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urdreamydoodles · 2 months ago

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Hello hello hello darling!!

How are you? Well,i hope?

Introducing myself,I am Nina or weewoo,self proclaimed platonic asker!!

I saw your requests for X-Men were open,so i jumped right in,as it's my current hyperfixation!! So here it is:

Could i pretty please have Wolverine,Scott,Jean,Kurt,Ororo,Remy,Anne-Marie,Hank,Kevin,Lucas,Charles and Erik with a Child!Gn!Reader (if you don't want to write a child!reader,an adult reader is fine!) that's literally a ball of sunshine,always being positive and able to light up a room,always being clingy- but after a really bad mission/day,they just- dim? They become a hollow version of themselves,becoming scared,silent and depressing,distancing themselves from the others and overall just being the opposite of what they were? And the X-men are just trying their best to cheer them back up and are just so relieved to see them slowly go back to normal? Just a little hurt/comfort :3

Anyways i hope you enjoy writing this ask!

Feel free to tweak it (if you don't write for certain characters,If you want to write for more/other characters etc..)!!

Don't forget to eat,drink and have breaks!

Stay Proud,

-Nina <33

X-Men x Child!Reader

You lose your zest for life after a traumatic event

After a traumatic mission, your usually bright and positive self becomes withdrawn and distant, leaving the X-Men concerned and heartbroken by the sudden change. Each mentor steps in to offer their unique form of support, helping you gradually return to your true self, offering a blend of quiet understanding, strength, and unwavering care.

Characters: Scott Summers, Logan Howlett, Jean Grey, Kurt Wagner, Ororo Munroe, Remy LeBeau, Rogue, Hank McCoy, Kevin MacTaggert, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr & Lucas Bishop

Hello, Nina! What a lovely message you left me here ♡ It made my day. And this is the first time I've been asked for "obscure" characters and I'm so happy, I hope you like my take on them. As I said, I've read almost all of the X-Men comics, so don't be afraid to ask me your "obscure" character, I will gladly make them. And same, I think everyone has noticed that X-Men comics are my hyperfixation. Hope you like it ♡ — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- Scott Summers has always been a strong, dependable presence in your life. You’ve always looked up to him, not just because of his leadership but because of the way he’s always made you feel safe. You’re the bright, cheerful kid who lights up the room when you walk in, and you’ve always been attached to Scott. He treats you like his own, encouraging your optimism, even when things get tough. You’re constantly clinging to him, whether it’s holding his hand or sitting next to him during training sessions.

- But after a particularly bad mission, something inside you changes. You’d witnessed something you shouldn’t have, something that shook your sense of safety and security. For the first time, you were scared. You pulled away from Scott, stopped seeking his comforting presence. You became a hollow version of yourself, quiet and withdrawn. Scott noticed immediately, his heart breaking every time he saw the light in your eyes dimmed. He tried talking to you, but you brushed him off, not wanting to burden him with your fears.

- Scott wasn’t about to give up on you. He knew what it was like to carry fear and trauma, and he wasn’t going to let you go through it alone. He’d sit beside you quietly, offering a hand that you didn’t take, but he never pressured you. He’d talk about his own struggles when he was younger, hoping that sharing his experiences would help you feel less alone. Slowly, he started to break through the walls you’d built around yourself. Little by little, you began to open up again, but it was a slow process.

- The turning point came one day when Scott took you out to the training field. He didn’t ask you to train or talk; he just stood with you in the quiet. After a long silence, you finally spoke up, telling him about the fear you’d been carrying. Scott listened intently, reassuring you that it was okay to be scared but that you didn’t have to carry it alone. His steady presence, the way he never wavered, slowly helped you regain your confidence. Over time, you started clinging to him again, your light slowly returning.

- Scott’s relief was palpable when he saw you smile for the first time in what felt like forever. He never stopped watching out for you, always ready to offer a hand or a kind word when you needed it. He knew that you’d never be the same as you were before, but he also knew that you were stronger for it. And he’d always be there, a guiding presence, whenever you needed him.

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- Logan wasn’t exactly the warmest or most outwardly affectionate person, but somehow, you managed to break through his tough exterior. From the moment you arrived at the mansion, you’d latched onto him, following him around like a little shadow. You were this bright, positive ball of energy, always finding the silver lining in any situation. Logan would grumble about you being clingy, but deep down, he didn’t mind. In fact, he found himself getting used to your constant presence, and it brought a rare smile to his face.

- Then, one day, after a brutal mission, everything changed. Something happened out there—something that left you shaken to your core. You came back to the mansion a different person, quiet and distant, a shadow of the child you once were. You stopped seeking out Logan, stopped clinging to his side. You barely spoke, and when you did, it was just to say you were fine, even though Logan knew you weren’t. It was hard for him to see you like that, and it tore him apart inside.

- Logan didn’t know how to handle it at first. He wasn’t good with feelings, and he didn’t want to push you, but seeing you so hollow hurt him more than he’d care to admit. He’d sit outside your room sometimes, just to be close to you, hoping you’d open the door. He tried to give you space but also wanted you to know that he was there. One day, after you’d been sitting alone for hours, Logan finally came into your room without a word, sat down beside you, and just waited. You didn’t speak, but his presence was comforting, like an anchor in a storm.

- Slowly, Logan started taking you out on little trips—nothing fancy, just walks in the woods or quiet moments by the lake. He knew the outdoors had always helped him clear his head, and he hoped it would do the same for you. It took a while, but you eventually started talking again, first in short sentences, then longer conversations. You told Logan about the fear you couldn’t shake, about how the mission had changed how you saw the world. Logan listened, not offering advice, just being there for you.

- Over time, you started to come back to yourself. You clung to Logan again, and even though he grumbled about it, he didn’t push you away. The first time you laughed after the incident, Logan let out a relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wasn’t the best at showing emotion, but you knew he cared. And in his own gruff way, Logan made sure you knew that no matter what, he’d always be there for you, protecting you from the world—and sometimes, from yourself.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

- Jean Grey was the one you always went to when you needed comfort. She was warm, nurturing, and could always make you feel safe, no matter what was going on around you. You adored her, always hanging around her, basking in her presence like a little ray of sunshine. She never minded how clingy you were—in fact, she found it endearing. You were her little bright spot in a world that often felt heavy, and she cherished every moment with you.

- But one day, after a particularly intense mission, everything changed. Something happened out there—something that shook you to your core. When you came back, the light in you had dimmed. You didn’t seek out Jean like you usually did. You didn’t smile or talk as much, and when you did, it was clear that you were trying to hide your fear and sadness. Jean noticed immediately and was heartbroken to see you so withdrawn.

