#We don't need to talk about the typo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cozage · 4 months ago

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Hi! Do you write angst stuff? If so, can you please write about something like s/o is from a normal, well educated, middle class family but her parents don't approve of their love because well you know, he is a pirate. Ace, Law, Shanks x f!reader please

A/N: This is only very loosely edited. I’m sure theres plent of typos and grammatical errors. Forgive me! Characters: f! reader x Ace, Law, Shanks Cw: This is angst only…should I make a part two with resolution? Also there are some harsh words exchanged in some of these. Just be mindful of that :) Total word count: 3k

Disapproval

Ace

You spotted Whitebeard’s jolly roger in the distance and braced yourself for the next few days. Ace was surely on that ship. He never missed a visit to your island. You knew it would only be a matter of time before you’d have to see him again, but you hadn’t expected him to return so soon.

You watched the ship pull into port from the cliffside, trying to decide what to do. Ace was expecting you to be down by the docks when he arrived, as you always were. But you knew it would only make everything harder, and you haad been warned to stay away from the pirates due to their…bad image.

You fiddled with the engagement ring on your finger as you thought. Ace deserved to hear the news from you. It was cruel, but hearing it from a local would be worse. With a stone weighing in your stomach, you rose from your place and started down the path to the port.

You loved Ace. With all of your heart, you loved him. But your parents were extremely affluent individuals in the community, and Ace was a pirate. He had plenty of other women on other islands to comfort him-women you tried not to think about too hard. But you couldn’t spend your life waiting for the next time he came too you. He had his life on the sea, and your had your life on this island.

So when William Cleed had asked for your hand in marriage, you agreed. It was an arrangement between your parents, and William was a rather boring fellow. But he came from a good family, and he was kind to his servants. He was a good man. Plus, the marriage would solidify your parents position in the community and strengthen family ties. It was the sensible move.

“There she is!” Ace’s voice rang out amongst the sounds of the portmen, and you found him at the bow of the ship, waving down at you.

You gave him a sheepish grin and small wave, the way you always had as the two of you waited for the gangway to be set. His grin made your heart swell, which paired with an instant pang of regret.

Unwilling to wait any longer, Ace jumped over the side of the ship, landing on the dock directly in front of you.

“Miss you, love.” His eyes gave a quick scan over your body, lingering a moment too long of your lips. “You look good.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile dancing along your lips. “I bet you say that to all of your island girls.”

Ace wrinkled his nose at your comment. “Only you. I tell you every time, there’s no one else.”

“And yet you always leave.” You raised an eyebrow at him. This was a daance the two of you always did.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. “Come with me.”

“Ace-” you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he only strengthened his grip on you, a smile still on his face.

“I know, I know,” he said with a sigh. “You can’t go and I can’t stay. So we just have to keep dancing this dance we always do.”

You tried to pull away again, but he didn’t budge. “Ace, I need to talk to you.”

“I missed you.” Hiis lips were already on yours as he spoke the words.

You should’ve felt guilty. You should’ve tried to pull away, or push against him. You should’ve tried to get away and preserve yourself and your fiance.

Instead, you melted into him. You couldn’t help it. You ignored the reasonable part of your brain that was reminding you about your bethrothed. You would tell him about your engagement the moment you pulled away, you just needed to taste him one more time. To have your sense invaded by campfire, to have your mouth slightly numb and your hair a tangled mess from his fingers twining through them. Just this last kiss, and then you could say goodbye.

“What the hell is this?” William’s voice broke through the smoke that was fogging your brain, causing you to yank out of Ace’s grasp.

“William-” you gasped, trying to think of a reason he would’ve found you like this.

But William wasn’t looking at you. He stepped infront you you, glaring directly at Ace. “You pirates thing anything you look at is yours. Get the fuck away from her!”

The sharpness in William’s voice was something you had never heard before, and it caused you to take a step back from both of the men.

Ace blinked, confused and slightly disoriented from your kiss. His eyes found yours, asking for an explanation, but you simply adverted your gaze. You should have told him, but now your voice was gone.

Ace gave out a nervous laugh. “I don’t understand. She was fine-”

“The hell she was!” William shouted. “My fiance doesn’t go around kissing other men, especially not a pirate.”

The way he spit the last word made your cheeks heat with shame. You had never been ashamed to be seen with Ace or any of his crew before, but the Cleeds wouldn’t be caught dead frequenting the same establishment as a pirate.

“Fiance?” Ace barked out a laugh, but was quickly silenced. You knew he was looking at you, at the ring on your finger. “I-”

“William, dear,” you interrupted quickly. “Can we just go?”

WIlliam finally turned around to you, his eyes instantly softening as he looked at you. He smoothed some of your wild hair and wiped some dirt off of your face. “Did he hurt you?” he whispered.

You shook your head. “No. I’m okay. I swear.”

Ace was staring at you, trying to get your attention. “Y/N-”

“Don’t say her name,” William growled, turning back to Ace. “Don’t even fucking speak to her.”

“I can talk to her if I damn well please! She’s her own person!” Ace took a step toward you, but William stepped up to meet him, cutting you off from him.

“And my betrothed,” WIlliam hissed. “And my family will not associate themselves with your kind.”

You could see Ace’s temperature rise at that comment. You knew the look on his face. One that often happened when people in the bar spoke poorly of Whitebeard or laughed at someone in his crew. He was getting ready to loose his flames.

“Please-” your voice cracked on that word, finally looking at Ace and all of the confused pain on his face. “Please just let it go.”

William turned to you and relaxed, walking back to you. “Yes, of course. Let’s go.”

He smoothed your hair again, gently kissed your cheek, and led you away from the docks. You didn’t dare to look back to Ace, but you knew he was still standing in the same place you had left him, silently begging you to turn and run back into his arms.

Law

Trafalger Law had visited your island a few times and managed to stop in at your family’s cafe every single time. And every time, your conversations went about the same.

“Welcome back! What brings you back to the island?”

“Business for the World Government,” he’d say with a straight face, staring at the menu.

You’d give a nervous laugh. “Right. Classified, I’m guessing.”

He’d finally give you a smirk. “You’d be correct.”

“Anything I can help with or give you insider information on?”

“Just a sandwich.”

It was at that point that you’d remember he stopped in for service, not conversation. You’d quickly ring him up and make his order. He always sat at the bar near you. At first, he didn’t seem interested in making small talk with you, but after the third or fourth visit, the two of you could talk through the entire meal without any awkward pauses or lulls in conversation.

And without fail, everytime he left, your mother would stick her head out from the back room and click her tongue in disapproval.

“You shouldn’t be so kind to men like that. He’s a pirate, you know. He’ll take you hostage and not think twice about it if it benefits him.”

“He’s a Warlord, you know. Sanctioned by the World Government,” you’d always say back.

She’d scrunch her face at that comment. “Just means he can get away with it.”

The two of you would roll your eyes at the other’s remarks and get back to work, but those golden eyes would stay in your mind for the rest of the day.

One day, Trafalgar Law came into your shop twice in the same day.

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “Back for the World Government Business? Or just a sandwich for the sea?”

“Neither,” Law said. “It’s actually a personal matter.”

Your heart began to race at his words. “Oh? And how can I help with that?”

Law looked back at the door as if he wanted to run, but his crewmates were blocking the exit, staring at him expectantly.

He turned back to you, watching you carefully. “Are you busy tonight?”

It took a moment for you to process his words. “Tonight? Uhm…no, I don’t think so.”

“I’ll meet you here at seven, then.”

It felt like all the air had gotten sucked out of your lungs. “What?”

“For dinner.” He started to walk away, and then froze. “I mean, if you want to.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Do you even want to?”

He quickly turned to face you, and you could see the calculated panic across his face as he realized his communication errors.

A smile spread across your face as you watched him try to fix his mistake. “I’ll see you here at seven. Don’t dress up too fancy, okay?”

He gave a quick nod and then slunk out of the building. You couldn’t help but laugh at his awkwardness. You hadn’t seen that level of communication issues from him since his first lunch.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to hear anything from your mother. Her and your father were away for the day, working an event on the other side of the island.

You closed the shop quickly and ran home to change into anything but your work outfit. Law had seen you in that enough times.

Law was already waiting for you as you approached the bakery again, and gave a smirk when he saw you. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show up.”

You flashed him a smile in return. “And miss a evening out with a pirate? How could I refuse!”

He rolled his eyes at your enthusiasm. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s nothing big. It’s just-”

“Y/N?” Your father’s voice made you freeze in place. Even Law stopped speaking mid-sentence.

You quickly spun around to see your mother and father standing in the path. “You guys are back early!”

Law turned around as well, slower and more disinterested in the conversation. But you saw the moment your mother recognized his face. How her eyes bulged out her her face for just a moment. How she whispered to your father.

Your father’s eyes widened aat your mother’s indistinguishable words. “You’re coming home right now,” he said to you.

Plastering on the fakest smile you could, you willed yourself to speak confidently. “I’m actually just on my way out. Everything is okay at home, though.”

“Listen here, girl-” Your father strode up to you in five quick steps and grabbed you by the arm. “If you don’t come home this instant, you will have no home to come home to.”

“Father-”

He tugged on your arm. “Now.”

“Go,” Law said, already turning around and heading down the path without you. “I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”

“You will not!” Your father screamed after him. “You and your crew aren’t welcome in my shop! All you bring is trouble!”

Law didn’t respond as he kept walking, so your father turned his rage to you. “If you ever see him again- If you ever try to go out with him again- You will be no daughter of mine. Is that understood?”

You glanced down the path one last time to see Law vanish out of sight. “Understood,” you whispered.

Shanks

“Run away with me,” Shanks whispered between kisses. “You’re too busy here.”

“I have to stay.” You managed to get the words out before his lips came crashing back onto yours.

“You don’t have to,” he argued. His goodbyes were always like this.

You pulled away from him. “Just like you don’t have to go.”

“I’ll be back.” He gave you one last kiss, and then he was gone.

Your mother clicked her tongue in disapproval as you stumbled back in, still drunk from the wine and Shanks’s lips.

“That man is a walking bad idea,” she warned. “I told you to stay away from sailors. They’re bad news.”

“Shanks is a pirate,” you mumbled without thinking. “That’s a totally different profession.”

“What?” Her sharp eyes cut over to you, fire burning from your words.

You were in for it now. You let out a groan and stumbled up the stairs, but your mother was quick on your heels.

“Me and your father have set you up a good life. You have a good job for now, your on track to be the first graduating student with high-”

“I know!” you shouted. “My life is perfect!”

“It is!” She shot back. “And we have worked tirelessly to ensure that. So I’ll be damned if you ruin our hard work because of-”

“He offered to have me join his crew, you know.” The mischief in your eyes cut her off mis word, her mouth still hanging open in shock. “Maybe I’ll take him up on it next time!”

With that bombshell, you slammed your bedroom door shut.

“He’s a filthy pirate!” Your mother screamed through the wooden door. “He’ll use you until he grows tired, and then he will dump you off just like every other girl!”

“Better being stuck on this damn island!” you shouted back, but your mother had already stormed back down the hallway.

You shouldn’t have threatened your parents. You shouldn’t have mentioned leaving. You shouldn’t have even told them about Shanks in the first place. Because your parents held onto things; let them fester. Their rage never left them, it just sat dormant until they needed to call upon it.

That rage didn’t manifest again until you saw the red-hair pirated sailing into port. Coincidentally, it was the same day that your professor had assigned a huge research project. Upon arriving home, you found that you were to prepare the meals for the family for the next week since the chef had taken a vacation, and that your parents has volunteered you to work the summer camp that helped the underprivileged island children.

“I know what you’re doing,” you whispered to your mother while chopping vegetables one night. “It won’t work.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about dear.” She gave you a false smile and returned to her book. “I could use some more tea.”

You had plans to sneak out after dark, but your parents stayed in the foyer until the early hours of the night. Between school, volunteering, making dinner, and working on your project, you never could stay awake longer than them.

You knew what they were doing. Severing your relationship with Shanks and his crew was the best way to keep your family’s reputation pristine. But you had to see him once before he left. Just once.

You stayed up all night to finish your project, and finished all of your dinner preparations before you went off to your volunteer duties. Dinner was finished and ready the moment your parents got home.

You served your parents, ignoring your mother’s glare that you hadn’t set the table for yourself.

You took a deep breath. “I’m going out this evening with some-”

“No,” your father said. “Sit and eat with us. We are a family.”

“I’m going to eat with some friends.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow at you. “Which friends?”

You began walking towards the door. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Y/N” Your father’s voice was like a blade across your skin. “Sit and eat. You have things to do afterwards here at home.”

“I’ll do it when I get back.”

“Sit. Down.” There was the rage you remembered so well. The piece of him that required you to be perfect. Obedient.

You sat down at the table.

You resisted the urge to shy away from his glare as he spoke. “You will not go out tonight.”

“It’s just for a few hours. I need-”

“You need nothing,” he snapped back, immediately silencing you. “I will lock you in the cellar before I allow you to galavant around the town while pirates are in town.”

“Besides, we saw that red-haired young man in the market earlier,” you mother cooed. “Seems he found another doe-eyed girl who was stupid enough to say yes to his offer. Im so glad you moved on from that fantasy and are focusing on what’s actually important now.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “You’re lying.”

She gave you a wicked smile. “I’d sayyou could go see for yourself, but it seems you shall remain on the property. For your own safety, of course. And since we will not allow such filth in the house, wee’re at an impasse.”

“You’re lying,” you said again. You could feel your body shaking, your eyes welling with tears. But you couldn’t stop yourself.

What pity your mother looked at you with. “I’ve told you dear. We don’t socialize with animals for a reason.”

Your father gave a thoughtful nod, as if your mother has actually said something profound. “Well, not that we’ve got that covered, why don’t you tell us about the research project you have for Professor Kiamari.”

“I think-” you stood from the table, almostknocking over the chair. “I think I’m going to go work on that right now.”

“I think that’s a swell idea,” your father agreed. “Anything less than perfect-”

“Is a failure,” you finished.

“And we didn’t raise a failure,” your mother said.

With a weight crushing on your heart, you receded to your room wondering if Shanks had even realized you weren’t around anymore.

Part 2 by request :)

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libraryofgage · 1 year ago

Text

Good Vibrations Two

This AU got a lot more attention than I expected actually hfjdks I'm so glad everyone likes it!

Anyway, here's part two! We get some concert, some peeks at how Robin helps Steve navigate social situations, and a little Eddie having an itsy-bitsy crisis over Steve's fashion choices.

Have fun! And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't (especially for this one since I wrote most of it on my phone actually lmao)

----

Steve stares at the shirts laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. Choosing jeans had been easy, but choosing a shirt is giving him trouble. What do you wear to a metal show at the local dive bar for a small-town band in which the lead singer is a long-time and way-out-of-your-league crush that you've been holding a candle for since the first time you saw him laugh on top of a cafeteria table?

You definitely don't show up in a plain black shirt, that's for sure.

The lights in the hall outside Steve's room flicker, switching off and on three times. Steve just barely notices, which means he doesn't get his pants scared off when Robin appears in the doorway, grinning at him while pocketing the key to the front door he'd given her months ago into a messenger bag. "Hey, dingus," she says, striding into the room and flopping onto the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes, yanking the shirts out from under her and laying them once more over Robin's stomach and legs. "What shirt should I wear?" he asks.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to look from the shirts to Robin, and she patiently waits until he's staring at her to say, "Just pick one. Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing."

"I care," Steve says, frowning as he looks back at the shirts. For the aforementioned crush reason, Steve cares very much about the shirt he wears. "What says 'Hi, we've never talked before but your music is the only thing I can hear and I think your hair is in desperate need of quality shampoo and also I've been halfway in love with you since, like, sophomore year'?"

Robin considers the question for a long moment before picking up a red sweater. "This one says 'I'm horny'," she offers.

