#also I was seated this time but I’m usually standing and i show up early so I usually get barrier

[thelockedtombsexywoman]

When I went to a Florence + the Machine concert she danced so barefoot she broke her foot. SO glad she is now wearing shoes. And that you had a good time!

Was that in the recent tour? Because yeah my date was postponed because of that, i guess that’s why someone convinced her to wear shoes. I get the vibe she’s going for but girl….. this has happened multiple times…… just wear shoes…. you still look like a witch leading some kind of ritual it’s okay

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Intro/ Part 01

There's more to it than what meets the eye.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues, mentions of depression

Length: 6.5k Words

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook hates loosing.

And that’s especially true when it comes to bets- because he also can’t really pass up any opportunity to show off and be the best at something. So when he took on the bet with Jimin, he didn’t think anything of it- after all, even if he lost, he could still simply teach that so-called ‘puppy’ Jimin was supposed to be working with a killer choreo and make his way on top either way.

What Jimin failed to tell him, however, was that you are an absolute menace.

Not only are you spoiled to high heavens and dressed head to toe in pretty designer pieces designed and tailored just for you, no- your attitude is making him want to throw himself into a busy road to be run over by any moving vehicle willing to do so. It’s been not even thirty minutes he’s spent in the meeting room, and he already regrets his big mouth with Jimin.

But maybe it’s just a bad first impression. Maybe, you’re just having a bad day.

“So, basically, we’ve got four weeks to make it work.” Your manager says, having finished his plan as he stands at the end of the table everyone is sitting at, you included- though you clearly do not listen to the conversations happening at all, instead occupied with a game on your switch console, decorated in plastic gemstones and cute stickers, sound not even all the way down as to not interrupt anyone.

Jungkook feels his blood boiling. Can’t you at least attempt to listen? After all, it’s your career that’s on the line.

“I’ll need the possible song choices she made, and I also gotta get a copy of the guidelines and what the judges generally look for. Doesn’t have to be today, but I’d like to have it before we start making anything up.” Jungkook offers, arms crossed. You’ve not even looked at him once today.

If he just went by looks, you’d actually be quite cute- you're clearly taking good care of yourself, and you fall right into the category of hybrid girl he’d see himself interested in- but your character seems to be the exact opposite, as you stare down at the small screen in your hands, lashes long, hiding your gaze a little from him.

“We can totally do that.” Your manager says. “I- uhm.. Are you okay with that too?” He asks towards you, and you simply take in a deep breath before you sigh, shoulders shrugging and head somewhat nodding. Your eyes however never break away from your game, instead, you just adjust your seating postition a little before you become completely detached from the situation again. “I’m sorry about that. She’s.. Having a bad day.” Your manager justifies.

Jungkook smells the lie right away.

“Practice will start at 7 AM then-” Jungkook starts, and that seems to catch your attention as your face turns into a frown. “-And we’ll practice the whole week, except weekends.”

“That’s too early.” You mumble, grumbling down at your game while your legs stretch out under the table, feet brushing against his shins. You’re not wearing shoes, only your knee-high socks, having discarded the slip on’s early on for no apparent reason other than comfort.

“She usually sleeps until.. 11 so..” Your manager starts, and Jungkook has to swallow a growl.

“8.” He says sternly, staring at you who scoffs down at your hands. “She’ll have to get up earlier then.” He decides, making you lift your chin a little, before you save your game, turn off the console and put it on the table, your arms now crossed as well as you finally, for the first time, look at him.

The fire in your eyes could seriously burn someone if it was to be manifested into a real flame, he decides.

“You’ll have to wait until I show up then.” You answer him, and his eyes narrow, feeling challenged. But before he can respond, your manager seems to sense the growing tension between you two, as he dissolves the meeting quickly to have you driven back home.

Jungkook however, can’t let go this easily.

“You forgot to tell me that she’s an absolute bitch.” Jungkook growls into his phone, sitting on his couch with the TV on but on mute. “There’s no way I’ll be working with her for four weeks without committing a crime.” He threatens, and Jimin has the audacity to laugh.

“Oh Jungkookie, don’t let her fool you!” He laughs. “She’s a literal angel, believe me. She just acts all tough.”

“Or she was just interested in you.” Jungkook denies. “I’ve spent barely an hour with her and I already know She’s gonna be a handful to manage.” He sighs.

“Come on now, she’s what? Half your size?” Jimin playfully exaggerates. “Just put her in timeout, big guy, and you’ll be fine.” He jokes, very much aware of Jungkook’s rather dominant nature due to his wolfblood. And while the joke is funny, it’s also a problem.

Jungkook doesn’t know if he can really stay calm while working with you. And his career could be over in a second if he so much as lashes out at you verbally- because no way would someone work with a hybrid choreograph or dancer who can’t keep his cool. He already has issues getting some gigs due to his wolfblood mixed in- one mistake and he can surely put his career to rest.

He really regrets taking on this bet now.

Hopefully this won’t end too badly.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You really do not turn up at 8 like he told you to.

He’s impatiently waiting in the practice room, your manager and stylist and other staff already present- everyone trying to get a hold of you with no luck at all. It’s only until an hour later that another staff member informs everyone that you’ve finally woken up, and that you’re currently on your way to the practice room.

Jungkook is pissed, to say the least.

If you work like this the entire four weeks, there’s no way he can manage to push a good choreography into your head that you can pull off properly on stage. And if you fail, it’ll be on him- and he just can’t accept that. Hopefully, you’ll warm up to the idea of actually putting effort into this.

Hopefully.

When you finally turn up, you don’t appear to be sorry at all- still somewhat asleep and in no way ready to start practicing anytime soon. Instead, you sit down and take out your breakfast to eat, while your stylist runs a brush through your hair. But what’s odd about this, is more or less that Jungkook can sense a total shift in energy right now.

It’s like they’re shielding you, giving him no access to you until they deem the timing alright.

And you just robotically eat your little breakfast, while everyone else scatters around you, rushing from spot to spot. Jungkook isn’t too sure what exactly might be happening- but then again, it’s also not unusual to see such a scene. You’re a showhybrid after all- meant to look pretty at all times and in every living moment just in case there’s a camera around. And he knows that the practice is going to be filmed occasionally for some behind the scenes content for your fanbase- which is why you have your stylist around in the first place. You’re just supposed to look like you’re not wearing any makeup at all.

No one wants to see reality, because reality is what everyone can witness if they look in the mirror. And that’s boring. That’s not entertaining. That’s not something to be jealous of, or something to admire.

In a way, Jungkook starts to feel a bit sorry for you. Do you ever have a moment for yourself?

Either way, the moment the cameras start running, you switch character almost instantly. Suddenly you’re polite, soft spoken and determined to get every step right- though your true nature does poke it’s head through on occasion, especially when you can’t get something quite right the first or second try.

“Maybe we need to work on how to keep to the beat first.” Jungkook suggests, and at that, you seem to break, sighing with an agitated groan as your tail unravels, falling limp behind you. He’s not seen this happen often- his best friend Yoongi being a dog-hybrid with a curled tail as well, who can be quite grumpy most of the time. But even he never has his tail this.. Lifeless.

It’s unnerving to see.

“I’m not lobotomized, mutt.” You groan, making the manager motion to cut the cameras for a second. “I can keep to a beat, you’re just shit at teaching.” You growl to yourself, sitting down stubbornly as you visibly try and mask the fact that you’re out of breath.

Truth be told, Jungkook isn’t technically a choreographer. He usually works with professional dancers or simply follows whatever he’s given by an artist themselves- so yes, he might actually be a little rusty when it comes to teaching others.

Do you have to be so rude about it though? No.

“Well we’re going around in circles like this.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I’ll get us something to drink. Try and calm down a bit..” He attempts to soothe your temper, as he leaves the practice room- mostly so that he himself can escape the situation for a moment.

He’s not sure what it is. Maybe your scent full of anger and fear filling the space so much that it feels like it’s drowning him in the room, or the fact that you always have to be so rude-

Wait.

Fear?

Alarmed by that, Jungkook walks a bit faster with the water bottles in hand to get back into the room- just to find you not there anymore, everyone looking at him as if they’re surprised to see him back already. “Where is she?” Jungkook asks, and your manager blinks a little, caught off guard.

“She went to get something to drink.” He states, making Jungkook frown.

“I said I’m gonna get us some. Why did she go by herself?” Jungkook asks. “She doesn’t even know where the vending machines are.”

“She said you were taking too long.” A stylist mentions. Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I was gone for not even five minutes?” He growls to himself, before he hears you enter the room again, a small juicebox in hand that you punch the tiny straw into. “Don’t just run off.” He scolds you.

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah alright, Daddy.” You scoff, walking past him to sit in a corner- actually facing it for some reason, your back turned towards everyone else.

“Ah, don’t be alarmed.” Your manager explains. “She.. Sometimes does this. We don’t know either why, and we don’t really question it either. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be right back to practice.” He beams at him, and Jungkook feels weirdly played.

Something’s odd here.

But it’s also none of his business.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

The next day, you’re not there on time again.

And despite the fact that Jungkook had told you no food in the practice room was allowed, you clearly disregarded that as nothing but background noise, while you take out your bag of foods in the middle of the large room.

“I said no food in the practice room.” Jungkook scolds, walking towards you to stand right in front of you, arms crossed. “and you’re also late again. Two hours to be exact.”

“You said no food.” You shrug, lifting up the small bag of puffed rice crisps. “That’s snacks.” You respond, making him narrow his eyes and clench his jaw.

“put it to the side.” He says. “You’re here to practice, not to eat.” He reminds you, able to talk freely with almost none of your staff around today.

“can’t practice on an empty stomach.” You respond however, letting yourself fall into your bag, before you take out your phone to scroll on it while you eat your snacks- crumbs already littering the floor. “Why’s your wifi so shit in here?” You mumble to yourself, when suddenly, the signal stops entirely. “Hey, your internet cut off-“ you start, before you spot him putting his phone down. “Turn it back on-“

“Since you’re acting like a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” He simply says. “wifi stays off until you practiced.” He scolds, boldly taking both your snacks and your phone from you to put it on a table close by, the act alone catching you so off guard that it has you frozen in place while you process it. “Do you want to get up yourself or do I need to help you with that as well?” He asks, and you glare at him.

“Touch me and I’ll sue you.” You threaten, and he watches you for a moment as if to see if you’re serious- before he decides you’re clearly not, with the way your tail slightly twitches, clearly needing to be consciously held down by yourself to not wag.

“Alright that’s it.” He simply tells you before he walks towards you, and much to his dismay, you let yourself fall limply down onto the ground as if you’re trying to become liquid. “You’re being ridiculous right now-“

“let me have the wifi again!” You just huff. “and my snacks. I’m hungry.” You argue.

“get up earlier tomorrow and have breakfast then.” He shakes his head, before he grabs your wrists to lift you into a sitting position. But the moment he lets go, you’ve flopped back down again, lips twitching.

Now your tail is wagging, clearly.

“so that’s what you’re after, huh?” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “too bad. I’m not playing your game.” He says, before he walks to the side where all his stuff is, changing his shoes.

“wait- What’re you doing?” You ask, watching him tie his sneakers.

“going home.” He answers without looking. “were clearly not getting anywhere.”

You sigh, groaning out lout before you angrily hit the floor-

Getting up to walk towards him, pulling his jacket from his hands before you let it fall onto the table. “I wanna practice.” You pout.

“What a bummer, princess.” He answers, taking his jacket back to slip it on. “I don’t. Now get your stuff, and then-“ He tells you, walking closer before he points to the door behind you. “-get out.” He demands.

And you just angrily huff at yourself, doing just that.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You fail to get to practice on time again the day after.

And the day after that.

But on friday, Jungkook has finally had enough of your poor excuses and frankly stupid behavior.

"Why is she late this time?" Jungkook asks your staff, jaw clenched as he's already frustrated again. You're clearly not taking this seriously, and he honestly doesn't know how anyone else has ever managed to work with you in any way.

"We're.. not sure." Your manager says, face showing his own shame about your behavior. "She turned her phone off, we can't reach her."

That's it.

Jungkook can understand a lot of things. You're used to being spoiled and having everything set in front of you on a silver platter- he gets that. Sometimes, people's minds can be poisoned by wealth and success. But turning off your phone? That's too far.

What if something actually happened? What if you're sick, in need of help, in danger? This is absolutely ridiculous behaviour, and he does not care anymore. "She said she lives in the city here, right?" Jungkook asks, and the manager nods. "Alright, where exactly?" He wonders, and a stylist of yours calls out your address.

And that sets him off even further- because you barely live ten minutes away from him. Which means there's not even a single reason as to why you would be late at all.

"What are you going to do?" Your manager worries as Jungkook changes his shoes and slips on his jacket, grabbing the keys to his motorcycle.

"I'm getting her myself."

If there’s one thing Jungkook hates, then it’s people isolating themselves just for their own convenience. It’s mainly due to his best friend years back doing that constantly- turning off his phone to get some quiet time for himself, until he actually did end up being in trouble.

And when someone tried to call him, and couldn’t get a hold of him, they just thought ‘It’s probably one of those days again.’

If Jungkook didn’t go against his better judgement, if he didn’t end up checking up on him despite his mind telling him that it was for nothing, Yoongi would not be alive today.

He rings your doorbell multiple times, annoyingly so to get you to stand up at some point. There’s no way you can sleep through that, especially when he starts angrily knocking onto your door. Suddenly, you open it, staring at him with eyes barely open. “What.” You ask, and Jungkook takes a look at you for a second.

You’ve clearly been asleep, but you don’t look rested at all- eyes barely open as you glare at him, and funnily enough, one of your ears is even a bit floppy- not quite entirely down, but also no standing as straight as it usually does. “You’re late.” Jungkook scolds. You attempt to close the door again, making him attempt something dangerous.

He puts his hand in between the door.

But, maybe Jimin wasn’t so wrong after all, because you immediately open the door again, now wide awake as you look at his hand, worried you might’ve hurt him. Only when you don’t find anything you push his palm back towards him, and cross you arms.

“Come on.” He says, nodding towards the hallway behind him.

“No.” You deny.

“What do you mean, no?’ he asks, agitated.

“I said no. I don’t wanna.” You answer, walking back into your apartment- and with your door left open, he takes it as an invitation to walk inside.

The second he closes the door and turns around, he’s in shock.

Cardboard boxes, trash bags, crumpled papers and wrappings all over the place. Shoes litter the entrance area, your coats are thrown over the chairs at your open kitchen which sink is filled with unwashed dishes. The windows are shut, curtains heavy as they hide the mess in your home from the outside world. It’s so dark that Jungkook feels like if he wasn’t a hybrid, he most likely wouldn’t be able to see where he’s stepping at all.

How long have you been living like this?

The apartment isn’t big, there doesn’t seem to be many rooms at all. After searching for a bit he finds you curled up in your large bed, pink bedsheets and blankets halfway on the floor while your little gaming console chimes and beeps while you play.

“..come on now, you’ve.. got the weekend off.” Jungkook says. “it’s just today-“

“I said I don’t want to.” You growl, face focused on your game. “now fuck off and leave me.”

Jungkook sighs. This really isn’t any of his business.

But somehow, as he walks back into the main area of the small apartment, he finds himself opening a new trashbag to throw away all the plastic strewn around. He puts your shoes in order, places the garbage bags in a corner to have them out the way, before he rips the cardboard apart to throw away easier later. He’s not sure why he’s doing that- maybe partially to annoy you and get you to get out of bed, or maybe because he pities you.

This isn’t just laziness. From the way you act, to the body language you scream out quietly, to the fact that you don’t seem motivated for anything at all.

This is something deeper.

“What’re you doing?” You growl from a corner, before you walk closer to rip the cardboard box from his hands, throwing it in a corner again. “I told you to fuck off.” You threaten, and he nods.

“heard it loud and clear.” He agrees with crossed arms, and you huff.

“Ears seem to be working then.” You snap. “the mistake must be in your brain.”

“I can assure you it’s working just fine as well.” He answers, and you snarl at that, distinctive canines showing.

“Then why are you still here digging through my shit?!” You bark at him, and he shrugs.

“Because no one deserves to rot away like this.”

It’s quiet at that, for a good moment. The only sound heard is the clock in the kitchen ticking, some faint rain against the windows, and a garbage bag slowly slipping a little from its position. And when it falls to the floor, he catches a short second of your eyes tearing up, before you turn around, looking away from him before you run off into your bedroom-

But the door won’t close with all the clutter, making you angrily growl at it while you try and somewhat pull it close.

Jungkook slowly walks towards you, to pull your hands off of the door handle, making you drop down to the floor in defeat, sitting right on your clothes that are laying on the floor. “leave me alone.” You cry to yourself, head low and hybrid ears even lower as you sit there, kicking away some of the clutter.

The wolfdog hybrid slowly squats down to your level, before he carefully moves a broken jar away from your leg and onto a small table close by. “What’s going on with you?” He finally asks, and you kick your leg again at that, a small box flying through the room.

“I just want to be alone!” You bark. “I don’t want anyone in here, I don’t want to go to practice, I don’t want to do this stupid contest, I don’t want anyone to look at me!” You complain loudly, and Jungkook would easily call this a textbook temper tantrum, if it wasn’t for your clearly desperate tears.

“did you tell your management?” He asks, and you scoff, sniffling.

“as if they care!” You huff. “it’s always just do this, do that, go here, eat that, smile, be nice, film everything.!” You tell him. “I want to go home!” You begin to cry now, hiding your face in your hands.

“Home?” Jungkook wonders, unsure what you mean. Isn’t this your home?

“I just wanna go home..” you continue to cry into your hands. “I wanna go see mom, and dad..” you mumble muffled into your palms, and Jungkook feels terrible seeing you like this. He doesn’t know you, but something is clearly not right. This isn’t acting, because your body language, your scent- everything tells him that you’re in genuine distress.

“Maybe you can visit them?” He wonders, slowly reaching out to put his hand on your knee, offering silent comfort that you, for now, seem to accept. “do they live far away-“

“they won’t let me.” You say. “they told them.. they told them I don’t wanna see them and that I hate them, and now they hate me.” You whimper.

“They?” the wolfdog asks, pushing some clutter to the side to sit down as well.

“the company.” You mumble. “because.. my dad didn’t want me to move away back when.. when I was still a pup.” You say. A pup possibly meaning that you were still underage. “and.. back then, I thought it was for the best. This was such a one-in-a-million chance..” you reveal to him. “I thought it was worth it.”

“Do they threaten you?” Jungkook worries, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“..They’re all I have.” You admit. “my.. my apartment. My money. My name. They own me.” You say, defeat evident in your voice as you slowly calm down again, tension leaving your body. “just.. leave me alone.”

“I cant.” Jungkook denies with a sigh. “not anymore.”

“fuck off-“ you start, grabbing at his hand, but he somehow moves it around, holding yours now instead.

“I won’t.” He sternly says. “Alright? I don’t know how, but I’ll figure something out.” He promises, and you look up at him with slightly red eyes, confused.

“Figure out what?” You ask, and he smiles.

“How to bring you home.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re very clearly not very happy about Jungkook currently cleaning your apartment with you.

You’re slow and sluggish, and you constantly complain about everything- and Jungkook can somewhat understand it. You’ve quite literally buried yourself in this little cave, having someone take it apart like this must be horribly uncomfortable. But it’s for the best- and you’ll soon realize that.

That doesn’t mean you don’t annoy him, still.

“Come on now, get up.” Jungkook scolds you, as he watches you sit on the couch.

“What?” You complain. “I’m cleaning.. under the coffee table.” You pretend, but he doesn’t take that as an appropriate answer.

“We agreed on one area at a time. We’re still in the kitchen.” He says. “now get over here and help me with the dishes. I wash, you dry.” He decides, making you somewhat reluctantly get up. It’s odd to have anyone in your apartment at all, since not even staff is allowed inside- you constantly find and make up excuses to keep them out at all times. This is your only safe space, after all.

The only place no one is looking at you.

“yesterday..” jungkook slowly says, putting another plate towards you so you can dry it. “..you said that the company owns you.” He remembers, and you nod. “To what degree?”

“I have an independence license.” You say. An independence license is basically a permanent permit to live on your own, and also work on your own. Basically, with it, you don’t need an owner at all. “But.. the company has full control over my finances and such. And they own my, you know, brand name.” You shrug.

“I meant it, you know?” He tells you, draining the sink of the soapy water. “I’ll try and figure something out.”

“Don’t bother.” You simply say. “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Jungkook denies, drying his hands on a towel. But you stay silent as you put the dishes away in their proper places, not really sparing him any glance at all again.

Jungkook doesn’t really know yet how to help you. First, he wants to somehow get into contact with your parents and set things right again- maybe he can get their names and phone number from jimin who’s been working you for a good while now. And then, maybe they can help, too.

“I’m tired.” You complain as you sit down on the now finally somewhat clean floor, all the trash in bags and in a corner.

“You can take a nap.” Jungkook agrees, and you look at him with positive surprise.

“wait, really?!” You ask, tail wagging a little.

“sure. You’ve been working hard.” He approves. “and now that your couch isn’t cluttered, you can take a proper nap there.”