- Jean didn’t push you, but she made sure you knew she was there. She’d gently knock on your door, leaving little notes or snacks she knew you liked. She’d find subtle ways to be around you, like sitting quietly in the same room while you read or worked on something. It was her way of reminding you that you weren’t alone, even if you didn’t want to talk about what had happened yet.

- One evening, Jean invited you to the rooftop garden, a place that had always been special to both of you. You hesitated at first, but eventually, you agreed. As you both sat under the stars, Jean spoke softly about her own struggles with fear and trauma, telling you stories of times when she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. She wasn’t trying to make you feel better by comparing your pain to hers; she just wanted you to know that it was okay to be scared, that it was okay to feel overwhelmed.

- Slowly, with Jean’s gentle care and understanding, you began to open up again. It wasn’t an overnight change, but little by little, the light in you started to return. Jean was patient, never rushing you, always offering a kind word or a soft hug when you needed it. She was so relieved the day she saw you smile again—really smile, not just out of politeness. Jean knew you would never be exactly the same as you were before, but she was proud of how strong you’d become. And she promised herself that she’d always be there to help you find your light again, no matter how many times it dimmed.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- Kurt Wagner, with his kind heart and unwavering faith, had always been like a father figure to you. From the moment you arrived at Xavier’s, he took you under his wing. You, the ever-cheerful ball of sunshine, found his gentle nature comforting, and you admired his ability to remain positive despite everything he had gone through. You’d often cling to his side, your laughter echoing through the mansion as you teleported around with him or listened to his stories about his life in the circus.

- After a particularly difficult mission, however, everything changed. You had seen things that no child should ever witness—things that tore away at your innocence and light. You returned to the mansion quiet, no longer the beacon of joy you once were. You distanced yourself from Kurt, spending more time alone in your room, and when he tried to comfort you, you’d give him half-hearted smiles, pretending everything was fine. Kurt knew better, though. The light in your eyes had dimmed, and it broke his heart to see you retreating into yourself.

- Kurt, being as patient and understanding as ever, didn’t push you. He respected your space but never let you feel abandoned. He would often leave little drawings and notes for you to find, hoping to coax a smile out of you. One evening, as you sat alone in the chapel, lost in thought, Kurt quietly joined you. He didn’t say anything at first—he just sat beside you, offering his silent presence as comfort. Eventually, he began talking about his own struggles with darkness, reminding you that it was okay to feel scared and lost but that you didn’t have to go through it alone.

- Slowly but surely, Kurt’s unwavering kindness and gentle patience began to reach you. He never demanded that you return to your old self but instead encouraged you to take things one step at a time. He took you on small trips around the mansion, teleporting you to peaceful spots in the garden or the attic, where you could talk if you wanted or just sit in silence. With each little outing, you felt a small part of yourself begin to heal, the weight of what you’d seen slowly lifting.

- The first time you laughed again in Kurt’s presence, he nearly cried with relief. It wasn’t the carefree laugh he was used to, but it was a start. Over time, you began to cling to him again, seeking his presence when you needed comfort, and while you weren’t the same person you were before, you were stronger. Kurt made sure to remind you every day that no matter what, he would always be there for you, a guiding light in the darkness whenever you needed him.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

- Ororo Munroe, with her serene presence and deep connection to nature, had always been like a mother to you. You admired her strength, her compassion, and the way she carried herself with grace despite the storms she had weathered in life. You, with your bright personality and endless energy, often found yourself attached to Ororo’s side, soaking up her wisdom and calm demeanor. She adored your optimism and always took the time to nurture your cheerful spirit.

- But after a harrowing mission that rattled you to your core, the light inside you dimmed. You had witnessed something that no child should ever see, and it changed you. You became quiet, withdrawn, and stopped seeking Ororo’s calming presence like you once did. You no longer smiled or laughed as you once had, and Ororo could see the pain in your eyes. She didn’t push you, but the change in you weighed heavily on her heart. She knew something was wrong, but she waited for you to come to her when you were ready.

- Ororo, with her natural maternal instincts, made sure you never felt alone, even as you distanced yourself. She would leave flowers by your bedside, small tokens of beauty and life, hoping to lift your spirits. One afternoon, when you were particularly down, she invited you to the greenhouse, knowing how much you had always loved spending time with the plants. At first, you were hesitant, but Ororo’s gentle encouragement convinced you to go. The peaceful atmosphere and Ororo’s quiet presence made it easier for you to open up, and little by little, you began to talk about what was troubling you.

- Ororo listened with endless patience as you finally shared your fears and the things that haunted you. She didn’t try to force positivity on you; instead, she acknowledged your pain and assured you that it was okay to feel the way you did. She reminded you that even the sun needs time to rise after a storm and that, like nature, you would heal at your own pace. Her words comforted you more than anything, and you found solace in her gentle wisdom.

- Slowly, over time, you began to recover. Ororo took you on small walks through the gardens, showing you how the flowers bloomed even after the harshest winters. Her presence was a constant source of comfort, and she never left your side, encouraging you to take things one day at a time. The first time you smiled again, Ororo felt a wave of relief wash over her. You were healing, and while you weren’t the same child you were before, you had grown stronger. Ororo made sure to remind you every day that, like the weather, you could weather any storm with time and support.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- Remy LeBeau, with his smooth charm and playful nature, was someone you had always looked up to. He treated you like his little shadow, always making time for your endless energy and positivity. You adored him, clinging to his side during missions or downtime, laughing at his jokes even when they weren’t that funny. Remy loved the light you brought into his life, and he always made sure to keep that spark alive, teaching you card tricks and letting you tag along on adventures.

- But after a mission gone wrong, the light in you dimmed. You had seen something that no child should have to witness, and it shook you to your core. When you returned to the mansion, you were no longer the bright, bubbly child you had been. You avoided Remy, retreating into yourself and becoming a quiet, hollow version of who you once were. Remy noticed immediately, and it worried him deeply. He tried to coax you out of your shell with jokes and games, but nothing seemed to work.

- Remy wasn’t the type to give up easily, though. He knew you were hurting, and while he didn’t want to push you, he also didn’t want to let you carry that burden alone. He started leaving little notes and gifts in your room, hoping to make you smile. One day, when you were sitting alone in the mansion’s common room, Remy sat down beside you, quietly shuffling his deck of cards. He didn’t say anything, just sat with you, offering his silent presence. Slowly, the two of you began to talk, and Remy listened as you finally opened up about what had been bothering you.

