here.”

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

[gaurcity2022]

SKA Destiny One is a residential project with premium 3 and 4 BHK apartments. The residential project gives you offers of better residential space with better specifications, amenities, and well well-developed lifestyle. 

[atsgreensproject]

RG Luxury Homes is a residential project with 2, 3 BHK flats spread over an area of 18.4 acres. The residential project gives you all the comforts connected with better lifestyle developments and well-developed luxurious amenities. 

[girl-in-a-bubbl3]

Glamrock Bonnie(FNAF) x Reader Part 2

Not enough sassy Bonnie fanfic so here we go...I'll try to upload at least once a week.

Notes:

AU Fanfic/NonCanon

Bonnie is terrible but he likes you

5 greenrooms on RSR (we include Monty)

Sun/Moon are the same animatronic

Moon has a lil touch of the virus

Will probably be some spicy parts so...18+

You smiled nervously up at the abnormally tall blue bunny and quietly introduced yourself. "Hi. I'm Y/n L/n! I'm the new mechan-"

"I know who you are," Bonnie sneered back at you, "that wasn't my question."

Rude.

Did all of the animatronics have this terrible attitude? And if so, then why? Weren't they supposed to be programed to be happy and helpful and kind? You cleared your throat and stood a little taller. The bite in his voice stirred something inside you.

"If you know who I am, then you know I'm here to check your programming or do any needed repairs."

Bonnie's ear twitched which led your eye to a few stray wires that had come loose between his steel joints.

"And from here, it's obvious that you need at least one of those thing."

Maybe both if that attitude happens to be a bug or something...

Bonnie stared you down for a moment. It was like you could see the gears turning in his head. You silently laughed to yourself over the robotic pun you made. Bonnie's quiet chuckle snapped you back to reality. His magenta eyes shining behind his star shaped glasses.

"Not interested."

Swoosh.

And there went the door again.

You blinked once. Twice. Three times. He did not just slam that door in my face. Tell me he did not. You asked no one but yourself. You stood there contemplating your next move. Use your keycard and storm in or just suck it up and move on to the next room?

Deciding that it may not be smart to trigger an oversized, robotic bunny just in case his AI is bugged, you stomped off to the next room. The light above the door glowed a warm orange. This was Freddy's room, someone you hoped was considerably kinder than the first Glamrock you happened to meet.

You knocked twice and waited for Freddy to come to his door. You had a keycard that unlocked all of the greenroom doors but you preferred to knock and wait for them instead. Just barging in felt...strange, no matter if they were robot or human.

The door opened and before you stood Freddy Fazbear himself.

"Hi Freddy! I'm y/n! I figured I'd dive right in to seeing how everyone was doing tonight. Everything okay with you? Any repairs?"

You were rambling but Freddy's blue irises just twinkled. "Why hello, Superstar! It's so nice to meet you! Please come in. I don't think there's anything to report with me tonight but there's never any harm in a second opinion!"

You cheerily followed Freddy into his room, slowing to admire the colors and the detail to the Freddy theme. The walls were a warm, rose color with beautifully bright orange neon signs around the room. There were posters of Freddy with plenty of fan art surrounding them as well. It was inviting and cozy, just like Freddy.

"Thank you for being so inviting Freddy. I've only had one other experience besides you and it...didn't go so well."

You hooked up your tablet to Freddy's programming port and started your scan. He looked over at you, troubled. "Oh I am so sorry, Superstar. May I ask who gave you trouble?"

"It was Bonnie, actually. He really does need repairs but he won't let me do them. He shut the door in my face."

You noticed Freddy nervously fiddling with his fingers. "I apologize again. Bonnie hasn't had the best experience with other mechanics in the past. He's so talented and so great with the children but the adults..." Freddy looked at you and then at the floor, "he's not as good."

You chuckled. No kidding.

"Don't give up on him, Superstar. He'll come around. Bonnie can be difficult at first, but he is a stellar friend."

Freddy's smile and optimism were both contagious. You chatted a bit more about the job and your plans for the night before you cleared Freddy and proceeded to do checks with all of the other Glamrocks. Chica and Roxy needed a few things. Chica had to have some wires cleaned after a night rummaging through trash and Roxy had a kink in the wire running through her neck joints. Both easily fixable. Monty wasn't in his greenroom. You figured you'd go by Gator Golf later and see if you could find him there. According to the notes on your task list, he was in a foul mood tonight so he was probably off skulking somewhere.

A few hours later you had crossed off a few more things from your task list: checking some sound equipment (which you were not at all qualified for), tweaking a few things with the atrium stage, etc. etc. After everything else was done, you only had one task left: repair Bonnie.

You sighed and headed towards Bonnie Bowl. You didn't think he'd be in there, but you did love bowling so if he wasn't in there, it was an excuse you could give yourself to play a few games. You weren't quite ready to face him again anyway. You had to prepare your witty comebacks.

You cautiously walked into Bonnie Bowl and started looking around. "Hey Bonnie?"

You called out his name a few more times but no response. You sighed in relief. You had the bowling alley all to yourself.

It wasn't hard to bypass the staff bot and start a game for yourself. You loved the design of Bonnie Bowl. The bright, neon stars on the ceiling were mesmerizing and the floors were perfectly waxed to reflect them. Every time you stopped and actually looked at something in the Plex, your inner child was dazzled every time. It truly was amazing.

After the first few rounds you quickly realized that your bowling skills were pretty rusty. When the 10th, and final, round came, you were determined to get a strike. You knew you could do it. You did a little better each round so you had faith in yourself.

You grabbed a pink and blue ball off the wrack with Chica's face on it. It was one of the prettier designs. You lined yourself up with the lane and narrowed your eyes. Focus focus focus. Doing a few strokes with your arm you reared back and released the ball, letting it glide across the lane towards the pins. It was like time had slowed. You watched the ball roll down the center, reflecting the dazzling neons that flashed around the room. As it neared the pins, you thought you saw it start to veer towards the left. Your excitement waned but it was quickly brought back with full force as the ball corrected itself and slammed into the front pin, sending all 9 other pins flying as well.