“Why not my bed?” You whine, disappointed.

“bed is for proper sleep. Couch is for naps.” He explains. “if you go to bed now you’ll just start rotting again.”

You stay quiet for a good moment, before you speak again, looking out the windows, curtains by now pulled open. Slowly, you walk over to the couch to sit down on, staring at your hands in your lap.

“I’m such a fuck up, am I not?” You sigh. “imagine if people knew how much of a failure I am.”

“You’re not a failure.” Jungkook denies, sitting down next to you on the couch. “just.. a bit lost at the moment.”

“Jungkook..” you say quietly, looking at his chest. “I really want to go home.” You admit, and he smiles softly.

“I know. And I’ll figure out a way, promise.” He offers, opening his arms. And much to his surprise, you take the invitation- even so much as to crawl onto his lap, leaning against his chest with your arms wrapped around him. It’s a lot more than he thought this was going to be, but he also can’t deny that this feels oddly comforting for him too.

And even though your tail is still limp and lifeless, at least you’re starting to open up. And maybe jimin was right after all.

Maybe you’re just acting tough.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook quickly learns that you really must’ve left home at a very young age- because you’re very much completely lost in translation when it comes to general tasks that fall onto someone when they live alone.

You’ve got no idea how to properly do laundry, you don’t know how to cook at all, and you have no idea what cleaning products to use for what. When he asked you if you had some window cleaner, you’d stared at him for a good second before you asked him why he can’t just use soap- and cooking in your book is simply boiling water for instant noodles.

It’s no wonder your apartment was in the state it was in. No one ever taught you how to look after yourself and your own home.

“Alright?” Jungkook asks while you stare at the washing machine with a determined gaze.

“put the clothes in, put the soap-squishy-thing in, close the door and then set it to that program there.” You repeat. Jungkook nods.

“But-?” He presses, and you stare at him for a second, thinking.

“But...uh..” you try and find an answer. “no colored stuff with white clothes? And no black with colors?” You try, and he grins, tail wagging.

“Good girl. See? You’re not dumb, you just didn’t know.” He praises. “now press start and then we can go laze around a little until it’s done.” He says, making you happily press the start button.

Something that Jungkook has noticed, is that the entire apartment seems oddly.. sterile almost, in that it looks and feels taken straight out of a magazine. You’ve got no thing personal it seems like, no blankets that aren’t a neutral color, no toys, no plushies despite you telling him by now that you love these things. Instead, you only really have your little gaming console and that’s it- your bedroom is mostly taken over by designer clothes and shoes, as well as all sorts of accessories. The bathroom contains shelves full of skincare for face and body, but everything else appears to be not at all to be your personality.

“You can get yourself some new blankets for the couch now that we’ve cleaned up.” Jungkook mentions, but at that you simply begin to pout next to him, legs pulled close to you as you slide down a little, slouching.

“Nah, they’ll say no.” You huff, watching the TV commercial play.

So you really meant it when you said that the company has full control over your money. He believed it might just involve big spendings, which would make sense- but it looks like it more so involves every single purchase you make instead.

“How long is your contract?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I think forever.” You say, flopping to the side, legs hanging off to the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Thats.. not legal.” Jungkook frowns. “did you never renew it?”

“Huh?” Your ears tilt towards him for a second. He still wonders why one of your ears is floppy these days. “..no. I don’t think I ever did.”

“I.. how long have you been with them?” He asks, and you hold your hands in front of you to start counting. And the more fingers you seem to add, the more concerned he becomes.

“Well, I uh.. wait, I left when I was..” you mumble to yourself. “and now that I’m.. I think eleven years?” You answer, looking at him.

The maximum contract length for hybrids is five years.

Five.

“I.. okay, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and you nod, slowly sitting up. “next time you’re at your company’s HQ, try and get a hold of a copy of your contract. But don’t tell anyone what you need it for.” He says.

If he can get a copy of whatever slave contract you’re under, getting you out of it will be easy. There’s strict laws for hybrids in place after all- one can’t just work them like pets, there’s rules every company has to follow. And that is the same in your industry as well.

“am I gonna go to jail?” You ask, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“No no, you did nothing wrong.” He denies, reaching out to pet your head- pleasantly surprised when you visibly accept the gesture.

Because he speaks the truth. You did nothing wrong.

You were simply used from the start.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

On Monday, jungkook is standing at your door, 7 AM.

And you really, really do not want to go with him.

“Come on now-“ he urges again, pulling on your fluffy sweater while you cling to the doorframe of your apartment building entrance, having just seen what exactly Jungkook uses as his preferred means of transportation.

“No, you’re not getting me on that death-trap, no way in hell!” You complain, escaping his grasp just for a second before his arms are around your middle, easily removing your fingers from the door with a smile sent towards the security guard as reassurance, before he carries your struggling body towards his Harley. “No!” You complain. “This is kidnapping! Abduction!” You cry out, before he puts the helmet he’d gotten recently on your head, hands fastening the strap beneath your chin before he gets onto the motorcycle as well, sitting in front of you.

And the second it roars to life, you’re clinging to him with arms and legs involved, resulting in Jungkook adjusting your grip a little to not strangle him.

Well- at least he’s not driving fast.

“I hate you.” You complain when he removes the helmet again in the underground parking lot beneath the dance studio, pupils still blown wide, cheeks a bit flushed.

“If you just got up yourself like a big girl, I wouldn’t have to drive you.” He easily tells you, helping you down from the vehicle. “we’ll do this again and again until you learn.” He explains, stepping into the elevator with you- still lowly growling to yourself, pissed off at his attitude.

You’re not a kid. He’s stupid.

But it does work, because at least you somewhat practice with him for a few hours, before you stubbornly lay down starfish style in the middle of the practice room, demanding a break- one he grants for once, even if it’s just ten minutes.

“I really don’t wanna go to that contest.” You huff, half of your face squished against the shiny floorboards. Jungkook slowly walks towards you, squatting down to flick his finger against one of your ears that’s again, a little floppy today.

“I know.” He answers, because he does still remember your outburst, devastating cries edged into his mind.

“Hey Jungkook?” you ask, as he absent-mindedly rubs your ear between his fingers, almost enchanted by the softness of it.

“Yeah?” He answers, noticing the way you clearly enjoy such a simple touch to the fullest. You’re constantly surrounded by people, and yet it’s clear that you’re touch-starved and just treated like a doll and nothing else. How lonely must you have been until now?

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask. “or a boyfriend?” You wonder, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.

“No.” He answers, unsure and most of all suspicious.

“nice.” You smile, tail wagging softly. “I’m your girlfriend then.” You decide, and he freezes.

“...what?” He asks, sitting down now, a water bottle next to his crossed legs. “You can’t.. that’s not how it works.” He explains, but you shrug.

“My mom and my dad didn’t like each other either.” You reply, staring at nothing ahead, chin on your hands. “they just.. got together out of convenience. Cause they were the same hybrid breed, and I guess didn’t have anyone else at the time.” You mumble. “love isn’t real anyways. I’m pretty- isn’t that enough for you to like me?” You ask, turning your head to look at him with a gaze so.. detached that it makes him feel pity.

Is that your view on the world around you?

“You are pretty.” He responds. “but that’s not a foundation for.. a relationship.” He shakes his head.

“I don’t mind that you’re a mix.” You shrug. “you’re handsome, I’m pretty, and I have money.” You say. “if we get together thousands will flock to your dance studio. You’ll be super successful. “ You propose to him. “doesn’t even have to be for long. You can just.. I don’t know. Spend some time with me until you get bored, and then move on.”

“No.” He denies again. You frown.

“Huh.” You huff, slowly sitting up. “whatever then, I guess.”

“Do you even like me?” he asks you, confused, and you shrug before nodding.

“You’re nice. A bit stick-up-you-ass, but overall nice.” You offer.

Jungkook just watches you for a second, in full disbelief at what had been done to you. Raised in a place of luxury, with a golden spoon in your mouth and lies fed daily to create the view you have on everything around you right now. No kindness without some ulterior motive fits your reality. Everything has to be convenient for everyone involved.

“I don’t want a relationship without love, no matter what I might gain from it.” He explains himself, and you roll your eyes, before you flop onto your back, arms crossed again as you sulk. “You shouldn’t settle for less either.”

“Yeah well I wont get that.” You answer. “no one wants me. They want.. her.” You say, while twirling the silver name tag from around your neck in your fingers.

Until he leans over you, body entirely covering yours for a second, causing you to become nervous and wide eyed at his bold move. He’s looking at your neck, and you’re sure he must’ve realized what’s in it for him- after all, everyone is out for something to gain.

His hands move around your neck, fingers warm. You close your eyes as his face draws closer, awaiting the inevitable.

When suddenly, the collar around your neck is undone, and pulled off your neck.

“what-“ you ask, eyes open again as you watch him still above you, now looking into your eyes, and no longer anywhere else.

“I don’t want her.” He says, referring to the name on the tag around your neck that’s now in his hand, pushed into the floorboards where he holds himself up.

“But I’d like to get to know you instead.”

[bradleybeachbabe]

Ok so there is a serious shortage of Tim Bradford stuff on tumblr and the gasp i gusped when i saw you were taking requests was very big.

So how about him being his usual hard and grumpy self and his pregnant wife coming to the station angry about something and him turning into a big softie. Like she’s almost scolding him about something and the others staring like ‚who is this man?‘. Obviously Angela knows what’s up but the rookie are like 🫨

Thanks so much!!💗

here you go anon <3 hope i did you justice on this! also i really enjoyed writing this!

warnings: pregnancy, not beta read

a/n: i haven’t posted in blurbs in forever, so please bare with me on this!

you have been angry at the slightest things lately, whether it being how hot it is outside, not being able to put on your shoes, not having your favorite ice cream in your freezer, etc. the list could go on, and yet it could be to the fact that you’re seven months and half pregnant, because ever since you entered your third trimester the slightest things have been making you angry. and now you’re even angrier than you have been throughout your third trimester, and it’s all because the air conditioning has decided to stop working in your house, so with that being said you have decided to head down to the station to tell tim, your husband, all about it.

when you arrived at the station, you were lucky enough that you didn’t have to wait in the front lobby of the station for tim to come out and talk to you. the officer who was working at the front desk knew who you were, so you were able to just go to the back where all of the officers’ desks are, to find tim.

when you entered the back, you were lucky enough to find tim sitting at his desk, talking to angela about whatever. when you were walking over to where his desk was, angela spotted you.

“looks like you got some company,” angela nodded her head toward your direction.

tim turned his head and saw you waddling towards him.

“i’m gonna give you two some privacy,” angela said as she left tim’s desk and walked over to where john, lucy, and jackson were standing.

“who’s that?” jackson quipped when angela approached.

“tim’s wife, y/n,” angela answered.

“tim has a wife?” lucy, john, and jackson all asked at the time.

“yeah, they have been married for about three years now. and of course, they are now expecting their first baby in a few months.”

“wow, i did not know that,” lucy said.

“yeah, tim tends to keep his work and personal life separate,” angela said.

“hmm…now i’m wondering why she showed up to talk to tim,” lucy said.

“honestly, whatever it is, it’s gonna look good on his end,” angela smirked as she took a sip of her coffee.

“what are you doing here?” tim asked with a confused tone when you approached his desk. “is everything okay? is the baby okay?” he added.

“no, everything is not okay. the bright side is, that the baby is okay.”

“well, what’s wrong then?” tim asked.

“what’s wrong is that the air conditioning has stopped working at the house, and now i’m super hot, sweaty, i'm upset, and especially angry because of that,” you explained.

tim just looked at you with soft eyes. he felt bad for you. he hated seeing you angry and upset. he knew how irritated you could get whenever you’re hot.

“i can try and fix it when i get home later today,” tim stated.

“what time will you be home?” you questioned him.

“maybe around five, it all just depends if i can get all this paperwork done before that time.”

“oh,” you frowned.

tim sighed, “you want me to leave work right now, so then i can fix the air conditioning? don’t you?”

“please.”

you already knew what tim’s answer was gonna be. he wasn’t gonna, ‘no’ or anything like that. plus, if he did, most likely he would end up sleeping on the couch for the night.

“okay, i’ll leave right now,” tim said. “let me go inform sergeant grey that i’m gonna leave early.”

tim got up from his seat at his desk to head to sergeant grey office. and when he did get up, he quickly kissed your temple, and quickly laid one of his hands on your bump, before he walked off.

while you were waiting for tim to get back from sergeant grey’s office, you saw out of the corner of your eye, angela and by the looks of it, three rookies standing with her. the three rookies had shocking looks on their faces while angela couldn’t help herself from smirking. you already knew why angela had that smirk on her face. she already knew that tim has a huge soft side, and that soft side is only reserved for you, and your baby who is gonna be born in a few months. on the other hand, the rookies didn’t know tim’s soft side at all, so of course all of them had shocking looks on their faces.

“sergeant grey is okay with me going home early today,” tim said as he approached you.

“did he ask why you’re going home early today?”

“yes,” tim nodded his head.

“did he think your reason for leaving early was kinda odd and crazy,” you asked.

“yeah,” tim nodded. “but luckily he isn’t giving me a hard time about this,” he added.

“well, that’s good then.”

tim turned off his computer and pushed his desk car in, and you two walked out hand in hand with each other.

“told ya,” angela said as she walked off. while lucy, john, and jackson were still standing there with shocking looks on their faces, trying to gather the pieces together that tim has a soft side.

blurb night!

[tomriddleslove]

can I please please please request a reverse grumpy x sunshine with theo 😭🙏🏼 i have a horrible cold rn and im pretty sure im getting a fever too and im so so close to my periods and im in some very desperate need for something nice 😭 it's totally fine if you can't or if you're busy, no pressure!

p.s. im in love with your writing! (if it wasn't obvious before)

Show a little loving.

✩ Theodore Nott x F!Reader

The one where a smitten Theodore Nott is willing to do anything and everything to see that smile of yours. It’s only a matter of time before he has to let you know - and the school mandated trip might make that a lot earlier.

A/N: This was so disgustingly cute i actually almost threw up but ig its necessary after 61 letters LOL (also @stardustsymphony ur actually amazing i hope you like it)

songs: Lovers - anna of the north

Theodore Nott had a habit of being too cheerful for his own good, especially in the mornings. You couldn’t figure out how he managed to wake up so early and still be this bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

It was unnatural.

You leaned against the Slytherin common room wall, waiting for your first class of the day, arms crossed and expression set in your usual neutral state. Your friends called it a "resting bitch face," though you insisted it was just your natural look.

Either way, no one seemed brave enough to bother you this early - except for Theo, of course.

"[name]!" His voice rang out from the entrance, and you groaned internally before turning your head to see him practically bouncing down the stairs, his dark hair flopping slightly as he moved.

“Too early for that much enthusiasm, Theo,” you muttered, but you didn’t stop the small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. He always had that effect on you, no matter how much you tried to resist it.

Theodore didn’t seem fazed. He gave you a wide grin as he plopped down next to you on the stone bench. “It’s never too early! Have you seen outside? It’s perfect weather - I thought we could grab breakfast and maybe sit by the lake before class.”

“Not sure if I’m awake enough for all that,” you grumbled, pulling your cloak tighter around yourself. The dungeons were always too cold in the mornings. “But breakfast doesn’t sound too bad.”

“See? You’re already coming around,” he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

It was a running joke between the two of you. Theo was always the optimist, the 'sunshine' that (much to your dismay) seemed hellbent on making you smile. He was one of your closest friends, so you let him get away with it, though you wouldn’t admit how much you enjoyed his company - or how much his smile did things to your heart you didn’t entirely understand yet.

He nudged your arm gently. “I even asked Mattheo to save you a croissant for breakfast. No need to thank me, though I’ll accept compliments.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him out of the common room, the two of you falling into step as you walked through the corridors. It was easy, the way you fit together. Where you were quiet, he filled the silence with his never-ending commentary on whatever came to mind-whether it was about the latest Quidditch scores or some random thing he noticed about the castle.

Today, it was the latter.

“Have you ever noticed how that one portrait near the Great Hall looks like it’s giving people side-eye? I feel rather judged every time I walk by.” he rambled, feigning hurt as he places a hand on his chest.

You snorted, unable to help the laugh that bubbled up. “No, but now I’m definitely going to look for it.”

“See? I’m expanding your horizons,” he said with a satisfied grin.

You shot him a sideways glance. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking and you’ll lose your seat.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges in that way that always made your stomach flip. “You’d miss me if I wasn’t there.”

You didn’t respond right away, but he wasn’t wrong.

You didn’t know how to describe the way your friendship with Theo felt like it was standing on the edge of something bigger, something neither of you had quite dared to name.

And maybe you weren’t ready for it just yet. But when he sat down beside you, close enough that your knees brushed under the table, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too.

Theodore hummed contentedly as he reached for the little pot of sugar, dumping three heaped teaspoons into his coffee like it was perfectly normal behaviour. The steam rose lazily from the cup, and he stirred it absentmindedly, flashing you that familiar, easy-going smile.

“Have you packed for the astronomy trip tomorrow?” he asked casually, as though he hadn’t just committed a serious coffee crime right in front of you. “Apparently Tromsø is absolutely piss cold at this time of year. Draco was telling me.”

“I’ll help you pack later. Just so you don’t forget something important. Like, I don’t know, an extra jumper for me.”

You shot him a glare. “Sure, Theodore. I’ll just pack your entire wardrobe while I’m at it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of asking,” he replied, grinning again. “Just the scarf, though. You know, my lucky one.”

You snorted. “That hideous green one? Absolutely not.”

“Blasphemy,” he said dramatically, clutching his chest. “You wound me, [name].”

“Good,” You deadpan, turning to look at him.

You raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with something between disbelief and amusement. “God, Theodore-” you chided, pointing at his cup with disgust, “is that not just sugar with a side of coffee?”

"Well someone needs to make up for the clear joy discrepancy in this friendship." He defended, taking a long sip as if to punctuate his point.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smirk creeping onto your face. “Right, because your never-ending cheerfulness is the only thing keeping us all from a dark, miserable existence.”

“Exactly!” he declared, entirely too pleased with himself. “I’m performing a public service, really. One smile at a time.”

There was something ridiculously charming about how he just… didn’t care. Theodore was all lightness and laughter, one could argue too much so for a Slytherin.

“I wouldn’t need to drink quite so much sugar if you’d stop glaring at me like I’ve just murdered a puppy.” he teased, bumping your knee lightly under the table. “Honestly, one of these days I’m going to get you to smile before 10 a.m. Just you wait.”

You scoffed, but the warmth in his tone made it impossible to stay annoyed. “You’d have better luck with a Patronus charm.”

"There's a reason why I'm top of the DADA class" Theodore shot back with a cocky grin.

Despite yourself, you felt the corners of your mouth twitching upward, and before you could stop it, a smile crept across your face. Quickly, you took a sip of your coffee to cover it up, but Theodore noticed.

If you saw the way he looked at you, you'd know he was in love then and there. The way he almost melted into your expression, eyebrows almost furrowing as he looks over at you. Just as he opened his mouth, ready to say something - something he wasn’t even sure he was ready to admit to himself- Pansy’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Well, if it isn’t day and night sitting over here,” she chimed, plopping down next to you with a knowing smirk.

“Merlin’s sake, Theo. You’re going to give yourself diabetes.” Pansy’s voice broke through, dry and unimpressed as ever.

“I reckon the sugar’s the only thing keeping him tolerable,” Mattheo said, slouching into his chair and eyeing Theodore’s cup with disdain. “Otherwise, we'd have to listen to him drone on about defensive spells without end.”

You snorted into your coffee before you could help it, the sound surprising you. You couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up, covering your mouth as you shoot Mattheo a glare that was only half-serious. It was loud - unfiltered and genuine, and when you glanced up, you found Theodore staring at you with that easy smile, his eyes warm and a little too soft. Even with Mattheo’s jab at his expense, Theodore couldn’t bring himself to be mad, not when the sound of your laughter was still ringing in his ears.

“Right, like I’d ever come to you for life advice, Mattheo,” Theodore muttered, finally tearing his gaze away from you, though his grin lingered.

Mattheo shrugged lazily. “Probably shouldn't. I’m a terrible influence."

You let the three of them fall into conversation as you zone out, sipping on your coffee. Their chatter faded into the background as your mind wandered, focusing instead on the upcoming trip. The Astronomy class’s trip to Tromsø was all anyone could talk about lately.

And as the pessimist you were, all you could focus on was how damn cold it was going to be.

--

You were right.

It was cold - too damn cold.

As soon as the group stepped off the train in Tromsø, the icy wind cut through your layers like they were made of parchment. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, teeth chattering despite the heavy coat you wore.

"Bloody hell," you muttered under your breath, glancing around at your classmates as they all shivered in the bitter chill. "Why did I think this was a good idea?"

"Because it’s Norway, and we’re going to see the Northern Lights," Pansy answered with a 'that's so obvious' tone, bundling herself up in a fur-lined coat that looked like it cost more than your entire wardrobe.