- Remy was patient as you worked through your feelings, never once rushing you to be “your old self” again. He shared stories of his own troubled past, reminding you that even the brightest lights can flicker sometimes. He encouraged you to take things one day at a time and reassured you that it was okay to feel sad and scared. With Remy’s gentle guidance, you began to feel a little more like yourself each day.

- The first time you laughed at one of Remy’s jokes again, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. It wasn’t the carefree laugh he was used to, but it was a start. Slowly but surely, you began to cling to him again, seeking out his presence for comfort. While you weren’t the same child you were before, you were stronger, and Remy made sure you knew that no matter what, he would always be there to help you find your way back to the light.

Rogue (Anna Marie)

- Rogue had always been your big sister figure, and you admired her so much. She had her own struggles with her powers, but you never once saw her let it dampen her spirit. Her tough love and protective nature made you feel safe, and your bright and bubbly personality often drew her into fits of laughter when the two of you hung out. She’d ruffle your hair and joke about how you could probably light up the whole mansion with your smile. Rogue was always there for you, and you adored her for it.

- One day, after a mission that went horribly wrong, you returned to the mansion feeling completely shattered. You had seen something that no child should ever have to see, and it left you feeling broken inside. Your once vibrant and clingy self faded into the background, and you withdrew from everyone, even Rogue. You avoided her, choosing instead to lock yourself away in your room, barely eating or speaking to anyone. Rogue knew something was wrong, and it broke her heart to see you retreat into yourself.

- Rogue wasn’t the type to let anyone suffer alone, though, especially not someone as close to her as you. She tried giving you space at first, but when it became clear that you weren’t coming to her, she decided to come to you. She knocked softly on your door one afternoon, waiting for you to let her in. When you didn’t respond, she simply sat outside your room and began talking to you, her voice gentle and filled with care. She didn’t push you to open up right away, but she reminded you that she was there, whenever you were ready.

- It took a while, but eventually, you came out of your room and found Rogue sitting on the porch, watching the sunset. You sat beside her quietly, and for a long time, neither of you said anything. Then, with a shaky voice, you started to tell her about what had happened during the mission, how it had affected you, and how you didn’t know how to deal with it. Rogue listened intently, her usual sass replaced with a quiet understanding. She wrapped an arm around you, careful with her touch, and pulled you close. “You ain’t gotta deal with it alone, sugar,” she said softly. “I’m here, and I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

- Rogue didn’t expect you to bounce back overnight, but she made sure you knew she had your back. She’d drag you out of bed on particularly bad days, forcing you to come on walks with her or just sit in the sun. Slowly but surely, you started to feel a little more like yourself. The first time you cracked a joke, Rogue’s grin was so wide it made your heart swell. You weren’t completely back to your old self, but Rogue never rushed you. She was just happy to see that spark returning, even if it took time. You knew with Rogue by your side, you’d find your way back to the light.

Hank McCoy (Beast)

- Hank McCoy was a father figure to you in every sense of the word. His intelligence, kindness, and calm demeanor made you feel safe, and you always loved spending time in his lab, watching him work. Your bubbly and energetic personality balanced out his more serious side, and he often said you were like a ray of sunshine that could brighten even the darkest of days. You adored him, following him around and asking endless questions about science and the world, to which he would always give thoughtful and detailed answers.

- But after a traumatic mission that left you shaken, your once-bright personality faded. The light inside you dimmed, and you found yourself retreating into the shadows. You stopped visiting Hank in his lab, stopped asking him questions, and started spending more time alone, lost in your own thoughts. You didn’t want to burden him with your problems, so you kept everything inside, but Hank noticed immediately. It hurt him to see you withdraw, and he knew something was wrong.

- Hank, ever the patient and understanding mentor, gave you space but never let you feel alone. He would leave small notes in the places he knew you frequented, little reminders that he was there if you needed him. One day, when you hadn’t come to the lab in weeks, he knocked on your door. You were curled up in bed, barely acknowledging his presence. He sat down beside you, his large, gentle hand resting on your shoulder. “You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready,” he said quietly. “But know that I’m here, always.”

- Eventually, you did open up to him, telling him about the horrors you had witnessed during the mission and how it had changed you. Hank listened with the utmost care, his heart aching for you. He didn’t try to fix everything right away, but instead, he reminded you that it was okay to feel lost and scared. He shared his own struggles with you, times when he had felt out of control or burdened by his powers. His empathy and understanding helped you feel less alone, and little by little, you started to find your way back to yourself.

- Hank knew it would take time for you to fully recover, but he was endlessly patient. He’d invite you to the lab again, not to work but just to be in each other’s company, and he would leave little experiments for you to do whenever you felt ready. The first time you smiled while working on a project, Hank felt an immense sense of relief. You were healing, and while you might not be the same child you were before, Hank was proud of your strength. He made sure you knew that no matter what, he would always be there for you, guiding you back to the light whenever you needed it.

Kevin MacTaggert (Proteus)

- Kevin MacTaggert, or Proteus, was a complicated figure in your life. Despite his dark history and unstable powers, there was a part of him that cared deeply for you. You, with your infectious positivity and boundless energy, had managed to form a bond with him, one that even he didn’t fully understand. You saw the good in him, even when he couldn’t see it in himself. Kevin often kept his distance from others, but with you, he allowed himself to be a little softer, a little more vulnerable. You clung to him, always finding ways to make him smile, even if it was just for a brief moment.

- But after witnessing something truly horrifying during a mission, you changed. The light inside you dimmed, and you no longer sought out Kevin’s presence like you used to. You became quiet, withdrawn, and scared. Kevin, who had always been sensitive to the emotions of those around him, noticed the shift immediately. It unsettled him to see you like this, and he didn’t know how to handle it at first. He wasn’t used to caring for others, but seeing you suffer made him feel something unfamiliar—concern.

- Kevin wasn’t the type to offer comfort easily, but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. He sought you out one day, finding you sitting alone in the mansion’s courtyard. He didn’t say much at first, just sat beside you, his presence enough to let you know he was there. After a while, he quietly asked what had happened, and for the first time since the mission, you opened up about the trauma you had experienced. Kevin listened intently, his usual sharp demeanor replaced with quiet understanding.

- He didn’t know how to fix what you were feeling, but he knew he didn’t want to see you in pain. Kevin began spending more time with you, trying to coax you back to your old self in his own way. He wasn’t great at emotional support, but he’d distract you with stories or small adventures around the mansion. You slowly began to open up again, and while Kevin wasn’t the warmest figure in your life, his presence was comforting. He didn’t push you to be happy, but he made sure you knew he was there, in his own quiet, protective way.