Steve blinks, staring at the sweater for a few beats before laughing. "But I'm not," he says.

Despite looking at Robin, she happens to angle her head toward the sweater, and her response is lost on Steve. He frowns, waits until her jaw has stopped moving, and says, "I didn't get that."

After Robin first learned about Steve's deafness, he'd been overly anxious about asking her to repeat things. Somehow, it was worse to constantly ask when the person knew he couldn't hear well, if at all. But Robin had never shown annoyance; she'd just adjust her posture, make sure Steve could see her lips, and repeat her words. She does all of this now, and Steve gets to read her joking response, "Yeah, but you will be."

And, yeah, she has him there. Steve huffs and collapses onto the bed beside her, sacrificing the shirts. "I'll need a jacket," he says, turning his head to look at Robin so he can read her response.

Instead of words, though, he sees her face light up, and she jumps off the bed. Steve sits up, watching as she digs in her messenger bag before pulling out a t-shirt. "Remember when I stayed over a few weeks ago? And you let me borrow a shirt? You should wear it!"

Thankfully, Robin waits until she's done talking to throw the shirt in Steve's face. Honestly, he only understood a few words ("remember," "borrow," and "wear") but he's gathered enough context clues to get the gist of things.

He spreads the shirt out, humming at the Iron Maiden design. It's not one he wears often; for the most part, it's a shirt he wears on lazy days at home because of how soft it is. But as he's studying the design, Steve is suddenly hit with a stroke of pure genius.

He quickly changes into the shirt and then grabs a varsity jacket (not his letterman, but one he'd seen at the mall and bought on a whim because it used a nice shade of yellow) off his desk, tugging it on over the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. After a few more seconds of digging around, he finds sneakers under the bed and tugs them on.

"Okay," he says, turning so Robin can see the outfit from every angle. He comes to a stop when he's facing her once more, hands buried in his jacket pockets, and asks, "What do you think? How's it look?"

"I think you'll give Eddie a crisis," Robin replies, wrinkling her nose at the varsity jacket. "Not, like, a bad one. But he'll probably ask where you got the shirt from."

Steve grins, thinking that sounds about perfect, and turns to study himself in the mirror. It's a surprisingly solid blend of metal and jock, and it makes him feel oddly confident, the same way he felt the first time he did his hair just right and everyone complimented it.

"Perfect," he decides. "Let's go."

----

The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.

She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."

"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.

"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."

With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."

The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.

Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.

He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.

When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"

"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.

"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."

With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.

Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.

His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.

Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.

A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:

"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone

Guy: Fuck off, Munson

Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"

Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.

When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.

"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."

Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.

In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.

And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.

So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.

And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.

Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.

It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.

He's hopeless.

He's desperate.

He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.

----

For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.

So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.

As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.

"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.

Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.

"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.

"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."

Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?

Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."

Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.

It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.

"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.

And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.

Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."

There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"

Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.

Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?

Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.

----

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

Please follow the tag "good vibrations Steddie" or put on notifications for my blog to see when new parts are posted :D)

@hallucinatedjosten, @queenie-ofthe-void, @r0binscript, @jewellthebooknerd, @paintgonewrong, @vacantwatchers, @newagemyth, @gutterflower77, @just-a-tiny-void, @littlebluejane

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@lil-gremlin-things, @honorarybrit81, @sonny-ray-of-goth, @potent-idiocy, @fandomcartographer, @heartsong18, @lingeringmirth, @ko0kyco0kies, @ccomandercody, @spiderman-stilinski, @l0st-strawberry, @xxsky-shockxx, @stilesstickitinme, @boxsam, @thepansexualsnake, @37-screamingfrogs, @yourmom-isgay, @brainsteddielyrotted, @plasticcrotches, @hannahhook7744

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #good vibrations steddie #deaf steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #my writing

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just-some-random-blogger · 4 months ago

Text

Snow Angel

Jacaerys' Version

I'll angel in the snow until I'm worthy but if it kills me, I tried.

Gwyane's Version ❄ Daemon's Version ❄ Aegon's Version ❄ Aemond's Version ❄ Jacaerys' Version ❄ Cregan's Version ❄ Criston's Version

Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!Reader | 800< | cw: fem!reader, targcest, reader is aemond's twin, angst, violence, blood, war, death, typos, etc.

A/N: renee rapp my beloved. jacaerys and aemond's version go hand in hand

You remember talking about running away with Jace when you were kids. You told him about your plans to pack your dresses, flee on your dragon, and live off lemon cakes. You cried when he laughed at you and swore never to speak to him again.

But then he did what he did best and cast your worries away. He panicked, unintending to cause you sadness, then made a fool of himself until he got you to smile. And when you did, he promised to himself never to make you cry again.

"Why do you want to run away anyway?" Jacaerys asks after you were calmer, finding a place beside you on the grass on which you sat.

You wipe your nose on your sleeve and give him a look, "is it really not obvious?"

He grows a bit nervous. He internally denies it's because he's made you cry.

"You are like teasing Aemond," you turn to your shoes, "Aemond likes teasing me-"

"He does?"

You turn back to him.

"Then I will fight him for it."

"But that's the problem Jace!" you feel your lips quiver, "it's all so horrid. I don't like how you fight," you pull on the grass, "I don't like how he fights me. I don't like fighting."

For a moment, Jacaerys feels guilty. He regrets arguing with Aemond... but then again, he deserved it.

"I don't understand," you speak quietly, "we're twins. I am his half and he is mine. We shared the same womb and yet he acts like we share nothing in common..." your voice becomes shaky, "why does he dislike me so?"

Gods, he so deserved it.

You muse to him about other things your wretched twin brother has done to you, and this becomes your ritual. Every time you are together, you vent to him, and he listens. But one day, his family leaves King's Landing and, again, he does the thing he's promised he'd never do: he made you cry.

He writes to you every week after leaving. He tells you how much he misses you. He tells you how much he misses your laugh, your bad jests, even your dolls, and how Vermax was lonely without your dragon to fly with.

And so one day, in your reply, you ask to fly with him in secret. You ask to meetup somewhere no one would think to look for either of you, then you spend the day enjoying each other's company. None would know about your whereabouts but each other.

But then your family fractured, there was them and there was you, and both found each other opposite sides. One day, you simply could not take it, so you wrote to him: meet me in our secret place.

In truth, you did not expect him to show, but when he did, you were relieved to see him... until he opened his mouth.

"What do you want from me, Aunt?" Jacaerys spoke.

You knit your brows, "what?"

"Have you come to surrender? To pledge yourself to the one true Queen?"

You shake your head in disbelief of what you were hearing. You walk towards him, "Jace, I-"

"She will accept you," he says, "she will accept all of you. You need just bend the-"

"Run away with me," you press your hand to his chest.

He stares at you, nostrils flaring, line forming between his brows.

You rapidly shake your head, "you know that's all I've ever wanted. To be done and rid of this bother."

Jacaerys takes your hand and whispers your name, "you know tis not that simple."

"We can make it simple. Let us ride off and-"

"You have a duty to your family, as do I."

"And what of the duty to our hearts?" you clutch his hand. His jaw clenches. You mutter, "there is no greater duty than fulfilling that of what's borne from love."

He does not respond to you. Your eyes search his. Your grip tightens. He releases you. Soon he's breaking his promise all over again. Tears spill over as you pull away from him, "am I not worthy enough of even this?"

He calls your name as you step back. Before he can speak, his attention is taken by the sky and the loud sound of flapping dragon wings. It was unmistakably Vhagar.

You are unable to keep him from riding off and facing the gargantuan. You look up and watch your brother unleash his fury upon him. You knew better than to get in the way, but you would not have Jacaerys killed when you were the one who called him here in the first place.

You get on your mount and do your best to catch Aemond's attention. You scream and shout but to no avail, not until your dragon knocks into the tail of your twin's.

You did not expect him to be so angry. You did not expect him to attack you. You could do nothing as you watched your dragon choke in the maw of your brother's ride. The sound of your own screams deafen you, and so you hear not the sound of him screaming out your name.

And as you descend from the height, Jacaerys is mortified. He commands Vermax to catch you, and he tries his best, but even his best was not enough to save you from your end.

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys fanfic #jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys fluff #jacaerys angst #jacaerys fic #jacaerys velaryon fluff #jacaerys velaryon angst #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon angst

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, can we have Blitzø, Husk, Rosie, Sir Pentious and Valentino(separately) as a couple, it seems that he is cheating on him but in the end it turned out that they misunderstood him, how would they react to his mistake with his S/O?

Misunderstanding

Blitzø

Blitzø sat in his van, as he had for the past hour, a scowl across his face.

He'd followed you from the Cafe you always went too, then after seeing you on the phone he followed you all the way to some random ass fucking building.

He watched as you knocked, the door opening to reveal some Imp hunk, and you eagerly greeting the guy before walking in, you wrapping an arm around each other.

He was pissed.

But not just regular pissed.

He was Royally Pissed!

But more than that... he was hurt. Really hurt.

The Imp drove home depressed. Anger. Fury. Sadness and regret all sloshing around in him like too much BeelzaBrew. The Imp analysing your entire relationship.

He thought you had a happy relationship. Sure you fought, but it was never anything serious. And you always had the best Make up sex.

He drove around, with no real aim, his body on auto pilot. Just driving. Mindlessly. Completely unsure what to do.

He'd go home, of course after stopping by a drive through liquor stire, the man stumbling into your shared apartment, the man walking in before freezing.

Your calendar...

Marked on the calender was fucking (ANNIVERSARY). And sure enough, checking his phone, it was today.

Blitzø had a full breakdown, drunkenly crying as he curled up on the couch, the poor Imp crying his eyes out between heavy swigs of alcohol.

About an hour would pass until you got home, suspiciously large package in your arms.

You snuck into the apartment, getting everything set up until you found him curled up on the couch, the man grasping a bottle, with even more scattered about, the man sadly blubbering to himself.

Youd approach him, reaching out. "Babe, are you alright?"

He'd slap your hand away, man jerking up on the couch, the man glaring big sad daggers at you.

"Well, if it isn't the big faaaaat cheater!"

He was clearly drunk off his ass, so the accusation of cheating wasn't as painful as if he were sober.

He'd stumble to his feet, jabbing his finger at you. Or rather, in your general direction.

The Man was drunk off his ass.

"Ooooh yeah. Everybody thinks the Blitzø is some sorta, Uh... dumbass man!" He burped, man snifling. "But iiiiim noo a foul..."

You give him a minute, ignoring his verbal typos, before reaching out again, telling him gently.

"Blitzø. I think you need to sleep off your little drinking session before we talk."

But as soon as you placed a hand on his shoulder, he'd smack it away, and with the most righteous fury you'd ever seen in the man, screamed at you.

"I FUCKING SAW YOU WITH HIM!"

The man stumbling back tears in his eyes. "I saw you with that fucking bastard... I saw... I saw you..."

You stood there for a good minute before sighing, you telling him softly. "Wait here."

Youd walk into the kitchen, flipping the light on to reveal the humble spread you'd put out. And grabbing the 'package' carried it over to him.

The large 'package' was covered by a cloth, you placing it down before him, telling him simply.

"Open it."

Blitzø stared at you before looking down at the package, the man glaring daggers at you before reaching out and snatching the cloth off of it.

It revealed a magnificent portrait of Blitzø, the Imp riding a Hell-Stallion.

Blitzø's eyes bulged, the man staring dead at it for a solid minute, the man not even noticing himself dropping the bottle.

Youd set down, pulling him into the seat besides you, you taking his hands in yours.

Holding his hands you'd tell him softly. "The man you saw was an art teacher. I've been seeing him to learn how to paint."

You spoke slowly, making sure he heard you.

"I know we don't normally go big on Anniversary gifts, but I wanted to do something special, so I took some lessons so I could paint that for you."

Blitzø took a minute, looking between you and the painting before he burst into tears, the man pressing his face into your chest as he tearfully apologised.

"IIIII'mmm soooo soooorrrryyy!" He sobbed, drunkenly clinging onto you.

"I- I- I- didn't mean to!" He stuttered, blubbering. Youd just hold him close, gently patting his back as he sobbed into your chest.

You just soothed the poor man, hugging him close as he had his drunken meltdown.

He'd quickly cry himself out, soaking your shirt and apologising all the while, you just telling him it was alright, gently patting his back.

Eventually he'd pass out, man out like the dead, you carrying your drunken idiot of a S/O to bed, making sure to be prepared fortyhe inevitable hangover.

And sure enough, the next morning Blitzø endured a awful hangover, though even as he groaned and threw up he was still profusely apologising, the man feeling even worse when he saw the painting and everything you'd set up for him.

Of course, you didn't care, you were just happy the situation was resolved peacefully, you tending to your poor idiot of an S/O. Letting him curl up with you on the couch as he slept off his hangover, making sure he drank plenty of water, hand running down his spiky, bald dome of a head.

Husk

Husk felt miserable.

And the most surprising part about it, was that he was miserable.

Since you'd arrived at the hotel, he'd been in significantly better spirits. But for the past couple weeks you'd been disappearing for long swaths of time, often staying out till later in the evening.

Husk wasn't an idiot.

And while he did try to drown himself in alcohol, knowing fully well he couldn't die of liver failure.

Though he had lowered his drinking significantly since your arrival into his life, the man actually, and it was hard to say but, you'd made him a better man.

But he wasn't a stupid man.

Back when he actually cared about people, he'd been cheated on plenty, though that may have been mostly his fault as he'd always put too much attention on his drink, rather then those people he cared about. Something he had tried to change with you.

But you still found someone better...

He wasn't surprised. The drunk of a tomcat was a poor excuse of a partner.

He'd be slumped over the bar, as usual, drunkenly grumbling to himself, man downing a bottle of what he hoped wasn't paint thinner as he laid there in his drunken brooding.

The man grumbled, rubbing his eyes as tears stung his eyes, the man wondering what was wrong with him.

Why did he always lose everyone he loved?

Youd walk into the Hotel, approaching the man, in relatively good spirits. Seeing him splayed out, drunkenly grumbling to himself, you grew curious.

Walking over, youd pull up a stool, you sitting there for a long minute before you started getting concerned, so you reached out, placing your hand on his.

Husk jerked up, you jumping back in surprise.

Husk stared at you, you asking him simply.

"You alright babe?"

Husk just stared for a long, pregnant moment. Before looking away, the man sighing as he slumped forwards, man wiping his face.

He'd stand there for a fee moments, not looking at you, only for him to ask bluntly.

"What did I do...?"

You stared at him, not sure I'd you'd heard him correctly, so you asked.

"You alright-" though you didn't get to finish as he blurted out.

"What did I do?!" He snapped, man almost in tears. "What did I do? What did I fuck up?!?!"

You stared at him, genuinely unsure of what was happening.

Youd wrap your hand around his, asking him bluntly.

"What are you on about baby? What did you do?"

Hunker diiiiidnt like that response.

The man yanking his hand out of your grasp, whipping away from you, the man wiping his eyes.

"What did I do?!" He snapped. "Why wasn't I good enough for you?!"

At that things slowly started to connect.

"Baby... do you think I'm cheating on you?"

Husk paused, thinking 9ver your tmstatement before turning and staring at you.

"Your... not cheating on me?" He asked, the cat caught of guard.

You, with a gentle smile, shook your head, telling him. "Nooo baby, I'm not. I'd never cheat on you."

Husk stood there for a moment before bringing up your regular absences, the long stretches you'd spend out of the hotel.

To which you'd sigh.

After a moment, taking your seat, you'd tell him that you weren't cheating. You explained that you'd just met an exe from before you'd died. You weren't sleeping with them, but you had been spending time with them.

Not for sex but just... just to remember when you were alive. When life was good and you were in your prime, back on earth.

You apologised for keeping it a secret. It was selfish but it was kind of your escape from the constant shittyness that littered Hell, something to block out the horrors you witnessed on the daily.