It was a strike. You had got a strike.

You hooped and hollered in victory, doing a little dance and punching the air. You laughed to yourself and as you went to do another little spin, you stopped dead in your tracks once you saw who was sitting in the seat directly behind you.

Of course, it was Bonnie.

He had the biggest smirk on his face as he used one clawed finger to push his star shaped glasses further up.

"If your mechanical skills are as good as your bowling, then I'm better off in a scrapyard."

You rolled your eyes and didn't give him a response, you just started walking towards the empty ice cream parlor that was attached to Bonnie Bowl. You felt like you earned a treat.

"Hey I was talkin' to you!" Bonnie called out as he started following behind you.

"Yeah, well, I was talking to you earlier and you shut the door in my face."

"You startled me. I was leaving my room to go get some fresh air and I was surprised by your sudden chattiness. Very overwhelming."

His voice dripped with sarcasm and he chuckled as you shot him a look over your shoulder.

"You're going to be surprised by your room catching on fire because of that exposed wire in your ear."

Bonnie rolled his eyes. "Dramatic much?"

You hopped the counter and shrugged, turning back to look at his shocked expression from what you just did. "It could happen. Also, don't look at me like that. I really want some ice cream."

You grabbed all of the necessary things to make yourself a cup of ice cream. You surveyed all of your options. You giggled at the last ice cream flavor. Chunky Bonnie. What a flavor name. Because of the ridiculous name, of course that's the flavor you picked.

While getting and preparing your ice cream, you abruptly noticed how quiet it had become. You were wondering if Bonnie was still stuck in that same spot. You had a brief panic that it was the made up bug you kept telling yourself he might have.

You quickly spun around to check when you almost ran right into a tall, blue metal wall.

But it wasn't a wall at all.

Your eyes drifted upwards and saw the face of an amused robotic bunny. His bright magenta eyes staring down at you with that signature smirk on his face. Your breath caught in your throat. How did he do that? You never heard anything at all. How could he be so quiet?

"What about me, peeps? Do I get ice cream too?"

To be continued...

Authors notes:

Ahhh it's warming uppp. Feel free to give me feedback or leave comments! They encourage me ;-; And feel free to drop suggestions on other fics for me to write!! Can be FNAF related or not. Much love! <3

[s-novyd]

Summer of 1991:

Albus: good afternoon, good afternoon. I've called you for a meeting today to take your opinions on the upcoming year with what you know is happening.

Minerva: Yes. Precautions must be taking to safeguard the students from this disaster of plans. Hm.

Quirrel: I ca-ca-an he-help with a-any-thi-thi-ing, ju-st te-te-tell me wha-what t-to do.

Snape: My opinion? Well, it is a stellar example of bureaucratic ineptitude. One wonders how they managed to stumble through seven decades without imploding sooner. A resounding failure, really. A shining beacon of authoritarian incompetence, now extinguished. We should learn, don't you think?

Albus: yes, ofcourse we should, my boy. But may I ask whatever you're talking about?

Snape: well, we are talking about the upcoming fall of the Soviet Union, aren't we?

Albus: the Soviet Union? Severus, you've lost me.

Snape: you're unaware of the Soviet Union's dissolving and the coups happening? Fascinating.

Minerva: forgive me, Severus. I didn't realise Moscow's affairs impacted Hogwarts.

Albus: as enlightening as always, Severus. But, perhaps connect your insights to our very important concerns of this meeting?

Snape: then, pray tell, whatever is this pressing, urgent matter which warrants my absence from brewing?

Filius: Hagrid's Cerberus that Albus wants to place in third floor. The object it will guard...

Quirrel: also I-I tho-tho-ought it-t -s ab-out Ha-Har-ry Po-Po-tt-er a-tten-di-ing t-t-to s-scho-ol.

Minerva: Oh. On that note, he is not receiving his letters.

Snape: ...

Snape: Very well. *clears throat* The parallels are obvious. Centralized power, inefficiency, incompetence, leads to impending doom...

Voldemort: *taking notes*

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

this is halloween || han x reader

Summary: You weren't happy about getting detention, but getting to be around Jisung almost feels like it could make it worth it at first. At least, until you realize that there's a killer on the loose in the school, and that he plans on getting rid of all of you.

Word count: 6.3k

Genres: high school au, slasher au, thriller/mild horror

Warnings & Tags: angst, class clown!han jisung, final girl!reader (gender isn't specified but that's the vibe), graphic descriptions of violence happening inside of a high school

A/N: Last (late) installment in that Halloween mini-series. To reiterate, this contains description of violence and murders occurring within a high school, which can be triggering to some, so do exercise caution.

I.N. · Seungmin · Felix

It was never supposed to go that way.

For starters, you should never have gotten detention and, mind you, you'd still insist that it was totally unfair that you'd gotten it in the first place. Any reasonable teacher would have looked at the facts, which were your test results, as stellar as ever, and Nari’s test results, stellar as they never were, and assumed that she’d cheated and used you to do so.

Your physics teacher could not be described as ‘reasonable’. He’d called the two of you to his desk, using the one mistake you’d made that she had, of course, written word for word on her test as proof, and he’d given you both detention. You would have tried to defend yourself, had your eyes not immediately filled with tears. When Nari had started rising her voice, accusing you in the same breath, you’d known your efforts would be wasted anyway. You’d hung your heard low, and you’d gone back to your seat.

The first detention you’d ever gotten in your life, and it had to happen on the very last year of your time in this dreadful place. God, you couldn’t wait to get out. Yes, college entrance exams were looming terrifyingly above your head, but there was still freedom at the end of the line, freedom at least from your peers. You’d take that as a win.