- Over time, you started to feel a little more like yourself. You weren’t the same child you were before, but you had grown stronger. Kevin, in his own way, had helped you heal, and you could see that even he had changed a little, softening around the edges. The first time you smiled again, Kevin gave a rare, genuine smile of his own. You were healing, and though the journey was long, you knew that with Kevin’s quiet support, you’d find your way back to the light.

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

- Charles Xavier had always been a guiding figure in your life. He was more than just the head of the school; he was like a father to you, someone you could look up to and trust. Your boundless positivity and energy were a constant source of joy for him, and he often said that your presence alone could brighten his day, even when things were difficult. You clung to Charles, always seeking his advice or simply spending time with him, knowing that he understood you in ways few others could.

- But after a particularly harrowing mission, something inside you broke. You weren’t your usual self, no longer the bright and happy child everyone knew. The trauma of what you had seen had dimmed your light, and you withdrew from everyone, including Charles. You stopped seeking his guidance, and instead, you stayed silent, choosing to avoid him altogether. It pained him to see you like this, but he respected your space, understanding that healing took time.

- Charles didn’t push you to open up, but he was always there, silently offering his support. His telepathic abilities allowed him to sense the depth of your pain, but he never intruded on your thoughts. He waited patiently, hoping that one day, you would come to him when you were ready. In the meantime, he left small reminders around the mansion—a favorite book, a handwritten note—letting you know that he hadn’t forgotten about you.

- It wasn’t until you broke down one evening, unable to contain the weight of your emotions any longer, that you finally came to him. You found Charles sitting in his study, and without saying a word, you collapsed into his arms, tears streaming down your face. He held you gently, his presence calm and reassuring. He didn’t ask for an explanation, knowing that you would speak when you were ready. “I’m here, always,” he whispered, his voice steady and full of compassion.

- Over the next few weeks, Charles made it his mission to help you heal, guiding you through meditation and mindfulness techniques that would allow you to process your trauma. He never rushed you, never expected you to be your old self right away. Slowly, you began to come out of your shell again, finding comfort in his wisdom and kindness. The first time you laughed again, Charles smiled, his heart swelling with relief. You weren’t fully back to your sunny self, but with Charles by your side, you knew you would find your way back to the light, in time.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Erik Lehnsherr wasn’t the warmest of mentors, but he had always taken a special interest in you. There was something about your bright personality that intrigued him, something about the way you could remain so positive in a world that was often so cruel. You admired Erik for his strength and conviction, and despite his often stern demeanor, you knew he cared about you deeply. He was like a father to you, though he’d never say it out loud. You often joked that you were the sunshine to his storm, a balance of opposites that somehow worked.

- After a mission that went horribly wrong, you weren’t the same. The bright, bubbly child that had once brought so much light into Erik’s life was gone, replaced by someone who was quiet, withdrawn, and afraid. You couldn’t shake the horrors you had witnessed, and you distanced yourself from everyone, including Erik. You stopped seeking him out, choosing instead to hide away, not wanting to burden him with your pain. Erik, however, noticed immediately. He wasn’t the most emotionally expressive man, but it hurt him to see you suffering in silence.

- Erik didn’t push you to talk about what had happened, but he kept a close eye on you, watching from a distance. He understood trauma in ways that most couldn’t, and while he respected your need for space, he also knew that you couldn’t go through this alone. One evening, he found you sitting by the window, staring out at the night sky, lost in your thoughts. Without a word, he sat beside you, the silence between you heavy but comforting in its own way.

- After a long stretch of quiet, you finally opened up to Erik, telling him about the mission and how it had changed you. Erik listened carefully, his usual sharpness replaced with a rare gentleness. He didn’t offer you platitudes or try to diminish your pain. Instead, he shared his own experiences, his own struggles with the darkness that often consumed him. “We all have our demons,” he said quietly. “But you don’t have to face them alone.”

- Erik’s approach to helping you heal was different from others. He didn’t coddle you, but he was always there, offering his strength when you needed it. Slowly, with his guidance, you began to find your way back to yourself. The first time you smiled again, Erik gave a small, almost imperceptible smile of his own. You weren’t completely back to the bright, sunny child you had been before, but with Erik by your side, you knew you’d find your way back to the light, even if it took time.

Lucas Bishop

- Bishop had always been more of a protector than anything else. He admired your optimism and saw in you a kind of light that was rare in his world of war and survival. To him, you were a reminder of the peace he fought so hard to protect, and despite his often stoic nature, he grew deeply attached to you. You, in turn, saw Bishop as a big brother, someone who would always keep you safe, no matter what. You often followed him around, your endless curiosity and bright energy a stark contrast to his serious demeanor.

- But after a particularly brutal mission, everything changed. You weren’t the same bright and positive child that had once been a beacon of light in Bishop’s life. The trauma of what you had witnessed left you hollow, and you withdrew into yourself, barely speaking or acknowledging anyone. You stopped following Bishop around, stopped asking him questions, and instead, you stayed in your room, avoiding everyone. Bishop noticed immediately and, while he respected your space, it tore him apart to see you like this.

- Bishop wasn’t one to talk about emotions, but he wasn’t going to let you suffer in silence either. He didn’t force you to talk about what had happened, but he made sure you knew he was there, whenever you were ready. One evening, he found you sitting alone in the mansion’s training room, staring blankly at the ground. Without saying a word, he sat down beside you, his presence steady and reassuring. You didn’t speak at first, but eventually, the silence between you became too much to bear, and you began to tell him about the mission, about how it had changed you.

- Bishop listened with the same intensity he brought to every mission, his focus entirely on you. When you finished, he didn’t try to fix things or offer you easy solutions. Instead, he put a hand on your shoulder and said, “You’re not alone in this. I’ve been through it too, and I’m here for you.” His words, simple as they were, carried a weight that made you feel less alone. Bishop had seen horrors too, and knowing that he understood made it easier for you to start healing.

- Over the next few weeks, Bishop kept a close eye on you, making sure you didn’t retreat too far into yourself. He didn’t push you to be your old self right away, but he did encourage you to get back into a routine, to start training again, even if it was just for a few minutes a day. Slowly, you began to regain your strength, and while you weren’t the same bright child you had been before, you felt a little more like yourself each day. The first time you cracked a joke in Bishop’s presence, he gave a rare smile, a small but significant sign that you were on your way back to the light.

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tozettastone · 3 months ago

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Fantasy Novels Recommended By Vibes

A note about warnings and assumptions: I have given no content warnings, but most of these books have them, usually for violence or sexism. Except the middle grade books. I have assumed everyone knows who Tolkien and Jordan and Le Guin and GRRM are and does not require me to recommend them once more. I have also assumed that everyone following me has read and enjoyed the trashiest of fanfiction at some point or other.