You apologised for hiding it. Holding his hand tight as you sincerely apologised for not telling him.

Youd tearfully tell him you loved him, and that you were so sorry for making him think you didn't.

At this point it'd be a completely intoxicated Husker that would comfort you, the man pulling you into a hug. A hug you'd eagerly accept, you tearfully promising to never make him feel like that again.

Pulling him close before you'd share a kiss.

Said kiss would grow rapidly passionate, you eventually ending up behind the bar, you straddling the cat, the two of you pulling off manoeuvres that would make Angel Blush.

And in the end, all worked up and steamy, you'd curl up with each other behind the bar, the Kitty cat holding you close as you drifted off to sleep.

Needless to say it was awkward when Charlie found you both the next morning.

The situation not helped by Angel whining about missing out on the whole thing.

But with your tomcat close by, the both of you sharing a blush as you all pretended what had most definitely happened, did not happen, well, at least you had each other.

Rosie

Rosie wasn't one to beat around the bush.

She'd wait for you at the entrance to your home, the Amazonian sized demoness, sat back in one of her beautiful sitting chairs, the sort you'd find in a Victorian manor, just waiting for you, teacup in hand.

And upon walking into your shared home, shed confront you.

"Well Hello darling, you've been out a while."

She spoke coldly, you immediately knowing you were in the shit.

With a timid smile you'd begin. "Hello dear, your up late!" You spoke, trying to hide your rapidly growing anxiety.

Rosie didn't lighten up, the lady in red telling you bluntly. "You smell like cigarettes." He leaned back, a scowl crossing her face. "And you reek of alcohol."

He'd place her cup down, frowning deeply, black pools glaring at you.

"Where have you been (Y/N)?"

Your face would contort into an awkward smile, you scratching your kneck as you released an awkward laugh.

She didn't laugh.

Instead Asking bluntly.

"Why are you laughing!?" She snapped. "You think this is some kind of joke?!"

"Running around, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes, returning at all hours of the night." She snapped before looking away, growling out. "Do I mean so little too you?"

At that you snapped to attention, gawking for a second before blurting.

"You think I'm cheating?!"

You blurted, rushing over to her.

"Baby! Sweetie! Love of my eternally damned afterlife." You reached out, cupping her cheek. "I am not cheating on you."

Rosie staring down at you, asking gently.

"Then what are you doing? Why are you out at night? Why do you reek like cigarettes and alcohol. Why have you been so secretive before disappearing all night?"

At that you sighed, nodding your head.

"Rose, my love, I have a confession." You began, running a thumb over her cheek. "Put simply, I can't drink any more tea."

You sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted.

"What?" Rosie asked, clearly bewildered.

"Rosie my love, I love you. I love our home. And the aesthetic. And all the pottery and plating and all that stuff. But well, I've been going to a sports bar."

Rosie paused, clearly confused.

"Baby, I miss TVs. I miss modern, mass produced comfy couches. I miss the depleted unsustainable economy of a life you probably never saw."

"I miss cheap beer and overly salty peanuts and wings smothered in addictive sauce." You sighed, almost shuddering.

Rosie sat there for a moment, clearly confused before asking bluntly.

"If thats all it is, then why all the secrey darling?"

You gave another awkward smile, scratching your head. "Well, I know you don't like the 'false decadence of a unurned age of self indulgent walfwits', and I don't want you to, I don't know. I didn't want you to feel like I was choosing the cheap, crapy food and drink over you."

You finished solemnly, looking to the floor.

Rosie, seeing this sighed, reaching out before pulling you in close. "I'm sorry for thinking you were cheating darling."

You chuckled, telling her in turn. "And I'm sorry for not telling you darling. I promise, I'll be more honest from now on."

Rosie chuckled, and you leaned in for a kiss.

Before your lips met however, she pressed a finger to your lips, telling you bluntly.

"I'm not kissing you while your breath stinks of beer and cigarettes."

To which you broke into laughter, stumbling to your knees, head in her lap, giggling away.

"I love you Rose baby~" You purred, looking up at her.

Rosie just smiled back, running her hand through your hair.

"I love you too darling... even if you are an idiot."

The both of you breaking into laughter, you simply laying there, a pleasant mood filling the air.

Sir Pentious

Pentious was a mess.

Bottles of wine were strewn about his airships sitting room, the snake man sobbing as he drunkenly gulped wine from a bottle.

He'd wipe his face, forearm already soaked through with tears.

"Why doth you need to be a loutous betrayer!" He yelled.

It was perhaps his most unique quirk. The man liking to incorrectly imitate old Shakespearian speech when drunk, often saying thing that sounded almost right, but most certainly weren't.

Hed lay there, wallowing in self pity for who knows how long until you'd finally find him. Having searched the house you'd find the empty wine rack, already knowing something was wrong.

And while you'd already checked every place in the manor before, the trail of wine bottles had given his 'sactuary' away.

Youd knock on the steel door before gently sliding it open.

"Hello dear..." You began, staring at the wiggling mass of snake that splaid out before you. "Is everything alright?" You asked softly.

The snake snapped towards you, grabbing you, before throwing you onto the fainting couch he had splaid out.

Youd blush as he drunkenly scowled.

"Ooooooh~ like you don't know!" He drunkenly slurred. "Like you don't know why I'm drinking, you and that *hic* man... that bastard you've been seeing."

To which you'd stare at him, blushing as he leered over you.

Rubbing your face, you'd sigh, leaning forwards and gently cupping his face.

"Penty... he's a tailor." You sighed softly. "I'd never cheat on you."

You finished, but the snake simply stared at you for several moments, processing.

"Tailor... but what about all the... well I saw you undress?" He stated, conflicted.

Youd sigh, gently slipping out from under him ast you stepped out of the room.

Pentious would gulp down the rest of his bottle before you stepped in.

Youd be wearing a rather skimpy, of seductive, version of his outfit. The piece just covering enough to be seen in public, though obviously meant for the bedroom.

"I uh, I thought it'd be fun for... ya know... the bedroom~"

Pentious, red faced, smirked. His body recoiled, priming for a strike, and with the finesse of a heavily intoxicated snake, he snatching you up once more, throwing you onto his bundles up tail, his long lower form gripping you, holding you down.

"Well... I guess I've got to punish you~" He purred, leaning in.

"P-punish me?" You stuttered, face flushed as the man pinned your arms above your head.

Pentious smirking, face flushed lightly as he leaned in, hot breath on your neck as he purred.

"Of coursssssse~" she hissed, tongue flicking your neck. "You run around, scaring me to death~ Making me think the worst. "

His hands ran down your chest, tail sizing as it held you down, leaning in close before smirking, hot, wine tainted breath on your neck as he suddenly bit you.

Youd moan, the man injecting just enough venom to get you high. A speciality of Pentious', the man having used his vemon on your more then once~

But now, he was smirking, domineering you with little effort, tail bound, venom high, he'd trail kisses down your body, kissing you all over.

Youd be at his mercy, the man teasing, torturing you with the promise of pleasure, making you submit to him.

By the end of the night, you'd be a quivering, gasping and moaning mess, Pentious smirking victoriously as you lay besides him, face red, bite marks littering your body as you softly moaned and writhed in pleasure.

With a sadistic smirk covering his face, your legs wrapped around his snake hips, he'd lean in, whispering as he always did when in control.

"Don't worry darling... I'm not halfway close to being done with you~" He purred.

Valentino

Valentino was not happy.

You were deceiving him. Lying to him.

And that could not stand. He was out of the loop. And he hated being out of the loop.

Well that wasn't entirely true.

Truth was, you were telling him you were doing one thing, while you actually did something else.

Though he want sure why you bothered with the deception. He had more informants and eyes then anyone in Pentagram.

Well, except maybe Vox, man had eyes in almost every damn device in Pride, so he probably had him beat in that department.

But well, he knew you'd done something involving your anniversary. More then likely relating to a gift for him.

Though he'd intentionally not found out what it was, the man still liking some surprises in his life.

He'd watch you "sneak" into his penthouse, you smiling and giggling like an idiot. The man smiling as he watched you 'sneak' into his penthouse, covering something in your coat

"Welcome home darling." He spoke smoothly, smiling as you froze in place.

Youd turn suddenly, hiding thr gift behind your back.

"H-hey! Val! Baby! Didn't, uh, I didnt know you were home." You spoke awkwardly, scratching your cheek awkwardly.

You smiled a broad, awkward smile.

Val held back a smile, flushed with adoration, but couldn't express it, not wanting to let you on.

"I know." He spoke coldly, snuffing his cigarette before standing, you shrinking under his imposing form.

Reaching into his coat, you leaned back, eyes closed, expecting the worse.

"Happy anniversary sweetheart."

Opening your eyes, you'd find his hand extended, a white box with a big red bow atop it.

Staring at it for a moment, you'd look up at him with a cocked brow. The man simply smiling back, giving a little smile of his own.

Suddenly it snapped into place.

"OH!" You gasped, almost jumping in place.

Holding the present you'd turn rigid, before slumping, looking down you spoke glumly.

"Oh... Well... I'm guessing you know what this is then?"

Val just chuckled, reaching out and cupping your chin. "A gift. Anything else? I'm in the dark." He finished smoothly.

Youd release a relieved sigh, hand to your chest. Looking up at him you'd smile, leaning in and kissing his cheek before looking down at your present.

"Here, hold this." You told him, holding the present out to him.

Taking it from you, he watched as you turned around, lifting the rectangular present up, before carrying it into the other room.

When he tried to follow, you'd call back. "Nu-uh! No peeking! I'll tell you when you can come in."

To which he just chuckled, rolling his eyes as he leant against the door frame.

And so, standing there for a minute or two he'd wait for you, hearing you as you scrambled around, something glass shattering, your little mumbles and curses making him chuckle.

And so, after some waiting you'd call out.

"Come in."

After which hed step in, looking around the room until he spotted something on the wall. It was obviously your gift, covered in some sheet.

And so, turning to you, he'd give you your gift again, which you subsequently placed down, eagerly leading him to your gift.

Normally, he would have taken great insult at that, but given he was as interested in seeing your gift, as you were excited for him to see it, he decided to let it slide.

And so, with an eager nod from you, he'd tear the sheet off, the man stupefied.

It was him. Or well, a painting of him, and a handsome one at that. It was him sat back, his ever present luxurious coat complementing his stern face as he smoked a cigarette.

He stared at it for several moments before he turned to you, you utterly shaking in excitement.

"Do you like it?!" You asked, almost bursting at the seems.

"No." He spoke bluntly. He let it hang in the air for just a moment. Before reaching an arm out, he'd twirl you into his grasp, the man planting a deep passionate kiss. "I love it~"

Hearing it your smile came back in full force.

"Well that's good, cause I painted it." You spoke with a goofy giggle, puffing out your chest all proudly.

Now that took him off guard.

The man showing a rare flash of surprise, as he snapped between you and the portrait, That flash of surprise enough to make you giggle up a storm.

"Yyyyyep!" You grinned. "All those 'outings' were lessons. Been seeing this professional artist for lessons and now-"

You turned proudly, smiling at the present.

"I think I did the source material justice."

Val stood there for a minute, before the man scratched his cheek, telling you in a playful voice. "Well, for once I think my gift is outclassed."

Hearing that you'd release a gentle snort, rolling your eyes.

Picking up his gift, you'd step forwards, gently cupping his cheek. "Dont worry baby, its from you. I know ill love it."

Val smiled, gently kissing your palm as you pulled back, letting you open the gift.

It was a small red box, the words 'Love you forever~' etched into the top, the smooth rosey wood that expensive kind of glossy.

Opening said gift, you'd find a rather beautiful golden locket, the simple gold heart having the words 'My Love Forever~'. "Oh, babe, it's beautiful." You gushed, hand to your chest.

Val stepped forwards, still surprisingly meek as he took it from your hand, binding it around your neck before pulling up up, holding it in his palm as he showed it off. The man easily opening it open to reveal images inside.

The left was a beautiful image of you and Val in a loving embrace, you recognised it from one of your first dates. It was a good memory.

And in the right, well, let's just say it was a raunchy image of a very undressed Val, the man smiling a very Val like smile.

And so, clicking the locket closed, you smiled, taking his hand in your own.

"Ya know... I've been wanting to do one of you in your 'natural glory' for a while now~" you spoke, making sure your intention couldn't be missed.

"But first." You began, grabbing his fuzzy collar, pulling him towards the bedroom. "But first, I think I need some... physical refrences~"

Val, simply smirked, man shedding his coat as you made it to the bed, where the two of you... tried out some positions for your next piece.

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wolfish-trickster · 7 months ago

Text

Don't make me choose

Gojo x fem!reader

Part 2

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: it's been some time since you've started dating the infamous Satoru Gojo. But lately you feel more like the two of you are just cuddle/fuck buddies and not a real couple. You make him choose his priorities which is something the strongest doesn't like.

Warnings: bad grammar (possibly), typos, angst, very little comfort

When Gojo Satoru first asked you out you couldn't be happier. The first time he caught your eye was when he zoomed past you together with Geto on one bike. You got so startled you fell to the ground and scratched your knee. You thought at first that they will just leave you there and probably laugh at you later at a pub, talking to their friends how they knocked over a clumsy girl in a park. What completely shocked you was Gojo running up to you with Geto pushing their bike behind him asking you if you were okay and if you need any help.

The rest is history.

Now, three years later, things have been going well. Mostly.

You had the ultimate boyfriend experience. Nice dates, wholesome anniversaries, moving in together, having fun. You did everything in your power to not get boring, for him to not get bored. You cooked, cleaned, asked him how his day was, acted silly with him even when you were exhausted after a long day.

So why? Why was he spending more and more of his free time away from you?

It started out small. The first time you started noticing was like a month ago. As soon as he came home he told you he's going to the pub with Geto and Nanami. You told him to have fun of course, not wanting to seem like that girlfriend that doesn't allow their boyfriends having fun without them. Then from one weekend it became every weekend. Both of you were busy during the week, the only time you had for yourself was during the night and weekend. It soon became just nights.

Even during the week it was "babe, i have a day off tomorrow i'm going to Geto's" or "sorry we have to move the date night to sometime else, Geto is sick and has no one to take care of him" and once even "babe, remember how you told me about this place you used to love as a child? I'm going there with Geto! What a coincidence, right?". The last one hurt the most. Honestly, the last one was also what made you start noticing these in the first place. Once you looked into the past and counted all the times Gojo chose to spend his free time with his best friend instead of you you nearly slapped yourself. It was too many times. How could've you been so blind?

All off days were for Geto. All special days were once again for Geto. Weekends, holidays, his and yours birthdays, all for Geto fucking Suguru.

You needed to have a talk with him.

If he comes back that is. Lately he started to have sleepovers with Geto. As if both of them were teenage girls. You did ask to join them but they always told you off to "not disturb their boy time".

Steps echo outside your apartment. The door unlocks. And in comes...

"Babe," comes the voice of your beloved white haired guy, "I'm home."

"I can hear that," came your answer. You prayed it didn't sound too agressive. Your stomach was full of nervous butterflies, making it even worse to come up with a decent way to start the talk.

While you were thinking he came from the entrance hall to the kitchen where you were sitting and kissed you on the crown of your head. "I wanted to ask, do we have plans next wendesday? Because Suguru said he'd-"

"Listen," you interrupted him before he could even finish, "can we talk?"

Gojo chuckled. "That's a very scary sentence."

"Why? Have something to hide?"

"Nope," he put his bag down and leaned his back against the wall, "I'm listening. What is it?"

You took a deep breath. Then another. "Don't you think you're spending a little too much time with Geto?"

His playful smile loosend into a neutral line. "Elaborate?"

"It's just... you've been with him so much lately and I miss being with you-"

"I'm with you all the damn time. Every single night we-"

"Can't you let me finish?!" you said a little louder than intended but enough is enough. "Is that all you see me as? A fuck-buddy to warm your bed?"