You shot her a look. “I don’t care if we’re going to see dragons dancing in the sky. It’s fucking freezing.”

Pansy only rolled her eyes, linking arms with Lorenzo as they trudged ahead through the snow-covered streets. The rest of your group followed suit- Draco, Mattheo, Blaise, and, of course, Theodore- who was surprisingly unfazed by the weather, despite the hideous green scarf he insisted on wearing.

By the time you arrived at the lodge where you were all staying, your fingers were numb and your patience thin. The lodge was quaint, wooden, and cosily tucked away at the edge of the forest, the surrounding snow-capped trees giving it a 'hallmark christmas' charm.

You all shuffled into the common room, where the housekeeper with a rather large bushy moustache greeted you with thick blankets and far too much enthusiasm for someone who lived in such a cold climate. Everyone split off to their rooms, getting settled before heading out for the evening’s stargazing expedition - one you had organised amongst yourselves. You were sharing a room with Pansy, while Theodore was bunking with Blaise.

Once you'd unpacked, you met the group downstairs again. The fire crackled in the hearth as the others talked about what to do before heading out for the night.

Theodore appeared by your side, leaning casually against the arm of the sofa you were sitting on. "So," he started, that familiar grin tugging at his lips, "what do you want to do?"

You frowned at him in confusion. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because I want to do whatever you want to do," he replied simply, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. "I don't care. I'll just go along with whatever everyone else is doing."

But Theodore wasn’t having it. "You always say that. C’mon, humor me."

Before you could argue, Mattheo walked past and clapped Theodore on the shoulder. "Come on, Nott, stop making her overthink. Let’s go grab some snacks and freeze our asses off while we wait for the lights," he said, and with that, the group started bundling up again, ready to head out into the freezing night.

--

The sky above was almost too perfect - as though it had been plucked straight from a postcard. It almost compensated for the bone numbing chill, the sight of string-light lit stalls far too pretty to make you feel grumpy.

For a while, though.

You trudged along beside Theodore, bundled in so many layers that it felt like your entire body had been wrapped in blankets. The long puffer jacket you wore reached nearly to your knees, and your scarf-wrapped around your neck at least three times-barely left room for your face to peek through. You couldn't help but grumble to yourself, tugging at the edge of your gloves to make sure no skin was exposed to the biting cold.

Theodore, of course, noticed immediately.

"Merlin's beard, you're waddling," he teased. "If you added another layer, you might not be able to walk at all."

You shot him a glare from under your knitted hat. "I'd rather waddle than freeze to death."

He chuckled, eyes flicking over your bundled-up form with an almost too-pleased look on his face. "I don’t know, it’s kind of cute. You look like a disgruntled penguin."

You snorted, half-annoyed, half-amused. "Glad you're entertained."

"Come on," he coaxed, nudging your arm lightly, "I bet under all those layers, you're secretly enjoying this. You’re just too stubborn to admit it."

"Enjoying this?" you asked incredulously, gesturing to the freezing air and the snow-covered ground beneath your feet. "I’m wearing half my wardrobe just to avoid becoming an icicle."

Theodore shrugged, his easy grin never faltering. "Still cute, though."

"You're insufferable, Nott," you muttered, scowling as you slap his arm.

He grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself for pulling that almost-smile out of you.

"Oi! We're gonna go see if we can get some hot chocolate and blankets before we set up for the evening, You guys just guard our spot before someone else grabs it." Blaise yells from a short distance, and Theodore nods as you groan. You wanted to be in the cosy warm lodge - not out here on an isolated ledge in the middle of god-knows where whist your friend traipse around the quaint markets.

You look up, momentarily stunned as the half sarcastic curses that were about to escape your mouth dry out on your tongue. Ripples of greens and blue entwine, seamlessly dancing through the dark that otherwise shrouded the night-sky. It wasn't magic, only charged particles from the sun colliding with gases in Earth's atmosphere, causing them to emit light in vibrant colors, typically seen near the polar regions (courtesy of muggle book you had read on the journey here) but it was nonetheless enchanting.

Surprisingly, your voice broke the silence. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Theodore nodded, eyes fixed on you. “Yeah… it really is.”

There was a brief silence, and when you glanced over, you found Theodore watching you instead of the sky, his expression soft.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, still smiling. “Nothing. Just trying to figure out how to make you smile.”

You huffed, turning your gaze back to the sky. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I like seeing it,” he said simply, his voice so sincere it made your stomach flip.

You didn’t respond, the weight of his words lingering in the cold air between you. After a moment, he sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “I’ll have to try harder, then.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though your tone was more fond than irritated now.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “And you’re stubborn.”

You turned to chastise him, ready with another quip, but the words faltered when you looked up at him. The moonlight caught his features- soft shadows dancing across his sharp jawline, his eyes gleaming with that look that you had seen far too often these past few weeks. His scarf, that hideous green thing, was crooked as always, the ends flapping slightly in the breeze.

Your hands moved instinctively, reaching up to fix it. "This scarf..." you started, your voice trailing off as you focused on straightening it.

Theodore’s gaze never faltered as he watched you, his eyes tracing every detail of your face as if committing it to memory. "You know, I’m not sure if you actually hate the scarf or if it’s just an excuse to keep touching me."

You scowled, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you mumbled, but even you could hear the wavering in your voice.

His smile widened, but he didn’t say anything more, just stood there.

Before you knew what you were doing, you tugged him closer by the scarf, pulling him toward you. "This hideous scarf of yours," you muttered under your breath, using it as a flimsy excuse to hide the fact that you were really just closing the gap between you.

Theodore’s eyes flickered down to your lips, his breath fogging in the cold air between you. And then, without another word, you closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like both of you were testing the waters. But the second his lips moved against yours, something inside you shifted. It was slow, unhurried, his hands gently cradling your face as if he had all the time in the world. The cold air disappeared entirely, replaced by the warmth of his touch, his closeness, and the feeling of him - consuming you.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, Theodore’s eyes were still on you, that stupid smile of his making your knees weak.

"You didn’t even fix the scarf," he whispered, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes, still trying to catch your breath, but you couldn’t fight the grin that broke through. "Shut up."

But Theodore only laughed, leaning in again to steal another kiss.

Your gloved hands came up, fisting the thick wool of his jacket as you-

“Finally!” Pansy’s dry tone rang out, followed by the sound of scattered applause.

You and Theodore broke apart, startled, only to find the rest of your group approaching, grinning like idiots.

“What the-?” you began, but Blaise interrupted, holding up a handful of galleons.

“We made a bet on how long it’d take for you two to finally snog," he said with a grin, pocketing the winnings. "I was getting worried."

Your face burned, and your grumpy demeanor returned in full force as you glared at them all. "I hate every single one of you."

But before you could storm off, Theodore just chuckled, pulling you into his side with a warmth that made it hard to stay annoyed. "Don’t worry," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, "they’re just jealous."

Grumbling under your breath, you leaned into him as the group settled down.

Perhaps it wasn't all too bad.

[twilghtkoo]

ride: first date [part one] jjk

“you nervous?” “yeah.”

summary. you’re first date with jungkook and he’s picking you up on his motorcycle

pairings. biker!jungkook x reader (f)

genres/au. fluff, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, college au

warnings. flirty jungkook, oc and jk touch each other (not sexual), poor attempt at motorcycle knowledge (my fault) T__T, if i missed anything pls lmk!!

word count. 1.6k

notes. first part!! and the beginning of a new series but with jungkook o.o i rly liked this one hehe, pls like and reblog if u enjoyed this !! also did y’all see jungkook’s promotion schedule photo bc W T F

[ series masterpost | masterlist | taglist ]

—

you’re the girl he’s had a crush on since he saw you for the first time in the library on campus. you were wearing grey sweatpants and a random hoodie with your hair tied up in a low ponytail, your glasses framing your face in the most prettiest way. you were frantically typing and writing stuff down on your laptop, and when he had walked over to take a seat next to you— after the pep talk he had with himself— your notes still looked neat and colorful despite your distressed scribbling.

after he had the courage to tap you on the shoulder and start a conversation, you’ve both quickly became friends. it was surprising to see how well you both bonded together. and you’re not usually someone who makes friends so easily, it having to do with your shyness and social anxiety. but jungkook had a charm and such an easy-going personality that drew you in.

you’ve mostly hung out on campus, both of your schedules not aligning in your favors due to exam season. so your hangouts were located in the library most of the time. opting to studying together and just being satisfied basking in each others presence.

around the tenth hangout, jungkook asked you out on a date. you were working on a quiz and he was writing an essay when he slid a piece of paper over to you before he went back to typing on his laptop.

will you go out on a date with me this saturday?

check ☐ yes or ☐ yes :)

you would’ve said yes even if he gave you a ‘no’ option.

-

a couple days later, before the weekend, he had walked you to the campus’s bus stop and waited with you. you had an evening class and it ended around eight, the blue sky now turning a shade darker as the minutes pass and it made you frown.

“how do you get home? you said you park in parking garage b and that’s across campus. you didn’t have to walk me here, although i really appreciate it.” you said, worried. from the eyes of others, jungkook looks tough, if his tattoos, piercings, fit figure had anything to go by. but you cared about him and it’s natural for you to be worried. anything could happen.

your concerns make him grin, he shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“i’m okay, promise. and i ride my bike to get places.” he assures you.

you tilt your head, staring at him with curious eyes. “like a motorcycle?”

he nods, holding his small grin when he watches your eyes grow bigger.

you gasp, “really? you own a motorcycle?”

“yup, she’s my baby. got her when i turned 20. she’s precious to me.” he tells you before leaning down next to your ear. “but don’t worry you’re more precious.”

you didn’t have time to respond because your transportation pulls up and jungkook grabs your hand to walk you to the entrance of the bus.

-

jungkook arrived at your place a bit early but he couldn’t help it. he was excited. he had texted you he was here but told you not to rush.

he’s has never been this nervous in his life since having to tell his mom he wanted to major in computer science and not med school like she wanted. he’s nervous because he’s going on a date with you.

and you’re in your bedroom trying to gather your necessities into your shoulder bag, deciding to take a peek through your window that shows the front of your building and you’re able to see jungkook next to his bike.

he’s not sure how to stand when you walk out your door. should he lean against his bike with his arms crossed? he almost decided to just sit on it but why if he’s going to get off anyways to greet you. should he pretend he’s on his phone until he sees you?

“kook!”

he is shaken out of his internal turmoil when he spots you lightly jogging up to him, a radiant smile lighting up your entire face with warmth and joy.

“sorry, did i make you wait?” she brushes a few strands of hair out of her face, peering up at him with guilt and curiosity with the shiny black bike next to him.

he quickly shakes his head. “no, i wasn’t waiting long. don’t worry.” he assured you.

“you look pretty.” jungkook compliments you, scanning your features with the same grin he had when he had asked you out on a date.

you blush, “thank you, you too. i mean, you look really really handsome.”

his eyes crinkled at the edges and the corners of his lips turned upwards. his lip piercings shining and glaring from the sunlight, almost blinding you.

he notices you staring at his bike with interest.

“you nervous?”

“yeah.” you admit, sheepishly smiling.

you watch as jungkook unzips his leather jacket and sliding it off before he makes his way to you. he helps you slide off your bag before helping you slide your arms in the sleeves. his smell and the soft scent of his cologne makes you feel giddy inside and makes your heart hammer.

“i’ll ride slow, i have precious cargo today.” he responds, zipping the jacket up and grabbing all your hair from out the jacket. an action that makes your heart beat louder out of your chest.

you slide your bag back over your head to rest on your shoulder as you watch jungkook grab the helmet that rested on the back of his bike.

“did the bike come with an extra helmet?” you question, genuinely curious.

he’s careful to not mess up your hair as he slides the helmet over your head, and strapping it on.

he hums before he responds. “no, i bought it yesterday.” he tightens a strap, then asking if it was too tight, you said no.

“you bought it for me?”

“i told you, i have precious cargo. can’t have nothing happen to you.” he finishes making sure your helmet was secured, lightly patting the top of it before he slid his on.

watching jungkook do his thing and putting on his gloves was kind of hot…okay, really hot.

jungkook gets on first, kicking the kick stand off the ground and holds out his gloved hand for you to take. giving your hand a squeeze as he notices your small steps before you climb on behind him. instantly wrapping your arms around his tiny waist, when you tightened your grasp you were able to feel the sculpted muscles underneath his t-shirt. only making you intrigued on what’s hiding beneath the thin cotton fabric.

“hold on to me okay, squeeze me if anything.” he tells you softly, but you know he’s serious.

-

the sound of his motorcycle coming to life was like a breath of fresh air. in fact, his frequent gentle touches at stop lights were everything calming and you appreciated it.

the light just turned red and jungkook slows down to a stop. your knees rested against his hips as your arms circled his waist, both your hands linked together. he frees his hands from the handle bars to rest on your hands, giving them a squeeze.

and god, you’re very thankful for this helmet that’s hiding your red face and your embarrassingly huge smile.

his hands then roam to your knees then down your shins, patting a rhythm and then running over your denim covered leg soothingly.

is he doing this to make you go crazy? cause it’s working.

you’re not sure if it was the coffee you had this morning or his touches that boosted this sudden confidence but your hands loosened around his hips and gripped them. squeezing where his bare skin ends and you feel the hem of his black jeans.

jungkook places a hand over yours, not letting your hands move anywhere else. he wants yours to stay where it’s at for the moment.

he tilts his head back. “you doing okay?”

you nod, “yeah, you’re a safe driver. five stars.” you joke.

he chuckles at that and the light turns green.

-

he took you to a dog cafe. not just any dog cafe, but a corgi cafe. you didn’t even know this cafe existed. oh but through the big window in the front of the building, seeing the few corgis you could see, you wanted to burst with excitement.

“you like corgis?” he asks, pointing to the pen that’s in your hand with an acrylic artwork of a corgi at the end. you had bought it at a stationery store a few weeks ago.

your lips curve upward into a small but genuine smile. “yeah, they’re my favorite dogs.”

he smiles with you, mentally storing that information into his brain.

“you haven’t been here before have you?” he asks nervously, helping you off the bike and unstrapping your helmet. he helps you fix your hair and brushes back a few strands.

you shake your head. “no, i didn’t even know a corgi cafe existed here.”

“good, i was worried you’ve already been here.” he holds his hand out for you to take, in which you did.

you’re swaying on your feet unconsciously, switching gazes from the nervous boy and the sight of a freaking corgi cafe in front of you.

but jungkook notices you.

he hums out, “come on pretty, don’t wanna keep you out too late.”

[measuredingold]

hi, angel <33 back with a request! also also no pressure at all ofc, if you’re not vibing with it just delete 🥰

just had a lil fluff idea, friends to lovers type beat. reader is on tour with the band, tagging along as a friend when she’s out late one night with the guys, gets a lil drunk/tipsy and ends up in the wrong bunk. (Noah’s.) he didn’t go out, he went to bed early. she doesn’t realize and she’s like “what are you doing in my bed?”

neither of them end up moving, and it doesn’t help that she’s a cuddly drunk. plus, he has a hard time saying no to you 🥺💗

anyway, do with that what you will 💖

just friends

authors note: thank you so much lovely anon for requesting this! i enjoyed writing this and kind of want to take it further, but i'm not sure? :) anyways, i hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy it <3 reminder that my requests are open! also, happy birthday noah :)

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 2.6k

cw/tags: fluff (like tooth-rotting fluff imo), friends to lovers, confessions/admission of feelings, drinking/reader is drunk, 18+ minors do not interact

"Easy there, girl."

You giggled as Nicholas helped you onto the bus, his hands pressed against the small of your back to keep you in place. You didn't even mean to drink this, usually not one to do so, but after Folio had challenged you to see how many shots you could take in under a minute you had to prove to him that it definitely was more than two. Now here you were, giggling obnoxiously to yourself as Nicholas guided you onto the bus, feet tripping over one another.

"Nick," You hum, eyes squinting around the bus. "Is the room spinning?"

"It very much is not. You," A finger pressed to your forehead, and you barely registered that Nicholas was now in front of you, a smile tugging at his lips, "are very much drunk, though. Come on, let's get you to bed. Go change and I'll get you some water and Tylenol for that headache that should be kicking in... now."

You go to retort, but there was already a dull pain in the back of your head causing you to wince. Your headaches came a lot earlier when you drank, not waiting until the morning to hit. You give him a grateful smile when he hands you your bag you kept above one of the seats up front, knowing your drunk ass could not get that even if you tried your hardest, and you pulled out a change of clothes and made your way back to the very small, and very tight bathroom.

You change, clumsily, and shuffle your way back to the front of the bus where Nicholas was waiting for you. You take the Tylenol and bottle of water gratefully, swallowing down the medicine in one go. You take a few more sips of water, realizing just how thirsty you were before deciding you were good to go, twisting the cap back on a tossing it onto the couch.

“Good?” You nod, giving Nicholas a thumbs up in response. He smiles. “Alright. I’m gonna meet back up with guys, but Noah’s still here.”

Your brows furrow for a moment before you remember that Noah is still on the bus, opting out of going out with you and the crew after tonight’s show. You give Nicholas another nod as your response.

“If you need anything, just wake Noah up. He’ll get you whatever you need.” He leans forward now, tipping his head down to press his lips to your forehead, and you smile brightly up at him when he pulls away. “And if he doesn’t, hit ‘em upside the head and then call me.”

You laugh, “I’m sure I’ll be fine if I need anything. I’m drunk, not injured.”

He rolls his eyes at you before you gently shove him away, pushing him towards the door. You say your goodbyes and watch the door shut behind Nicholas, leaving you to stand alone in the front of the bus all by yourself. You stay put for a second, the dizziness coming back before a yawn rips from you, and you decide to finally shuffle your way towards the bunks.

All you needed was your favorite blanket and your bunk, and that duck squishmallow Noah had gotten you a few months ago. It’s quiet and you think Noah’s probably asleep already, and you yawn again as you finally reach your bunch, pulling the curtain back. You stare quizzically, though, at the man curled up in your bunk, and he stares right back, brows raised and just as confused.

"What the hell are you doing in my bunk?"

Noah blinks at you before pulling his airpods out, a brow raised. "What?"

"I said," You let go of the curtain to place a hand on your hip. "What the hell are you doing in my bunk, Davis?"

He stares at you for a beat before his lips slowly start curling into a smile.

"How drunk are you?" Noah squints at you.

"Why does that matter?" You argue, words slurring slightly. "I'm drunk and you're in my bunk. Two very obvious and true things. Now answer my question."

Noah snorts out a laugh. "You're right about one thing, you definitely are drunk. This is my bunk, though."

If you were sober, you would realize that yes, he was right. This was definitely not your bunk, yours was right below his, but for some reason in your drunk and hazy mind you were sure that this was your bunk. It looked just like it - just like the rest of the damn bunks on this bus - so it had to be true. You purse your lips, arms crossing over your chest.

“Very funny, Noah. Now get out, I’m tired and want to go to sleep.”

“I’m not moving.” He says more firmly, eyes narrowing at you. “This is my bunk, yours is over there.”

You turn as he points to the bunk across from his, the curtains drawn, and you squint. You look back at him, then back at the other bunk, and a voice in the back of your head is telling you that he was right. That was your bunk, not the one Noah was currently occupying. None of your stuff is there, your pillow isn’t even there, but for some reason the drunk – and very stubborn – part of you was firm on your stance.

Noah was in your bunk.

You turn back to him, arms still crossed over your chest, and you square your shoulders. “I’m just gonna climb up if you’re not moving, dude. So, either get out or we’re cuddle buddies for the rest of the night.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment and you see the exact where Noah’s shoulders drop, realizing there’s no point in arguing with you because you are right (no, you’re not) and he sighs deeply, though you barely catch the slight curl of his lips.

“Whatever. Get in.”

You climb into the bunk beside Noah, slowly because you knew in your inebriated state that was a disaster waiting to happen, and the boy sighs to himself again, rolling onto his side and pressing his back against the wall to make room for you. You roll onto your side, back facing Noah, and press against him. It wasn't hard to do with how tight the space was, and you hummed to yourself when you finally got comfortable enough to relax, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Comfy?" You hear Noah murmur behind you.

You nod, "Very."

"Good."

You feel him shift behind you and if you had been sober, maybe the thought of being so close to him would have your skin blazing, but as your thoughts swirl, the only thing you can really think is how nice he feels pressed against you and how comfortable you are. His arm slings over your waist underneath the blanket and you swear he pulls you closer to him, if that was possible. A pleased sigh escapes him, the air fanning over the back of your neck. Now that has your body firing up, tiny goosebumps scattering across your skin. You melt against him.

"Why didn't you go out?" You ask through a yawn, eyes fluttering.

"Didn't want to."

"Why not? Everyone else did."

"Just wasn't in the mood," He mumbles behind you, his breath fanning against the back of your neck again. "Cold? You got goosebumps.”

You shake your head but feel Noah pull you closer anyways, sweatpant covered legs slipping in between yours. His limbs snake around yours and practically confines you, locking you against him. You're finding out that you like it way more than you probably should for a friend, but the drunken haze of your mind doesn't care too much about the technicalities of it all. 