At the end of the day, having only gotten a fifteen minutes break to spew your venom at your understanding best friend, you dragged your feet to detention. A confused Ms. Kim had greeted when you’d gotten there, all the more so because you were a few minutes early. As you’d handed her the detention slip, however, she’d had no choice but to let you in, though she had patted your shoulder as she did.

You were not the type of student to get detention. You were the one who got straight As, who never raised their voice, who had painstakingly managed to make one friend who you had clung to since your first year here. If you could avoid drawing attention to yourself, you’d take it. You only raised your hand in class if the teacher had been waiting for someone to speak for the appropriate amount of time, tried to make yourself be forgotten the rest of the time. It did not work quite as well as you would like, but you had stayed out of trouble so far.

The same cannot be said of the students who enter the room after you. Nari runs in right as the bell rings, looking sheepish. She mouths a ‘sorry’ in your direction, like she didn’t try to throw you under the bus after the teacher caught her. She’s quickly followed by Hanseok, the school star athlete, who looks like he’s trying to shrink himself, which is no small feat considering how wide his shoulders are. He keeps his eyes on the floor, and you wonder what could have landed him here. He’s not known for getting into trouble.

Next is Taewoon who walks in nonchalantly, like he does that every day, which, to be fair, he probably does. Known troublemaker, you have no idea why he’s here tonight, but he’s regularly caught doing wild, stupid shit nearby. Ms. Kim shakes her head at him and he just shrugs. Last but not least comes Han Jisung, fashionably late, class clown and another regular. As he walks in, he leans on the desk, grinning at Ms Kim.

“Is that a new hair cut? It looks great!”

She rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide a smile in return.

“See, you’re here so often you notice that kind of things.”

“Of course I’d notice!” he protests, sounding offended as he’s weirdly good at doing — to be fair, it does still get him out of trouble most of the time.

She gestures for him to go to his place, but she doesn’t seem too mad, and he has a satisfied smirk on his face as he does. It’s as he’s doing so that he spots you, and his eyes go wide. He looks around like he thinks he’s gotten the wrong room, before altering his course to let himself fall down on the table next to yours

Your heart is beating like crazy in your chest and you do your best to smile at him the right way — you know, not too briefly so he doesn’t think you’re rude, and not too long so he doesn’t think you’re interested because, ahah, that’d be ridiculous, that’d be soooo embarrassing, there’s no way that would happen.

You may or may not have a raging crush on him.

Look, he’s funny. He’s cute. He looks at you when he makes a clever joke to see if you’re laughing. You don’t hang in the same circles, and you know it’s stupid to entertain your thoughts about him, but you just can’t help them. You wish you could quash your feelings before they hurt you. Because they will. Undoubtedly. Been there, done that. Love hasn’t worked for you, and you’d rather not delude yourself into hoping it could this time.

All these good resolutions vanish when Han leans towards you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, sounding so confused. “Did you get lost?”

You sigh.

“I was accused of cheating on a test,” you mumble, trying to sound casual about it and not like it makes you want to cry.

“What?” His eyes look like they’re trying to pop out of his head. “That’s ridiculous.” Then he leans closer, conspiratorially. “Want me to try to get you out of here?”

Your heart is beating so fast.

“No,” you squeak despite trying not to. “It’s fine. I guess that’s— part of the high school experience, right? I should live through that at least once.”

He looks deeply confused for a second, then chuckles as he settles back in his chair.

“You’re the only person who’d think that way,” he says, and you think he sounds fond as he says it, but you know that your brain is prone to wishful-thinking. Then, with a regain of interest “Tell me if you change your mind, it’s not too late.”

He settles comfortably on his desk, resting his head on his backpack. It’s already dark outside, as it usually is at this time of the year. Cold, white streetlights have turned on over the football field, and the cloudy, starless sky gives the school a gloomy vibe. It doesn’t help that it’s eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that you’ve only heard when you’d lingered too long in the library. Lively halls are empty now, as are the classrooms. On this last night before winter break, no one has stuck around. Even clubs have taken pity on their members and let them escape tonight. It’s only the six of you left in the building, and maybe a few lingering staff members and guardians.

You glance around at what others are doing, trying to figure out what you’re even meant to do in here. Jisung has closed his eyes and is clearly intent on taking a nap. Nari has pulled out a notebook and is writing in it dutifully. Hanseok is looking out the window with a blank look on his face. Taewoon seems to be sleeping as well. Finally, Ms Kim is reading a book — romance, by the looks of it —  and seems to have no plan of acknowledging your existence until the bell rings and frees her of your presence.

With a sigh, you start pulling out your books. Jisung opens an eye. With his face smooshed against his backpack, his cheeks look even rounder.

“I can still get you out,” he whispers.

You smile, but shake your head.

“It’s fine. It will all be over in an hour anyway.”

Ms Kim clears her throat to remind you to stay quiet. You jump at it, and she gives you an apologetic look, but you’re already back to burying your head in your books, trying to be small and inconspicuous and most importantly, not to anger anyone. That’s what you do after that, even once the room gets quiet again, and that’s where you still are, half an hour later, when the lights suddenly go off.

You look up, startled, and for a second you can’t see a thing, until your eyes get accustomed to the unexpected darkness. In the meantime, someone stands up, not far from you, and surprised shouts rise in the room.

“Everyone stay where you are!” Ms Kim shouts. Phones are starting to come out, lighting up the room, and soon you see that Jisung’s standing next to you, with one hand on the back of seat. He’s so close he’d brush against you if he moved just a little to the left. “It’s either the electricity or someone forgot we were still here. I’ll go see what’s happening and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Can’t we just go home?” Nari whines. “C’mon, there’s, like fifteen minutes left.”

“Make it thirty,” Ms Kim corrects sternly. “Everyone better stay here. Anyone who leaves will get detention for the first week when we’re back in class.” When protests erupt, she raises her voice. “I’ll let you off the hook if there’s an issue with the electricity, but for now, you guys need to stay there.”

She leaves the room as more people are protesting, not paying one ounce of attention to it. It looks like it’s not the first time something like that has happened to her.