Gojo groaned in annoyance. "No, of course not. But you're literally overreacting over here!"

"Overreacting? How? By wanting my boyfriend to be home on his off days? To spend some time with me and have fun like before?"

"Have fun times with you? What am I your babysitter?"

"Are you Geto's? All the fun stuff we used to do you're doing with him!"

"No, no darling," he stood up straight and walked towards you, backing you into the corner, "all the stuff we used to do I did with him first. He's my best friend! I've known him half my life! You have to have at least a bit of empathy to understand that."

Even cornered by a giant of a guy like him you didn't feel fear. The butterflies in your stomach died. What remained was just pain in your chest predicting what was about to come.

"Do you even see me as your girlfriend anymore, Gojo?"

"Oh, so we are on last name terms again?" he asked sarcastically and walked away to pour himself a cup of water.

"Answer me."

You watched him drink. Slowly. You've never seen a man drink this slow.

"Of course I do," he put the glass down, "what kind of a bullshit question is that?"

"It's how I feel Gojo. You're never here with me!"

"I am here now aren't I?" he poked his chest with his forefinger. "I'm here every single day and night, twentyfour fucking seven ever since we moved in together! Well excuse me I want to have some quality time with my best friend from time to time!"

You didn't want this. The yelling, the arguing. But it has to be done.

Now as a finishing touch. "Who do you value more?"

"Excuse me?" was all he said, too surprised to not hear you yell in return, just calmly asking your question.

"Who is more important to you? Your best friend or your girlfriend?"

Gojo covered his face with his palms and threw his head back. "You can't be serious right now," he groaned. "Suguru is my best friend. You can't just make me choose!"

"So I'm below a best friend. I might as well be called your friend with benefits..." you say more to yourself than him.

"There you go hating yourself again," he shook his head. "I get it, you want to hear me say how much you mean to me, how you're the most important thing in the world and other stuff I've told you a million times already and yet you still slip into this state. I might as well record myself saying those things so you could listen to them everytime you're attention starved," he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He sighed. "You know what? I'm tired of this. I still care about you, but you have to understand Suguru is-"

"I know," you interrupt his rant. "I'm tired too."

Gojo sighs. "Okay. Good. I knew we could talk this out," he said and picked up his sleepover bag again. "I hate arguing with you."

He walked past you to the bathroom to dump his pyjamas into dirty laundry. "Let's go to bed, okay?" he shouted from there.

After a quick shower he walked out the bathroom with nothing but sweatpants on and a towel around his neck.

However you weren't there. Not in the bedroom, nor living room, nor anywhere else. Confused Gojo walked around the apartment, looking for any signs where you might be hiding. Maybe you want to jumpscare him again to light up the tension?

Fine, two can play this game. He tiptoed into the bedroom to your massive closet and yanked it open.

You weren't there. But neither were your things. He quickly checked under the bed to see your beloved backpack missing.

Panicked he started calling out for you, thinking this was just a prank.

It wasn't.

You made him choose and without even realizing it he did.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk gojo x reader

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theereina · 26 days ago

Text

Big Mama Pt. 3

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +4.7K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, no smut (alluding to sexual situations), heavily dialogue-centered, use of Daddy, Mama, and other pet names (lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), fluff, angst, SA (touching, grabbing), mentions of dv & abuse, anxiety, trauma, physical fighting

A/N: I literally haven't written in years. I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

“Girl, what the fuck do you mean you haven't called this man back?” my best friend Monica snapped at me. “I just needed to let one off. I was horny and tired of going on pointless ass dates,” I said groaning back at her.

We were walking into a party her on-again-off-again boyfriend, Jordan, was hosting. There were cars everywhere, and people littered the front lawn of the small house. The music was blasting from the backyard, and the noise consumed the quaint neighborhood.

A cloud of smoke spilled from the rear of the house and engulfed the porch and lawn like a dense fog. The combined thickness of the smoke from the barbecue grill and the heat from the ocean of bodies added to the intensity of the sweltering Southern heat. I was beginning to regret my decision to wear all black.

“You need yo’ ass beat. How the fuck do you let a man dick you down like that and let him get away?” Monica asked cutting across the lawn to enter through the side gate. “I just didn't want anything else,” I said shrugging my shoulders and following her closely. She opened the gate so that we could both walk in. “Look, Monnie. I’m not ready to even entertain a man and his bullshit,” I continued as I closed the gate behind us. “You could have at least kept him as a fuck buddy, ‘Vana, like seriously. Come on. Here we are living in a world where women die never even coming close to experiencing what you did, and you just let him disappear. Are you fuckin' crazy, girl?” she turned to grab my hand.

Monica was trying her hardest to pull us through the swarm of people. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind me. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Over by the gate. Jordan's waitin’ with his friends,” she said. I used one of my hands to hold her body flush with mine while the other gently pushed people out of the way.

Once we made it to the other side of the backyard, Monnie spotted Jordan. She pulled herself from my grasp and went to talk to him. He looked down at her and smirked. He was crossfaded. I knew what this meant for me. I would have to hear them go at it like animals all night or get a hotel room. Now, I will NEVER be jealous of my girl getting hers. Don't get me wrong. It's just that Monnie sounds like a “palm-colored🖐🏻” pornstar when she moans, and I only watch Ebony for a reason.

“Ah, shit,” I said palming my face. “What?” Monnie asked with her eyes still locked on Jordan. “I know what that face means. Jordan finna turn you every which way but loose!” I laughed out loud. Monnie looked at me and burst into laughter. Jordan pulled his cup to his lips and peeked over the rim at me. “As long as Monnie baby knows,” he said peering back at her. “Oouu, shit. Don't start with me, J!” Monnie said pulling him by his collar. They were chest to chest now.

“Just go in the damn house already!” I said laughing at the two of them. They were like two feral dogs in heat. They couldn't look at each other without lust taking over. This is an everyday thing for them. “Fuck it. Bye. See ya’!” Monnie said grabbing Jordan and pulling him towards the house.

“Nasty dogs,” I said laughing to myself. I stood with my back to the fence and began scanning the party. I couldn't find anyone I knew. I saw a guy who looked slightly familiar, and I assumed he was one of Jordan's friends. I looked him over trying to see if that was the connection. He was standing in a smaller crowd of men.

His head turned slowly, and his eyes caught mine. They were deep-set and a warm dark brown. He turned his body to face me. He was tall and dark-skinned. This man's skin was ebony in every facet of the word — smooth and shiny. He bit his lip and winked at me while running his hands across his low-cut Caesar.

I smiled back at him and waved shyly. He nodded back towards me. He leaned in closer to the group of men saying something that caused them to turn around. I instantly became a little uncomfortable and self-conscious. I hated male attention when they were in groups. It made me feel objectified.

He began to walk towards me with a slow and deliberate gait. His stride was graceful yet steady. His large frame cast a large imposing shadow across the ground. His lean upper body was struggling to hide beneath the thin fabric of his white T-shirt. He appears to be at least 6 feet tall. I've never had a type, but this man was doing something to me.

I pushed my back from the tall wooden fence. “How you doin’?” he said leaning over me. His hands were in his pockets. He pulled his hands out slowly and grabbed mine. “Fine, and you?” I asked looking up at him. “Better,” he said licking his lips. They were plump and pink. My eyes followed the movement of his tongue across his lips. “That's cute, love. I kinda feel like I know you from somewhere,” I said looking away from him. “Nah, I'd remember you fa’ sure,” he said smiling.

He leaned in closer to my ear. His breath was warm against my skin. “You right about that,” I said cocking my head to the side. He leaned up to look me directly in the eyes. “You a cocky sumthin’, ain't you?” he said laughing. “I like that shit,” he continued while smiling at me. “Cocky? Me?! Never, baby. I'm just a professional shit-talker. That's all,” I said laughing into his chest. “A professional shit talker? So, you enjoy talking shit, huh? What comes with that?” he asked shifting his weight to gently push me back against the fence.

I paused for a second. I pulled my bottom lip in, biting it lightly. “Fuck around and find out,” I said barely above a whisper. I made sure I was looking him directly in his eyes before I spoke. “Oouu, you… Lord, woman!” he laughed out loud. “See. I already got you calling for the Lord, and I ain't even touched you yet,” I giggled into my hand. He used his hand to play with the frizzy hair at the nape of my neck. I chose to wear my hair in a wash-and-go, but it was being destroyed by the humidity.

“So, what would happen if you touched me?” he asked tracing small circles on my scalp. “It depends. You wanna hear God, or do you wanna see him? I can do both if I like you,” I said placing my hand on his bicep. “Damn! That's how you comin’?” he asked grunting. “And I thought I was doing sumthin' with the stars and the moon,” he said placing his hand on my hip. “Maybe you just need a little encouragement,” I said rubbing up and down his arm. “Hmm, encouragement?” he questioned while raising a single eyebrow. “You know… just a little talking to get you through it,” I said resting my hand on his shoulder.

“Talk me through it then,” he replied as he gestured for me to continue. His hands were now on both sides of my hips. “We're in public. You sure you can handle that,” he said tilting his head again. I leaned in as close as I could. “Before I continue, do you like Big Daddy or Good Boy? I need to know for my pleasure,” I asked snaking my hand to the side of his neck. I used my thumb to stroke his jawline. “What's the difference?” he asked. “Well, if I'm taking care of business, you're a good boy. However, if you're taking care of business, it's Big Daddy. Understand?” I asked gripping the side of his neck firmly. “Mmmm… shit. I think I do,” he grumbled dropping his head. “No, baby. It's either you do, or you don't. I don't like indecisiveness,” I said angling his head back up so that his eyes met mine.

“What's your name, mama?” he asked. “Havana, but you can call me “Big Mama”,” I said snickering into my hand. “I’m Xavier, so you're Big Mama, huh?” he asked sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. His eyes were narrowing in on my lips. “That's only if you're nasty,” I laughed again. “Hmm… How nasty we talking?” he asked snaking his hands around my hips. “How nasty can you get, love?” I asked locking in.

He looked up at me like he was stunned by that question. “Ok. I don't usually repeat myself, but…” I said while moving gently from his grasp. “I'll be as nasty as you need me to be. How nasty can you get?” he asked. “Well, love. It depends on your performance. Energy is matched around here,” I said watching his eyes linger on me again.

*15 minutes later

Xavier and I had been talking the entire time. He seemed like a decent guy, but I didn't want to make the same mistake twice. I honestly feel like with Terry it was a “right place, right time” situation. That's never been my forte. I was usually much more careful and selective when it came to choosing sexual partners. We both share our STD status and the current number of active sexual partners. Moreover, the condom situation was even more of a fuck up for me. I normally supply them myself, so that men can't say shit about not having one. So, when I dropped the ball as badly as I did with Terry, it shook me a little. How could I have been that fucking careless?

“Uh oh, don't let her get you in trouble,” Jordan said while approaching. “Nigga, I'm not worried about that. My shit straight. What that got to do with anything?” Xavier said turning to dap up Jordan. “Where's Monnie?” I asked Jordan. “Inside. She’ll be out in a minute,” he said giggling and shrugging his shoulders. “Ok,” I said looking back at Xavier because his response to J sounded like a red flag. What was he not worried about? What shit was “straight”? Then, why did Jordan shrug like he was saying “whatever”? Was this man hiding something?

I pulled out my phone and texted Monnie. I asked her if she knew anything about Xavier. She asked why immediately. I texted her and told her we had been outside talking this whole time. The text she sent said it all.

Monnie: RUN BITCH! GET IN THE HOUSE NOW!

I immediately thought of a lie I could quickly tell Xavier. I needed to get to Monnie now! “Shit, Monnie needs me!” I said placing my phone back into my purse. “You good?” he asked leaning in and grabbing my chin so that I could face him. “Yeah, baby. Mama's fine. Be safe alright?!” I said loudly as I walked away. “What about your number?” he called out after me. “If we see each other again, I say it was meant to be,” I said winking at him.

I quickly pushed my way towards the rear entrance of the house. The sliding glass door was slightly ajar so that people could go in and out. I entered the door and was met with a cloud of weed smoke. Fuck, I hated that smell. I walked through the house and searched for Monnie. I sent her a text asking where she was.

Monnie: upstairs bedroom

I walked through the crowded living room and crossed the space to get the stairs. I was at the bottom when I felt hands grab my waist from behind. “Where you going, fine ass?” said a man's voice from behind me. “Please, don't do that,” I said removing his hands. I continued up the stairs without looking back. “Fat bitch!” he yelled at me from below. I turned around to see who was speaking. All I could say was, “Ugh!”

I turned back around to continue up the stairs. I located the door to the room where Monnie should be. I lightly knocked on the door before entering. “Fuck are you knocking for? Bring yo’ ass in here!” Monnie yelled through the door. “First of all, fuck you. Now, spill it. Tea time, hoe!” I said laughing as I entered the room.

Monnie was sitting on the bed waiting. I closed the door and locked it. I sat on the bed beside her. I turned my body so that I was facing her. “Girl, he ain't shit. Please, tell me you didn't give him your number?” she asked shaking her head. “Fuck no! Why?” I asked removing my crossbody and placing it on the bed beside me. “Well, for starters, this nigga has a basketball team of kids. He has 4 baby mamas, and there may be a fifth!” Monnie said chuckling. “Damn, 4 baby mamas, and how many kids?” I asked leaning over to rest my head on my palms under my chin. “I think 8. We don't know a for sure number,” she said casually. “The fuck do you mean by that. Do y'all not know a for sure number, or does he not know a for sure number?” I asked eagerly. “He doesn't know himself. He be fuckin' anything that let him. That's why his ass was burnin’ last month,” Monnie said laughing and slapping my shoulder.

That's when it hit me. If I had met Xavier last month instead of Terry, I would be burnin', too. “Burnin' from what?” I asked Monnie. I was serious now. “I think Chlamydia and Gonorrhea. He apparently got it from one of his baby mamas. The only reason we found out is because he gave it to his “situation”, and she came to his house while we were there and cussed his ass out. Girl! She let him have it,” Monnie said hollering at this point. “That's so foul, bro. We were literally outside talking hot shit and getting spicy—,” I said. “Oh, he hot shit alright?” she laughed.

*2 hours later

I had left the party around midnight. As I was driving home, I remembered I needed eggs and almond milk for tomorrow. I knew there was only one store still open this late at night. I honestly didn't feel like getting out again, so I decided against it.

As I was driving, I started to see construction signs. They all read different things— “detour ahead”, “road work ahead”, and “road closed to thru traffic”. The detour sign pointed to the right. That would throw off my entire drive because that meant I couldn't use the nearest entrance to get on the highway with the next one being miles out.

I grew annoyed but turned anyway. What choice did I have? The road was dark and empty. It was way too late at night to be forced to take detours. I was growing uncomfortable with the fact that there were no streetlights, and the road narrowed towards the end before a sharp blind curve. People weren't as careful coming around. Most hugged the middle taking up both lanes in the process.

As I approached, I slowed down almost to a stop. I slowly rolled through the corner hugging my side of the bend. Once I could see straight ahead, I noticed a truck on the side of the road. The hazards were on, but I didn't see anyone inside. As I got closer, my headlights beamed against the outline of a figure at the side of the truck near the rear tire. I could tell it was a man by the way his physique looked leaning against the truck's bed.

Getting closer, I began to watch him out of curiosity. His body leaned up, and he seemed to be turning around to look in my direction. He used his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of my headlights. That's when I saw it. The tattoo on the forearm looked like—— Terry's.

No, it couldn't be. There's no way a random detour put us in the same place at the same time again. The first time we met I wasn’t supposed to be at the store that day. I accidentally dropped all of the eggs I had and cracked them. I had a cake order to make, so I didn't have a choice but to go get more. Now, this.