"Did you miss me?" You ask after another beat of silence, and you feel Noah's body tense behind you.

“…Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe."

You pause. "Is that why you're in my bunk right now? Because you missed me?"

Noah lets out a groan and you can't help but smirk, soft giggles escaping you. You feel his hand move down to your hip, pushing your shirt up slightly to pinch at your skin playfully and you squeal, squirming against him. You barely move because this six-three, giant man has you tight in his grasp, and you feel his chest move against your back with his laughter. 

"Oh my fucking god," He grumbles into your hair, but you hear the smile in his voice. "Go to sleep. Please."

"I'm trying." You whine out, eyes slipping shut at the feeling of his hand now spreading out against your tummy, rubbing soothing circles there. "My head hurts too much."

"Did you take anything?"

"Mhm." You hum. "Nicholas gave me some Tylenol and water before he met back up with the guys."

"You drink all the water?"

You shrug. “Maybe like half?”

"Good enough for me." You feel the brush of his lips against the back of your neck and your eyes spring open, freezing in his hold. "You just need to relax. It should start kicking in soon."

You don't say anything, hyper-focused on the way his lips felt against your skin and the way you liked it too much. Even in your inebriated state you knew what that meant, and maybe you always had, but was just too scared to even think of the possibility. You and Noah were just friends... who sometimes teetered the line between friends and something else. It went unspoken for as long as you could remember, and you're not sure why you never said anything. 

You don't know if it's the alcohol, or if you're finally sobering up, but your stomach turns at the thought. Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't he say anything? You feel dizzy again, and there's a voice in the back of your head trying to tell you to shut up and sleep but you've never been a good listener, even to yourself, and your lips move before you can think twice about it. 

"Noah." Your voice is hushed and the feel of his fingers rubbing circles against your bare hip as your head spinning more than it probably should be right now.

"Hm?" 

"You do realize friends don't do this, right?"

It takes him a moment to reply, "Do what?"

"This."

You feel more sober than you did five minutes prior. You're aware of everything - where you are, who you're with, who you're pressed against. Noah lets out a sigh and you feel him nose at your shoulder, a shiver running through your body at the feeling.

"You know we’ve never exactly been just friends."

You can't believe he had just said that as your eyes almost bulge right out of your head, and you try to turn in his arms so that you can face him.

"Noah-"

His grip only tightens on you, and you can't move, stuck where you are, and you hear him huff out a laugh before saying, "Nope. No way. We’re not having this talk right now when you’re drunk as shit, and we’re trapped in this glorified death box. Go to sleep.”

"But-"

"If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again." You feel his lips move against the back of your neck and you shiver again, squirming against him.

"I will." You finally whisper after two beats of silence, trying to settle back against his chest. "I'll ask you tomorrow."

He presses another kiss to the back of your neck and your entire body flushes, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Okay."

You both lay in silence and it's not long for sleep to find you, body finally relaxing after the long night.

…

You wake some hours later, groaning quietly as you lifted your head up from the pillow. You blink blearily around you before rubbing at your eyes, trying to rid them of sleep as last night’s shenanigans flooded your brain. With another groan you roll onto your back and stare up at the top of the bunk, picking a part your memories.

Going out with the guys, taking way too many shots with Folio, Nicholas having to walk you back to the bus, the Tylenol, Noah… Your mind pauses at the thought of the male, and you realize you’re in the bunk alone. You remember everything clearly, from arguing with him about how this was your bunk – it in fact very much was not – from climbing into said bunk and cuddling with him. You remember him saying that the two of you have never been just friends but refused to elaborate.

If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again.

The bus is quiet, the only sound you hear are Jolly’s snores coming from below you, and the soft sound of the bus’s engine running. You were most likely on your way to the next city. You’re sure Noah’s already up, probably in the front working away on his laptop, and you peel his blanket off your body and do your best to get down from his bunk.

You find him where you expected him, beanie on top his head and hoodie wrapped around his body, headphones on as he typed away at his laptop. You’d make a joke about him always working, but you’re only thinking of one thing right now.

You come stand in front of him and he notices you almost instantly, pushing his headphones off his head as he stares up at you.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

You blush, eyes dropping for a moment as your arms come to cross over your chest.

“What did you mean last night?” You blurt out.

Noah pauses but his eyes never leave you, and you watch as he slips his computer off his lap and into the seat next to him. He leans forward, elbows resting against his knees.

“Ask me again.”

“No, I’m not-“ You huff out a groan and brush your fingers through your hair, wincing a bit at the knots that caught between your hands. “I’m not playing that game, Noah. What did you mean we’ve never exactly been just friends?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” He leans back against the couch now, arms crossing over his chest. “And you know I’m right.”

Your heart hammers against your chest and all you can do is nod at his words, cheeks flushing with color. He was right. You two have never been just friends, too close, too touchy to be labeled as platonic. You’d be lying if you said last night was the first time you shared a bed together. But now what? You got the answer you were looking for, but for some reason you can’t even look at Noah, but his eyes are burning into you, watching your every move.

“Okay…” You start, sucking in a breath as you finally moved your gaze back to Noah, eyes locking with his. “If we’re not just friends, then what does that make us?”

He smiles. “People who like each other more than friends but are too scared to admit it?”

Damn. He got that spot on. You blush again, trying to find the right words, but come up short. Your brain is still playing catch up, sleep still very much in your veins, and Noah notices. He leans forward again and gestures you to come closer and you do, his hands reaching out to grab your own.

“We have the next two days off. Let me take you out. Dinner or something. A movie. Whatever you want.”

“And then what?”

He shrugs. “And then we see where this goes. I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

You can’t stop the smile that’s slipping onto your lips, your fingers curling around his as warmth spread throughout your chest.

“That sounds good to me.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

congrats on 3000 followers 💫 you deserve it honey!🧡 Also, Chappell Roan has been stuck in my head, so I’m suggesting a lyric of hers for a prompt:

“I could be the one, or your new addiction.”

(Or any lyric from HOT TO GO!)

Thank you! I’m right there with you, Chappell Roan the incredible bitch that you are 👏🏻

➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿

“He’s had one drink and he’s acting like he had a bottle of vodka,” Robin shook her head while she watched Steve dancing with two guys in the middle of the club they’d only been at for an hour.

“He needed to let loose,” Eddie shrugged, looking down at the drink he’d barely taken a sip from.

Robin looked at him, frowned, then looked back to Steve. She desperately needed them to get their shit together, but Steve acting like this definitely wasn’t going to work. It didn’t help that Eddie had been acting moody all day, barely even wanted to come with them.

“And what about you?” She finally asked him. “Are you gonna let loose tonight or keep the stick up your ass until you go to bed?”

Eddie’s head shot up, ready to argue. He didn’t, though. He looked back down at his drink and sighed.

“Not really feeling like letting loose, birdie.”

“Why not?”

Eddie shrugged and stayed silent.

“Did something happen?” She pushed. Even on his moody days, he was still usually capable of putting on a smile for her or the kids.

“No, just me being dumb. Making assumptions,” Eddie snorted. “Should be used to it by now.”

“What assumptions?” The song changed to something even louder and she considered dragging Eddie to the outside seating so they could talk.

“Just thought I was making progress on something and I clearly wasn’t.”

Oh, so it’s about Steve.

Eddie hadn’t really talked to her about his feelings, but she caught on early. She watched the way Eddie prioritized Steve over everyone and everything else, how he smiled when Steve was happy, how his mood shifted when Steve was having a bad day. She’d be worried more about it if she didn’t know that Steve was the exact same way.

They were idiots, both of them.

“What makes you think that?” She took a sip of her drink to seem more casual, but Eddie wasn’t that much of an idiot.

“Pretty obvious where I stand when someone’s leaving his room early in the morning, Robin.”

So he did know Robin knew.

“Someone slept over last night?” Robin didn’t know that. Steve rarely brought people to his apartment he shared with Eddie, and he hadn’t in nearly a year. Robin didn’t even know the last time he showed interest in anyone beyond getting a free drink from them.

“Yeah. She seemed like his type. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it soon.”

Robin squinted back at Steve dancing.

He would have told her by now about bringing someone home. They’d been together all afternoon.

“I don’t think he slept with her,” she finally said.

“Yeah, okay. I’m sure they just cuddled all night.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “It’s not what you think, I’m telling you.”

“Sure.”

She couldn’t do or say anything else, just had to let Eddie brood about not being in Steve’s bed even though he could fix it if he just said something.

She finished her drink and excused herself to join Steve. Maybe he could tell her what was going on.

“Hey dingus,” she yelled as she got closer.

Steve turned and smiled at her, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Robs! Hi!”

“Hey, babe. Did you forget to eat today?”

Steve nodded.

“Thought so. Let’s go get you some water.”

She dragged him to the bar and managed to get the bartender to get him water before anyone else got more drinks. She forced him to drink half of it before they walked back towards the table in the corner Eddie hadn’t moved from.

“Eddie! You should dance with me,” Steve exclaimed as he sat next to Eddie and grabbed his arm.

“Maybe next time, Stevie,” Eddie smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Steve was still a little too drunk to notice, but Robin saw it.

“Awww, you never dance with me anymore. I miss you.”

Robin could see how hard it was for Eddie to hold himself together. Every possible emotion was flickering behind his eyes.

“Maybe that girl you had over last night will dance with you,” he finally settled on, which Robin immediately wanted to shove back into his mouth.

Steve sat back and seemed to be trying to figure out what Eddie meant when the beat of his current favorite song came on.

“Oh my god! Eddie! Please dance with me!” Steve clapped his hands and stood from the stool he’d been sitting on.

Eddie looked sad, but also endlessly endeared by Steve’s excitement.

“I could be the one or your new addiction!”

Steve was yelling the lyrics right at Eddie, not realizing how much Eddie was hurting.

Robin was his platonic soulmate and Eddie was on of her best friends. She couldn’t keep watching this.

“Steve, maybe you should get some fresh air,” she grabbed his shoulder and tried to turn him away, but he looked mad.

“No, this is my favorite song.”

“Steve, c’mon. Just for a minute. We can listen to this when we get outside if you want.”

Eddie was looking back down at his drink, biting his lip so hard it looked like it might bleed.

“Only if Eddie goes with me,” Steve folded his arms across his chest and pouted.

“Eddie’s gonna save our table in here,” Robin said.

But surprisingly, Eddie interrupted her by standing up and throwing back the rest of his drink.

“I’ll take him.”

Steve cheered and started singing along again as Eddie and Robin shared a look.

Eddie wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and guided him towards the back door that led to a small seating area outside. Steve was singing the whole way, but he rested his head against Eddie’s shoulder while they walked.

“Why are you sad tonight?” Steve asked as they made their way to the only available table outside.

“I’m not.”

“Friends don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying,” Eddie lied.

“Then dance with me. I love dancing with you,” Steve didn’t move his head from Eddie’s shoulder even when they sat down.

“I love dancing with you too,” Eddie managed to say before he felt a lump in his throat.

He loved doing everything with Steve, even dancing to pop songs at a club, and it was only hurting him more to keep pretending it was enough.

“I even taught you the dance to that song,” Steve said quieter. “Remember?”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiled to himself, tightening his grip around Steve’s shoulders. “Made me put my hips into it.”

“Because you have nice hips,” Steve sighed.

Eddie could feel his face heating up. Steve wasn’t sober enough, he didn’t know what the hell he was saying.

“I barely have hips at all,” Eddie managed to choke out.

“Not true. I like holding them. They’re perfect.”

Okay, Eddie couldn’t do this. Robin needed to read his mind and come outside and-

“Wanna hold them now.”

“Steve, you’re drunk. You-“

“Can we dance?” Steve interrupted.

“The music isn’t loud out here.”

“I can sing it.”

“We’ll be the only ones dancing.”

Steve tilted his head back and looked at Eddie. “When has that stopped you before?”

“Fine.”

Eddie stood and let Steve hold his hips, almost a slow dance, while Steve started singing the song.

“Baby, do you like this beat, I made it so you’d dance with me.”

Eddie loved when Steve sang. He wasn’t the best, but he had a smooth voice that made Eddie smile, regardless of the song he was singing.

They were swaying like it was a slow song, but the vibrations of the bass line coming through the walls of the club made it obvious it wasn’t meant to be.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Steve said after he went through the chorus once.

“Okay.”

Steve looked frustrated. “Some guy was trying to take her back to his place and he wouldn’t take no for an answer so I let her Uber back with me and she ended up just spending the night. Nothing happened.”

“That’s…fine. I don’t need to hear about it,” Eddie knew he sounded rude, but he truly couldn’t make it through the night if Steve gave a play by play of getting cozy with someone else.

“I don’t ever want anything to happen with anyone but you.”

Eddie stopped swaying. He was pretty sure the music stopped inside. No one else existed except for them.

“What?” He finally squeaked out.

Steve was looking at him like he was the sun.

“No matter who I dance with or flirt with or hang out with, you’re the only one who matters. It’s just you, Eds.”

He was drunk, but drunk Steve never lied. Eddie knew that for a fact. He’d said some harsh truths before when he had more whiskey than he should’ve.

“I don’t understand.”

Steve searched his eyes and bit his lip, like he was considering what to say.

But then his lips were on Eddie’s, soft, cautious.

He was holding back.

Eddie didn’t want him to.

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pulled him forward so their chests were flush against each other, tongue licking along Steve’s bottom lip to deepen the kiss.

Steve allowed it, moaning as he let Eddie hold most of his weight.

Before they could get too carried away in public, Eddie pulled away to catch his breath and try to get his heart to slow before he passed out.

“Steve, this can’t just be a fun thing. This is…this is everything to me. You’re everything to me.”

Steve nodded, eyes never leaving Eddie’s. “I know. You’re maybe the love of my life. I’m drunk but I know how I feel. Felt that way for years.”

Years?

“Years? And you just now decided to say something?” Eddie wasn’t looking forward to Robin’s ‘I told you so.’

“Couldn’t. Didn’t wanna scare you away.”

“There’s no fucking way you’d ever do that. I’ve been yours for three years whether you knew it or not,” Eddie laughed in disbelief.

“We should go home,” Steve said quickly.

“You tryin’ to take me hot to go?” Eddie teased.

“If you’ll let me,” Steve nodded, tugging on Eddie’s hand to get him to move faster.

“I’ll let you do anything you want, Stevie.”

[kissitbttr]

i love the frat boys so imagine them taking care of muñeca whenever mig isn’t there (which is like never but let’s imagine)

“y/n !! what do you want for breakfast?”

“that’s not her name! it’s muñeca, glen!”

“do you want o’hara to kill you, man?!”

“yeah, well?! he isn’t here!”

dear lord it’s only 8 in the morning and she swears her head is about to explode,

miguel had to clock in at work early than usual, leaving his girlfriend at the house. as much as he hates the idea of it, he’s got no choice. not just the fact that he didn’t get the chance to have a lazy morning with her but also the fact that he’s leaving her with the boys, too.

he loves them but they could be a real pain in the ass and a major flirt, except for beck.

“just call me if one of them tries to do something with you, cariño— i love you”

it’s what he said before leaving,

not even an hour after he’s gone that his frat brothers are making her lose her mind with all the noise,

she sighs as she massages her temple, sitting on the counter with a cup of coffee between hands. one that is made by glen, surprisingly tasting a bit better that what her boyfriend usually makes,

“guys! i’ll eat anything i swear—just please shut. up” she groans softly, pulling the hems of miguel’s thick knitted sweater that clings onto her body, protecting her from chilly morning air,

carlos shakes his head, arms crossed. “that is not an answer! what. do you. want. to. eat!”

“carlos! i swear to fucking—“

“banana bread maybe, or muffins? what does miguel usually get for you anyway? ah! matcha, isn’t it!” glen interrupts with a smile,

“oooh, how about a nice BLT? you know there’s a rookie here who knows how to make a mean BLT sandwich and you could hire him for the rest of your day to be your slave! just until miguel comes back” carlos suggests, ready to call whoever his name is

“oh my god, don’t say that word” she responds, taking another sip. “you are banned from using that”

“what, ‘hire’?” carlos looks genuinely confused,

she heaves out a heavy sigh, it’s like talking with children. “no. the S word” her eyes dart between the other guys who are looking like they’re ready to serve her with whatever it is she desires.

did miguel put them up to this?

“guys guys come on, she’s big enough to handle shit on her own” beck tells them, popping himself a canned of black coffee and she secretly thanks him for being the most logical one. “but just in case you want a croissant or something just let me know”

“i’ll pick something up from the bakery, just let me borrow your keys” she replies and getting ready to stand up, earning a collective of no’s and hands holding out to stop her. “you all realize that i’m not five?!” she’s getting a tad bit irritated,

“gotcha but!” carlos holds his point finger up, “we’re all instructed to take care of you—“

“no we didn’t?”

“chang, you’re ruining it, shut the fuck up” carlos glares at his asian frat brother who’s hands are up as if to show defense. “anyways—we are instructed to take care of you and if miguel finds out that we’re doing a terrible job at it, all of us are dead. literally”

“i think you’re just exaggerating, carlos” she tries to smile despite wanting to kill him. “he’s not capable of killing anyone”

“didn’t he get into a fight with two guys for staring at your ass and talking about how they’d use you at the same time?” glen chimes in, leaning forward on the kitchen table,

“that doesn’t count, it was not a fight, it was a slaughter. o’hara went apeshit” beck chuckles, taking a seat beside her,

“okay well that happened nearly months ago” she points out at the specific memory, one where she had to stop miguel from going overboard. she’d hate it if her boyfriend went to jail for what happened, “it’s all in the past”

“yeah well those two men are still on his black list” beck shrugs, “you know how serious he gets when it comes to you, kid”

she sighs for what it feels like a hundredth time that morning. “okay you know what, if it gets you all to be quiet, especially you carlos” she throws a soft glare at the man who’s wearing an innocent smile, standing tippy toes. “then just—can i please have that BLT sandwich? i am starving”

carlos claps his hands, “absolutely, you gorgeous human being! oi, rookie! get down here! muñeca needs breakfast!” he calls out the boy from downstairs,

“holy—carlos! why did i just tell you?!” beck snaps, narrowing his eyes at his frat brother,

“oh, my bad—i mean, mrs. o’hara needs breakfast!”

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men

Interlude

[Prev] [Next]

Law hated change.

Even the slightest shift in his day-to-day routine had him crawling into his protective shell of a mind, keeping him away from any potential harm.  If the weather app on his phone predicted wind gusts of 19 miles per hour, and they ended up being 20, that was enough to ruin his day.

Needless to say, he was not enthused by the new addition to the study group he had formed with Shachi, Penguin, and Penguin’s girlfriend Ikkaku.  He had arrived at the usual study room about 15 minutes before his friends did, as was his usual routine.  He enjoyed the fleeting time spent alone to organize his classwork as well as his racing thoughts.  He couldn’t do that with a new pair of eyes staring at him, also having arrived early.  At first, he thought that you were using the study room by yourself for a different reason, unaware that it was rented out for the next hour and a half.

“Who are you?” he asked, dry and monotone.  The average person would have probably taken great offense to his offputting and sour demeanor.

With skeptical confusion, you stated your name.  “I’m Ikkaku’s roommate, I take the same class as you guys, just a different section,” you explained.  

Law’s jaw clenched.  So much for his assumption that you had no affiliation with any of his personal connections.  “Who invited you?”

You cocked one of your eyebrows.  “Ikkaku.”

Figures.  “Why?”

“... Because I’m taking the same class and wanted to join a study group?” you offered, seriously growing skeptical.  “Do you have a problem with that?  Do you want me to fork over a down payment for your time or something?”

Law’s eyes narrowed at your attitude.  “I don’t appreciate the lip.”

“And I don’t appreciate your exclusion from a study group,” you stated back, matching his energy.  “If you really don’t want me here, then I’ll leave.  But I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Law wanted to tell you to leave.  He wanted to tell you to never come back to this study room during his specifically designated hours, effectively closing his life off from you for good.  He had no room for new relationships.  He had his two friends from childhood, and that was all he needed.  He was even reluctant to bring in Penguin’s girlfriend, but the desperate man pestered until Law couldn’t stand his moping anymore.  Just as the black-haired man was about to open his mouth and bark at you to get out of his room, a firm hand smacked the back of his shoulder.

“Hey, Law!  I’m a bit early, so I grabbed some snacks from the cafeteria.  You know, some brain food.”  Shachi pushed past him, slapping a granola bar into his chest.  “Oh, hey!  You decided to join us!”

Clearly, you were already familiar with Shachi, much to Law’s chagrin.  You nodded excitedly as the redhead took off his pointed shades and plopped his small backpack down next to your seat, rummaging through his mess of disorganized papers and taking out his class materials for their study session.

“I’m excited to finally have a group to study with, I’ve been struggling in this class,” you added, smiling brightly at the man next to you.  You tossed a sour side eye towards Law who still stood frozen in the doorway.  “I hope I won’t be too much of an issue for you guys.”

Now you were playing dirty.

His thoughts were once again interrupted, though, as Penguin pushed his way through the heavy private room’s door with Ikkaku in tow, who quickly plopped herself next to you, pulling out her phone and talking about a meme she saw earlier that she couldn’t wait to show you.