Her footsteps in the hallway have barely faded that Taewoon is already getting up.

“Fuck it,” he says, making a whole show out of it. “I’m not sticking around.”

“You’re going?” Jisung asks. Clearly, he’s thinking of doing it as well. He glances around at the rest of the group. None of you have moved from your seat. “What about you guys?”

“I can’t miss practice,” Hanseok says.

“I’ve got a part time job, I can’t lose it,” is Nari’s answer.

That leaves you, and it takes you a second to realize that Jisung is looking at you and waiting for an answer.

“I— I don’t want to get detention again,” is all you can manage to mumble. It sounds pathetic to your ears, but he nods all the same.

“What are you doing?” Taewoon asks him again.

“I’ll stay behind this time,” Jisung sighs dramatically. “Live your life to the fullest for the rest of us, okay?”

Taewoon snorts.

“Sure. Enjoy yourselves here. I’ll see you after the break.”

You feel envy as he escapes the room. You wish you could care this little about all the trouble you’d get into. At the same time, being in your shoes brings advantages that you quite enjoy. Just not particularly tonight.

Then, Jisung pulls his chair to come sit next to you, setting his phone on your table so you can both see each other’s face, and you change your mind.

“You should have taken my offer,” he smiles at first, before his expression shifts to a more serious one. “You okay? It’s happened before, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m fine,” you answer, maybe too quickly. Mostly, you’re wondering why he feels the need to tell you that and if you look so fragile to him that he thinks this would send you into a breakdown. “Does it usually come back on?”

He shrugs.

“Yeah, most of the time. Sometimes there’s a tree that’s fallen somewhere it shouldn’t and she lets us go.” He glances out the window. “It’s pretty windy tonight. Maybe it’s the case.”

As you look out, you see Taewoon crossing the football field, before disappearing under the bleachers, from where he can reach the parking lot. At least one of you has gone free, you think, feeling bitter about all the things that have kept you in this spot.

“Hey, you’re getting the full, five-star high school experience,” Jisung’s voice brings you back to the present. “I can get you in trouble more after that, if you’d like.”

A small laugh escapes your lips.

“I think I’m good.”

“You could see the boys’ locker room from the inside,” he insists, and you laugh again.

“That does not sound like a good experience!”

“The inside of the teachers’ lounge,” he offers as you roll your eyes. “Steal exam questions. Change your grades. Give lower notes to your rivals.”

“What rivals,” you protest, though you’re grinning from ear to ear at this point.

“Are you saying that no one’s good enough to compete with you? And here I thought you valued my intelligence, wah, you think you know someone—”

His chatter takes your mind off your situation. There’s something about having Jisung’s undivided attention, about him clearly having noticed how down you were feeling and trying to cheer you up, that makes you feel all fuzzy inside. You’re not used to someone’s eyes staying on you for that long, certainly not his eyes. And yet he’s choosing to use time that could so easily be spent doing something else with you. Your heart beats so fast you think it’s going to fall right out of your chest.

Ten minutes go by before Nari’s voice interrupts your talking.

“Shouldn’t Ms Kim be back by now?”

Her expression is composed, she’s leaning back in her chair to look at you, but her voice is at a higher-pitch than usual. A glance at your watch tells you that she’s probably right and a cold hand comes wrap around your heart to squeeze it, before you shake it off. No need to feel that way. There’s likely a completely fine explanation.

“Maybe she’s run into Mr Park,” Jisung offers, smoothly. Then, with a gasp, “Maybe they’re having a quickie in the principal’s office.”

You chuckle quietly, but Nari’s not amused.

“Shouldn’t someone go look for her?” she asks. When no one volunteers, she continues, “She’ll never believe me if I go and I really can’t lose my part time job, but, you know, maybe if it was someone else…”

You know where this is going, and she’s not exactly wrong, yet you worry about getting in trouble all the same. Stupidly, you’re afraid you’re going to get yelled at. You hate getting yelled at. You’d probably cry if that happened.

“I’ll go if you go,” Jisung says, eyeing you, saving the day once more — saving your day at least.

“Okay,” you reply, and you surprise yourself at how quick and easy that was. You blame it on the relief you feel for not having to go out there alone. “I’ll come.”

He smiles at you when you say that. It’s kind of embarrassing how it makes butterflies take off in your stomach.

“Everyone be good,” he chastises the other two as you open the door. “Nari, you’re in charge while we’re gone, okay?”

She sticks her tongue out at him while Hanseok scoffs. Still, they’re both grinning as the two of you venture out into the quiet, dark high school.

You’re not one to believe in supernatural creatures. You like logical, provable, tangible things. Still, out there, irrational fear seizes you, wrapping its tentacles around you. Your footsteps echo loudly in the hallways, and the measly flashlight from your cellphones are nowhere near enough to light up the entire place. No matter how your orient them, there remain dark patches all over.

“It’s kind of cool,” Jisung comments as you’re starting to bury yourself in your thoughts again. This time, you don’t know if he’s doing it for your benefit or if he doesn’t like it when things stay quiet for too long. “Who knows, maybe we will see her with Mr Park.”

“I think they’re both very much married,” you reply, and some of the worry washes away when you hear your own voice. Suddenly, you’re not in this unfamiliar place anymore, but back in the halls of the high school that you walk in every single day.

“Like that’s ever stopped people,” Jisung grins. “C’mon, he’s not bad-looking for his age.”

This time, a very genuine laugh bursts out of you.

“That’s not an image I needed!” you protest.

“Like you’ve never thought about it before,” he teases, and as you let out noises of disgust, his flashlight sweeps over the floor. “What do you think? Do we start with the custodian and the principal’s office, or do we go for the basement? That’s where she’d be if it’s a problem with the electricity?”

“She’s probably in the basement if she’s been gone all this time,” you reason, but you really do not want to venture down there at the moment. Even with Jisung by your side, you don’t think you’d enjoy this small of a space with no lights other than your own. Just thinking about it has your throat becoming tighter. “But, uh, maybe we can start with the principal’s office?”