I rolled down the passenger side window a little as I got closer. I cleared my throat while laughing to myself. I slowed to a stop as I got to the rear of the truck. He walked towards the car, but he didn't approach fully. “Need a ride, handsome. Don't want you out here stranded,” I said in the most country accent I could. The voice I used gave off backwoods barbie. “Nah, I'm good. Go on home,” he said trying to look through the crack of the window.

I could tell that the absence of streetlights and dark tints were working against him. He squinted a little more. “Oh, come on. I can't leave you out here with all these critters and weirdos. Might take advantage of ya’, hun,” I said trying not to laugh. “Your ol’ man let you pick up strangers this late at night?” he asked. I could sense he was becoming inquisitive. He was searching for any possible signs of this being a setup.

I rolled down the window all the way while hollering with laughter. “Who said we're strangers?” I asked him. His face displayed annoyance and relief. I saw his shoulders drop and his stance loosen. He approached the car fully leaning into the window. “Real funny,” he said smirking. “You looked scared for a second. I'm sorry. I realized it was you as I was coming up,” I replied with a smile.

“What you doin’ out so late, Mama?” he asked tilting his head. I scoffed and waited. He looked at me with a cold stare. He was waiting for an answer. I shrugged my shoulders casually. “Party with some friends,” I said hoping that he would stop staring at me so intensely. “Party, huh? I thought you didn't like parties,” he muttered under his breath. “I heard you, asshole. Yeah, a party. That's what I said, ain't it?” I said gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Watch that mouth,” he grunted lowly. His voice vibrated across the small space of the car. “Or what?” I asked looking over at him.

He stood up and pushed away from the car. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his body weight to one side. “I would say I'd put somethin’ in it, but me and you both know you'd like that, ‘Vana. Wouldn't you?” he shot back.

Touché, Terry. Touché.

“Coming or not?” I asked and gestured towards the passenger seat. He shook his head yes and walked towards the driver's side of his truck. He opened the door and grabbed his keys and a backpack. He walked back to my car to get into the passenger side. He opened the backseat first to place his backpack in. I could see the confidence in his step.

My eyes started to wander a bit. He was dressed in a gray T-shirt and dark-wash blue jeans. Slightly wet from sweat, his shirt clung to the muscles underneath. Every detail is etched into my memory. The deep cut of his abs. The veins in his biceps that popped out when he made even the slightest movements. The slight jiggle in his pecs.

Not this again. Get it together, Havana.

I turned to look away as he entered the car. Closing the door, he sank into the seat and sighed. “I’ve been out there for a while. Was about to walk back towards Miller to get closer to my place,” he said. I could feel his eyes on me. “Where were you going?” I asked eyes locked forward. “Randall's,” he said leaning over so that his arm was overtaking the center console. “Really?!” I asked loudly. “You'll live. Where you want me to put my hands? In my lap?” he asked his voice surging through the small space. “Or would you rather I put them in yours?” he chuckled. “Whatever!” I said pushing his chest and rolling my eyes. I put the car into gear and began to drive.

“Do you mind if I stop at Dixie? I needed to pick up some stuff for tomorrow,” I asked looking at him. “Nah. I mean it is where we first met,” he said smiling back at me. I rolled my eyes and continued to drive.

*15 minutes later

We walked through the store side-by-side. He was right on my ass. This man had no regard for personal space. “Do you have to be so close?” I asked pushing him away. “Oh, now you got a problem with it?!” he laughed throwing his head back. “Fuck you, Terry,” I said in a whisper low enough for only him to hear. “You sure you want that? You sure you can take it this time?” he questioned while getting closer to me. “You got jokes, huh? Remember this, sir. You may beat me when I'm on my back, but I can make you cry when I'm on my knees,” I said turning away from him. I heard him grunt and scoff. I peeked over my shoulder to see him smiling at me.

He walked away in the opposite direction. That was fine with me. I needed a small breather. Everything about Terry had me on edge, and the flashbacks from that night weren't helping.

I walked to the rear of the store where the dairy and produce were. I walked towards the coolers that contained the eggs. I picked up an 18-count for now and checked the crate for broken eggs. Finding none, I placed the eggs securely under my arm. I moved to the fridges right beside them to look for almond milk— unsweetened and vanilla. They were out. I moved to the next fridge and spotted regular unsweetened almond milk. Fine, that would have to do.

I opened the door to the fridge. A cold, crisp air whipped across my face. The milk rested on the bottom shelf. I leaned over to get it. As soon as I reached for the milk, I felt hands on my hips. “Hands off, Terry,” I said through gritted teeth. “Who's Terry?” asked a familiar voice. “Xavier!” I yelled almost dropping the eggs.

I whipped around and removed his hands from my hips. “Here we are again. You remember what you said? I think you owe me somethin’,” he said moving closer to me. “That was before I knew you lied to me,” I said pushing him back gently. I wanted to be assertive but not piss him off. As he got closer again, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. It was much stronger than it was before.

“The fuck did Monnie stupid ass tell you?” he yelled smacking his lips. “Look. She didn't say anything, love. Just…,” I said trying to push him away from me. His hands came up to my hips again. He gripped the tighter than the first time. “Hey, let me go!” I yelled. “Oh, come on. You one teasin’ ass bitch,” he yelled again slapping the eggs from under my arms. They hit the ground with a thud. The crate cracked open and egg yolks shot up all over the bottom of my skirt and all over my feet.

I tried to move again and sidestep away from his grasp but to no avail. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me back towards him. My body collided with his. He grabbed my arms and slammed me up against the cold glass of the fridge. My body bounced off from the impact.

His hand reached up as if he were going to hit me. I flinched in fear and closed my eyes. It's as if I stopped breathing while waiting for the hit to land. It never did. I opened my eyes to see Terry grabbing Xavier by his collar. They were close in height but Xavier appeared slightly bigger.

Terry pushed Xavier away from me. Terry threw the first punch immediately after. His hand collided precisely with Xavier's jaw. X’s head snapped sideways and his body flew backward. Terry watched him as he stumbled. “Don't you ever touch her again!” Terry growled closing in on Xavier as if he was going to hit him again. Xavier cowered and retreated without a word.

Terry turns back to look at me. His scowl sent shivers down my spine. “I didn't…,” I said struggling to breathe. “Hey, you okay? Mama, look at me!” Terry said grabbing the sides of my face. He angled my head so that I was looking up at him. I was trying not to cry, but I couldn't hold back the tears. “I'm sorry I froze,” I said gasping for air. “Ay, c’mere. Don't do that? Havana, breathe!” he said pulling me into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me hugging me tightly. I wasn't aware of anything around me at the moment.

My thoughts were all over the place. My mind was racing, and I couldn't form a complete thought. “Let’s go,” Terry said holding my hand. He placed the other on my lower back and guided me out of the store. “Keys,” he said into my ear while leaning over me from behind. “Huh?” I said being pulled from my daze. “I need your keys, baby girl,” he said placing his hands on my shoulder.

I reached into my purse and handed Terry my keys. “I know it's late, but I don't want you driving home like this. Do you feel comfortable going with me until you feel better?” Terry said walking around me so that he was now looking down at me. He placed his hands gently on the side of my face again. “’Vana, baby. Listen. You gotta answer me, mama. I need somethin' here,” he asked stroking my cheeks. I nodded as I began to cry again.

He placed his hand on my lower back and guided me to the passenger side door. He opened the door for me to get in. I slid past Terry and sat down in the seat.

The memories I had tried to forget came flooding back — my ex. I spaced out for a second. Terry opened the door and climbed in. He adjusted the seat to fit more comfortably to his height. He leaned over one final time and kissed my forehead. “Just promise me that you're okay?” he asked softly. “Yeah, I'm… I'm okay,” I said sniffling.

*20 minutes later

I stood in Terry's bathroom waiting for the shower to warm up. I was leaned back against the sink while fighting to remain consciously present. I hated it when things triggered me and brought me back to that place. I had worked so hard to never deal with this again. All those years of therapy, and for what? How could what this man did still take such a toll on me? Tonight, I felt like I regressed tremendously.

I stood up and walked to the glass shower door. I slid it open and reached in to feel the water. It was more than ready. I just wanted to get in and wash away all of tonight—all of the egg yolks, all of the fear, all of the anxiety, all of it.

Taglist (asked and assumed):

@avoidthings @brattyfics @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy @miyuhpapayuh

@megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaxwrites

@jimmybutlrr @lovey-3 @curvyambitions

@deja-r @hoouno06 @insidefeelingofanadult @slutsareteacherstoo

@ariiijestertheklown @armandosbabymama @gg-trini @skyesthebomb

@blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere

@iburias @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1

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@pocketsizedpanther @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder

@ineedmyaccountback @rebelrel0987 @4pfsukuna @writingsbytee @nayaesworld

@blyffe @helloncrocs @amyhennessyhouse @beenathembo @thiccc-c @babybratzmaraj

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*If you want to be added or removed, let me know by commenting.

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jensthwa · 12 days ago

Text

woo's prelude: a clown's remedy to heal a broken heart (JWY x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

A drunk and kind of akward conversation inside of a closet is the start of Wooyoung's journey into healing his broken heart. Only he doesn't really know the name of the Scarlet Witch that helped mend a heart that wasn't supposed to break anymore, even if she starts plaguing his thoughts and dreams after that.

PAIRING: wooyoung x fem!reader.

GENRE: halloween hookup to [redacted] (we'll get to that when we need to).

WORD COUNT: 11.9k

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, drinking and drunk behavior, mature language, insults, woo getting his heart broken by his ex girfriend even though they're friends and they haven't been romantically involved in YEARS my god he's a dummy, reader getting her heart broken too, some self worth issues, frat bros being stupid and getting drinks throw at them for stepping over the line, howl!wooyoung (not for people with weak hearts and strong imaginations), making out, biting, description of female anatomy, sweet dirty talk and praising , fingering, semi-public (they're at a party, does that count?) and protected sex (wrap it up please), switching them positions for him, masturbation, hook up talk and the start of something new that we won't see for now but soon!

NOTES: hi everyone! decided to do a halloween drop on halloween day because spooky season is not over until i get this story out of my system it seems! this story is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH / SHOW & TELL UNIVERSE but can be read as a stand alone finally yay! THIS A PRELUDE TO WOO'S STORY, a little taste of what's to come for him and his boo (see what i did there?). this took place BEFORE we can't be friends (san's story) and will be placed accordingly on the masterlist to clear any future confusion. there's mentions of the characters that show up in wcbf so if u want to better understand the dynamics, you can read that but it's def not needed!

this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: october 31st 2024 at midnight!

masterlist

There's a particular way one too many tequilas can make a room spin that Wooyoung absolutely adores.

When it happens, he lets himself catch the world swirling around him before closing his eyes and praying for a little bit of lucidity to come to him so he can get his drunk ass home safely.

As he opens his eyes, his face scrunches at what he sees: San, dressed as Gomez Addams, waving a hand in front of him. It takes him a little to remember where he is.

It's a bit extra confusing with all the costumes and strangers and the music blasting through the speakers but when it finally clicks, he's grateful that he's not completely gone yet.

“Are you good?” He can faintly hear San ask over the music, San’s girlfriend by his side dressed as Morticia, eyeing him with a quirked brow.

Why is San with her? He will never, ever get it.

Kyungmi is not really right for him. It's been a few months already since they made it official and Wooyoung can just tell. He always tells. He's not as oblivious as everyone paints him to be.

There's one girl who's right for San but, in all honesty, Wooyoung is too tired to fight him on it.

San always shoots back with a comment about him and Gyuri, his ex girlfriend (now best friend) and it always brings his mood down for some stupid reason.

He's oblivious to why that happens. By choice, of course, but oblivious nonetheless.

He prefers it that way.

Wooyoung would nod, but he knows it's dangerous to do so “Just peachy.”

“Why don't you—” San starts but he interrupts.

“Some air and water,” he smiles, taking the water bottle from his friend’s hand “Waaaay ahead of you, babe.”

Kyungmi rolls her eyes “Quit calling my boyfriend babe, dude.”

San laughs, Kyungmi does not.

“Don’t be jealous because he loves me more than you,” sticking his tongue out, he stumbles his way around them both “I'll be back.”

He focuses on putting one foot in front of the other until he reaches a very big window. It's larger than usual.

Oh.

It has a door. A door that slides!

It's a balcony. Amazing, just what he needs: To be a safety hazard and a possible traumatic experience for everyone at the party.

He should probably turn back around before he's accidentally leaping over the edge but then he sees it.

He sees her.

Corpse bride. Her blue makeup being wiped off by somebody's tongue in a secluded corner of the backyard of this stupid frat house the friend group ended up for the night.

Gyuri is kissing someone.

His chest tightens, his mouth drops slightly and his heart thumps hard enough for him to feel it on his throat.

Why is she doing that?

She's wearing matching costumes with him. She carefully picked them out, she ordered everything a month and a half ago and now she's kissing some… Some… Attempt at a Superman costume.

Which is pretty fucking hilarious because how do you fuck up a Superman costume?

But Wooyoung is not laughing. He's hurting, he's fucking pissed and, at the same time, he can't pull his eyes away from her. From them.

Is feeling this pathetic something that would fit Víctor?

Vector?

Whatever his name is?

He's never seen the Corpse Bride, so he doesn't remember the name of the dude he's dressed up as. He just knows he wants to wipe the pale complexion Gyuri painted on him off.

Off. Off. Off. Out. He needs to leave.

But he ends up going back inside and downing another shot before he can really think about it, giggling to San and pretending nothing happened because who the fuck is he to Gyuri to get upset over it?

Her ex, sure. But that happened a long time ago, so it doesn't count anymore.

So it doesn't really matter. Nothing really matters when he finds Yeosang (dressed as the Phantom of the Opera) and drags him to the dance floor for what it feels like forever.

And then, one thing leads to the other and he's sitting on the floor, in a circle of people he doesn't even know, playing spin the bottle.

Or is it seven minutes in heaven? A vampire and a fairy kissed in front of him half a second ago, but Zuko and the creepy doll from that one netflix show got up and into a closet like… six minutes ago.

He didn't really pay attention to the rules.

Oh, well, he's about to find out anyway!

Fingers grasping the soju bottle in the middle of the circle, he carefully inspects the faces of everyone sitting there, expectantly looking at him.

His vision is a little blurry but he wants to pick whoever strokes his fancy the most to try and get rid of the funny feeling he gets when he sees Gyuri walk right in front of him and head for the drink table.

He decides quickly that, as long as it makes him forget the image of that dude's tongue down the mouth of the love of his life, he's good.

So he spins the bottle. It spins and it spins and it spins and everyone leans forward in anticipation until it stops in front of someone.

There's someone on his left that audibly gasps and Wooyoung looks at them before his eyes focus on the person he has to… Kiss? Get in a closet with?

What does he need to do?

“You can skip her if you like,” some dude with red paint dripping down his forehead and cargo shorts tells him. He's not even sitting down in the circle but lying on the couch closest to it “She's in a bad mood.”

That’s when the Scarlet Witch that the bottle landed on rolls her eyes and gets up.

Wooyoung thinks he's about to lose his turn and wait for the next round or until the bottle lands on him when she offers him her gloved up hand.

He gets up. He's a little bit more sober now, alert as he plants his feet on the carpet again just to not make a fool of himself, throwing a glance at Gyuri just to find out she's not actually looking at him at all.

The pang on his chest comes back.

“Don't throw a drink on him just for trying to kiss you too, sweetheart, that's what the game is all about,” the same dude from before tells her as they both pass by the couch and head for the space Zuko and the doll who, he assumes, just got done with their seven minutes was occupying “Don’t say I didn't warn ya, Wooyoung!”

Who is this obnoxious motherfucker and why does he know his name?

It takes two and a half hazy steps until the darkness of the small space engulfs him and Scarlet Witch.

It's one of those long closets with narrow walls that leave absolutely no space to move around when you actually need to put something away, but it's a perfect nook to make out.