Law was officially trapped in this predicament.  There was nothing he could do but sit down at the end of the table and deal with the cards he had been dealt.

—

About a week had passed since you joined Law’s thrice-a-week study group, and for the most part, you had kept to yourself.  It seemed you were either genuinely anxious over Law’s distasteful attitude towards you, or you just couldn’t care enough to give him the time of day.  Whatever it was, the human health sciences and biology undergrad was more than pleased to not have to speak to you.

Until you sat across from him at his small, solitary table in the corner of the south campus dining hall.

“Before you say anything,” you began, shrugging off the angry glare he shot your way.  Law was a bit taken aback by how… anxious you looked.  “There’s a guy that’s been following me around all day.  I’m starting to get kind of scared and you’re the only person here right now that I’m vaguely familiar with.”

Law felt his eyebrows crease.  “Following you?”

You anxiously unpacked your small lunch box, removing a tupperware full of what appeared to be some form of leftovers.  “He asked me out a few days ago and I rejected him… and he hasn’t stopped lowkey stalking me since.  Yesterday, he tried to get into my dorm building.”

The black-haired student’s golden eyes darted around the open dining hall, searching for anyone who appeared even slightly suspicious.  “Do you know where he is right now?”

“In the lunch line, I think.”

It was then that Law spotted a gangly-looking student, a few inches shorter than himself and fairly unkempt, step out of the lunch line with a metal tray sporting a single dry apple and freezer wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  The kid tossed a few analytical glaces around the dining hall before his eyes landed on Law’s, followed by the back of your head.

“Found him,” Law muttered.

Your shoulders visibly stiffened.  Something in his chest clenched.

The imposing student began clearing the dining hall with long, desperate strides, his eyes growing angrier the closer he got to you.  He slammed his tray down on the table, rattling your’s and Law’s lunches.  The motion made you flinch and you instinctively moved further against the wall.

“Why are you running away from me?” the stranger growled.

You kept your mouth shut, awkwardly pushing your leftovers around your tupperware with your fork.

The biology student cleared his throat.  “Can I help you?”

“This is none of your business, prick,” the kid spat, grabbing an empty chair from nearby and swinging it over so he could be seated directly next to you.  “Did you block my phone number?  All I wanted to do was talk.”

Law didn’t know what came over him.  He didn’t like you, and frankly, he wanted nothing to do with your business.  But the sight of your harasser’s distasteful language and threatening posture towards you as you appeared to be shrinking into your clothes made something snap in Law’s head.  With one smooth motion, he yanked the metal lunch tray off of the table, sending it to the ground with a large clattering noise that made you jump in surprise, alerting students at nearby tables and turning all the attention toward him.  A few nearby conversations halted, surprised by the sudden clamor.

“I’d appreciate it if you could leave my girlfriend alone,” he spat.  He had officially lost control of his life.

The kid finally turned his attention away from you.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

You anxiously darted your eyes up toward Law, frazzled by the suddenness of his statement.  He shot you a look that made you keep your lips sealed.

“You didn’t tell me you were dating someone,” the kid suddenly turned back toward you.

“It’s none of your business,” you shot back, finally recovering from your frightened demeanor and pushing yourself further into the wall, backing away from the kid.  You had an inkling of what Law was trying to convey with his words.  Portray you as taken to get the man threatening you to finally back off, and give you a sense of comfort and protection that you didn’t actually have.  The thought made your heart swell.

Law finally stood from his seat, towering over your harasser.  “Leave.  Us.  Alone.”

The kid stood up as well, attempting to square off with the taller boy, but Law’s threatening glare and the shadow cast over his eyes by his shaggy black bangs did numbers for the stranger’s withering self confidence.  With a huff, he bent down, snatched his tray and food from the ground, and stalked off.  Conversations at nearby tables finally resumed, students pleased to be able to go about the rest of their lunches without any sort of commotion.  When Law sat back down, he found himself surprised at how pleased he was when your shoulders slumped with relief.

“I’m so sorry to have dragged you into that…” you muttered, closing your tupperware.  You had officially lost any and all appetite.  “I don’t normally get scared when I’m followed, but…”

Law shrugged, filling in the silence of your words trailing off.  “It’s fine.”  He didn’t miss the way your gaze anxiously turned to look behind you, watching as the kid dumped his uneaten food in the trash and sulked out of the building into the mid-autumn chill.  “You can stay here if you want.”  His voice left his lips before his brain could fight back against his words.

You stared at him, wide-eyed.  “Are you… sure?”  To say you weren’t expecting his suddenly cordial behavior was an understatement.  Just a week ago he was treating you like the dirt under his shoe, ruining his day with the inconvenience of your presence.  “You’re not having a brain aneurysm or something, right?  Or some tumor?”

The black-haired man snorted.  “Not that I know of.”

With a swelling in your chest, you dug through your lunch box and pulled out a smaller snack, something to at least tide you over until your appetite hopefully returned.  The two of you fell into a somewhat comfortable silence as Law picked through his meal, flipping through a small textbook.  He was eating some kind of orzo dish, taking small bites out of a metal spoon.  It was then you finally zoned in on the tattoos on his hands.  The backs of his hands had an interesting four-pronged cross design, and the ends of each finger spelled out the words ‘DEATH.’  You had seen him in a t-shirt at the last study group meeting, where you learned he also had matching tattoos on each forearm.  The low-hanging collar of his cotton shirt had also revealed hints of a chest piece.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” you spoke up, keeping your voice fairly quiet.

Law tore his eyes away from his textbook.  “Yeah?”

“Shachi told me you want to be a medical student, right?” you asked, keeping your eyes trained on his lanky fingers rather than his face.

“What about it?” he asked, slowly growing impatient.

“Do you think having ‘DEATH’ spelled out on your fingers will make it harder for you to become a doctor?”

Law paused.  He had only had that fleeting thought once or twice since getting his hands inked when he was 18.  Shachi and Penguin had begged him to reconsider, stating adamantly that they wouldn’t trust a doctor who had ‘DEATH’ quite literally on his hands, but he had gone through with it anyway.  “I sure hope not,” was all he replied with.

His words made a small smile break out onto your lips.  “I think I’d trust a doctor who had ‘DEATH’ written on his hands.  At least it would make more sense if he killed me.”

Something in Law’s mind flipped at that moment.  The way that small grin tugged on your lips followed by your cheeky words made his chest flutter in a way he had never experienced before.  He stared at you as you turned your attention back to your snack, pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans, idly swiping through it while you ate.  He turned his attention back to his textbook, trying once more to focus on his studies.  His eyes darted from the words on the page to the letters inked into his fingers.

He suddenly wanted to see that smile much more often.

[romanestuffsposts]

hiiiii

I really love your writing and your fics. You’re one of the best writer on this platform and I’m so glad and proud to say that I was there since the beginning. You seriously should be more famous because you really have a talent.

I wanted to request something but take the time to write it! Others might be more important and urgent to write before mine.

Can you write a fic where little one isn’t tired at bedtime and daddies try things to make her sleepy and help her falling asleep ? thank you so much!!! I hope you’re having a good day!

Hi there love! 💜

Thank you so much!! It means so much to me! I'm so happy to know that you're here since the beginning. It amazes me to see how much we traveled together to get where we are 😍

Thank you for your support and trust toward me! ❤️

I hope you like what I write sweetie!

Enjoy <33

****

Warnings : bedtime, not tired, comfort, kisses, pet names, fluff, reassurance, help falling asleep, cuddles

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : not tired ? You sure ?

****

It was suppose to be a calm evening. You were supposed to be tired after your long day with your Daddies. But even with of that, your Papa had a hard time brushing your hair because of how wiggly you actually are.

It's been ten minutes and he only brushes half of your hair. And usually it wouldn't be that big of a deal if you go to bed a little later than you're suppose to but tomorrow you have to wake up early because of some interview your Daddies have.

So the last thing they want is for you to go to sleep late.

"Stop squirming, trouble" Your Papa orders for the fiftieth time. You groan and kick your legs harder, causing you to lift a little from your seat.

"How are you not tired ?" he stops brushing your hair, knowing that it's a lost cause while you're being like that.

" 'caus is earlyyy" you groan and swing your legs again. Your hands and arms start to move too as you couldn't stay in place any longer.

"Baby" Steve sighs. He puts the brush on the sink and turns the chair around so you’re facing him. You peer up at him through your eyelashes.

‘’You need to calm down. You can’t go to sleep late tonight either way you’ll regret it. And trust me you don’t want to have the feeling of being tired while waking up’’ he says with a point look.

He also doesn’t want to deal with it tomorrow morning so it’s for you but for him and Bucky too that he said that.

‘’But I no tired’’ you pout as your arms and legs fell dead against your body. Steve sighs again and kneels in front of you ‘’what will make you tried ?’’ He asks ‘’what do you wanna do to exhaust you ?’’

His hands run up and down your thighs in a comfort way so you won’t be more upset.

‘’Wanna ‘m cartoons’’ you shyly ask, knowing you already had your time screen for the day.

"If i put your cartoons on, will you try and fall asleep right after ?" he asks arching an eyebrow as he looks down at you. Your eyes narrow in hope and surprise "yea I pomise!!"

He sighs and shakes his head "laright then" he drops his arms against his sides and lets you leave the bathroom first. You happily climb in the big big bed in the middle of the room and excitedly kick your feet as your Papa puts on your cartoons.

During the cartoons, you couldn't stop moving around. You had once your head at the end of the bed then a second later you had your feet on the wall as you looked at the tv and you change position during the entire times the screen was playing your show driving Steve insane.

"Now it's bedtime" he says, happy to finally going to bed. But when you stand up from bed before he can tucks you in, his face fell. "can I know what you're doing little girl ?"

" 'm not tired" you groan as you space the room "it's not my problem. You're going to come here and laying your pretty little butt in this comfy bed and that's only when you'll be tuck in and under the warm cover that you'll grow tired"

You whimper and keep walking around the room driving your Papa crazy. He stands up and walks toward the bedroom door, he opens it wide open and yells at Bucky who's downstairs to come in the room.

He'll need help to make you sleepy

"what's wrong ?" Bucky asks as he steps inside the room. He sees you jumping and walking in the room making him frowning. He walks toward you and lifts you up in his arms causing you to groan louder "noo Daddyyy" you whine as you kick your legs "wanna move"

"you moved all day, baby. Now it's time to have a good sleep so tomorrow we can move around even more" he says pocking your nose with his

You let out a whimper.

He walks you to the bed and sits on it with you in between his laps "i know you're not tired but sometimes you have to push the tiredness so it'll come" he gently explains as he runs his fingers in your hair.

"Remember how much you love it" he softly says as he presses your head against his chest "remember how much you love when Papa brushes your hair with his fingers"

He kisses your forehead at the same time that Steve starts to brush your hair "remember how much you love it when I stroke your back to help you relaxing" he whispers in your ear

"remember how heavy your feel each time those things happens when it's nap time or bed time" his soft voice is like a lullaby to your ears.

Your eyes feel heavy as he spokes his words in your ear. Steve smiles when he sees how tired you start to be. He softly nods his head at Bucky to tell him it works.

"remember how warm and fluffy your dreamland is and how you're always so excited to go there for the night"

"how good you feel every mornings when you wake up from your night in between us with soft strokes and sweet words and kisses" he says with a soft smile

"just close your eyes" he whispers and slides his index down your nose "you'll get a good sleep so that tomorrow we can play all day together"

[lunarw0rks]

Through The Ashes | Chapter Seven

Summary: You've been given an offer to join the 141 Task Force. Upon taking it, you find yourself ensnared with the mysterious masked man who won't take his eyes off you.

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), PTSD themes, canon-typical violence, slight gore, mentions of trauma, references parental death, grief, hurt/comfort but also hurt/nocomfort

A/N: should I write an epilogue? (not proofread) | Word Count: 3.2k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter // requests | ao3 | playlist

Loose Ends

You dig out the packet from your pocket and slide it across Price’s desk.

“It’s all in the form, Sir.”

He takes it and flips through the pages, skimming the highlighted parts. “Stress leave? You’re sure about this, Private?” He flicks his eyes back up to you and raises a brow.

“Just a few months, until I can figure out my options. And I don’t want anyone to know about it, I don’t want it causing a fuss.”

“I understand.” You nod, relieved for it to be approved. You head for the door and place your fingers around the handle. You’re stopped by him speaking once more.

“You’ve done good work around here. I’m sure you’ll make a good decision.” You flash a friendly smile at Price, and then exit his office.

You’re happy to be back at the Safehouse where your career in the 141 first started, even though it came with plenty of ups and downs. 

El Sin Nombre is in custody, Hassan is dead. For the first time in months, the roster is clear—a perfect time to slip away.

—

You’re sitting in your barrack, gazing out the window at the secluded country around you. You yearned for the blissful ignorance people carried every day. The horrible things you and your coworkers see and protect everyday citizens from—it does something to you; it makes you look at things differently, even the beautiful scenery around you.

As your eyes are glued to the sky, the enjoyment is null. Your ears fill with the screams of innocents you heard in Chicago over and over again. It’s been a persistence ever since you returned, during any moment of solitude.

You needed out—a few months, maybe a year, and you’d be back in duty. Or maybe, you fulfill your contract and retire early.

A rapid set of knocks stirs you out of your thoughts, making you look up at the culprit. It’s Soap, leaning on the doorframe with a look of unease written on his expression.

“Price wants you. Something about that bastard Graves.” Before you can question it, he zipped down the hall to the meeting room.

Graves? As in, Philip Graves? He was presumed K.I.A. It’s always one problem after another, never seeming to end.

You stand yourself up and quickly follow in Soap’s footsteps, taking your usual spot next to him. Price barely waits for you to be seated before he begins his speech. His brows are tightened, his face is carrying a tension worse than when El Sin Nombre went silent.

“Graves' whereabouts are somewhere stateside, and he’s working with the Russians running some sort of Task Force of mercenaries.” You nearly fall out of the seat with the force of the shock. Russians? How has he flown under the radar so long?

Ghost shifts in his seat a bit, and his eyes grow cold. “Soap killed the bastard himself, how is that possible?”

“He’s had a plan in the works for months.” Price adds. “We need to stop his convoy coming in, and evacuate the civilians nearby.”

Goddammit. The last thing your psyche needed was more casualties weighing on you, especially in the hands of a traitorous con artist like Graves.

“We’re leaving the day after tomorrow. Stay sharp out there.”

—

Ever since the meeting about Graves, you’ve felt half-in-half-out. He was supposed to be dead, dead and gone, but he’s not. And now he shows up and has some malicious plan to get back at your team.

You must not have noticed it until now, but you’re spacing out again for God knows how long. You snap out of it, and force your hands to continue stapling the papers in front of you. You look over, and Ghost stares briefly, before his gaze goes back to the straight ahead. If anybody knows how you feel right now, it’s probably him.

“Forgot these.” He places a stack of folders down in front of you. You can tell he’s trying not to mention the obvious, not that he would anyway.

There’s no turning back now—you’ll be gone in a few days anyway.

“Ghost.”

“Yeah?” He halts, turning to face you.

“How do you do it? That… way about you? You just… Shut everything off and keep working.”

He almost scoffs right through his mask, leaning a hand on your desk. “I don’t recommend it, Sergeant.”

“Then when does it stop? The things that keep replaying in your head?” Your question hangs in the air a few seconds, before you continue your ramble. “I can’t see past it—the lies and the violence, and the way we all just avoid it.”

He steps a little closer, leaning down to meet your eyes. He knows that feeling all too well, but he’s learned to mask it.

“If you keep thinking like that, it’ll swallow you up. You’re a good soldier, better than most of the muppets I’ve seen. You know that, right?”

You’re fiddling with the paper in your hands, trying to deflect some of the feelings you’re having right now. You press your lips into a line, and nod your head. His words meant more than most.

“You’re not planning on jumping off a cliff, are you?” He asks, letting out a dry chuckle. “Don’t tell me it’s something terminal, either.”

You can’t control the smile spreading on your face. It was not the line you were expecting to lighten the mood, but it worked nonetheless.

He reaches out a fist and gives your chest a few knocks right over your heart. “Feels pretty sturdy to me. You’ll be ‘right.”

Saying thank you would be pointless. He’s not a man of many words to begin with, especially not words of appreciation. You outstretched your arms and gave him a brief embrace, as if to let yourself say goodbye to him without the pressure of figuring out what to say. You debate on even telling him you’re going away.

It’s an unexpected move on both parts, but he doesn’t jerk away from you like he did last time. Instead of pulling away, he places his palm on the back of your head, giving it a gentle clasp.

You both pull away, and he looks as if he doesn’t know what to do with the affection. He loses his eye contact, and his inelegant demeanor returns.

“Felt more like a goodbye… We’ll need you out there when we hunt that bastard down.”

“I wouldn’t miss that for the world.” You reply, almost boastfully. After a seconds pause, you bite the bullet. “I put in for some leave, not sure how long, yet.”

He’s less shocked than you expected him to be, but given the way you vented maybe it isn’t.

“I’ll pick up the slack while you’re gone. But then I want you back bright and early, five-o-clock sharp.” His words lighten, having an edge of humor to them. Then again, he could be serious and you wouldn’t know.

You crinkle your nose to stifle a laugh, finishing sorting the papers that you have procrastinated on for months. You place the boxes under the desk, and then move onto the next batch. You’ve expected him to be gone by now, but he isn’t.

“Before you go—” Ghost speaks from the entrance of the room, as if he stopped in the middle of stride. His eyes look soft again, and they’re scanning you like they’ve done a hundred times.

“—we should have a round together.”

—

The tires screech to a stop on the pavement, jerking all of you around with force. Door opens, and you and the others pile out, guns drawn and ready.

“I want everyone to evacuate civilians first.” Price commands, standing in front of the group.

“Go in pairs and take one building each. Direct them to the triage center down the road. Graves’ll destroy anything to prove a point, so get the hell out of there.”

You follow Ghost, who’s the first person to your right. Your feet pound as you both bolt up the road. You claim the first building, which is some sort of an office, but the structure looks ancient. He smashes through the glass entrance and steps inside. The flashlight attached to his barrel is the only thing allowing you to see ahead of you.

You turn off and check the lower level, but it’s clear.

“Anyone upstairs?” You shout, since he’s sure to hear you through the thin walls.

“Clear.” His voice echoes down the stairwell.

You meet him outside, waiting to regroup before you move onto the next building. The next one is further up the road—a hotel closed for construction. This time, you take the lead, bursting through the door.

There’s a few employees that you usher out of there, directing them to the triage center. There’s no time to answer their frantic questions, anything could happen in a matter of minutes.

“Convoy is a few miles out. Make sure you’re out of there before then.” Price chirps through, only heightening your apprehension to get through this operation. You rush up the flights of stairs, sweeping each vacant room for anyone. “We’re heading down to the triage center. Both of you meet us there.”

After checking the rooms, you take the elevator back to the ground level, meeting up with Ghost once more. “Upper level is clear,” you say, in between catching your breath.

“Dining hall is the last area. Let’s sweep it before we’re sitting ducks.”

You reach the dining hall, which seems to be the area under remodel. Tarps are spread over the missing pieces of the roof, but you can still see the stars glimmer through the gaps. Pieces of drywall are peeled away, and there’s equipment still left laying askew.

You search through the entirety of it, but it’s as empty as the upper levels.

When you pass by the bar alongside Ghost’s eyes don’t leave the path in front of him.

As you’re both nodding to one another, signaling that it’s time to go, your radio chimes in. It gargles for a while, as if it’s struggling to receive the message at the right frequency. You furrow your brow and press the button, “Repeat that again, frequency is shot.”

Ghost stops in his tracks as he listens through his own, trying to pick out any words or phrases in case it’s an important callout. He shakes his head and pulls out his walkie-talkie, which is also emitting the same error.

He gives it a few smacks and curses when it doesn’t work. He keeps it in his grip just in case it works again, but motions his head in the direction of the door. “Let’s get out of here, I don’t like this.”

“Good to see you boys again.” The glitched voice emitting through your wire stops you dead in your tracks. You place a hand on Ghost’s shoulder, yanking him into a stop so you can hear it further.

When he does, he sprints to the other side of the large room, checking the entrance and windows for any sign of hostiles.

You look at him wide-eyed, as the line goes dead again. Graves had patched into your frequency and clogged it so you couldn’t reach your team. Whatever he was planning before, it’s here now and there’s no time to stop.

Your earpiece unexpectedly picks up the frequency again when you reach the middle of the dining hall. It gargles out a few words that you can’t understand, and then it emits a high-pitched shriek so boosted it makes you keel over and rip it out.

Ghost moves quicker than before, as your hurried steps try to catch up with him, your boots echoing with each careful stride—as if to not get your foot caught in any of the uneven patches of flooring.

The glass on the chandeliers began to rattle, as did the glassware packed away in boxes. You felt the floor vibrate, and the tarps over the exposed drywall began to whoosh. The electricity flickered as a loud whoosh of a jet passed overhead. The lights exploded into sparks, making you cover your ears for cover.