Now, let's go.

"I want something that feels like reading the unhinged fanfiction of a 16 year old girl, but written by and for adults so the sex scenes don't make me feel deeply uncomfortable."

Oh boy. Okay. Don't worry, I've got you.

The Black Jewels trilogy by Anne Bishop. High fantasy. If you like to categorise things you will love the worldbuilding in this. Weird and gender essentialist, although not in the way you might expect.

The Merry Gentry series by L K Hamilton. Urban fantasy. Degrades in quality over time. I would say: read the first two, and then continue at your discretion depending on your tolerance.

"Do you have a version of this that is not quite so focused on sex as worldbuilding?"

I do, I do. Not everything that reads like unhinged fanfiction must automatically contain smut.

A Deadly Education and The Last Graduate by Naomi Novik. It's billed as adult fantasy, but it reads like YA. If you like 2010s fanfiction and wish it were better written more often, you'll love these two.

Any book by Mercedes Lackey will read exactly like fanfiction. I make no comments as to technical quality, but if you like hurt/comfort idfic, you will like these. If you're looking for a zero-romance, one-book introduction to these books, I'd try Brightly Burning.

"That's still a bit too adult. I want something that's fine to read with kids, too!"

Sure! Fantasy loves YA and kids' books, haha.

The Dark Is Rising sequence by Susan Cooper. Middle grade fantasy, leaning heavily on English folklore.

Legendborn by Tracy Deonn. Young adult urban fantasy. Concerned with the legacy of slavery in the US.

The Old Kingdom trilogy by Garth Nix. Young adult high fantasy. The pacing is strong, the worldbuilding is rad.

Tithe by Holly Black. Young adult fantasy. Her later books are better loved but I reread Tithe and then went and read The Cruel Prince for the first time this year and Tithe is better.

The Tortall books by Tamora Pierce. I like The Immortals, but reasonable minds will differ on this one. Middle grade high fantasy.

The Black Magician trilogy by Trudi Canavan. High fantasy, young adult.

"Okay, now I want young adult fantasy like that, but weird."

Weird. Hmm. Okay. Try:

The Tooth Fairy by Graham Joyce. Horror and fantasy, young adult, but not like... too young an adult. Give it to a 15 year old, not a 10 year old.

"That's... too weird. Put some weird back. I want something suitable for teens that's committed to the aesthetics of weirdness, but is not actually weird."

Alright, here are a couple:

Anatomy: A Love Story by Dana Schwartz. Historical fantasy, definitely young adult. The grizzly aesthetics of 19th century graverobbing are a gossamer veil over a cute, but not particularly sophisticated, YA novel.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. Middle grade fantasy. Less weird than it thinks it is, but still fun to read.

"Enough kids' stuff. I want fast-moving urban fantasy!"

Urban fantasy occupies a weird nexus between fantasy and detective noir, which I'm kinda into. Here are my suggestions:

I think everyone who wants urban fantasy is probably aware of the Dresden Files by Jim Butcher, but I'll put it here anyway because there's a big fandom for the Dresden Files so if you stick it out for a bit you get access to all the fics. The first one will take you 3.5 hours and if you don't like it, move on — the writing doesn't really change. Also has a TV series.

The Felix Castor novels by Mike Carey. Urban fantasy, a little more grim, but definitely better written.

Rivers of London by Ben Aaronovitch. Urban fantasy. Main character is a police officer. I recently finished the first of these books and it was pretty fun, but I can't speak to the remainder of the series.

"Tozette, I fucking loved True Blood."

You're in luck, I can make this a whole category.

I bet you've heard of the Southern Vampire Mysteries by Charlaine Harris already, but if you haven't, it's what the TV series was based on. Urban fantasy, but actually kind of rural.

Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter by L K Hamilton. Urban fantasy. Another LKH series that starts fun and degrades rapidly. The first three are fun, they come in an omnibus. I was obsessed with this series when I was 17, which both is and isn't a recommendation. Again, this series has a large fandom.

Dime Store Magic and Industrial Magic by Kelley Armstrong. Urban fantasy. The rest of the Women of the Otherworld series is hit or miss for me, but I do recall liking No Humans Involved.

The Blood Books by Tanya Huff. Urban fantasy. Read if you've ever wished Harry Dresden was female. Also has a TV series!

"Do you have some traditional high fantasy recommendations that aren't Tolkien, Robert Jordan, GRRM, or Ursula K Le Guin? Please?"

Absolutely. Of course. One hundred per cent.

The Elenium trilogy by David & Leigh Eddings. High fantasy. Technically there's also a sequel trilogy, but it's not as good.

The First Law trilogy by Joe Abercrombie. High fantasy. Lots of high fantasy politics.

Urshurak by The Bros. Hildebrandt. High fantasy. Extremely Tolkien inspired but with more amazon women in metal bikinis.

The Books of Pellinor by Alison Croggon. High fantasy. There's four of them and while I wouldn't say they're my favourite books ever, I do think they're a solid, competently written high fantasy series that will stop you from contemplating the horrors of reality for at least three days.

The Last Wish by Andrzej Sapkowski. High fantasy. A great rearrangement of European folklore. I struggled with the representations of women, personally, but they're well constructed stories.

"Recommend something that's fantasy but feels like a totally different genre."

Okay. I can do that. Here you go:

The Chronicles of the Crystal Singers of Ballybran by Anne McCaffrey. It's a trilogy that's set in space and therefore engages with a sci-fi kind of vibe, but if you scratch the surface, the trilogy is fantasy all the way down.

The Case of Charles Dexter Ward by HP Lovecraft. Horror, but also historical fantasy.

The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde. The first three books of the Thursday Next series are gold, actually, but start here. This is about a literary detective living in an alternative history setting. Fantasy, but ideal for people who are going to get the rapid fire literary references.

"Tozette, what if you just recommend a single fantasy book, writer, or series, with your whole heart?"

My WHOLE heart? Okay. Here:

Johannes Cabal the Necromancer, Johannes Cabal the Detective, and Johannes Cabal: the Fear Institute by Jonathan L Howard are each different subgenres of fantasy, and all three of them are absolute fucking bangers. They are the best books on this list according to me. I love them.

#books and reading #fantasy books #fantasy #fiction #book recommendations

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dat-town · 4 months ago

Text

abcdlove

Characters: school radio club leader!Taesan & class president!female reader

Setting & genre: high school au, coming of age, first love, fluff, a hint of enemies to lovers but it’s only in the girl’s head

Summary: You convinced yourself that you hated Han Taesan after what he had done in sophomore year but now you have to work together on a senior project and maybe he isn’t that bad. Or maybe just for your heartbeat.