He would know, he's been in this situation many times.

He lets go of the stranger's hand, only because she turns away from him and then she huffs once the door closes. Wooyoung hears a thump against the wood of it, so he assumes she hit it with her fist or her boot.

“Fucking asshole.” She mutters under her breath but he hears it.

It dawns on him that the reason he sat down to potentially kiss strangers that night was to be seen.

Wooyoung wanted people to see him so they knew he was completely fine and, as soon as Gyuri walked into the room, his motivation was for her to see him doing completely fine.

Cool. He's cool. He's one of the actual cool guys at the university, he's been told so before.

He also wanted her to feel a little bit jealous but now, eyes closed for a few seconds to try and regain composure after whatever just happened, he realizes that she probably wouldn't even care.

So this whole thing is useless anyway. Only now he gets to meet (kiss?) someone dressed as one of his favorite characters of the decade.

There, as his eyes adjust to the minimum light that's filtering under the door, he realizes his mistake: he said nothing to defend her.

In his defense, his drunk brain processes the information a little too late. And, in her defense, Scarlet Witch seemed like she didn't really care what the asshole said in the first place.

Now he notices that's not true.

It's hard to make out her figure but he hears another soft thump and when he turns his head to the right angle, he's able to make out that she just leaned against the door.

He opens his mouth to apologize, he thinks, but she beats him to it.

“We don't have to kiss or… fuck or whatever people do with their seven minutes.”

“Wow,” he laughs, his back finding a wall and almost knocking something placed on a tiny shelf next to his arm “I promise I wasn't expecting you to—”

“Yeah, yeah, save it,” she lets out a breath. “If you want to tell them that we kissed, that's fine by me. I know how your frat bros behave when you don't do what you're supposed to.”

“They're not my frat bros. In fact, they are not even my bros,” he frowns, and slides against the wall because his legs are threatening to give in. He's suddenly very, very exhausted “I don't know them.”

“Isn’t your name Wooyoung?”

“Y-yes?”

“Then you know them,” she shoots back, matter-of-factly “And I'm not interested in kissing any of your kind tonight.”

“My kind?”

“Men,” she clarifies and Wooyoung can feel her smile in her next words “Although frat bros are a different kind of species altogether.”

“I'm not a frat bro!”

It takes a second and his honest frustration but she laughs “Sure.”

In the dark, with his ego bruised and his heart crushed, Wooyoung thinks it's a pretty laugh.

He thinks it's even prettier when he hears a little ruffling and then her body heat invades his space, kind of. She just sat beside him, thigh against his and perfume reaching his nostrils. It's a mix of something sweet and something citrusy.

It's really nice.

He gulps before asking “W-what was that about?” and then points to the door like she can see him.

“He's in one of my classes. He thought he could kiss me and when I said no, because fucking look at the state of him, he tried to kiss me anyway,” she says all chirpy but Wooyoung picks up on the sarcastic tone and let's out a soft ew at the story “I preventively threw my drink on him because I got a little freaked out and now I'm sober and pissed off. I think he's a little upset about me thinking he was about to take advantage of me.”

He grimaces “You can't never be too sure, though.”

She hums and then sighs a: “I know.”

“I don't even know his name but he does sound like a fucking asshole.”

“Why does he know you?”

Wooyoung shrugs and he's a little glad it's dark. He's not exactly smiling, his playful nature not coming out at the moment. “I'm a pretty popular guy.”

“I don't know you.”

“Well, I don't know you either, so we're even,” he shrugs again and it's kind of hypocritical because, to be fair, he didn't get a good look at her face at all “I just know you s-smell nice.” He murmurs, tripping on his words like a babbling drunk idiot.

Maybe because that's what he is right now.

“Thanks… I guess.” She sounds weirded out by that but he's not sober enough to care.

“You're so welcome.”

There's silence in which Wooyoung does nothing but try to find her in the dark. He eventually does, given the fact that the light from under the door casts a little on her face now that she's sitting down.

He doesn't recognize her, which is odd. Wooyoung knows almost everyone. At least her voice would ring a bell but there's absolutely no frivolous memories with this girl and he kind of likes it that way.

If she doesn't know him, she doesn't know about Gyuri. That's a plus because there's no reason for her to be walking on eggshells around him like every other student at the university who finds him attractive.

There's another beat of silence between them both, music blasting outside and making the floor slightly thrum underneath him.

He's not usually this quiet. When he doesn't feel like crying, he's usually very annoyingly outspoken. Mind glowing in red alert, he practically stumbles his words out to fix that.

“I like your costume.”

“You do? People didn't get it.”

“That's because they care more about Captain America than Wanda Maximoff,” he scoffs. “It’s the Multiverse of Madness one, hm?”

“Wandavision post-credit scene,” she whispers back and Wooyoung nods, encouraging her to go on even if she can't see him. He thinks she's about to maybe rant about the show or the character or the party or anything that can help him forget, but she does the opposite “I, uhm… Also like your costume.”

There's a tint of shyness in her voice, like she's not used to being nice.

“Victor, right?”

“I've never seen the movie.” He makes sure to clarify before she asks him about it.

“You don't really have to see the movie to know the character, Wooyoung,” he feels when her head hits the wall slightly, on purpose maybe “I don't like him anyway.”

“Then why did you say you liked my costume?”

“I lied. It's called trying to keep the conversation going,” her explanation makes no sense to him in that state of inebriation, but he lets it go “I don't exactly know what to talk about when I drag someone into a closet.”

Wooyoung pauses and then laughs to himself “We were not exactly supposed to talk in the first place. Have you never done this before?”

“No. I don't usually go to frat parties,” she says after a second where Wooyoung was met with silence, a moment where he wondered if his question was out of line “Coming here tonight was a mistake.”

He finds himself asking without thinking, again “Then why did you?”

“I'm so bored.”

That takes him by surprise.

“Bored?”

“Yes, I'm bored. My dorm room mattress has a hole in it because I never go out and… Well, there's a boy I liked that came here tonight, so, I came as well.”

Liked?

Wooyoung doesn't really ask her about it.

Eyebrows practically touching his scalp, Wooyoung thinks for a split second she's talking about him but that's not really possible because they've never met until now, she said it herself.

“Well did you find him?”

She takes in a shaky breath and then lets it out. Sadness suddenly fills the constricted space and Wooyoung isn't sure if it's just him or if Scarlet Witch is going through a heartbreak as well.

“Yeah, I did” she whispers back and doesn't elaborate, so he doesn't ask “There's a bride going around the party. I saw her, she looks really cool, maybe you could—”

“She's my best friend,” he interrupts because the mention of Gyuri, so directly at that, has his heart racing with anxiety. So long for her not knowing about his ex girlfriend “We, uh… We dated in highschool and we stayed friends, so it's not really happening again.”

“Oh… Do you want it to happen again?”

“W-what?”

“I mean,” she laughs a little awkwardly, like she's nervous “You sounded very sad when you said it, a little angry too.”

“Did I?”

He definitely didn't mean to sound like that at all.

Scarlet Witch hums in agreement and he really thinks about what to answer. The short answer is a simple yes but, if he's being honest, he already knows that they're not good for each other. Not like that, anyway.

“I don't really know what to tell you.”

“You don't have to tell me anything,” she says right away and it calms his nerves a bit. “Just know that there's no real helping when you like someone, it doesn't matter if you thought you didn't like them anymore. It just happens. It sucks but it just happens.”

The unsolicited advice doesn't really help him, if he's being honest. It stirs something inside him that he wants to keep hidden, concealed, so he turns the topic of conversation away from him.

Away from Gyuri.

“Speaking from experience?” He asks, half jokingly.

“Yeah, so I can confidently say that it fucking sucks.”

She turns to him with a smile (he's hyper focused on her, there's no way he could've missed that) before laughing and a tiny force lifts up the corners of his lips. That's one pretty laugh.

Maybe, in an universe where was a little bit more sober, he could've actually spent these seven minutes kissing her.

Kissing her.

He wants to kiss her. That's going to take his mind off Gyuri, sure.

His heart beats quicker this time, for a completely different reason.

He leans in.

He's going to kiss her.

She clears her throat “Are you going to the party next saturday?”

Huh?

Oh.

“Yes, I think so,” he's a little breathless and probably blushing because of what he was about to do “Why?”

After the night he had, he thought he was going to struggle to even bring out this sort of excitement out of himself. When Scarlet Witch raises her gloved hand and brings it to the nape of his neck, he wonders if she actually has magical powers.

It effectively distracts him, it sobers him up and makes him feel drunker at the same time. Short nails caress the skin where her fingers lay and then she grasps the strands of hair sticking out, not gelled down for the sake of his costume.

“Is this real?”

What does she mean? This feeling taking over his body? The heat that spreads all around? He's not sure if it is, if that's what she's asking.

Hia mouth feels like cotton when he asks “Is what real?”

She laughs softly again “The hair, the length.”

Oh.

“Yes, it is.”

Maybe he should've taken his time in answering because, as soon as he does, her touch leaves him.

“You should go as Howl,” she murmurs and he melts a little “It'll suit you better than a Tim Burton character, I think.”

He laughs, it's short lived and through the cloud he feels he's on right now “You think?”

“Yeah,” he can't see her, but he knows she's nodding “Even if you claim that you're not a frat bro. You know, the whole seducing ladies and stuff.”

Wooyoung laughs “Howl did not seduce any ladies, it was all a rumor!”

“He did, in the book.”

“Oh, I don't read.”

“See?” she clicks her tongue and then her shoulder touches his, teasingly “Total frat bro.”

Wooyoung thinks about it again.

Kissing her. Now out of pure want instead of selfish motivations.

She said she didn't want to, earlier, if he recalls correctly and that's okay.

He still wants to though, so…

The question is on the tip of his tongue, he even thinks he makes out the start of it before it's cut off by the sound of the door opening.

Closing his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light, it takes a few seconds for them to adjust to it and, when they do, he finally sees her face.

He should've kissed her.

The costume she's wearing it's cool, sure, and she's even wearing a wig that looks very expensive so he confirms the fact that she likes to dress up sometimes but that's not really what amazes him.

Maybe it's because he sort of already formed a judgment of her character but she's beautiful and he really, really, really, should've kissed her.

“Time's up, you're hogging the closet. Oh, and someone is looking for you,” the girl dressed up as Zuko points in his direction and then, because neither of them makes an effort to stand up, she nods and steps aside “I'll give y'all a minute.”

Scarlet Witch laughs and Wooyoung wishes he could share the sentiment. At this point, he thought he would be done with a makeout session and in desperate need for another drink to keep the night going.

Now, he wants nothing but take her hand in his and find a quiet spot where he can keep getting to know her. Maybe get her number.

And he swears he's going to ask, but the universe is not in his favor. When she turns to him, he loses all ability to speak and when she leans in to peck his cheek his breath hitches and he feels like a teenager getting a crush for the first time.

“In case you need to tell anyone I kissed you,” she whispers in secrecy, leaning back a bit “So you don't have to lie. I hate liars.”

He gulps “Noted.”

She doesn't even give him the opportunity to escort her out of tiny space: she gets up, bolts for the door and when Wooyoung's brain catches on to the gigantic problem of his own creation, as he gets out of the closet and looks around for her, she's already out of his sight.

“Are you good?”

It's the second time tonight San has asked that. It's not annoying by any means but when it comes with the concerned faces of Yeosang, Kyungmi and Gyuri he has to think his response through.

But the Scarlet Witch's words echo in his mind.

I don't like liars.

“No, I'm not,” he says, a little out of breath “I didn't get her name.”

This time, the entire crew joins him, Gyuri, Kyungmi and Yeosang to go to the party.

He wishes his other best friend came along as well, but she's really not that fond of parties in general.

Which sucks because she would look good in a costume and maybe that would prompt San to act on his feelings and break up with Kyungmi in the process.

She was a pain in his ass tonight. Didn't really help his nerves at all.

Yes, he's nervous about possibly seeing Scarlet Witch again.

Yes, he thought about her all week and tried his best to find her on social media but couldn't.

Yes, he's aware tonight's theme for the party is a mix of a masquerade and a normal costume party or whatever the sorority organizing it said in their invite.

And yes, he's dressed up as Howl Pendragon, wearing a black and white mask that he borrowed from one of the girls in the group. They decorated it with little gold and pink stars and it looks cute on him but that's not the point!

Masks complicate his quest for the night.

He hopes that she's here tonight. He also hopes that the costume alone is enough for her to recognize him: There's a lot of people here tonight.

Even waiting in line to pay the cover fee for the party felt stuffy.

He turns to Gyuri and she's laughing at something her date for the night is telling her. That's right, for the first time in many, many years, Wooyoung is not her date.

Superman is. He's dressed in the same costume he saw him in last weekend, he thinks he even sees as smudge of Gyuri’s corpse bride body paint on it.

She's Wonder Woman for the night. So original.

Wooyoung feels bad as soon as the bitter thoughts go through his head. He didn't even know they exchanged numbers, let alone kept chatting to coordinate their costumes for tonight's party.

He found out when she told her that the Raven and Beast Boy costumes would have to wait until next year.

And he, actually, was relieved that he didn't have to paint his face green for God knows how many hours just to keep losing his date in the crowd and finding her kissing someone else.

Ugh.

Bitter. He's as bitter and jealous as someone who has to see the love of his life not give a damn about them or their feelings can be.

But that's okay, he has other plans for the night anyway.

As soon as they all get through security (there's security at a house party, what the hell), they all scatter to do what they do best at parties.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa head for the drink table, Yeosang and Jongho head for a corner of the main room, San, Kyungmi, Gyuri and Superman go straight to the backyard and Mingi, his girlfriend and Yunho walk with him to the dancefloor.

He dances with his friends, he pretends he's paying attention to their banter as his eyes scan the crowd looking for someone familiar behind a mask.

He thinks he remembers her face very well, it stayed on his mind for a whole week but, even after dreaming about their conversation, Wooyoung is having a hard time in finding her.

She didn't even tell him what she was going to dress up as or if she was even going to show up.

Or did she?

His memories are all blended together. He's going to make sure to be sober tonight, just for the sake of remembering every little detail if he does end up finding her.

But the hours go by and he still can't find her.

He's losing hope, he's beginning to believe she didn't even show up to the event which, hey, sucks but that means that he can finally get her out of her head.

Sort of.

There's a Scarlet Witch staring at him. But there's this alluring nature to his Scarlet Witch that can't be replicated, or so he thinks.

He's about to convince himself he drunk dreamed the entire thing but then he sees him.

The obnoxious motherfucker. Her classmate, mister can't-take-no-for-an-answer.

In all honesty, the first thought that crosses his mind is to punch him in the face. He's still dressed up all frat bro-ish and his mask is a paper mask, completely diy-ed and with a dick drawn on the right side.

And then he abandons the thought because, although an asshole, he can lead go finding his Scarlet Witch.

Only issue is: Mister asshole is walking away with a girl on his arm and heading straight to a… room? bathroom?

Stopping his movements, mid a Troye Sivan song and cutting Yunho off in whatever he's telling him, he let's out a loud “Fuck!”

Yunho stops, Mingi and his girlfriend turn slowly to them with wide eyes and concerned expressions

“What did you do to him?” Mingi asks Yunho and his best friend laughs nervously.

“I didn't do anything! Did I do something?” he turns to Wooyoung “I didn't, did I?”

“No, no. Sorry, I… I gotta go.”

“Go where, Serena Van der Woodsen?”

Wooyoung doesn't get the reference Mingi’s girlfriend makes but he laughs like he does “I'll be right back!”

He's never been so determined before, moving through the crowd like his life depends on it and crashing into Batman and his Joker on the way to stop the guy who's potentially changing the course of his night.

“Hey!” He yells behind him but the music is somehow louder on this side of the house and five people turn their heads, but not the guy pushing a Silent Hill nurse into the bathroom door to kiss her before opening it.