Jisung agrees to that with more enthusiasm than it warrants, and then you listen to him dramatically offer possibilities about how Ms Kim and Mr Park could have gotten together. You laugh more than you should, more than you would were you with anyone else in the same situation, and it’s not the right place nor the right time, but you know you’re falling in love with him. You’ve always suspected that it was just a matter of spending more time with him, always told yourself that it was therefore not a good idea. But here you were now, and there was not a thing you could do about it.

“Okay, here we are,” you say, interrupting a truly wild scenario in which the teacher and the principle are Russian spies who got married as a cover but were actually high school sweethearts. “Should I, uh, knock?”

Jisung shrugs, moving past you to try the handle. As he does so, you’re struck by how quiet it is. There’s no way she’s in there, we’ve wasted our time, you think.

Then, to your surprise, the door opens. Jisung walks in. Then freezes in the opening.

“What’s going on,” you ask, taking a step forward to look over his shoulder, “don’t tell me they’re really—"

But you’re not met with the sight of two lovers. Instead, your eyes first find Mr Park, slumped on his desk, something that you can’t identify sticking out of his back. On the floor, right in front of Jisung, is Ms Kim. She’s lying on her back, her eyes wide open and her pupil still and empty. It takes you a second to realize that the angle her head is at with her body is wrong, and a second longer to understand that that’s because her throat’s is nothing more than a wide, gaping wound. Underneath her, a puddle of blood that you realize you’ve stepped into. She looks so pale, compared to how she was just a few minutes ago.

You open your mouth to scream. Before you can, though, Jisung’s hand comes to cover it, and you only let out a whimper as your eyes search his. For the first time tonight, he’s lost his nonchalant confidence.

“Someone could still be there,” he whispers to you. “We shouldn’t stay here.”

With one last look at your teacher, he closes the door.

Things are blurry after that. You remember him grabbing your wrist as he drags you away from the scene. You remember him trying a few doors before pulling you into an empty classroom. You remember him vomiting in a trashcan and self-consciously wiping his mouth afterwards. You remember sitting on a table in silence for you don’t know how long.

“We have to get out of here,” he says at some point. He sounds sure of himself again.

“We have to— we have to go get Nari and Hanseok,” you answer. As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel guilty for not having thought of them immediately. Shit, they must still be waiting for the two of you to return. Someone could have— someone could have already—

You’re on your feet before you think. It’s unlike you, but it says a lot that your brain doesn’t harp on that in the moment. There’s an urgency in your chest that you’re not used to feeling.

“We need to go get them.”

Jisung studies you for a second, then swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“Okay,” he says. His voice is weak. “Okay. We’re getting them and then we’re going out of here, right?”

You nod. Guilt and fear are battling within you, but both feelings are directed towards the people you’ve left behind. You think it would kill you if something happened to them that you could have stopped.

The walk back to the detention is faster, but it feels like it take ages. Jisung keeps close to you, checking behind you while you keep your eyes on what’s in front of you. You see nothing, hear nothing. Just like earlier, the high school feels empty. Unlike earlier, you know it is not.

You’re almost there, starting to breathe again, starting to think you’ll make it, when you hear the screams. Terrified, you back into Jisung, who wraps his arm around you.

“Light,” he hisses, “light out, now.”

You’re too scared to do anything other than what he suggests. It overtakes your whole body, freezes your muscles into place. His chest is pressed against your back as you stay perfectly still, and you can feel his heart beating wildly, betraying the fact that he’s in the same state as you. In the distance, a door slams open.

“Don’t leave me here!” Nari screams.

In the dark, someone that you have to assume is Hanseok rushes past you. He’s fast, powerful. Whoever you hear after him is fast too, footsteps squeaking in the hallways, and all you’re thinking is that Nari is wearing heels.

At least Hanseok’s making it out is the thought that follows — for a second at least, because it isn’t long after that there’s a shout of frustration and the sound of someone struggling with a door. Then screams, intercut with disgusting, wet sounds that you can only imagine are what a knife produces when it’s brought down into someone. Tears stream down your face in silence. The front door’s locked and Hanseok— Hanseok is—

“Nari,” you whisper, choking on the word.

Jisung nods and pulls you forward, but by the time you get to the detention room, it’s empty. You check for a body, turning your cellphone’s light back on, terrified you’ll find one, and you can breathe again when you don’t find her anywhere.

“Now we have to go,” Jisung insists.

“But she’s—”

“We’ve done what we could. C’mon, we have no way of knowing where she is, she could be out by—”

The speakers creak horribly.

“Attention, students,” a man’s voice comes through. It’s loud and booming, but more than anything, it’s even. It doesn’t shake, doesn’t have the hysterical accents that you’ve heard in movies. If anything, it sounds like he’s playing the role of a school announcer, and the thought makes you sick to your stomach. “Lee Nari. Han Jisung. Kang Won— Ah, no, I suppose that’s been taken care of, hasn’t it. Im Taewoon.” Then he pauses for a second, before reading your name, and you feel overcome with helplessness. Before that, it felt like it was— You’re not sure what you were feeling, but it didn’t feel targeted. Now, you think that even leaving the school might not make the nightmare end. “Well, you might not be who I’m looking for,” the man chuckles— he fucking chuckles — after saying your name. “We’ll see. If you’re good, I’ll consider letting you off the hook. The rest of you though… you won’t cause trouble again.”

This is like a bad slasher movie with a stupid premise, something you’d make fun of if you weren’t caught in the middle of it.

“Windows and doors are locked,” he announces dramatically. “Breaking out only means that I’ll come get you, so do yourself a favor and surrender, hm? I promise to make it quick.”

Then he hangs up.

“What do we do?” you whisper to Jisung. “You— you love horror movies, right? What should we do?”

He stares at you.