Warnings: stage names are used, OC has negative opinion about Taesan and Leehan in the beginning, mentions of social and parental pressure, the amount of banana milk consumed might not be healthy, hopefully not too ooc even though i wrote it within like 2 weeks after @restlessmaknae started sending me bonedo content

Words: 9.6k

Author’s note: this is the product of the amount of Ann Liang books i binge read recently, the instagram algorithm and @restlessmaknae’s marketing for Zico’s kids. this really pulled me out of my writing slump, so thank you for that! honestly my first impression of Taesan was that he looks like a tsundere, so that’s pretty much how it all started.

i'm pretty sure you guessed it; happy name day @restlessmaknae <3

read Leehan’s companion piece here

You had been following your well-planned route to success for years. You had already taken advanced courses at a prestigious hagwon, a private after-school academy for the subjects you totally needed to ace at CSAT. You also offered tutoring services to underclassmen, volunteered at the local library during summer and carefully chose your extracurriculars to align with the ideal student vision SKY universities had. You only needed to follow through the plan in your senior year too and you would be fine. You would finally make it.

Needless to say Han Taesan wasn’t part of your plans.

Yet, there he was standing right in front of the principal’s office where you were heading in all his 6 feet tall glory, his school uniform’s tie neatly done for once.

“What are you doing here?” You blurted out with no greeting when your steps slowly halted next to him, your jaw set and muscles tense.

Taesan turned his head slowly and looked at you impassively from under his dark fringe before speaking up in his raspy voice that made your classmates swoon whenever they heard him make a radio announcement.

“What does it look like?” He raised a brow as if he was telling you not to ask stupid things.

There could only be two kinds of reasons why somebody was called into the principal’s room: either very good or very bad. You had never gotten into trouble, so you were hoping for something positive but seeing the boy there wasn’t really promising. Not because he was a troublemaker or a bad student. He might not have been a straight A student like yourself but he was the leader of the school radio club and he was also generally liked among his peers as far as you knew. Your wariness was more so because you didn’t want to be associated with him in any way.

“Oh, both of you are already here. Wonderful! Come in, come in,” the office door opened and Principal Im rushed you inside with a welcoming smile.

At least, you could be sure by then that the news wasn't anything too bad.

You took a step to follow the man inside at the same time Taesan moved next to you as well which made you momentarily falter. However the boy merely reached out and put a hand onto the door’s edge to keep it from closing. You had to force yourself not to scoff at the fake gentleman-ish action and instead just duck under his arm to go inside the office.

You just sat down in one of the cushy chairs and smoothed out the lines of your school uniform skirt when you heard the door close and soon enough Taesan took the chair next to you.

“Alright, I won’t even waste your precious time since I know both of you are busy. I called the two of you here because as representatives of the senior classes, I would like the two of you to conduct interviews with your classmates and prepare a pre-recorded radio segment that can be broadcasted on graduation day. It can be about anything you want: what the students’ aspirations are or what they liked the best in high school. I trust you will do a great job,” the principal smiled at you hopefully but you could feel your own polite smile freeze onto your face. This was not how you imagined yourself spending the first term of senior year.

“But…”

“Yes, Y/N?” The principal looked at you expectantly and you could feel Taesan’s dark eyes on you as well which snapped you out of your confused stupor.

“Why the two of us?”

“Of course, you can get others to help too if you want but you have exceptional organizing skills as I heard and Taesan already has experience with our recording system and editing softwares. You two were the first ones we could think of, but of course I can’t force you…”

“It would be an honor, Principal Im,” you hurried to stop him there because there was no way you would have said no to a task like this. Not only because you could hardly say no anyways but also because it would look good on your resume. The only thing that bothered you was having to do it with a boy you could not stand. If you had that much time and you could do so, you would have gladly done it alone without his help but no matter how much you hated it, Principal Im was right: he had the skills to perfect a radio segment.

“Great! If you don’t have further questions, then good luck!”

“Okay, what about we meet after school to discuss the plans?” You asked immediately once you left the principal office because you had less than 5 minutes until first period and since you didn’t share a class with Taesan, you rarely ran into each other unplanned (thank god) and you would need your color-coded planner from your bag to plan any further than the afternoon.

“I have a radio club thing until 6,” Taesan simply said, not offering any alternatives, so you let out a sigh. Of course. What did you expect?

“And I have academy classes every other day,” you pointed out because he wasn’t the only one busy. “Then I can just email you your parts and we don’t need to–”

“So you can complain later that I’m freeloading off your hard work? No thanks,” the boy interrupted you and your gaze sharpened at him. He leaned casually against the corridor’s wall, a hand reaching up to loosen his tie and tilted his head at you as if to challenge you to protest. “We can make do during lunch hour.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him that you had plans already but going over your History notes, when it was just the first week of the term and you were ahead of the course work anyway, wasn’t that necessary even though you hated giving in to his idea.

“Okay, let’s meet outside at the benches then,” you agreed, telling yourself to be the bigger person, and turned your back on the boy before he could see the frustration bubbling up in you.

You and Han Taesan had the kind of history that you didn’t really like to revisit. That’s why your initial reaction was to roll your eyes whenever you heard his voice on the school radio or to puke your guts out when girls gushed about his ‘tsundere charm’. Their words, not yours.

Actually you would have probably not cared about the guy if it wasn’t for your model student campaign which he had ruined. Last year the school had run an event to choose a student representative by voting and every candidate could have a pre-recorded segment on the radio. You had your own carefully recorded and edited audio file with the best convincing speech you could prepare and emailed them the sharing link on time just to hear yourself sing your go-to karaoke song through the radio on the big day. In panic, you ran to the school radio broadcasting station only to find Taesan sitting there by the control panel with headphones over his ears, calmly letting the audio play well past the two minutes mark, seemingly not finding it weird at all that somebody tried to win the campaign with a karaoke rendition of a love song instead of saying a few words. As it turned out, you managed to share your entire recordings folder with the radio team but the club president, instead of playing the file titled campaign_speech_final.mp3, decided that AUD_20230326_192251.mp3 was the right track for your model student image. That week you not only lost that title to the grade’s pretty boy, but you lost your pride as well and it was all Taesan’s fault. Not that he ever thought to apologize or right his wrongdoings. So no, you weren’t looking forward to working with him at all.

He was late.

You had already dotted down six different questions and a rough program outline with your half-finished, now cold rosé pasta lunch menu on the side by the time Taesan put his tray down on the outdoor table.