You had no time to get any closer to the door before the force of a nearby explosion knocked you to the hard ground. The world around feels like it’s been tilted on its axis, and your vision is doubled. You see Ghost already scrambled to his feet, and he’s outstretching his hand to help you up.

You reach for it and just barely brush against his fingertips. When you’re too sluggish, he clasps your upper arm and jerks you toward him, just barely getting you upright.

Another jet passes overhead, the sound of the engine fills your ears once more. When another bomb drops, it’s closer than the last. You knock into one of the pillars, losing your balance again. A clamorous groan of the building causes him to lose his grip on you, and you’re knocked down again, fading in and out of consciousness.

Ghost ripped himself away just as the already fragile structure began to crumble. He covered his head as the blast proceeded, gathering himself when the destruction came to a stop. Ghost coughed away the dust and stumbled through the dimness of the large space.

“Where are you?” He rasped as he felt around, gripping onto one of the pillars still standing.

He climbed through a gap in the boards, looping through one of the neighboring rooms to locate you. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you—draped across the floor with rubble surrounding you—illuminated only by the night sky, its radiance shining through the faulted roof.

Your foot was pinned by a piece of cement, rendering it unusable.

He throws his radio onto the ground and is by your side in a second, knelt beside you. When you finally come to, you try to move, but your foot is pinned completely.

“Don’t move your feet.” He spouts in a low tone, looking around the room for anything he can use to jack it up, but everything nearby is smashed to pieces.

Your eyes dart around the room to assess the damage, but you can’t crane your neck enough to see it all.

Finally, he finds a board to shove some of it away enough. He grabs your calf and pulls your foot out from under, but it’s completely limp. You can’t feel any of this, as if you’re under anesthesia, which is both a blessing and a curse.

You swallow, giving some saturation to your dry throat. “How bad’s the leg?” You murmur, unable to see what kind of deformity he’s tending to.

“You’ll be alright, need to find a way out.” He crawls back to your side, looking every which way as if an exit door was going to appear out of thin air.

He intertwines your hand, attempting to hoist you up. “Lean on me,” he says unsteadily. You can’t use your weight at all, or move for that matter—almost immediately dropping back to the ground.

A sharp, shooting pain runs up your backbone, making you wail in agony. His hands hasten around to find the source of it. Your excruciation is like someone running a knife along his skin. He knows that sound all too well.

He turns your torso, revealing the source of it—shards of metal plates embedded deep within your spine, and it’s been bleeding this whole time. He masks his panic as best as he can, but his silence is every answer you need.

“I can’t feel it anymore…” You whisper, now unable to move anything in your lower half.

The marble floor you’re limp upon is slowly becoming covered with your blood, seeping into the grout and cracks of it. You’re losing too much, too fast—and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

You feel each breath turn into an irregular wheeze with an increasing amount of seconds between each of them.

Ghost shifted the position you were in so your head was hiked onto his thigh, having no choice but to look up at him. You rest your palm on the ground beside you, using the last of your remaining energy to trace the pattern of the marble.

He stops your hand and clenches it, halting your twitching. He moves his other hand to your hair and holds onto the side of your head, not breaking eye contact with you for a second.

“We should get that drink, Sergeant.” He speaks softly, his eyes wrinkling over the weight of his own words.

You titter at his words, allowing them to distract you from the despondency of the situation you’re in. There’s nothing you can say to him that won’t fissile into the air—the silence is loud enough to fill those gaps in.

Ghost is mirroring what he did when his mother passed, cradling her as if he could nurse the wounds away. He recalls the same way her eyes were washed over with emptiness, no longer hosting any soul in them.

The way your chest rattles, the crimson seeping through the cracks of your skin and leaking onto his clothes—it’s a familiar sorrow.

He leans down and presses his lips to yours after the labored breaths stopped—something he didn’t have the courage to do when you were right in front of him nearly everyday. It was not the lustful, craving kisses you two shared, it was a kiss expelling the torment causing his heart to flutter.

“Ghost? How copy?” His walkie that he tossed chimed, finally coming through clearly. They were minutes late—minutes that they could’ve helped you.

“Ghost, what’s your status?”

He didn’t dare take his eyes off your lifeless body, only wanting to savor the last bits of warmth your skin still had. His lips left yours, quivering in a way that hadn’t since he was a tormented child—something he’d never openly express to anyone.

He removed your head from his thigh, then placed your hand down gently, rising to his unsteady feet.

He looked down at the blood coating his hands and the fabric of his trousers, the way it ran down his fingers and onto his sleeve—it made his skin crawl.

“Ghost, do you copy?”

His head pivots to the radio on the ground. His lip tightens in frustration when he hears the callout. The emotions he’s having all stewing inside him all at once—it’s too much.

He picks up the radio and projects it onto the ground, hearing each piece of it shatter at his feet.

His fists clench at his sides as he looks at you one more time, with you remaining in the same limp position he left you in. The sounds of your agony echoed within him, the feeling of your skin turning cold when he sat there long enough, the fabric of his balaclava now saturated with his own tears.

“I’m sorry.” His words felt void against the emptiness of the degradation surrounding him.

It was a phrase he uttered to you multiple times before,

a phrase he’d never be able to tell you enough,

a phrase you’d never be able to pardon him for again.

[Alternate Ending]

TAGLIST: @neoarchipelago @ghostlythots @gothgirl6-6-6 @cloudyyjanee @ladyelissarose @almightywdm @glitterypirateduck @brokenghostgirl1 @a-jupiter-n-mars-blog @liliumbosniacum (IT WONT LET ME TAG SOME OF U GUYS SORRY)

[scoopsahoy]

hey renee! I know you haven't been active for a little bit but whenever you do come back i have a fanfic request. maybe something where you and eddie have been dating in secret because your parents are stuck up and care about their reputation, but they find out and make you break up with him. but you love each other so much that you wanna get married someday. then he shows up at your house and the two of y'all fuck and it's so gentle and loving. preferably from a woman's pov. thanks!

ぺ  word count ⋰ 2.6k

✰  tw ⋰ none :)

❍  cw ⋰ swearing, sex + fingering, top!reader, dirty talk, oral (female receiving)

✐  masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

It’d been a long week in Hawkins without Eddie. The two of you thought you did a good job of hiding your relationship and being as secretive as possible, but you’d gotten caught by your mom, who walked in on you on top of him in just your bra and underwear.

Considering you had to keep your relationship from them, you weren’t surprised that you got yelled at for being with him, despite both of you being twenty years old. They had always been concerned with their social standing, and they didn’t like that he lived in a trailer, that he had tattoos and long hair, that he listened to rock music and played electric guitar, or that he didn’t get straight A’s. They told you in front of him that if their daughter was dating someone “like him”, it would destroy their reputation.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. You’d never felt this way about anyone, and the two of you had even talked about your future and possibly getting married which, for him, was a big deal. He’d said a few times that he’d been mostly against marriage for himself, believing it to be an unnecessary and stupid method to profess your love for someone and that it was something he was never interested in until he met you.

And, unbeknownst to you, he’d even gotten his grandmother’s ring and kept it in his sock drawer until just the right moment. The two of you were only twenty, so he had plenty of time to pop the question, but he wanted to be prepared.

Driving home with your passenger seat empty had been a strange feeling all week. Eddie was usually there, air-guitaring along to whatever song was playing on the radio or cassette he chose, usually Metallica.

But he wasn’t in your passenger seat tonight. Instead, he’d spent all week in bed, which concerned his uncle Wayne. He’d been broken up with by the woman who made his heart skip a beat when he thought of her, or who made him want to cry with pure love.

And he decided that this relationship wasn’t over just because your parents were more concerned about their public image than their daughter’s happiness. He knew that your parents worked the night shift and that you were the only one home, meaning that he wouldn’t have to confront them if he showed up.

So he took a deep breath before jumping in his van and speeding over to your house.

You were folding clothes on your bed when you heard the front door open and shut, assuming it was one of your parents coming home early from work. You wiped the tears staining your cheeks and hoped to avoid a long, self-preserving conversation with one of them.

Your door opened and you heard footsteps enter the room a few seconds before the door shut again.

“If you’re here to tell me that this is what’s best for the family and that you only did this to protect me, I’m not interested,” you stated as you put a shirt on a hanger.

“No, I’m not here for that.”

You turned around to see Eddie standing there, his hands in his pockets. You could tell that he’d also been crying, something he didn’t do much of.

“Eddie,” you whispered. You looked at each other for a moment before you turned back around, continuing to work on the pile of clothes. In your normal voice, you said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

He couldn’t see your face, but he continued talking. “I know.” He slowly began walking over to you, stopping when he was a few feet away.

“We can’t see each other anymore.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

You hesitated. “Trust me. I know.”

“Y/N… I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“This. Break up. Neither of us wants this.”

“Yeah, well, my parents give more of a shit about what the public thinks about them than what I want. Just like when I was growing up and they would buy me stupid expensive clothes and gifts for my birthday and holidays instead of the ones I wanted so they could pretend they were rich. It wasn’t for me, and it wasn’t even for them. It was for everyone else, to impress them. And now they’re trying to control who I’m with so they can impress everyone else.”

“You’re an adult. You can decide who you’re with.”

“It’s not that simple, Eddie.”

“Why not?”

You shook your head. “It just isn’t.”

He moved closer, placing his hands on your upper arms. You froze, dropping the pair of jeans you were folding.

He turned you around and lifted your chin to make you look into his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I fell in love with you as soon as I met you. When you helped me find my class freshman year. You remember that?” You nodded. “What about when you invited me over to eat lunch with you because we were both alone? Remember that?”

“Yeah. I remember.” Your voice was quiet now, almost apologetic. “I remember all of it.”

“What about when you recruited members for Hellfire?” You nodded. “And you helped me really understand how to play Dungeons & Dragons?”

“I remember.”

“Me too. I remember all of it like it was yesterday. I remember realizing I was in love with you even though I swore I would never fall in love. I thought love was dumb and for people who settled. But you changed my mind. You did that. You singlehandedly changed my opinion on love and marriage and all that sappy shit. And now all I want to do is spend the rest of my life with you.”

You gripped his face with both hands and pulled him in for a kiss, feeling a tear drip down your cheek. His hands landed on your back and drew your torso in closer to him. You kissed him for a few more seconds before pulling away, putting a few inches between the two of you.

His expression turned sad, his eyes growing gentle.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I just… I can’t.” You slowly spun back around, wiping your cheek. You crossed your arms, letting out a silent sob and sniffling. “You should go.” It felt like someone stuck a dagger through your heart as you said that, and it only made you cry harder.

He closed the gap between you, his hands gently gripping your sides.

“I’ve known you for a few years now, and I know when you’re lying.”

He was right. Your words told him to leave, but your heart yearned for him, and it felt like it would beat out of your chest.

He pulled the hair off of your left shoulder and pressed his lips to your neck. Your eyes automatically shut as you let out a shaky breath. Instinctively, you laid your head back on his shoulder.

His arms wrapped around you, the palm of one of his hands laid flat against your ribs, the other laid flat above your belly button. Your arms settled on top of his and you gripped them by his wrists.

“Eddie,” you whispered, almost in a moan. His kisses trailed up to your jaw, and then to your cheek. “Please.”

You weren’t sure what you were asking for, but he seemed to know. His right hand reached down to untie the drawstring of your shorts before slipping inside of them, and you let out a soft gasp as his fingers pressed to the spot where you needed his touch the most.

Your hips bucked backward, your ass pressing into his crotch. One of your hands gripped the arm around your ribs, and the other held onto the one whose hand was in your pants.

Your jaw slowly dropped and your breath quickened as he continued kissing your neck. His fingers were moving slowly, almost too slow. It made your entire body feel like it was on fire, and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, grinding into his hand. “Faster, please. I need- shit. I need you to go faster.”

He pulled his hand away and you pouted for a few seconds before he spun you around. His hands slid to the backs of your thighs and he picked you up, and your legs wrapped around him. He lowered you down onto the bed, swiping his hand into the laundry, sending most of it flying onto the floor.

You pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it in the same direction as the other clothes. His lips immediately attached themselves to your chest and left wet kisses on your skin. He hooked his fingers under your shorts and pulled them and your underwear off in one move, dropping them somewhere on the floor. You scooted up the bed and rotated so your head laid on the pillow and he could also lay comfortably.

He kissed up your inner thighs, his hands gripping the tops of them. The closer he got to your clit, the more the lack of friction made you want to scream.

You knew he knew how to tease you, but right now all you wanted was him.

The second he touched his tongue to the oh-so-sensitive bud, you melted under him. You shakily moaned and closed your eyes, throwing your head back.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

One of your hands reached down and tangled itself in his hair, and the other held onto one of his. He stared up at you, watching you writhe in pleasure.

He always loved eating you out, and had even told you that it was his favorite thing to do to you. He loved being able to make you feel so good with just his mouth, and he really loved seeing you after three or four orgasms when you were in a state of euphoria and how much you soaked the bedsheets.

So he was a little bit surprised when you stopped him.

“I need you inside me,” you begged. “Please.”

You sat up slightly as he stripped and turned over to reach into your nightstand, pulling out a condom and opening it for him. He wasted no time sliding it on and positioning himself above you, sliding his cock over your clit a few times. He kissed you deeply and you moaned into his mouth as he slowly pressed into you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep his mouth on yours. One of his hands gripped your thigh and squeezed it tightly, keeping your hip bent to give him deeper access.

You didn’t lose your virginity to Eddie. You lost it to a boy in your geometry class sophomore year of high school when he came over to study with you for a test. It was underwhelming, to say the least, and it made you nervous to have sex again.

But with Eddie, it came naturally. He didn’t push you to have sex the first time, instead letting you initiate it. And it wasn’t that long into your relationship. He’d driven the two of you out to the woods in a spot with a clearing where he liked to go smoke sometimes and watch the sunset.

You kissed him at one point and didn’t stop, eventually in his lap in the driver’s seat. You accidentally blew the horn and suggested you move it to the back of his van, where he had some blankets and pillows laid out.

You didn’t expect it to be as nice as it was, but he paid attention to you and what you wanted. And he lasted much longer than the first boy.

You whimpered Eddie’s name in his ear and he grunted, still kissing your neck. The interrupted stimulation from him eating you out made you extra sensitive, and you could tell that you weren’t going to last much longer.

And when he began thrusting faster, you couldn’t help your pussy from squeezing him tightly.

“Shit,” he moaned, the extra tightness making his hips falter for a few seconds.

He picked up speed again and the bedframe began hitting the wall, but you could barely hear it over the sound of your blended moans and skin slapping against skin.

You almost jumped out of your skin at the feeling of him fingering you. He usually didn’t do this unless he was about to cum and you hadn’t yet, or unless he wanted you to cum more than once before him.

“Are you close?” you asked in a strained voice.

“No, I just want you to.”

Your heels pressed into the backs of his thighs as your right hand gripped his shoulder tightly. His fingers traced circles as quickly as possible and you felt like you couldn’t breathe as your orgasm built quickly.

He stopped kissing your neck and looked at you. “Cum for me, baby,” he commanded. He watched your expression change as you quickly went over the edge as your entire body trembled and your eyebrows contorted upward.

You were practically screaming as he fucked you through your orgasm, your nails pressing into his skin. He made sure to drag it out until you came down from your high, slowing down to a complete stop.

He looked at you with a smile on his face, chuckling when you opened your eyes. You were both short of breath, but you pulled him down to kiss him.

A few seconds later, he began thrusting again, but you rolled him over so you could be on top. He scooted both of you backward so he could sit back against the wall.

He gripped your hips tightly as you began to bounce quickly on him. You leaned down and kissed him, holding his face where it was. You both kept your eyes shut and moaned into each others’ mouths.

“God,” he grunted. His fingertips were pressed into your skin and his grip began to strengthen.

He usually finished faster when you were on top, and you could tell his was getting close.

“That’s it,” you whispered. “You gonna cum?” He nodded quickly, his moans getting even louder. “Cum for me, Eddie.”

You kept your foreheads together and he closed the gap between your bodies, holding you tightly. He thrust his hips into you as you bounced, shakily moaning as he released into the condom.

Neither of you moved for a moment, but you panted in tandem with each other. Once he calmed down a bit, he kissed you gently.

“I love you,” he said tiredly. “So much.”

“I love you, too.”

You pulled yourself off of him and he stripped the condom off, tossed it in your trash can next to your bed, then grabbed a tissue to clean himself off.

You sat in front of him and pulled your knees into your chest. You just looked at each other and he smiled.

“At least nobody walked in on us this time,” you said.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Silence for a few seconds.

“What are you staring at me for?”

He shook his head with a small smile. “Move in with me.”

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

“Move in with me. You can bring all your stuff.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“Don’t you have to ask your uncle?”

“He told me to ask you. He likes you a lot.”

You smiled, getting up on your knees and crawling over to him.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

You kissed him. “I’d love to.”

“Yeah?” he asked with a smile.

“Yeah.”

Within a few seconds, you were on your back with Eddie showering you with kisses.

[eds6ngel]

hey! I just saw your account and I loved it, I'm looking for accounts that have open requests, if you don't like it, leave me empty, you have no obligation!🤍 eddie x reader where reader likes physical touch, but eddie isn't much of that, and he ends up calling her clingy or suffocating

hey beautiful! i made this a lot more angsty than you asked, but that’s just what i seem to do well, so i hope you enjoy regardless!

warnings: fem!reader. pet names. swearing. mentions of abuse. yelling. swearing. a lot of angst. a lot of hurt. eddie’s childhood trauma </3. comfort. self-inflicted pain. meltdowns. tons of sad eddie. but also some tooth-rotting fluff!! [2.3k].

Childhood trauma was a bitch.

Eddie loved you. He really did. But, it was fairly obvious that your love language was physical touch.

He explained to you that he wasn’t the best at giving physical touch, which was true, but he didn’t tell you from the receiving end. And arguably, that was ten times worse.

And it got visibly worse closer to traumatic events. This wasn’t just a relationship thing either. Close to his mother’s death anniversary last year, he practically shut himself off from all of his friends. He pushed Dustin off of every hug he tried to give.

And this time, it was the anniversary week of when his dad beat him so hard, he broke his nose and cheekbone. He was seven years old at the time.

They say that trauma-filled dates stay with you until the day you die, and Eddie was convinced that was one hundred percent true.

You see Eddie standing by his locker, sneaking up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist. “Guess who?”

You fail to notice the slight flinch in Eddie’s demeanour as he becomes aware of your presence. That was something he struggled with majorly. The unwantedness of your touch.

“Yeah. Hi babe,” he replies slamming his locker shut, D&D manual in his hand.

“How are you?” you ask cheerily, hands still wrapped around his waist as he turns to face you.

“Yeah. Fine, fine,” he says, looking around frantically as he pushes a hand through his hair, letting a shaky breath out.

“You okay?” you ask, placing a soft hand on cheek, him instantly moving his head away and wincing, closing his eyes in pain.

“Yeah. I’m good babe, I promise,” he lies through his teeth. He couldn’t tell you yet. He couldn’t scare you away. He couldn’t lose you. “I just… I have to get going, campaign starts soon.”

“Baby, it doesn’t start for another thirty minutes,” you say, a disappointed look settling on your face.

“Actually, um…” he thinks for an excuse, “We’ve decided to start early today. We’re all just too excited to wait any longer to finish this campaign.”

“Oh,” you softly mumbled, “Okay. Will I see you later?”

“No,” he blurts out, a confused look perched on your face. “Sorry… I mean, um, Wayne and I were going to spend some time together. He has the night off from work.”

You nod, understanding why he wanted some alone time, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

He softly smiles, “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

You lean up and place a quick kiss on his lips before turning your back and waving goodbye to him.

But, on your way home, you wondered why his behaviour was… off. You caught on he wasn’t the biggest fan of physical touch early on in the relationship, but even so, when you hugged him from behind like that, he would still lightly place his hands on top of yours.

And why did he flinch? It’s not like your hands are rough or you gave a harsh movement, it was the same as every other time. And every other time, he would nuzzle his face into your hand. A small gesture, but enough reciprocation to show comfortability.

Maybe he was just having a bad day. Tomorrow’s a new day. Perhaps he would be better tomorrow.

But, you were very wrong.

You walk into the cafeteria, spotting Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire boys sitting at their usual table.

You beam as you walk over, reaching the table and taking your usual seat, on Eddie’s lap. You sit on top of his thigh, wrapping your arm around the back of his shoulder and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

The conversation goes as normal. Random chats about classes, latest campaigns, recent shows, a mix of everything.

But, Eddie is trying his hardest not to break. His other knee is bouncing and his hand is shaking, him trying to hide the fact by shoving pretzel after pretzel into his mouth.

With the boys loud chatter and the visible weight on his leg, it all becomes too overwhelming for him.

“Babe, can you get off please?” he whispers, just loud enough so she can hear.

“What?” you ask, making sure you heard right.

“Can you fucking get off of me!” he yells, his eyes on the brink of watering as you flinch at the loudness of his voice right beside your ear. You quickly move off of his lap, taking the empty seat beside Mike to your left.