Damn it.

He runs faster and faster and he thinks he's going to miss his chance when the tip of his boot catches the door before it fully closes on his face.

Breathing hard, his lips turn up in smirk when he catches the way the guy's face scrunches in confusion before opening the door again and looking at him.

Wooyoung takes it a step further and gets into the bathroom with them, closing the door behind him and lifting up his mask.

“What the fuck, Wooyoung?”

“Hey, so sorry for interrupting your fifth makeout sesh for the night but I need to ask you something. Hi.” He says to the nurse and she smiles a little before turning to the Frat Bro and raising her eyebrow inquisitively.

“And it couldn't wait?!”

“No,” he says right away, smiling sardonically and getting straight to the point afterwards. “So, remember the Scarlet Witch that I ended up going to the closet with last week?”

“Who?”

Wooyoung is going to kill him.

“The girl who threw a drink on you last week for trying to kiss her even if she said no the first time you tried,” he reminds him, “Is she here?”

“Y/N?” the name comes out in a whisper and Wooyoung sucks in a sharp breath.

Y/N.

It fits her.

“Your classmate, yes.”

“Uhm, yeah, I think she's here,” he looks a little embarrassed at the recalling of the events of last week and Wooyoung wants to smile because of it, but he just looks at him with an insistent look so he can catch that he needs more than that to find her. To find you “Look, bro, I don't know where she is right now. I think she's dressed as a… Clown? A jester? Some weird, indie costume, uhm… She has a pointy black birthday hat? I don't know.”

He's slurring his words but that's not enough for Wooyoung to feel bad for him. He, however, does not want to speak with him anymore.

“Alright, thank you for that, I'll… Leave you to it,” he opens the door again and frat idiot scoffs, so he turns and looks directly at the Silent Hill Nurse “Please make him wear a condom.” And he can tell she's a little turned off with the whole conversation.

So, as he closes the bathroom door and scans the crowd one more hopeful time, he counts that as a second victory. A little revenge on your name, even.

He wanders the house, the hallways and rooms and little hideaway spots but he finds no sign of you in them so he heads for the backyard and looks up to the second floor.

The first room is presumably empty, lights turned off and no activity in it the few seconds he observes it.

The second room has an ambiance light turned on and he sees what looks like a Mad Hatter run across the window and then he hears something crashing, so he hopes that's not where you are.

The third room has a balcony. It's dark, there's not one light lit in the entire room but there's neon lights in the backyard and streetlights and the moon casting perfectly on it, so he's able to see it perfectly from where he stands.

And there, draped in some sort of vintage looking clown costume, wearing striped tights and a black and white pointy hat, mask in your hand and your forearms supporting your weight, you stare past him.

You look sad, but it could also be the illusion the makeup you put on gives.

He doesn't know you enough to know what your sad expression looks like and it bothers him a little.

You also don't notice him at all, which is odd, because you're staring directly over his shoulder. You only blink fast and focus on his face once someone calls out:

“Woo!” That's Gyuri's voice. Raising your head, you wave to him and smile a little. He smiles back.

He has to literally force himself to peel his eyes from you and look behind him, at his best friend “Are you okay? Come hang out with us!”

She looks so happy. A little drunk, but happy. San is also right beside her and he shoots him a knowing smirk that he ignores because he has to leave and speak to you.

“I'm a little busy, Yuri. I'll be down in just a sec,” that's a lie but she nods happily and so he turns to you, your smile a little bigger now “Don't move.” He warns cheekily in a whisper and you seem to get it, because you smile wide, raise your arms defensively and open your, once again, gloved hands in defeat.

He practically sprints to the second floor after that.

You hope Wooyoung didn't notice.

Staring daggers at the girl he told you last time is his best friend? Yeah, that could turn into a fight really fast if he reproaches it.

You don't remember her name but you do remember her kissing the guy you've liked since forever. She's been doing that all night tonight, too.

It pisses you off for all the wrong reasons. Sure, she's not exactly at fault, but the human mind is horrid when it comes to mental self flagellation and you, unfortunately, are an expert at that.

All kinds of things went through your head. The main one, a question: Why do you feel so possessive over something that clearly isn't yours?

His heart.

His heart it's not yours, it never was, it never will be.

It's time you come to the realization that that's okay even if it hurts you. The obsession you have over it, over what happened with the two of you it's starting to get pathetic and it makes you feel lonelier than usual.

You really hope Wooyoung didn't notice.

As you walk to the door and unlock the room you claimed for the night (because you want to leave, but the cover was expensive and there's no way you're letting it go to waste) you let yourself detach from the emotions you've been feeling all night.

Wooyoung doesn't need to know what's going on in your head. You have a good memory of him, you even filtered a little last weekend and you want to keep that going.

He doesn't need to know, he doesn't need to stay in your life for too long either.

It makes you giggle when he opens the door and scans the moonlit room of this sorority house like he doesn't really believe you were there in the first place. He smiles wide when his eyes land on you, back against the wall closest to the door.

“Hey.” You say, biting down a smile.

His chest is heaving, like he ran all the way up here and it does nothing but send nervous tingles down your spine.

He smiles beautifully, entering the room and closing the door behind him “Hi.”

Peeling your back from the wall, you start walking around the room because that keeps your body busy and unable to embarrass you.

“Thought I missed you completely tonight, Y/N.”

Frowning, you give him a glance over your shoulder “You know my name.” You say, rather than ask.

“You didn't want me to?”

Shaking your head, there's a tiny smile that curves your lips when you turn to him. He's walking around as well, slowly, carefully, like you're about to disappear if he moves too fast.

“I don't really enjoy mysteries that much.”

He smiles as well “You didn't tell me your name last time.”

“You didn't ask me,” shrugging, you take a few steps his way and scan his costume without any discretion “You see?”

“Hm?”

“How good you look as Howl?” tilting your head slightly, you don't miss the way his cheeks darken slightly and that makes the remains of your shyness disappear from your body. You tell yourself that you, in this room, there must be no space for it. You point at his cape “Was it hard to get this?”

“Overnight shipping,” he whispers, taking a step in your direction “You look very cute.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I really like the, uhm…” he gestures to your costume “Vintage vibe.”

You don't have to be a genius to notice he doesn't really know what you are. “I'm a pierrot clown.”

He scoffs “I knew that.”

“Sure you did, buddy.”

There's a pause and then you both laugh but it dies down quickly and there's this tension between you both you don't really know why it's there.

You two didn't exactly connect that much last time. At least, you don't think you did. He was kind of drunk and you weren't really thinking straight either.

“Y/N…” Your name sounds good out of his lips.

“Yes?”

“Why did you disappear last time?”

That makes you laugh again. You didn't exactly plan on it, you were going to wait for him outside the closet but then you saw them kissing goodbye and your heart couldn't really stand it, so you bolted.

You walk towards one of the two beds, sitting down on it carefully, to not disturb it too much. He follows you with his eyes, his head turning slightly in order to do so.

“You mean when I left the party? I didn't disappear on you,” that's not really a lie, you convince yourself. You kind of bid your goodbye to him that night “Didn’t think you wanted me to stay, either. Did they give you too much shit?”

“For what?”

“I clearly didn't kiss you that night. I think it was obvious, so… Your frat bros didn't give you shit for it?”

Closing his eyes, the smile he gives you in return for the inside joke you two have going on makes your heart flutter “Stop insisting on that, will you?”

“You can't really fight the truth, Wooyoung.”

“Hm,” he walks over to you again, sitting on the bed next with his thigh touching yours. Innecesarlly so, because there's plenty of space, but you enjoy the warmth it spreads around your body so you don't say anything “You did tell me you didn't like liars.”

“Oh, you remember that?”

“I remember everything,” he nods, “I wasn't that drunk.”

You give him a look “Weren't you?”

He laughs again and you follow, pushing him slightly with your shoulder like you did back in the closet as well.

You don't really know what to say anymore, so you clear your throat slightly.

“Are you enjoying the party?”

“Are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You seemed kind of sad when I saw you, there,” he points at the balcony and that makes you sigh. He noticed, kind of. That's disappointing and impressive at the same time. “I thought it was the makeup but it doesn't really seem like it.”

“I’m not sad,” you admit, “I'm hurt.”

“Isn't that the same thing?”

“Not really, no,” shaking your head, you stare out of the big panel windows into the night sky. He doesn't need to know entirely, but you can tell him something about it “Remember the guy I told you about last time?”

“The guy you went to the party for?”

You nod “Well, he's here tonight too. With a date this time.”

“Oh,” when you turn, catch him licking his lips before continuing and your eyes are fixed on the motion for a second too long “And that hurts you, duh, obviously.”

You think it's adorable he's also a little nervous but you only smile and don't give him shit for it like you would do to anyone else “When you're obsessed with the idea of someone specifically seeing you a certain way, yes, it hurts,” you shrug “I'll get over it though.”

“I feel that,” he says and you can imagine. You sensed it in his feelings last time, you can't actually believe the coincidence and irony of it all “Did you and this guy…?”

“We went to highschool together. He was the only person who I thought saw me for who I was, whoever that is,” there's a bitterness in the laugh you let out you don't enjoy “We kissed a few times, he told me pretty things and I feel. Totally forgot about me when he had a summer glow up before we started our first semester, though.”

“Well, he's an asshole.”

“He's not, not really,” and you desperately need to change the topic to him, so you bump your shoulder against him one more time “Did you come with your Sophie?” you ask, pretending to not know about Wonder Woman and the fact that she's here with somebody else.

He catches who you're talking about, though and shakes his head, giving you. tight smile.

“No, no, uhm… She has a date.”

You hum “Are you hurt too?”

“I'm bitter,” he whispers back, right away “Don't know if that's the same as being hurt, but I'm bitter.”

Silence falls comfortably around the understanding in between you both. You stare at each other, lips slowly curving upwards until you end up laughing yet again at the absurdity of the situations you're both in.

“Guess we're just… A pair of losers tonight, huh?”

“And what a pair we make.”

You agree. There's this electricity running through you, you even dare to say it's running through him too and it makes you slightly regret not kissing him last week.

If you did, the desire to do so right now would be easier to come to terms with.

Thankfully, the same thing seems to be going through his mind “I know I was drunk, but I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

“Are you drunk now?” You ask back in a whisper. He shakes his head.

“Don't want to ruin your pretty makeup. Besides, you said last time—”

You lean into his space a bit.

“That was then,” you interrupt with a tiny smile “And now is now.”

“That's how time usually works, yes,” he laughs and you join, rolling your eyes at the bad joke. You can see the second he makes the decision, his hand hesitantly finding your cheek and, when you don't recoil at the possible contact, he leaves it there “But are you sure it's okay?”

You know why he's asking. He doesn't want to take advantage of a vulnerable moment, neither do you.

But you want to kiss him.

“It’s matte,” you say instead and you hope he understands the real meaning behind your answer “The lipstick, it's matte. And the base It's set with really good powder, too, because I thought…”

You thought that somebody else was going to kiss you tonight.

He gets it. He understands why you did it and he scoffs with mild annoyance at it, which makes you smile.

“Y/N,” he closes the distance between you even more and your breath hitches with anticipation before he whispers: “I'm going to kiss you so good, you'll forget about his lips forever.”

That's the best thing someone has ever said to you, ever. You shudder at the thought and just stare, eyes dropping when he leans in further and his nose bumps into yours.

“Do you want that?”

Sleeping with Wooyoung won’t fix your problems. It sure won’t, not yours, not his but it doesn’t need to. You don’t know what the remedy for a wounded heart is but a distraction from the hurt can’t be all that bad.

It's still a little bit pathetic how you whimper in response to his question.

But it gains you the prize of tasting him for the first time, his minty flavor mixing with the remnants of whatever soda you had earlier and you sigh into the encounter. He’s not as delicate as you thought he would be.

Wooyoung kisses you hard, with want, with need, with something you recognize in yourself and give back: the need for a distraction, for a feeling other than that hurt and bitterness you two mentioned not even three minutes ago.

You don't know what to do with your hands, where to put them, but he fixes that. He grabs them, puts them on his shoulder, scoots a bit more into you and so your chest touches his and he sighs in contentment at that.

You feel a little bit nervous, but that’s okay.

It’s not like you’ve never been touched, like you’ve never done this sort of thing but it is the first time you want it. You want him.

You’re not numb this time around, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when his other hand joins and keeps you in place, pulling back a second to take in some air before going back in for another toe curling kiss.

Mind disconnecting from the outside world, you curse the layers of clothing (and there’s a lot) in between you when his hands travel down to your waist, against your body, caressing it and then grasping it in a way you’ve never felt before.

It’s not rushed and it doesn’t really feel like something that you both want to get out of your system even though it is. You don’t really expect Wooyoung to ask you on a date after hooking up at a sorority party, after all.

Oh.

The party, that’s right. Did you lock the door? No, no. He walked in and didn't, you think.

You can’t really think straight when he’s biting your bottom lip and then licking it as an apology for his misbehaving. It draws a breathy moan out of you and he drinks it, tongue meeting yours for the first time ever as you stand up from the bed, kiss never breaking, his

body following yours.

You’re wearing a lace ruffle white collar that goes with your costume. It’s cute, surprisingly not itchy at all and right now it seems to be getting in his way. His fingers look for the velcro clasp and then, when he loosens it enough, he janks it off.

Somehow, you enjoy the theatrics and you giggle as his mouth abandons yours.

“Woo…” You manage to say when his lips start to make acquaintance with your neck, over your pulse. Craning your head to the side, he moves to the skin that unveils because of it and it’s hard to think of anything but the way you start to tremble under his touch.

Grounding yourself by sinking your fingers in his hair, you attempt to speak again but he keeps distracting you.

“Fuck, say that again.”

Humming, you return “Woo,” you say again, “the door…”

He moves to the other side of your neck “What about it?”

“It’s— Oh,” teeth sink into your skin and you moan out loud, you can practically feel his smirk on your skin after that and your face burns as a consequence. “W-we need to lock it.”

“Afraid someone will walk in on us?” he finally pulls away enough for you to see his face. His lips are swollen and there’s a flush across his cheeks that sits beautifully there when he smiles, forehead resting against yours a second later “You don’t like that thought?”

There’s a part of you that doesn’t think it’s proper. It’s bad enough you’re hooking up with a somewhat stranger in a room that isn’t yours, but people finding out? That should terrify you.

But it doesn’t. He seems to read it on your delayed response and the way your eyes widen with need when he pulls away again to watch your reaction to what he said.

“You do, don’t you?” and then you’re moving, backwards, backwards, backwards until your back hits the door and there’s this passion glistening in his eye that excites you and sends spikes down your spine and into your core “You want people to know I’m kissing you dumb, hm? You want them to see what I’m doing to you?”

He pauses and you feel like it’s on purpose, you feel like he takes in you heaving chest and the way your eyes follow the veins down his arms when he presses his hand behind you, pushing into your space a bit more and you should feel overwhelmed like you normally do with everyone else, but you don’t.

You want him to get even closer.

“You want them to see what you do to me?”

His whisper shakes you, awakens something in you that you desperately want to explore. It makes you feel shy and brave at the same time and the contradiction makes you bite down a smile.

There’s no need for you to see what you’re doing to him, you can feel it when the hand that wanders to his waist pulls him closer, forward, until his hips meet yours and his leg finds a home between yours. Grunting, he raises a brow and gives you a knowing grin, but you enjoy surprising people.

Your black gloves contrast against his skin and the white of his shirt when you caress the arm planted next to you and he follows the motion, letting out a breath “What if I don’t?” you ask, low, like it’s a secret you don’t want anyone else to find out even if you’re alone in this room “What if I want to keep you all to myself?” Watching his expression carefully, you try to measure if you’re crossing the invisible hookup line with your words but he closes his eyes and there’s no way for you to tell, so you correct your possible mistake in a whisper “For the night. You don’t want me to be only yours tonight?”