“Yeah, I— I do. I didn’t think you’d remember.” It’s not the moment, but for a second — less than that, a fraction of it — you’re no longer a terrified prey but a teenager again, feeling like you’ve just exposed your crush. “I— one of us should leave.”

You shake your head.

“He said he’d hunt us. He could show up at our parents’ house—”

“I know,” he interrupts you. “But that’s— that’s why one of us should stay here.”

Again, you shake your head, more vehemently this time.

“No. No way. We’re not— We’re not doing that.”

He grabs your arms, the motion gentle instead of forceful, like one more attempt at comforting you as he looks straight into your eyes.

“Listen. One of us needs to leave. I— I think he’s probably watching the windows. He must know that we’d try to leave, right? So he’s— probably ready to give chase.” He swallows thickly. “If he— If he has a rifle or something— But that’d give someone else time to escape, if he leaves too. If not… Someone could go get help. Nari might have called the cops already, but that— that doesn’t mean they’re coming right now.”

“No,” you repeat, because you think you know where he is going with this.

“I’ll— What do you want to do? I— I think I should go.”

He’s close enough that you can see there are tears in his eyes.

“You should— you should be ready to leave from the other side when I do,” he whispers, and you want to cry too. “I’ll distract him.”

You shake your head, but you don’t think you can change his mind.

“Hey, I can be really fast, okay?” His tone gets lighter. “Maybe I’ll outrun him.”

You’d be more inclined to believe that if the man hadn’t been able to catch up with Hanseok — though you suppose that he wouldn’t have on open grounds, and that gives you some hope that you desperately cling to.

“You better,” you hear yourself say.

Jisung lets out a long, deep breath, then turns around to face the window. It’s true that they’re locked; they always are at the end of the day. But they’re not known for being particularly solid. As a matter of fact, they regularly get broken by football players. You wonder if that’s what got Hanseok in trouble, then shove the subject as far down as you can, because it reminds you that he’s— he’s—

“Okay,” Jisung mumbles, grabbing a chair and getting ready to swing it at the window. Just as he lifts it above his head, though, he stops himself and sets it down to face you.

Something passes between the two of you. It’s hard not to think that this might be the last time you see each other, however his escape attempt goes. Jisung swallows thickly.

Then he’s grabbing your shoulders and pressing his lips against yours. It’s brief, kind of clumsy. Nothing about it is how you envisioned your first kiss. But his lips are soft and warm, and he’s holding on to you like he never wants to let go.

He does anyway, looking at you with wide eyes.

“F–For luck,” he mumbles.

“Sure,” you choke out in response. “No, uh, no problem.”

You’ll die of embarrassment at that later on, if you don’t just die tonight.

His chair smashes through the window, the sound unbearably loud in the silence of the school, and he doesn’t stick around to see what happens. Cutting his hands on the broken glass, he jumps out while you back out of the room to go crouch in a dark corner. You peek to see him sprinting through the football field, waiting with baited breath to see the killer following after him.

He doesn’t.

You wait longer.

Still nothing.

And you realize you’re stuck in the building with him.

“Well, well,” the voice in the speaker says, right as the realization settles, as calm as it was the first time. “Seems like we’ve had an infraction. Too bad. Seems I’ll have to go hunting once I’m done with you.”

Then it cuts again. For a while, you can’t hear yourself think over the terrified thoughts that fill your mind. You think of following after Jisung, but you have no way of knowing if the killer would let it slide twice. Truth be told, with Jisung gone, you feel your old patterns of thinking catching up with you. You’re too scared to go, and the more you wait, the more you think it’s now too late to go. Your anxiety has you in a chokehold, with no intention of letting go.

What does get you to move is the greater fear that the killer could come inspect the place, now that Jisung’s left. He must have noticed that only Nari and Hanseok were in the room — if he thinks Taewoon was still here, probably because he was murdering Ms Kim at that point, that would have to mean the three of you were together, in his mind. It begs the question of how Taewoon got out, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he had his ways of doing it, even with the windows closed.

You don’t turn your light off, listening closely as you cross the hallways. You’re aiming for the kitchens, though you haven’t actually stopped to think about it. All that your mind can supply with as a justification is that you need a weapon. Realistically, you don’t think it would do you any good. You probably wouldn’t be able to use it against anyone. But who gives a fuck about realism right now? You might die here tonight. Three of the people you used to see around every day are gone forever already. If finding a knife makes you feel better, you’ll get yourself a knife, dammit.

You regret it when you make your way through the cafeteria. Because of how it’s situated, there is more light coming from outside in here than there was elsewhere. You’ve already started to see the dark as an ally, and leaving it makes you feel incredibly exposed. Despite that, you run through it, bent in half, trying to stay behind the tables, and get into the kitchens.

You’re searching through the drawers for a knife when the most terrifying sound you can think of right now resonates behind you.

The door. Someone’s opened the door.

You crouch behind one of the many kitchen isles. Silent tears are running down your face, but adrenaline is keeping you from completely giving up — for now, anyway.

“Who do we have here?” the voice asks, and you press a hand against your mouth so you don’t accidentally give yourself away. It doesn’t just echo in the cafeteria though, no, it comes out through the speakers as well. Like he wants the survivors to know that he’s gotten one of you, and that they never had a chance in the first place. “I’ll be very disappointed in you if it’s you, (Y/N). If you’d stayed put, you might have had a chance. Now, I have to wonder if you helped your friend leave, too.”

Glancing over the corner, you see a man in a mask slowly walking through the kitchen. Slowly, you start backing up, careful not to make a sound. If you run, maybe you’ll get to the door. If you get to the door, maybe he’ll lose you and you’ll be able to hide better.

Please. Please. You just want to make it out of here. You want— you want to go to college. You want to ask Jisung what that kiss meant. You want to get home to your parents.

It’s as you’re getting up that you bump your head into one of the drawers that you’ve left open. Once it happens, you’re on your feet in an instant, making a dash for the door, but the man intercepts you before you can get away. You fall on your back when he pushes you, and he shakes his head at you.