“You are late,” you picked at him right away which earned you a rather confused look.

“It’s still lunch hour,” he pointed out and dug into his own kimchi jjigae like he had all the time in the world. His behavior was seriously dancing on your nerves.

“Whatever. Let’s get into it,” you prompted because you didn’t have time to argue about semantics or his attitude. “We should divide the related tasks this week, finalize the questions and gather people for the interviews, then we can start on those next week.”

“What’s the rush? We have months until graduation,” Taesan questioned and while he was right (or because), you had the sudden urge to strangle him right there. You forced yourself to stay calm.

“Well, I don’t like to leave things to the last minute. Closer to graduation, we will be busy with the exams and college applications anyway.”

“As if you don’t already have everything prepared,” he muttered absentmindedly, scooping more kimchi on his spoon, eating without a care.

You pursed your lips, annoyed. You needed to remind yourself again that you had no time nor the energy to argue with him if you wanted to get this discussion done before your upcoming English class.

“Khm… so we can agree on splitting the interviews between us, right? You interview your classmates and I will do mine. We just need a common question sheet,” you said, tapping the end of your pen on the table.

Whether it was the repetitive sound or your words, it managed to get Taesan’s attention. He looked up from his food and leaned forward on his elbows, his dark eyes sharpening their focus on you.

“How would you record the interviews?” He asked, simply yet you had a feeling it was a tricky question.

“On my phone?” You furrowed your brows. Wasn’t it obvious? How else did he expect you to do it?

“That won’t be good. We would have a huge difference in audio quality. So unless you are fine with that, you need proper equipment. I can borrow a portable mic from the radio club, but I’m not trusting you with that.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened in disbelief but Taesan didn’t elaborate on his reason. Ridiculous. He was just looking for faults in your ideas.

You let out a huff of frustration.

“Are you that desperate that we work together?”

“It’s called professionalism, miss class president,” he taunted you, looking completely serious. “I don’t want to broadcast anything under my name that’s just ‘good enough’.”

“Do you now?” You snorted and rolled your eyes. As if it wasn’t him who played your singing for the entire school. Where was his professionalism then? Who was he to lecture you about it? But okay, you could be the bigger person if he was so freaking stubborn. “Fine. We can do the interviews together with your fancy mic. These are the initial questions I thought of.”

You slid your open notebook towards him with questions about what they used to dream of becoming as a kid, what they want to be now, what colleges and majors they considered as well as their most memorable moment at the school and what they would tell their younger selves or their underclassmen. Taesan furrowed his brows as he was reading through the draft, probably dissecting each of your questions like a poor lab rat but eventually didn’t say anything. You raised a brow at him when your eyes met and he just shrugged.

“Sounds good to me,” he said which didn’t really added value but at least he didn’t find something to pick on in everything you did.

The rest of the discussion went easier as it was obvious that he would be the editor and you would organize the interviews. You were already mentally preparing a survey to send out to the students via the group chats you usually used for class president duties to see when they would be free to conduct the interview among the slots you offered. Taesan wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about the hectic and busy scheduling in the upcoming weeks but eventually agreed to get it over with within two months tops. He must have realized too that the earlier you finished with this project, the sooner the two of you could part ways.

You had the first batch of interviews at the end of next week. After ruling out inconvenient locations, you ended up with the obvious option: doing the recordings in the school radio clubroom. You were against it at first because the last time you had been there you faced public humiliation, whispers behind your back for weeks about your singing and messed up campaign, but objectively speaking you knew it was the most reasonable choice, so you bit the bullet.

You arrived ahead of time, of course, but you were quite surprised that Taesan was already there too, setting up who-knows-what on the professional equipment. He looked up when the door opened, the sun hitting the side of his face, giving it a natural warm glow, a stark contrast to the coldness he often radiated. He acknowledged your presence with a nod then went back to his work, so you just put your stuff down next to the round table in the middle of the room and got ready with your nicely printed questionnaire.

For the most part, the interviews went well, the students showed up more or less on time for their own slot, Taesan let you do the talking, merely letting you know when a recording started or ended. It all started going down when the last interviewee for the day didn’t show up. After five minutes passed, you texted Wonyoung asking politely whether she forgot the interview but she didn’t answer. Ten more minutes of awkward silence while Taesan was playing (or texting, you couldn’t tell) on his phone, you tried calling her but with no success. You started getting restless and frustrated.

“She could have at least told us if she wasn’t going to come,” you muttered more to yourself than anything when your next call went to the voicemail as well. It was such a waste of time just waiting.

“Why do you always assume the worst of people? Maybe something happened and she can’t make it. She could be too sick to care about you blowing up her KakaoTalk,” Taesan looked up from his phone and there was something in his eyes that made you feel like you were in the wrong, like you were a sulky child because generally it wasn't like you were always this pessimistic about people, but before you could have argued, Taesan sighed. “You can go. I can interview her if she shows up until 6.”

Well, you could have taken his word and left. Wonyoung was his classmate and he probably didn’t have anything better to do anyways. There was a set list of questions and not much to mess up. But just as he didn’t want you to handle his beloved mic alone, you didn’t want to leave it to him alone. So you just stubbornly held his gaze, trying to come up with a more profound reason when the clubroom’s door opened and Wonyoung stepped inside in the cheerleading squad’s PE clothes.

“Sorry. Practice got delayed. Thanks for waiting for me,” she panted and Taesan sent you a ‘told you so’ look which made you want to commit atrocities. You hated not being right and even more to be reminded of it.

“It’s okay. Catch your breath,” you turned to the girl with a reassuring smile but you were undeniably relieved when you could finally bid goodbye to her and pack up. It was getting late.

However, when you saw that Taesan was still saving the audio files and uploading them to your shared cloud folder, then putting away the recording device and the mic, you stalled around the door, feeling inconsiderate to leave earlier.

“Just go,” the boy muttered gently when he noticed your hesitation and you didn’t need to be told twice.

On your way to the bus stop, you stopped by at your favorite corner convenience store for some banana milk and almost missed your bus but luckily the driver saw you running and stopped.

“Thank you,” you bowed to the middle aged man who just mumbled something about youngsters these days, then tapped your transportation card against the sensor before looking for a place to sit.

Since it was past the rush hour, there were quite a few empty seats but there was one next to a familiar face close to the door. He had put on a hoodie over his uniform and had his head against the window, eyes closed but you would have easily recognized his long ass limbs everywhere. With the taste of your hurt pride still fresh on your tongue you walked past him, sitting down in the very back, only checking on Taesan a few times to see if he managed to wake up in time to get off at his stop.