Something twitches against your leg and the brief tension melts from your shoulder. Damn, you’re not that mouthy during these sort of scenarios so you almost, almost fucked up, huh?

It doesn’t really matter when his free hand brushes his knuckles against your stomach, over your clothes and the ridiculously big buttons of your costume and then leaves you to twist the lock on the door “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, by the way.”

“I want you.” The words get out before you think it through and you don’t mind it. You value honesty, you love when your body acts before your mind has the time to make you feel ashamed of your own feelings and wants.

It pays off because his expression morphs in pure want and his tone is a whimper when he begs you, forehead meeting yours again “Again.”

“I want you, Woo…” You whisper against his lips and then his mouth is on yours hungrier than ever before. The wood hurts against your back but Wooyoung’s hands pull you against him to move you away from it.

This time, your hands know exactly what to do, because you know exactly what you want. They tug at his cape, trying to find the clasp of it with desperate trembles because your heart is beating faster and faster and you’re impatient, body too impertinent and rebelling against your wishes of taking this slow and savoring every little touch.

Cape on the floor, you feel his hand trying to figure out your costume. It makes you laugh and you’re glad he returns it, looking down at it and frowning at all the fabric he finds. With your hands against his chest, you push him into the mattress and he lands gracefully on it, supporting himself with his arms “I’ll do it.”

“Baby, this is a great costume and you look so fucking cute on it but why is there so much layering?”

The nickname is new and he doesn’t seem to catch that it slipped out of his mouth so you don’t comment on it but it sure deepens the color on your cheeks and you laugh shyly, tilting your head to side in a playful manner.

“I told you I like dressing up.”

“And it shows! Mine’s a little simple,” without the cape, he just looks like a dude with a loose white shirt and black trousers. A handsome dude, but just a dude nevertheless “But I wanted you to find me, so…”

“What was the first option?”

“Beast Boy.”

There’s something that crosses his expression that goes away the second he sees you slowly working the buttons and the skin underneath reveal after each one. His eyes fix on it and you’re sure you look ridiculous in the makeup and the get up and all but he’s looking at you with so much need you feel sexy wearing it.

The shirt comes off. You’re wearing a cropped top and a bra underneath and you hook your thumbs under it to make him believe you’re taking it off, but you don’t.

“You’re killing me.” He groans out and you laugh at him, making a show of bringing your hands down your torso and into your hips. You move to take off the striped bloomers that are matching with the tights you plan on taking off next.

Your underwear doesn’t exactly match but you weren’t really planning on any of this with anyone. You weren’t planning on going this far but you don’t really care when it’s all, eventually, it’s just going to be off, so it doesn’t really matter.

“Want to take these off yourself or you’re going to make me do all the work?”

Smiling, he sits straight on the bed, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his mouth he nips the satin fabric of your glove, it loosening around your index when he pulls. He must see the way it affects you immediately, the way you breath catches, because the corner of his lips lifts up before he does the same to the thumb, the middle finger, the ring and the pinky and then he pulls the glove completely off.

You feel like you short circuit for a second, even more so when he keeps the hand close to him and starts kissing the pad of your fingers so softly it doesn’t match the hunger in his eyes at all.

And you’re killing him?

It happens in a flash but the other glove is off and then your tights, your top and his shirt are off and on the floor and you’re sitting on his lap, tongue parting his lips and mouth bruising against his and you feel like you’re in a small pocket in time no one can really disturb. No one can burst this bubble, this cloud you land on when he turns you around and the expensive material of the sheets touches your bare back.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

When did he take off your bra? It doesn’t matter, his lips are making their way down your throat and exploring your chest, gaining puffs of air and moans from you when he flicks your nipples with his tongue, expert and careful, measuring your reaction and doing it again when your back arches off the bed instead of verbally asking for more.

He kisses down, down until his teeth are catching your underwear. Looking up to you, he searches for an answer in your eyes and you both come to an unspoken agreement. Even if you’re both taking your time in exploring each other, there’s no actual time for him to eat you out, for you to get on your knees and taste him as well.

You immediately wonder if there’s going to be another opportunity to do all of that. Either way, there’s not enough time to wonder. You help him get out of his trousers, his boxer briefs and you stare at him with an eyebrow up and an open and watering mouth.

He laughs at your reaction, like he was expecting it.

He stops laughing when you reach for him. Breathing hard when your thumb teases his tip, gathering precum, he shakes his head and you immediately stop “Baby, we… Not tonight.”

Then when? You want to ask.

You just nod before bringing the thumb to your mouth, tasting him and humming in content. Wooyoung leans in and puts his tongue on yours a second later.

He smiles, teeth sinking on your bottom lip before diving in for another kiss “Dirty girl.” He teases you and you shrug.

“You look so good,” You say against him, pecking his lips, “Couldn’t help myself,” fingers grasping the hairs at the nape of his neck, like you did the night you met, you stop him from kissing you again just to whisper “You taste so good too.”

His eyes almost roll at that, hips stuttering against you and almost brushing where they need to. “Fuck, don’t say shit like that to me, Y/N.”

“Sorry.” You say but it’s clear in your smile that you’re not sorry at all and maybe you shouldn’t have because when it comes to taking your last piece of clothing off, he takes his time.

Fingernails raise goosebumps as they softly go through your skin and he lets out a ragged breath “So fucking beautiful.”

You feel beautiful. That’s good, because earlier tonight, before you catched him staring up at you on the balcony, you felt undesirable. You felt little, small, incomparable in the worst way possible because… Why not you?

His words reassure you. Even if you know that’s something you need to do yourself (built enough confidence to not let the choices of a man who doesn’t give a damn about you define your self worth), it helps you tend that wound that reopened.

He touches you and you feel worth it again. You believe it when your panties fall to the ground and your legs part for him and he looks at you in delight, thumb finding your clit and circling it right away “So fucking wet, fuck.”

Your hips go up when he finds the right pacing, the right pressure to it and you really shouldn't moan this loud but you don’t care when he lets out a moan of his own at the way your face scrunches in pleasure “I want you.” You let out, breathy and pliant under his touch.

“You got me,” he’s sweating but you don’t really care, you love the way his pretty nose touches yours when he leans in, index searching and then entering you. “Fuck, I could slip right in, hm? Is that what you want?”

A moan slips out when he finds your sweet spot and strokes it carefully, he takes it as a reply and, honestly, it is all you can let out at the moment. You squeeze the second finger as it enters you, so it gives away how much you like the thought of that.

“You do,” he says, teasingly and smiles against your lips as he pecks it “Dirty girl,” He repeats and you shake your head again, hips bucking up when the heel of his hand press against your clit and it sends a new wave of heat across your entire body “Impatient girl. I wish you were in my room now, fuck.”

You wish that too.

“Woo…”

“I had to—”

“I know but there’s people—” Passing the door, you can sense it. In this midst of anything, you can sense it.

“Who cares about them—”

There’s a phone vibrating somewhere in the room and it’s definitely not yours. He ignores it, fingers picking up their pace.

“I need you,” you whisper, propping yourself up to kiss his mouth “Please, please fuck me.”

“I want you to come first.” He communicates his crude intention so cutely you might actually miss him when this is all over.

“And I want to come with you.”

That stops him and you can literally feel him get harder where he rests against your inner thigh.

“Condom?” You ask in a whisper.

“Condom, right, fuck—” Both moving to reach his pants on the floor, you giggle and his lips find your cheek for a second as your torsos hang from the bed and you can safely say you never had more fun during sex before this.

It’s lighthearted even if you’re both practically strangers and then it grows hot, sexy, passionate again when he finds the condom, breaks the package open and then rolls it on with practiced moves. He kisses you, laying back down against the pillows and aligning himself with your entrance.

“Wait, let me just…”

“What?”

You turn around, laying flat on your chest and arching your back just a little so that you can open up your legs for him to enter. You look at him over your shoulder and his surprised expression makes you giggle “You never tried this one?” you ask and at his silence, you nod “Look how easy it is for me to—” Reaching down your stomach and reaching your clit with your fingers for him to see, you circle it a few times and close your eyes at the sensation.

He kisses the small of your back “Holy fuck, Y//N.”

“I told you that I’m coming with you, I’m helping.”

He leans into you, his tip pressing against your clit deliciously “You’re so fucking hot, I almost came.”

“That’s the point, Woo.” You say through pants, his hands kneading your ass and spreading you open for him to see. It’s a little nasty and you wonder what you both could do with a little more time and less people waiting for you outside. For him, at least.

When he enters you, the moan that leaves you echoes his and you probably needed just a little bit more prep for the size of him but since you’re so turned on it barely matters when he’s completely seated inside of you and this position just makes it feel ten times better “You feel so good, baby, fuck.”

“Yeah?” His chest is touching your back now and his lips are leaving open mouth kisses on your shoulder. He moves his hips experimentally and you moan into the sheets, sweat running down your neck and your chest into them but you don’t have time to feel bad for the owner of the bed at all “Was that okay?”

“You can go harder.”

“Yeah? Fuck.”

He complies right away and it feels so good you let yourself close your eyes and fully enjoy it, consequences be damned.

People outside the room hearing you moan? Who cares when your fingers the weight of Wooyoung against you feels so right?

When his thrusts help you grind your clit on your fingers just right, especially when he increases the speed of them and the wave of pleasure that hits you squeezes him around you so good his moan bounces off the walls and outside of the balcony where someone downstairs giggles and whistles.

“Oh, God,” he says, a little ashamed but never slowing down and you turn your head, searching for his lips “We should’ve closed that door too.”

You decide to tease him to wipe that emotion from him and just focus on you “Thought you wanted to give people a show.”

Opening your eyes, you are able to watch when his eyes harden slightly at the thought, pace faltering as he lets out a tiny whimper.

“And I thought you wanted me for yourself tonight,” he resumes his relentless pace, thrusting in and out of you with ease now and your cheek meets the sheets again so the bed can muffle your sounds “Maybe next time.”

Next time.

You don't really have time to dwell on what that means because you’re so worked up it won’t take much for you to come. You let Wooyoung know and he nods, his forehead against your shoulder again “Kiss me.” He whispers and you crane your neck to do so, to swallow his moans down and keep them with you forever.

You swallow all of them down when his hips stutter and he comes and you know he keeps yours when you let yourself come right alone with him. He fucks you through both of your orgasms and slows down gradually until he grows sensitive and hisses at any tiny movement and your arms go kind of numb underneath you.

There’s a sense of urgency your mind picks up immediately after but you ignore it. You have nowhere to go and they charged you twenty dollars to get into this stupid party so they can wait for you two to return to it.

But there’s a phone vibrating somewhere. And even if you both hear it, Wooyoung turns you around and leans in to give you a kiss so sweet you almost want to keep it with you as well.

When he pulls away, you wipe the sweat on his forehead with your hands and brush the hair out his face so delicately he closes his eyes and seems to enjoy your touch.

Now what the hell should you say at a moment like this? Where he doesn’t seem in any rush to leave you and you don’t really want him to leave either.

Do you tell him he did good? Do you tell him you enjoyed it, that he made you feel safe? That’s the first time in ages you enjoy a quick fuck this much?

That—

“Please give me your number.”

Oh, he’s actually adorable. He takes your stunned expression and silence the wrong way, though, and he sits on his knees, pulling out of you and working on getting his condom off while he speaks.

“I can give you at least ten reasons you should give me your number. Number one, I enjoyed this a lot and I can do better if you give me time, number two—”

“Woo, you literally just fucked me with clown makeup on. I think we’re past you giving me reasons to sleep with you,” you sit up as well, taking his face in your hands again and leaning in to kiss his cheek soundly “Give me your phone.”

He gets off the bed and looks around the room for the trash can. It’s a tiny one, sitting on top of a desk and you really, really start to feel bad for the girls who are going to have to sleep off their drunken night in this room. You’re surprised that no one knocked on the door but, on party eastern time, it’s still kind of early.

Two thirty am reads the clock on Wooyoung’s phone when he hands it to you, unblocked. There’s messages flowing in and you try your best to not read them as you enter your number and name into his contacts but you do notice they’re from a group chat.

You wonder if his friend group is big, if he’s close to all of them, what kind of friend he is. You’re impatient, you want to get to know him all of the sudden and you know it’s dangerous for expectations to grow after a hookup but, as you hand him his phone back, you can’t help but let out a “Woo, do you just want to fuck me or do you want to be my friend too? Something more?”

He’s reading the messages on the group chat with a frown when your questions register in his brain and he looks up, a curious expression and a tiny smile “You’re very direct, aren’t you?”

“I hate wondering and mysteries,” you shrug, “I don’t want to expect the wrong thing.”

“Fair,” he nods. “I’m more of a… Just wait and see what happens kind of guy, but if you want an honest answer I just don’t really know. I want to see you again, though.”

“I want to see you again, too,” You murmur back and he smiles, leaning in a fraction to try and kiss you again but then there’s a thud against the door and a soft ouch coming from behind it that interrupts you “We should really get out of here.”

It takes a millisecond for him to misinterpret what you meant, smirk growing on his lips when you shake your head disapprovingly and blushing while you pick your panties from the ground and get up to slip them on.

“Not what I meant!”

“I mean,” he starts to dress himself as well, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“No,” you say but you don’t sound so sure of it yourself and it makes him smile even wider, so you roll your eyes. “Where are my…”

“Here.” He hands you the tights and you thank him, almost falling while trying to put them on fast the next second. He laughs at you “Just sit down, babe.”

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m literally not!”

You tease each other as you get in costume again. This time the fabric bothers you a little but only because you’re sticky and sweaty even if it’s the last day of october.

Fully clothed, you walk to the door and you suddenly feel very shy and nervous at what can await you behind it. Wooyoung seems to see it on your face, so he steps in your space and kisses your lips sweetly, holding your waist respectfully like he didn’t just make you come less than ten minutes ago.

“I’m so glad I met you,” he whispers against you and you melt even if you don’t want to. He doesn’t specify why and you don’t ask, but he does smile when you peck his lips one last time before stepping away “Do you want to step out together or do you want to go first, should I go first? We can meet downstairs,” he clarifies before you can think the worst and you giggle “We can leave together too, if you want.”

You know he means the party.

But his phone vibrates again, insistently shaking in his pocket and you rest your head against the door softly “I feel like you have people that need you right now.”

He takes the phone out of his pocket. The screen reads “yuri”, with a series of heart emojis and a middle finger emoji at the end and his expressions turn worrisome immediately.

“Shit, no, you’re right, um…”

Stepping away from the door, you grab the knob and open it for him “Do your thing, Woo.”

You think you know exactly who's calling him.

Like you already knew, sleeping with Wooyoung didn't fix yours problems at all:

It hurts that she's been chosen over you again, but you keep the soft smile on your lips either way.

“I'll text you. I'll call you, I—” he leans into you again, stealing a hard, parting kiss that you probably are going to think about until he keeps his promise “Hey, everything alright?” You faintly hear when he picks up the call.

When he leaves the room and closes the door behind him, you sag against the wood of it and let yourself meet the cold floor to try and plan out how you're getting out of there and how long it would take you to walk to your dorm room at this time.

But then your phone digs in your hand, screen lighting up the dark room and your face.

+82-8-918-2910: my friend got sick bc she drank too much. wish i could take you to your dorm. text me when you get there, yeah? x

It makes you smile. Despite it all, it makes you smile really hard.

+82-8-918-2910: it's wooyoung btw ;) +82-8-918-2910: send me pic of how you save meeeee +82-8-918-2910: okay my friend is puking in the pool and her date it's fucking useless i have to go text me back pls!! xx

When you catch yourself re-reading the texts on your home screen and grinning, this time like a complete fucking idiot, you know you'll have to start thinking of another recipe to mend yet another broken heart.

That's fine. At least you're not thinking about Superman anymore.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated, don't be afraid to go to my inbox and leave your thoughts there, i love reading them!

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