“I thought you were better than that,” he sighs. “It truly is a shame that you got caught up in this, but I suppose you weren’t as good as you made yourself out to be.”

He raises the knife. Tears blur your vision.

Then there’s a loud smack. Nari appears behind him, a bent plastic tray in her hands and tears streaming down her face.

“I’m s–so sorry you got detention because of me,” she sobs out, chest heaving, and all you can do is stare — though a part of you that right now is very far from the surface appreciates the sentiment. You note, vaguely, that she’s barefoot, probably having ditched the heels when she realized they would only get her in trouble.  She holds her hand out, and you take it without hesitation, pulling yourself to your feet just in time to see the man rise again behind her. He’s rubbing the back of his head, but he’s nowhere near unconscious, and he’s close. You pull Nari away, but his knife still slashes across her back and she falls forward, screaming.

You back up, but his eyes aren’t on you. Instead, he goes to stand above Nari. She tries to crawl forward, crying, and you see him lowering himself above her.

If you don’t want to watch her die in front of your eyes, you need to find the fucking knives.

The first two drawers you stumble into as Nari struggles and desperately hits at the men are empty.

The third one has knives.

You can’t afford to think as you rush back towards them. The man raises his knife once, and Nari catches the blade with her bare hand. You try to tune out both the screams and the sounds. Then he grabs her wrists with the one hand. Raises the knife again.

You’re out of time.

You stab him in the chest, and he lets out a sharp, horrified gasp. You push him backwards while his blade catches at your arms, the adrenaline too strong to feel it for now. You drive the blade into him, again and again and again, until he’s fallen and his knife has gone still, and all that fills the room are Nari’s tears and whimpers of pain.

It’s only as your own pain catches up with you that you admit what’s just happened.

You did it.

You lived.

 They take Nari and Hanseok to a hospital first, both of their wounds being much more significant than your own. Hanseok’s condition, from what you’ve heard, was ‘critical’. You’d felt hope at that, at first, but the looks people had exchanged had soon quashed that.

They weren’t optimistic.

As they leave, you stay wrapped in a blanket, sitting in an ambulance as your arms are being disinfected as the cops search the building. All of your limbs ache like you’ve just run a marathon, but you can’t make yourself look away, no matter how hard you’ve tried. Staying there, you hear, vaguely, that the killer was a former member of staff that had been let go earlier in the year. He’s alive too, for now, because you hadn’t known where to aim when you’d attacked him — ironically, that’s the same reason Hanseok’s still breathing. His exact motive was being debated still, but you found unable to care. Why would you give a shit about why he'd done that? All that mattered was that he’d done it.

You’re sitting there, stewing in those thoughts, when Jisung appears. You don’t think they were supposed to let him through, but it looks like he managed to sneak in. He’s clearly been crying, his eyes all red and his face puffy.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he chokes on the words. “I didn’t think— I didn’t think I’d be leaving you alone in there with him. I— I did as fast as I could, I promise, but they— they thought it was a prank call and I—”

“It’s—” You want to say ‘It’s fine’, but the words refuse to come out of your mouth. “It’s not your fault,” you manage to say instead. “You had no way of knowing. I’m— Nari and I should both be fine. You did— You did the best thing you could have done.”

Nari had mentioned, as you were lying with her on the cold floor of the cafeteria, that she’d seen you walk in, soon followed by the man. She hadn’t found herself able to stay away. Who knew, if she hadn’t felt so guilty, maybe she wouldn’t have gone in. Maybe if it had been Jisung, he’d be gone by now. Maybe if you’d left through the window, the killer would have followed you.

There are too many what ifs to let him blame himself.

“I’m glad you made it,” you say softly, trying not to cry again.

He nods, opens his mouth, then shakes his head as tears flow once again, and just comes to sit next to you. It’s not so often that you see Han Jisung so completely quiet. You rest your head on his shoulder, trying to bring him what comfort you can, certainly taking all that you are able to from his touch.

You know, in that moment, that the consequences of tonight would likely follow you for the rest of your life. You don’t know if there will be a single day in the future where you don’t think of it. But right now, the thought that maybe, just maybe, not everything that comes from tonight has to be horrible and dark and crushing helps you to just keep breathing.

Jisung’s fingers quietly rub circles on your skin. He presses a kiss into your hair, mumbles ‘Thank you’s to no one in particular.

Finally, you allow yourself to close your eyes.

since this is different from what I usually write (and gets brutal), I'm exceptionally not using my taglist.

i enjoyed writing this and wrote almost 4k for it today, so, uh, sorry if it stops making sense at around 3k in. something that i particularly enjoy is breaking genre expectations by jumping into another genre. here, the first half is inspired by your typical high school movies, before veering into a thriller/horror movie, which i quite like (but it can also be disorienting and i'd get it if you didn't enjoy it). anyway.

if you've made it to this point, I hope you've enjoyed this series and this installment of it! don't hesitate to comment or reblog, honestly any feedback or support is appreciated. i'll see you all again for the hyung line in December (and maybe even in the meantime with other projects, who knows). take care!

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Tap on My Window, Knock on My Door

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader

1.4k words

Warnings: Language, lying/sneaking around, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, fluff & flirting, heavy kissing

The next couple of days were a blur of making eyes at Roy on the pitch and lying to your parents about your whereabouts as you ran out the door to meet the midfielder for takeaway, movies, and snogging. Finally, your dad reminded you that it was Tuesday night; family dinner night. You plastered on a smile and assured him that of course you remembered, you’d never forget Tuesday night dinner. Once your dad seemed satisfied, you scurried upstairs and made a quick call to cancel your plans to meet Roy. Your heart couldn’t help but swell at the disappointment that he couldn’t hide from his gruff voice; Roy Kent wanted to see you as much as you wanted to see him.