“So fucking clingy all the time,” he grumbles, a slight waver to his face which you pick up on.

You reach out towards his hand, “Baby, what’s wro—“

But, he lets out a harsh whine and slams his fist down on the table in frustration, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

He grabs his small lunch box and loudly pushes his chair back, the legs scraping across the floor as he powers out of the cafeteria, arms folded across his chest.

All of the boys have their heads staring down at the table, each avoiding eye contact as they pick at the food on their plates.

“Gareth?” you pipe up, “Can I talk to you a second?”

“Uh… yeah,” he says, the pair of you getting up and walking over to the end of the cafeteria, away from the rest of the boys to be able to hear.

“What’s going on with him?”

Gareth sighs, a sense of knowing to his voice, “It’s best if you talk to him. It’s just…” he pauses, “It’s not my place to say.”

“Is he okay?” you ask in a concerned manner, worried for your boyfriend’s sudden shift in behaviour.

“No… he never is around this time of year. It’s… stuff from the past,” he explains, “I’m not the one to tell you, but he really needs your support. I would suggest you go find him.”

You place a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you Gareth,” you smile, walking back over to the table and collecting your belongings, before turning and walking out of the cafeteria and to the parking lot.

As you burst through the main doors, you look around, Eddie’s van nowhere in sight.

“Shit,” you curse, powering over to your own car and throwing your backpack in the backseat, jumping in the front and slamming the door shut. You put your keys in the ignition and turn it on, reversing out of the parking lot and heading down to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

It’s 1:30 by the time you reach Eddie’s trailer, stepping out of your car, seeing his van parked on the driveway. You walk up to his front door and knock on it, surprisingly no answer being shared.

It felt wrong, but you turn the handle and open the door, stepping into the small space, seeing the walls covered in Wayne’s favourite mugs. You giggle to yourself, he sure had a lot of favourites.

You walk past the couch, heading down the hallway and coming to a halt at his bedroom door. Making sure not to scare him, you lightly knock, “Eddie? Honey, it’s only me.”

“Leave me alone,” you hear him mumble from the other side, that waver in his voice returning once more.

You sigh, “I know you don’t really want that Eds,” you say, knowing that he did indeed want you to be there, he just shut himself out when things went wrong. “I’m going to come in, okay?”

When you are met with silence, you slowly open the door, turning to your right to see Eddie curled up in a ball in the middle of his bed, his knees tucked up to his chest and his head in between his legs.

As he looks up at you, you can see how puffy his eyes are from all the crying, his hair also a fluffy mess. It was the worst sight you had ever seen.

You sigh as you take a seat at the opposite end of his bed, giving your boyfriend enough space to make him feel comfortable. The last thing you wanted to do was scare him more.

“Gareth told me to come and find you. He didn’t tell me the details, but…” you take a breath, “He said you get like this every year and that you could do with my support. So, here I am.”

He simply nods, a strong silence filling the air once more. Seeing as the conversation wasn’t moving any further, you tell him something truthful, “I’m not pushing you to tell me a single thing, but whatever is making you have this reaction, I won’t judge you for it, okay? Our past doesn’t define us, and if you think that telling me is going to make me leave you, I can guarantee you that will never happen in a million years.”

He sniffles, “You won’t leave me?”

You attempt to lighten the mood, “Eds, unless you axe murdered someone in the past fifty days, I promise I won’t leave you.”

He slightly smiles at this as he untangles himself from his self-made ball and sits up on his bed. He takes a breath, debating to admit the truth to you, “You know I don’t live in the most… conventional family. I mean, it’s just me and my Uncle Wayne, you know? But…” he sighs out shakily, “I’ve never told you about my parents… Specifically my dad.”

You look over at him, “I’m listening, baby.”

You can see his leg bouncing, you refraining from the urge to put your hand out to calm him down, realising on the way here that physical touch must’ve been the issue he was facing with you.

“This week… Well, it’s been ten years since my dad hit me so hard he broke my nose and cheekbone. And I just…” He shakes his head in annoyance as the tears spill once again, “Fuck… I know you’re not him. God, you’re nothing like him. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, and you would never hurt me in my lifetime.”

He hits his head a few times with the palm of his hand, you almost jumping in to stop him as he refrains himself from continuing. God, it hurt to see him like this.

He sniffles, “Just… The way you touched my cheek like that yesterday in the hallway, and then today with how overwhelming everything felt in the cafeteria… It just brought back so many fuckin’ memories…”

You slightly shuffle closer to him, maintaining enough distance to make sure you weren’t pushing any boundaries. “And… I’m sorry,” he cries, “You aren’t clingy, not at all, I just couldn’t cope with the physical touch, and I’m just… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, angel,” you softly speak, “Trauma is a tough thing. You shouldn’t feel the need to put on a brave face and cover it up just to make others happy. If you don’t want me to touch you, I’m okay with that. Touch isn’t the only way to show love.”

You inch just a tiny bit closer, seeing that he wasn’t flinching anymore and his breathing was becoming more regulated, “I just want to tell you that we have moments where we crash and burn. Healing isn’t a linear process baby. And if you have moments where you don’t want me to hug you or kiss you or simply hold your hand, then all I ask from you is to let me know, okay?”

He shakes his head, “But, I want you to touch me. I don’t want your touch, your such kind and loving touch, to link to his hands,” he spits out the end of his sentence, an obvious frustration at his traumatic childhood.

“Well…” you think for a second, “Why don’t you guide me?”

He looks up slightly in confusion, you beginning to explain yourself further, “Take my hand honey. Guide me to where you want me to touch you. That way, you’ll know that my hands are safe and you are the one initiating the touch. It’s just a small step in healing yourself.”

He looks down at your hands, taking a shaky breath before grabbing them with his own. He places each one on either side of his cheek. You can feel him take a sharp intake as he feels your skin come into contact with his.

He’s gripping onto your hands, afraid to let go as his eyes are closed, you whispering out a soft, “Listen to the sound of my voice baby. It’s only me. It’s your girl’s hands.”

And with those words, he removes his hands from yours, letting them sit comfortably on his cheeks. You can feel and hear him start to cry once more, but this time, in a sense of relief.

He felt safe in what felt like forever. For the first time in years, this week in his life, he let someone touch him, and he didn’t feel scared. He felt safe, he felt secure, he felt loved.

You can feel him reach out for your waist, pulling you close as he places his head on your chest, sobbing into your shirt. “I’m sorry,” he cries out again.

Your hands are now stroking his hair, tangled in his brown curls as you place a soft kiss on his hairline, leaning your head on top of his.

“You don’t need to apologise, my love. We’ll get through this, you’ll get through this. Because I know how strong you are, how tough you are. You aren’t as weak as you think you are. What you did just there? That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen someone do. And that is what makes you a strong person. The ability to overcome a fear and accept love into your life when you most struggle with it.”

You can feel him place a soft kiss on your exposed chest, him mumbling, “Thank you. I love you.”

You place one more tender kiss to his head, replying, “I love you too. So incredibly proud of you.”

And that is what he needed. Someone to tell him that he was a strong person. He was worth loving and that he should be proud of himself. And he’s forever grateful that he gets to call that person his girl.

thank you for reading! and i’m sorry for the utter heartbreak in this, but it’s just what i do best </3 hope this was good for you my love!

[minastras]

ii. a teenager in love

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words: 4.8k

warnings: swearing, underage drinking

——————————

“You look nice.”

That’s how Kai always greeted you now, regardless of what you were wearing — even if you were just in your school uniform. He was already by the entrance of your apartment block waiting for you, despite you being five minutes early.

Yeonjun was hosting a party that night to celebrate his one-month breakup anniversary (weird), and it was coincidentally also the fifteenth day since Kai had first posted you on his Instagram. He said the party would be the perfect opportunity to step it up a notch.

You’d been sticking to the plan you drew up when he came over to your house two weeks ago. You ate lunch together now; sometimes you joined him and his friends, sometimes he joined you and your friends. But sometimes you and Kai would go off to the running tracks by yourselves to talk.

There, you’d work through the questions most real partners would know the answers to — your favourite music, which shows you watched, what your parents did. You had expected your conversations to be mechanical, rigidly going through the motions, but he was surprisingly easy to talk to. And despite all his flirting, he did actually pay attention to you.

“I can meet you at the train station, you know,” you said. “You don’t have to walk all the way into my street just to pick me up.”

He took your hand and laced his fingers with yours. “But I want to.”

It was things like that which were going to be your downfall. You’d only just crossed the two-week mark of your fake relationship and you already knew it. Yizhuo was right: your crush on him had never fully faded.

When he held your hand or wrapped an arm around your waist or gave you his jacket in public, you didn’t really feel anything. You knew he was performing for your friends or his, the showmanship of his craft clear in his rehearsed smirks and clichéd, sugary words.

But when you were alone, as you were now, you couldn’t tell if he was acting. Your racing heartbeat was, however, unfakeable. Regret seeped into every pore of your skin each time he smiled genuinely or offered to carry your bag or walked you home when there was no one around to witness it.

So, here you were: Kai had picked you up from your house and you went to Yeonjun’s breakup party (still weird) together, your fingers intertwined the entire journey there. You hadn’t arrived particularly late, but Yeonjun was already wasted by the time you turned up.

“He’ll be fine,” Kai reassured you, placing a hand in between your shoulder blades to direct you towards the living room. You kept glancing back at the older boy.

“Are you sure?” you asked, still worried. His hand was warm against your skin as he traced circles lightly on your upper back.

“Soobin will keep an eye on him. He usually does,” he said. The music was too loud for you to hear each other normally, so Kai’s solution was to whisper directly into your ear, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he spoke. It gave you goosebumps.

He told you to sit down on the sofa and dipped into the kitchen to get you both drinks. While you waited, his good friend Beomgyu joined you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said loudly, holding up his drink, already tipsy. “Congrats on making it this far! I didn’t think you guys would be able to do it.”

People had been saying that to you the entire day. You laughed politely. “Thank you! I’m hoping this won’t be our last milestone together, though.”

Before he could respond, Kai returned and pushed his shoulder.

“What are you doing sitting so close to Y/N?” Kai chided, annoyed. Well, he was pretending to be annoyed. It didn’t bother you, or so you kept telling yourself.

“Sorry, man,” Beomgyu said, standing up and holding his hands up in retreat. “I didn’t take you for the possessive type.”

Kai took his seat and handed you a drink, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side so you were half-leaning on his chest. He looked at you and winked. “I am now. Just for them.”

He would be the death of you someday.

You weren’t even paying attention while Beomgyu teased Kai back and walked over to the dance floor to join the rest of his friends, giggling drunkenly to himself the whole time.

“What is this?” you asked, peering into your cup of mystery liquid and trying to ignore the feeling of his leg fully pressed against your own. He had a metal chain attached to his black jeans.

“I don’t know. The label was in German,” he said with a shrug, before tapping the rim of his cup to yours. “Cheers.”

You furrowed your brow in scepticism but took a sip anyway. It was sweet, not too strong, and surprisingly smooth on your tongue.

“Good, right?” he asked proudly, tucking his head down to look at you. You nodded in concession, leaning against him even more. You had an audience, after all: both of your friends were watching you from across the living room. Aeri caught your eye and mouthed ‘fifteen days!’ to you.

Yeonjun’s sofa was lumpy and mildly sticky and not the most pleasant thing you’d sat on. It was hot, even with the air conditioning on full blast, an inevitable side effect of the sheer number of people packed into his house.

Your discomfort barely registered in your head, though. All you could focus on was that you were leaning on Kai’s chest, broad and firm against your back. His arm was around your shoulder, and his chin was resting on the top of your head.

“Let’s go out for lunch tomorrow,” Kai suggested, “it’ll be my treat.”

“Why?” you mumbled, tired. Lying on him was making you sleepy; he was just so warm and comfortable.

He laughed quietly. “Because I want to take you out?”

You could already feel your heart starting to race at his words and hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Said the hitman,” you joked.

“You’re such a tease,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into your neck. You shuddered at the sensation, at his messy hair pushing up against your skin, at his lips brushing your collarbones. You could feel him smirking, satisfied by your reaction. He always was, so smug and cool and confident.

“And you’re lucky I laugh when I’m nervous, so to our friends I just look like some smitten giggling fool instead of a sim dying of embarrassment,” you replied.

He pulled away, and you almost deflated at the loss of contact. “Why are you nervous?” he asked, confused.

Oh. Whoops.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he pressed, sounding somewhat concerned, his grip on your shoulder tightening ever-so-slightly.

See, these were the things that made you think this was all a huge mistake. Because when he looked at you like that — like how he did on the balcony at Aeri’s party or in your room when you were talking about your brothers — his eyes were just soft enough and his voice was just quiet enough that you could trick yourself into thinking he was being genuine.

“Don’t look so serious,” you changed the subject, nodding towards where your friends were. Some of them were still (still!) watching you, as if they were waiting for you to break up right then and there in front of everyone. Fifteen days. “We aren’t being believable at all.”

He looked over, thought for a bit, and then slid his hands under your knees, lifting up your legs and putting them across his. You let out a small squeak of surprise at the sudden motion and held onto his shoulders. He smirked when you came face-to-face with him.

“Is that better?” he murmured, the tip of his nose just millimetres from yours.

“I can’t tell, honestly,” you answered, feeling like you probably looked exceptionally posed and rehearsed in the position you were in. It was likely evident to everyone that neither of you were used to being in each other’s space like this.

“I think you’re right. Taehyun does not look convinced,” he reported to you, looking over your shoulder. “Well, I don’t know what else to do.”

You knew what the issue was: Kai was big into public displays of affection, and he hadn’t kissed you yet. He was constantly making out with whichever new person he was ‘dating’ in the school halls, empty classrooms, or at parties. In comparison, he had been as chaste as a nun with you.

“Fine. Kiss me, then,” you said, biting your tongue so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if it just fell off.

He didn’t even flinch at your directness; in fact, he seemed to enjoy it. He tilted your chin up gently with two fingers and leaned in. “I’d thought you’d never ask.”

What did that mean?

You didn’t even have time to address the fluttering in your heart at his words before his mouth was on yours. He still had one hand on your knee, holding you in place. You were in his lap, with your arms wrapped around his neck so you wouldn’t fall off the sofa.

He kissed so lazily, slow and languid, like he had all the time in the world. Like you weren’t in the middle of a circus-level house party and surrounded by countless loud drunk peers. He tasted like the mystery German alcohol you’d both been sipping, his mouth hot against yours.

You were getting dizzy, high on him, temporarily forgetting where you were too.

When he ran his tongue over your bottom lip, though, you jolted back to the present and broke the kiss.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking slightly dazed himself. His lips were red and wet, and you wondered if he could feel just how hard your heart was hammering against your ribcage as you leaned on him. “Got carried away.”

What? Did? That? Mean?

“See? I told you we had to make out in front of them,” he joked, clearly less affected by the kiss than you were. You turned around to glance at your friends and found that most of them had finally stopped watching you.

Kai kept his hand on your chin. If he had noticed your silence he didn’t make any indication of it, although Aeri was still squinting at you suspiciously. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, unflappable as ever.

——————————

——————————

Kai was on top of the world: he’d broken the fifteen-day curse. Of course, his sense of achievement would have been even greater if it was real, but his friends were convinced and that was all he cared about.

Everyone had thought he was going to dump you on Friday at Yeonjun’s party, the fifteenth day. But he hadn’t, and on Tuesday you came to visit him during his soccer practice.

It was common for whoever he was with at the time to do that, although you hadn’t yet. He supposed you had no reason to since you weren’t actually interested in him, but you and him had agreed on it the night before. Of all the people he’d invited to watch him practise, you were the only one who had stuck around beyond day fifteen. And his friends obviously had a lot to say about that.

“So you two are, like, really a thing,” Soobin marvelled, checking his watch for the date. He waved to you where you were sitting in the bleachers. You waved back.

“Didn’t you see him tonguing them on Yeonjun’s sofa on Friday?” Taehyun said.

“What? You sinned on my sofa?” Yeonjun asked, clearly having been too drunk to remember anything from that night.

Kai pushed Taehyun and put his water bottle away. Their break was over, he decided. “I was not tonguing them. Jesus,” he cursed, running back out onto the field and blowing you a kiss as he did so.

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Sickening.”

“You’re just bitter you got dumped,” Beomgyu shouted, running away before he’d even finished talking, anticipating to be smacked.

Unfortunately for Yeonjun, you continued coming to their soccer practices, and Kai continued blowing kisses at you whenever he got the chance.

By the one month mark, Kai was spending just as much time with you as he was with his friends, much of that alone when you didn’t have to pretend.

It was funny how he could so easily flirt with you in the past, before you’d started this whole thing, and now that you were ‘dating’ he felt weirdly embarrassed whenever he did so. He was fine in public, perfectly able to act in front of others, but the second you two were in private he turned into an altar boy, apparently.

Especially when he was in your room like he was now, after school one afternoon, sitting cross-legged on your bed next to you.

“Are you free Saturday morning?” you asked, staring at your calendar. “We could hang out for a bit and then head over there together,” you suggested. If he didn’t know any better he might have thought he heard nervousness in your voice, like you were hoping he’d say yes and scared he’d say no.

All of your friends were meeting up for lunch that day at a newly launched pancake restaurant called Stackies you’d been telling him about for ages. Kai was actually the one to suggest it to the group because he knew how badly you wanted to try it — but you weren’t aware of that.

He smiled to himself when he saw the square inch of space that made up Saturday’s box adorned with a halo of exclamation marks and messy pancake doodles, fairly sure you were the only person under the age of forty who still used a physical calendar.

“Yeah, I’m free. What do you want to do?” he asked, knowing subconsciously in the back of his mind that he would have agreed to anything you requested.

Your eyes lit up. “Can we go to the botanical gardens? I heard the leaves are starting to turn.”

You both used to refer to your outings as “hanging out”, sessions for you to get to know each other and get your stories straight, couching the intimacy of it all in deliberate language like a shield. Against what, he wasn’t sure. But somewhere along the line, and he wasn’t quite sure when, interrogative questions gave way to long conversations about music and TV shows and your friends.

Dates. You were going on dates.

Something pulled at his heart when he saw your expression, your eyes shining with excitement, your pen clipped behind your ear. He never knew that was a thing people did in real life, sticking writing implements behind their ears. He’d always thought only cartoon characters did that.

“Really? Let’s go, then. I want to see them too,” he smiled.

You hadn’t kissed since Yeonjun’s party more than a month ago. Well, not properly, anyway. He kissed you on the forehead a lot in front of others, and you kissed him on the cheek from time to time, but those didn’t count. Not to him.

He wanted to kiss you whenever you two were alone, an impulse which always set alarm bells ringing in his head that maybe he should pull the brakes on this whole thing.

It was foreign to him, all of it — recommending pancake restaurants and going on trips to the botanical gardens. Two-week flings driven by physical attraction and teenage infatuation, ending either in the mutual understanding that it hadn’t been serious or a broken heart for the other party, were more his speed.

This was not that, he realised, whatever it was. He reached that conclusion after your trip to the gardens, when you both arrived at Stackies. You took his hand and smiled at him as you walked through the door to the table where your friends were waiting for you, although it was your performing smile. He used to think it was pretty (he still did), but now whenever he saw it he yearned for your real one.

The one you’d given him one fateful Wednesday, the day he came over to your house so you could study each other’s favourite foods, hobbies, and usual hangout spots. When it was time for him to leave, he had asked on a whim if he could stay and help you with dinner. You’d beamed when he did, and he still found himself picturing it from time to time.

“I’m happy you chose this place,” you told Soobin, who was sitting on your other side, while the waiter was taking Aeri’s order. “I’ve actually always wanted to come here.”

Soobin looked at you, confused. “Yeah, that’s why I picked it. Kai asked me to.”

Kai placed his hand on your knee, a message. “Right, that’s what I meant,” you backtracked smoothly. The second everyone was distracted by the waiter turning on the table’s hotplate, you leaned over to him and whispered a soft ‘thank you’ into his ear. You gave him another one of your smiles, a real one, and he found himself unable to focus on anything else for the rest of the lunch.

A few days later, you were sitting in the bleachers together after his soccer practice. His teammates had all gone home, leaving you two alone on the field. This wasn’t something you normally did; you usually had to leave an hour before his practice ended to get home in time to do your chores.

“Should I make a one month anniversary post on Instagram?” he asked, snacking on the cookies you had bought for him as he flicked through the photos you’d taken together at the botanical gardens on his phone.

“I don’t think so. I feel like it’s more believable if we keep it low-key,” you said, leaning over his shoulder to look at the photos. “I like that one,” you commented, stopping him when he landed one you took of him. He was staring straight into the camera and holding a red leaf in front of his face, covering his left eye.

You were wearing his sports jacket, the one only student athletes were allowed to wear. It was black with gold trim, read ‘athlete’ on the back in big bold letters, and had his name embroidered on the front.

That was one of the first things he learnt about you, that you had always wanted to be a student athlete but lost the chance to after you broke your knee eight years ago and it never fully recovered. He’d always wondered why someone as popular and seemingly active as you wasn’t on a sports team. But now he let you wear his jacket whenever you wanted, which seemed to make you happy.