The thought had you smiling all through dinner and offering short, dreamy replies to your parents’ and younger brother’s conversations. Your parents exchanged looks over their plates, but you barely noticed. Not when Roy Kent was on your mind.

After you and your brother cleared the plates into the sink, your dad pulled out a deck of cards; another Tuesday night tradition. As your dad began to deal out the cards for a game, you wondered what Roy would think of a family dinner. Not that you were thinking of inviting him over or anything anytime soon; this thing was so incredibly new, and you weren’t even sure what this thing was. Most of all, Roy didn’t seem like the family dinner type of guy; he seemed much more comfortable sneaking around for clandestine meetings. And you had to admit it was kind of fun too.

In your bed that night, you turned on your bedside lamp and tried to read. You really did. But your mind just kept wandering. It was like you were a teenager again, thinking about some beautiful boy. But this wasn’t some guy in your class; this was a gorgeous, famous footballer who, for whatever reason, decided he wanted to spend his time kissing you. It was more than a bit mind-boggling, if you were being honest.

Trying to figure out what your love life had become was interrupted by your mobile ringing. You snatched it up quickly, not wanting the sound to wake your parents.

“Hello?” you whispered into the phone, not needing to check to see who was calling. It tended to be one person these last few days.

“What’re you doing?”

That growling voice had you smiling into the receiver. “Reading,” you answered quietly. “You?”

“Waiting for you to open the fucking window.”

With a perplexed frown, you stood and went to your bedroom window. Sure enough, Roy Kent stood in your backyard, mobile to his ear and grin on his face. He offered a small wave when he saw your figure.

“Open the window,” he hissed into the phone. “’m coming up.”

Scoffing, you hung up and did as he asked. It was a fucking sight, watching Roy Kent climb the giant tree outside your window and tumble into your childhood bedroom. He winced when he hit the carpeted floor with a small thud and offered you an apologetic smile as you closed the window. After stuffing a t-shirt under your door to muffle your voices and double-checking the lock on your door, you turned to Roy, who still sat on the ground.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked incredulously as you perched on the edge of your bed.

He shrugged. “Wanted to see you.”

The smile you wore was pure dopiness, but you didn’t care. Not when those brown eyes were sparkling at you.

Roy stood, rubbing the elbow he’d landed on in his less-than-stellar landing. “Your dad cuts those branches too short,” he grumbled. “Almost broke my fucking neck.”

You stuck your chin out haughtily. “I used to use that tree to sneak out all the time as a teenager,” you gloated. “And I never had a problem.

He narrowed his eyes at you before he began strolling around your room, looking at your walls. “Well, I spent my teen years training for a football career, not climbing through pretty girls’ windows. Gimme a fucking break.” He stopped in front of a Chelsea poster, smirking at the sight of himself and his teammates. “You kiss this before you go to bed?” he teased.

“I use it for dart practice,” you snarked. “Can’t you see the holes in your face?”

Roy let out an annoyed huff as he sat beside you, the bed giving the softest creak. “Oi, be nice. I did just climb a fucking tree for you, you know.”

“I suppose I could cut you some slack, just this once.” Your heart skipped a beat when you realized how close your faces were, how Roy’s smirking mouth was just a whisper away from yours. “Hi,” you murmured.

“Hi,” he hummed back. He cupped your face and closed the gap between your lips.

You sighed against his mouth and closed your eyes, letting him guide you onto your back and climb on top of you. His hands gripped your hips as his mouth explored yours, swallowing the soft groans you tried to hold back. Roy’s tongue was dizzying as it danced with yours, making you wonder how it would feel in other places. Your legs tangled together as you both brazenly began to grind softly against each other’s bodies, unashamed of your need for the other to provide friction.

“Fuck,” you whimpered against his cheek as his mouth made its way to your jaw.

He gently shushed you. “Is everyone asleep?” His breath was hot on your skin and sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded as your hands roamed his back. “Yeah,” you assured him quietly.

He continued to press sloppy kisses to your neck, eliciting soft gasps from you. When your back arched off the bed, he smirked against your skin. For a while now, you’d given in to your curiosity and read all about Roy Kent, the already legendary lover, in trashy tabloids. And if his kissing was anything to go by, every single rumor was one hundred percent correct.

Deciding that you needed to collect more evidence, you slowly slid your hands down his back and around his front, until you found the button on his black jeans. He let out a small, curious hum and shifted; when your hands followed their target, he pulled away from your neck, eyebrows raised.

“And what do you think you’re doing, young lady?”

Your face was furiously hot as you stared up at Roy, whose eyes were dark and lips were already swollen. “I want you,” you whispered, too desperate for him to feel an ounce of embarrassment.

Roy’s chuckle was low, an almost tortured sound as he let his face fall into the crook of your neck. “There is no fucking way,” he hissed, “that I am taking off my pants with your dad down the hall.” He glanced back up at you. “You’re worth a lot of things, princess, but I’m not sure being murdered is one of them.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, a soft one now, and shook his head at you. “Needy thing,” he teased, rolling off of you so he laid on his back beside you.

His hand found yours as you stuck your tongue out at him. “Coward.” But you couldn’t help smiling at the sight of Roy Kent in your bed, looking as if he belonged there. It was a sight you wouldn’t mind getting used to. “Thanks for climbing a tree to visit me,” you whispered, turning onto your side to face him.

He turned to mirror your position and lifted a finger to trace the shape of your nose. “I’d climb any fucking tree for you, princess.” His smile was playful, but you knew he meant it. “I’d probably do a lot of things for you.” He leaned close, pressing his forehead to yours. “But getting naked while your dad’s home is not one of them.”

The two of you laid like that until scandalously early in the morning, whispering and exchanging soft kisses. Finally, when the clock on your nightstand got close to three, Roy reluctantly removed himself from your bed and made his way back to the window, where he said goodbye with a searing kiss.

“I’ll call you later,” he whispered against your mouth. “Sweet dreams, princess.”

As if you could have any other kind of dream when they were filled with Roy Kent.

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