“Can I ask you something?” you said after a short silence, playing with the hem of his jacket. He nodded, prompting you to continue. “Why do you care if you’re the last of your friends to be in a relationship?”

Yeah. Why did he care?

This was far from the first time you had asked him that question, but he was always unable to give you a straight answer. He knew it bothered him, but he couldn’t fully articulate why. And not for a lack of trying, either. His explanation was constantly changing.

“It’s not really about the relationship,” was what Kai settled on this time around. “It’s just a sense of being left behind while everyone else around me is growing up and moving on.”

The autumn wind howled. “I get it,” you nodded. This had been the first question you asked him all those weeks back on Aeri’s balcony, and you’d never once pointed out the number of times his answer to that question changed.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” he said with a small smile, a question of his own, standing up and offering you his hand. The lights had switched themselves off. It was probably time to head home. You accepted, and he pulled you to your feet with ease.

“I don’t know. I thought if I asked enough times, eventually you’d figure out your answer,” you replied, stumbling slightly when he pulled you a little too hard. He laughed, not being able to tell if you were serious. You smiled. “Have you?”

He hadn’t, but he was starting to wonder if he was looking right at it.

——————————

——————————

“What do you plan on doing after we graduate?” Kai asked you once when you were walking home from school together. “Taehyun asked me that just now, and I realised I didn’t know.”

That was how a lot of your conversations with Kai went. It was hard to figure out what normal people talked to their significant others about.

“I don’t want to think about that now,” you laughed. Kai wasn’t the only one who hated the thought of growing up. “I’ll probably go into data analytics or something.”

It’d been two months since you started ‘dating’, and there were still occasional gaps in your knowledge that hadn’t yet been plugged. The other day, Aeri asked you what Kai’s parents did and you had just barely managed to avoid a catastrophe.

You didn’t really know what the goal was anymore, if you were being honest. From time to time you felt the urge to ask him when this whole thing would end, but you always found yourself unable to go through with it. You didn’t want it to end, that much had become clear. You were living a lie you so desperately wanted to believe in.

He walked you home after school on the days he didn’t have soccer practice, sometimes staying over for dinner. You’d go to the shops together to buy ingredients before your brothers came home, and he’d help you cook.

He didn’t need to, there was no one around to witness it, but he did. Your kitchen was far too small for two people to be crammed in there at the same time, but somehow, neither of you had been injured yet. He never complained about how cramped your house was or how loud and boisterous your brothers were.

When he could tell you needed a break from them, though, he would suggest taking your dinner up to the rooftop of your building and leaving them to their adventures. The two of you sat on the rooftop, eating dinner and talking until nine or ten at night.

It was why you’d had a crush on him in the first place (yes, you were finally admitting you had a crush on him). He was a flirt, that much was true, but no one could ever accuse him of being unkind. He didn’t go around breaking hearts on purpose, which you couldn’t really say for some of the other popular boys.

At one of Yizhuo’s parties, you were all sitting in her backyard on the grass, even though it was way too cold to be outdoors. As always, Kai gave you his jacket without you needing to ask. It wasn’t his student athlete one this time, but a light denim jacket that was more fashionable than functional.

“You guys are so cute!” Yizhuo squealed, when Kai reached for your hands and clasped them in between his larger ones to warm them up. He leant forward and pressed a quick kiss to your temple with a pleased smile.

“Isn’t today your two month anniversary? Congratulations,” Aeri said.

“Uh-”

“No, it’s not. That was two weeks ago,” Soobin cut you off, confused.

You turned to Kai. You had sixty whole days to iron out your origin story and you still hadn’t. In retrospect, that was a pretty glaring oversight.

“It’s a long story, actually,” Kai laughed, thinking on his feet. He was so good at that, always calm and collected whenever things like this happened. You, however, panicked like a spooked young fawn at the slightest hint of your scheme being exposed.

“Oh, is it?” Taehyun said, squinting at you with inquisitive eyes, trying to decipher your facial expression. “I love long stories.”

You squeezed Kai’s hand. Please help. Taehyun was too observant for his own good.

“Sorry. I’m sworn to secrecy,” Kai lied smoothly, poking your cheek with his index finger and a playful smile. “This one says it’s embarrassing, so I can’t tell you.”

Grateful for the out he’d provided you, you went along with it, swatting his finger away with a giggle and pretending to hide your face in his sweater at his teasing. Your friends rolled their eyes at your sickening sweetness.

It seemed to work, at least for now. But the second it was no longer overtly suspicious to do so, you two escaped back into Yizhuo’s house, scouring the place for a quiet space where you could talk. You settled on the area in the back near the rear staircase — yes, her house was that big that it had two staircases.

“What did you tell your friends?” Kai asked, evidently on edge. He was trying to hide it and doing a pretty good job, but you’d also gotten much better at reading him now.

“I said we got together at Aeri’s party! Isn’t that what you said?” you replied, not ever thinking this would need to be clarified. That story made the most sense, didn’t it?

“I said we got together two weeks before,” he groaned, pushing his hands through his hair.

You sputtered. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“I wanted to make the relationship longer so I could beat Beomgyu.”

Really? Really? And he didn’t think to explain this to you in advance? You took a deep breath to compose yourself.

“Okay, okay, it’s fine. We can do damage control,” you said, trying to talk yourself out of the panic you were inching closer and closer towards.

“Except that all our friends are now out there without us and they’re definitely discussing what just happened,” Kai pointed out casually.

This fact dawned on you both at the exact same time.

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“Shit!”

You turned to look at the source of the third voice. It was Sunghoon, visibly drunk with a table tennis paddle in his hand for some reason.

“Sorry, just wanted to feel like I was a part of something,” he giggled, waving the paddle nonchalantly as he walked past you. It was a nice break of bewilderment from your stress, which returned almost as soon as the other boy was gone.

You didn’t have any time to react, though, because here was Yizhuo coming to look for you, calling out your names. Before you could even process what was happening, Kai grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you into the empty closet under the staircase to hide.

The closet was tiny, just barely large enough for two people. You were pressed almost fully against him with no room to move away, face-to-face, your hands flat against his chest and his braced against the door behind you.

Now you were stuck there. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Getting your Goddamn Stories Straight. You could hear his rapid breathing and your blood pumping in your ears.

“Nice weather we’re having,” he joked, looking down at you.

His pupils were blown in the darkness, and you were sure yours were too as they struggled to adjust to the lack of light. You could just barely make out his facial features, even though he was so close to you his hair was brushing your cheek.

You laughed nervously. “Maybe we can tell them we made it official at Aeri’s party but first started talking two weeks before,” you suggested, looking anywhere but at him. You were fairly sure you wouldn’t be able to speak if you looked into his eyes or at his lips or at his arms on either side of you. Yizhuo was still outside, asking an unknown person if they’d seen you or Kai.

“Mm, that works,” Kai agreed, his breath warm on your face as he giggled quietly. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

He was so mind-numbingly oblivious to the fact that your heart was beating that fast for him, and not for the fear of getting caught by your friends.

“Can you really?” you whispered. Yizhuo walked away; you knew it was her by the sound of her footsteps.

Kai reached for the doorknob behind you. “I can. It’s loud,” he teased, before opening the door.

The space was so tight that you nearly tumbled out as soon as he did, but he caught you easily by the waist to prop you back up onto your feet. Your mind was still scrambled from the memory of his eyes being so close to you that you could count his eyelashes. What had you gotten yourself into?

——————————

thanks for reading!

-minastras <3

[pangtasias-atelier]

Innes' Growing Viewpoint

Had like 200 words and then just had extreme lack of motivation so then just didn't touch this wip until I forced myself and well I guess that works lol so here's this and hopefully there's more eventually instead of waiting 2 months for a new story.

Really craved more Sac/red St/ones since been playing it so have my favorite character who I legit like never use lmao. Hope you enjoy some mind warping and hopefully it came out decent.

Warning: This is a fetish story!

Flapping pegasus wings sound off in the distance, the customary noise hard to frighten the chirping of Frelia’s scattered birds in the safety of the sparse trees amongst the grunts of the training soldiers in the courtyard. The sun manages to hold off on torturing everyone in its rays with the day rather cloudy. Frelia’s gray atmosphere perfectly matches its King.

“I’m a fool to allow this,” Innes adjusts the final portion of his outfit, the miniscule wrinkle in his cuffs irritating him much like the small bit of belly fat he now sports—the additional pale sliver of pudge had not been there the day before, but his hard work ethic has him immediately blaming himself—and even presses against the silky fabric of his clothes. Innes’ grip on his door handle slips upon the sound of shock and surprise coming from the courtyard. A quick trip to his balcony, and an even quicker glance outside shows him the cause for the commotion.

Despite the distance, the mop of cerulean blue hair is all too hard to miss. Along with the wide silhouette. The wave from Renais’ King and their slightly hurried pace as he enters the castle is also hard for Innes to miss, decorum hard to follow between the two grown men when having known each other for far too long. 

“Tch, he’s still allowing himself to be an utter slob,” Huffing in disapproval of Ephraim’s size, able to see he’s gained some weight despite the large distance, he can’t help but grumble as he glances down at his own bit of pudge. With nothing to be done at this exact moment, he igores his current state of affairs and takes a seat on his ornate couch, the slender curves of each leg along with its armrests indicative of Innes’ highbrow tastes. As he awaits his visitor, the small bit of pudge on his figure slowly bulges out; the leather strap of fabric meant to hold his coat together ever so slightly begins to strain further, more and more of Innes fat ending up pressed against the material. His thighs slowly widen, two barely pudgy legs thickening outward and taking up more space on the furniture. Fattening up, Innes pays no attention to any of it, even as his weight begins to wind down and crest at a noticeable 300 pounds. 

Instead, Innes waits patiently. As patiently as he can while his stomach grumbles, his early waking hours usually filled with some level of hunger. Glancing down, the small frown that frames his pudgy face is only alleviated by the faint smirk of satisfaction that crosses his mind when all alone. He gives his portly belly a small few pats; the pale flabby stomach jiggles, the slightly snug fabric meant to show off his curves following every slight yet noticeable bounce of his heft. The gesture only eggs his stomach on, the grumbling noise only intensifying. 

“Hmmph,” Innes waits all alone in his lavish room. The only accompaniment he has is his grumbling belly, a feature he’s grown accustomed to from always having such a stocky figure—a fact that comes so naturally for him to recall despite the ever so slight fuzz he feels in the back of his mind. His still growing stomach interrupts that minor train of thought; his impatience gets the better of him as his rising weight only worsens his morning hunger. “To think I held off breakfast for Ephraim. When he gets here I’ll…” With a quick tsk, Innes stands up from his spot.

But not before he reaches for the belt that digs into his aching, wobbling gut like the harsh scales from the few times he’s ridden a wyvern—all with complete expertise over the mount despite the initial irritation from having such a hefty rider. Innes’ thick fingers, still firm and sturdy from all his years of archery, barely brush against the leathery adornment before they graze nothing besides the silky fabric of his clothes. His outfit changing before his very eyes, he pays no attention to it, even as his thighs widen and fatten up, each thickened limb becoming much more cumbersome to maneuver with each slow, meticulous step. Innes’ belly blossoms into a mound of a gut; the empty tank’s incessant grumbling only grows more uproarious as it sags further down his obese figure. Slowly, the flabby roll of fat descends past Innes’ fattened crotch and fat pad. His gut slaps against his fattened thighs as his gait turns even more awkward and cumbersome. His clothes change little in their appearance despite his growing size—and the widening state of his clothes—larger and larger amounts of expensive fabric needed to accommodate all of his girth. Innes’ decadent tastes remain the same even as he grows fatter. His arms grow more rotund, the two plump arms becoming much less likely to pull back on his string than to lift up a fork and stuff himself. His breasts fill out, the two moobs swiftly turning into full blown breasts as more plush lard gets slapped onto his ever growing body. 

Innes’ waddling that only continues to come ever closer to a crawl ends up finally put on halt with a massive hand outstretched against the wall. Furiously red, the crimson hue on his face is only half from hunger. The other half from exhaustion, all too clearly displayed by the beads of sweat that stream down his porcine cheeks that bulge out and jiggle with each heaping gulp of air he breathes, Innes' massive body forces him to stop his fruitless waddling. Innes pays little attention as to why or even how he stood up, the massively fat royal always needing assistance to get up everyday now before being fed his daily feast for breakfast. 

“Haah, I’ll get you for this Ephraim,” Innes mutters under his breath in between his heavy, tired wheezes. His still growing body presses further against the wall. Always so damn jealous of how much bigger I am. Innes thinks. The previous memories of his entire existence are fully altered to match his corpulent state. 

Ephraim’s finesse to battle equally matched by his appetite, the azure haired royal stood out from his twin by his stocky figure. A figure that only grew as Innes gave extra treats and passive aggressive remarks, the slightly older male—who had also been rail then back then—unable to properly hide his fascination with Ephraim’s plumper than above average body. A bet from Ephraim had been all it took for Innes to start indulging himself. The excess calories that left him always so satiated and content, the constant gorging that helped his swelling waistline, Ephraim’s firm, demanding attitude that could all too easily goad Innes into stuffing more food down his throat all mingled with his own unabashed enjoyment of his increasing size, plus his naivety in believing that he truly was besting Ephraim at his own game, led to Innes ever growing heftiness that now leaves him teetering on immobility. 

As Innes tries his best to regain his stamina, his bulging body that resembles more of a mattress continues to ache with hunger. 

Fortunately for Innes, Ephraim finally makes his way to his room.

Ephraim rather portly as well, the obese man fills out his attire all too generously. His clothes seem painted on, fabric and buttons just loose enough to come close enough to where they strain but with still enough room to not immediately be in danger of tearing. Ephraim’s large, portly gut bounces with each heavy step he takes. His large stomach is outlined by his tight clothes, the beast of a gut well past his crotch. His breasts follow a similar motion, the upper portion of his torso straining his clothes with his engorged nipples visibly pressing against the material. His doughy arms are strangled by his sleeves; fat bulges out the sides. Ephraim’s lower half isn’t as well endowed as the rest of him, leaving him with a rather noticeable apple shaped figure. But his ass still has some heft to it, the two hefty cheeks for a rear wobbling while he waddles up to Innes. 

Despite his own heavy breathing, Ephraim’s size and exhaustion only a fraction of Innes’, Ephraim supports himself with a cart of food. Ephraim’s rounded out fat appears even rounder with the addition of stubble. “You should be in bed, lardass,” Tucked in between his large, fat biceps and his breasts is a tome—not that Innes pays attention to it with food now near him.

“I hnnghh…” Already out of breath, Innes still growing ever larger and fatter, Innes has no response with his brain muddied by his impossible logistics of getting up by himself with his newfound reality at such an immense size.

Ephraim spares no delicacy as he manhandles and fondles Innes’ enormity. “Let’s make this quick, we don’t have much time left,”

Innes doesn’t bother asking what he means, food and comfort much more pressing.

“A pig like you really just can’t help but stuff himself,” Ephraim pushes into Innes to get him moving, lard sloshing against lard. He practically humps Innes to get him moving, the nearly immobile man’s pathetic movements still managing to slow further down. Ephraim thankfully manages to get him onto his bed, what used to be a canopy is now reduced to nothing but a massive mattress. 

“Haaahhh… you’re jusshht hnnggh jeahloussh…” Innes weakly retorts even while Ephraim gets him comfortable and perched up by a multitude of pillows that still end up squashed underneath his titanic girth. His speech grows more difficult as he ends up even fatter, more and more of the mattress obscured by his immensity.

“Sure thing. I mean, it is impressive that just one of your tits alone is bigger than my gut. And I’m already fat as hell,” Ephraim hefts himself up atop Innes’ gut. Making himself comfortable, he parks his fat ass right atop Innes’ dining table of a gut. “All you do is gorge the entire day away. How are you going to make people respect you when you’re on your way to being fatter than a manakete?” Ephraim holds back his snickering the best that he can, gleefully grinning down at Innes while grabbing the first of many plates from the cart. 

Innes’ eyes never stray from the plate of food Ephraim holds. Even as his memories focus on Ephraim’s words the best that they can, the words Ephraim tells him Innes’ very own the last time the two had seen each other—before Ephraim had cast his spell on the unwitting Innes. “Whaaht?” Is all Innes asks before Ephraim shovels rich, buttery lobster pasta down his mouth. 

“If you want more, you’re going to have to ask for it. Unless you want me to catch up and pass you? Not that I’d ever become such a useless slob such as yourself,” Clearly enjoying himself, Ephraim leans closer to Innes, the tome holding the incantation that caused this left right beside it lest it get lost somewhere in between Iness’ numerous rolls of lard. He has Innes still growing, the gargantuanly obese man still managing to fatten up.

Innes lacks any semblance of shape to his enormity. Immense all around, the immobile man resembles a pile of lard more than the slim sniper and strategician he used to be. His massive stomach envelops everything around it, the pool of lard for a gut spreading out further. His ass cheeks that rival couches rest far behind him, the shapeless ass cheeks constantly jiggling with each deep breath he takes. His arms and legs are sunken into his enormity; the once slender limbs lack anything remotely near flexibility with hundreds and hundreds of pounds of fat crammed onto them. Innes can’t even move his digits with how fat he is. All he can do is eat and moan, the sudden changes forced onto him clearly enjoyed. 

And despite all his pride, the immobile blob’s starving hunger wins out, that and his eagerness to grow even larger, to upstage Ephraim even further in the two’s nonexistent bet that he believes. “Pleeasshee…. Ihh’m… urrrp… sshtarhvin’ hhnnnggg…”

“You got it, pig. I’ll make sure you never be left wanting more,” Before going to feed the moaning Innes more, Ephraim reaches a portly hand for his tome. But he stops himself, making Innes smother the mattress in its entirety and watch as furniture disappears from his room to accommodate his even larger, more absurd size. “And since your fatass is enjoying how much of a blob you are, I guess I’ll keep us both nice and happy,”

[sunshineacd]

happy wednesday! I hope the week is treating you all well!

tagged by @iboatedhere thank you so much lovely! <3

Henry leaves the studio early the next morning, making a beeline for the park that he had spotted yesterday with his book in hand. He needs to be alone for an hour, before all the noise of beginning the recording of an album. The park is a short distance away and void of many people at this time of the morning. Henry settles onto one of the benches, marvelling in the silence for a moment before he opens his book. However, he doesn’t make it far into the page he begins on because something manages to pull his attention away from the words. Or more like someone. 

Alex. 

Henry spots him running along the path on the other side of the park, and Henry is suddenly taken back to the night before, finding a picture of a sweaty post work out Alex. But now he’s here, right in front of Henry. Right down to his curls plastered to his forehead with sweat, and now Henry is having an early morning meltdown. This has to be some sort of record, he figures. 

Alex rounds the path, now facing Henry’s direction, and unfortunately for Henry, he can’t pull his gaze away fast enough before Alex spots him. He slows to a stop in front of the bench where Henry sits, and he smiles, pulling out one of his earbuds. 

“Hey,” Alex greets in between heavy breaths. Henry’s mouth is unbelievably dry. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning,” Henry says. “I don’t mean to distract you from your run.” 

Alex waves him off, taking a seat on the bench beside him. “Please, I could use the distraction. Besides, that was my last lap. What brings you out here this early in the morning?” 

“Reading,” Henry says, holding up his novel. “Also, searching for some peace before all the chaos begins. I can’t help but think this is some sort of mistake, and I was hoping that perhaps the universe would let me know if it was.” 

It’s amazing, Henry thinks, that he’s known Alex for less than a day, and he has admitted a fear that has been rooted deep within his heart since the album had been announced. 

“Well, I’m not the universe by any means,” Alex says softly. “But I do think I can tell you that it’s not a mistake. I’ve read many of your interviews, Henry. The way you talk about music? It’s unlike anything I’ve heard before.” 

“It hasn’t been the same since he left,” Henry whispers. “I don’t know if it can ever be that way again.” 

Alex gives him a gentle smile, and somehow, it manages to calm the storm within him, if only slightly. “You can’t know that until you try it. No matter what, Henry, he’s always with you when you play. Remember that and maybe it will be easier.” 

“Thank you, Alex,” Henry says. “I do apologise for letting this out on you. You probably don’t usually have to listen to the musicians you host talk about their emotional ailments.” 

“You’d be surprised,” Alex says, winking. Henry could simply die. “But seriously, if at any time during your stay here, you need someone to speak with I’m not far away and I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener.” 

“Duly noted. I appreciate it.” 

“Anytime,” Alex says before glancing at his watch. “We should probably get you back. People will start showing up soon, and in my experience, they like the talent to be there when they do.” 

Henry marvels for one last moment in everything that the park is, the peacefulness of this moment here with Alex before he stands and begins following Alex back towards the studio. In the most miniscule of ways, the unbearable weight of failing and disappointing everyone in his life has subsided. Perhaps Alex is right, and Henry will be able to rediscover and reconnect with his love of music even without his father. He sincerely hopes this to be the case. But currently, it seems to be the furthest thing from Henry’s reach.