Even without the interview project, senior year was busy. You felt like your days were piles of classes, homework, mock tests, real tests, tutoring and studying. Sometimes you memorized English vocabulary or dates for History class even during your lunch breaks or on bus rides because that way you could make the most out of your time. Some might have argued that you took it too seriously but if you wanted to get into the top universities of the country, you had to.

No wonder you spent the two hours you had between classes and tutoring on Friday in the library too, working on your Literature essay. It was kind of boring and you had a long week; you justified your frequent yawns and slow blinking. You didn’t even notice when you slipped into a dreamless sleep, not until you woke up with your head over your folded arms on the table.

As you were still in the haze, instead of panicking that you might have missed your tutoring class, you slowly blinked yourself back into consciousness and the first thing you saw was a pair of eyes.

The boy sitting at the table next to yours was looking at you with something akin to the mix of concern and amusement but you were too busy committing the lovely almond shape and chocolate brown shade of his eyes to your memory to be bothered by it.

Then the realization hit you like a truck because it was no other than Han freaking Taesan.

Oh, did he always have such pretty eyes?

Realizing that you were staring, you quickly turned your gaze away, sat up properly and fixed your messy hair while mentally reprimanding yourself for letting your sleepiness take too much control over you.

You hastily checked the time on your watch, sighing in relief that you only napped for about 15 minutes, so you still had time to finish what you were doing. Which was…? Ah, right, your essay.

You cleared your throat as you focused back on your homework, pretending not to be hyper aware of every chair creaking or pen against paper scribbling sound coming from the table on your left.

The next batch of interviews were scheduled a week later and you did everything in your power to avoid Taesan, hoping that he would forget that embarrassing little encounter you had in the library. Not like he was looking for you either but now that you have become more aware of his presence, you suddenly noticed him everywhere. He wasn’t just the subject of your classmates’ talks and an annoying voice from the radio anymore, he was in the canteen, on your regular bus, on the corridor between classes. Really, you wondered if it was your mind’s self-sabotaging doing or you just managed to ignore him previously. Since you tended to be laser focused on what to do, often walking by people you know without recognizing them, it wouldn’t have surprised you that much.

Still whenever you saw him, he was usually alone if not with juniors from the radio club, so you were a bit taken aback (and you weren’t sure you were hiding it well) when a bunch of his friends from his class were already in the clubroom by the time you got there. The door was left ajar, so you could hear Jungwon’s bubbly laughter and Gyuvin teasing Taesan for ‘working oh so diligently’. They all fell silent when you pushed the door open wider and suddenly their attention was on you. Leehan patted Taesan’s upper back with a grin and muttered something about ‘boss lady is here’ which earned him a glare.

“We will be on our best behavior,” Jungwon saluted with a promise when it turned out they booked the first three slots of the session on purpose, so they could sit through each other’s interviews. While you interviewed people by themselves, since the entire school would hear the edited version anyways, you supposed it couldn’t be a problem if they really did behave. They were friends after all, if they wanted to share them why not?

Them chuckling at some parts of each other’s answers or whisper-shouted hollering about future ambitions was a bit distracting but nothing seriously annoying. You could only hide your laugh with burying your face in your hands when Gyuvin recited a freshmen memory as his most memorable with a prank that ended with the four of them becoming friends. Apparently the day before the first term’s end, right on the edge of the summer holiday, Taesan had brought soap dispenser-shaped water guns into the PE changing rooms, so whenever somebody just tried to wash their hand, they got wet. It shouldn’t have been funny since it was rather childish, but glancing at the always stern and intimidating Taesan and seeing him smile at the memory turned it into something lovely even if it ended with the four of them arguing about whose was the best prank out of all the ones they did over the years.

It was truly one of a kind to see Taesan interact with his friends, people he felt comfortable around. He suddenly became talkative and loud yet warm and gentle when he scolded Gyuvin like an Asian mom for falling asleep at Miss Lee’s class again but promised to send him his notes once he got home.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged when he caught you red-handed watching him still after he literally pushed his friends out of the door.

Despite witnessing this side of him, if you wanted to be honest, it didn’t quite sit right with you that he was friends with Kim Leehan. The popular boy might not have ever rubbed salt into your wounds by reminding you that he was chosen as the model student representative of the school instead of you who was the grade’s academically best student, the defeat still hurt. You didn’t like to lose in general. So while you knew it was a far-stretched idea, your mind couldn’t stop coming up with scenarios to prove that Taesan sabotaged your campaign speech on purpose to help his friend and it made you irritable and restless during the rest of the interview sessions.

When you were finally alone, it made you blurt out:

“Was it a prank too?”

Taesan froze mid-movement when you spoke up. He was doing the finishing touches, getting ready to leave as it was just the two of you. He slid the headphones, which he used to make sure the recording quality was good, down around his neck.

“What?” He furrowed his brows, visibly confused and you weren’t surprised, he had probably long forgotten how he had humiliated you.

“My model student speech last year,” you said, your nails digging into your palms, bitterness sweeping into your features.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the boy claimed, firm in his standpoint which made you snort.

“Of course, you don’t,” you muttered, then grabbed your bag and walked out of the door before you would say something you would regret.

A part of you thought that Taesan would ignore you the way you ignored him, especially after your callout (or whatever he wanted to call it), so it took you aback when the opposite happened.

As a class president you often had to help the homeroom teacher. It was nothing out of the ordinary when he called you into the teachers’ room and gave you a box of university application help books to hand out in class. It wasn’t really heavy but there was no proper handle on the box, so you had to hold it against your chest and it made it hard to see the stairs in front of your feet as you walked up to the classroom.

Students came and went both ways around you, nobody really paying attention to you struggling not to fall and you let out a little sigh of relief when you reached the first landing of the staircase without tripping. You adjusted your grip on the big brown box and was about to go on when the box crashed into somebody’s chest… or more like, stomach.

“Sorry, I…”

You were about to apologize automatically when you saw Taesan standing in front of you, very clearly on purpose. However, before you could have told him to move out of your way, he did the unthinkable: he easily took the box out of your hands, his knuckles brushing against your open palms as he did so.

“Hey! Give it back!” You reached out for the box again once you snapped out of your stupor but the boy’s hold on it was too strong.

“Stop being so stubborn for once,” he said, his quiet, deep voice washing over you in waves and then you could barely do anything but watch him turn around and walk up the stairs with ease, the box in his hands and his bag thrown over one of his shoulders.

You shuffled after him a bit awkwardly, halfway torn between being grateful because out of all people in the school only him was considerate enough to offer help and being offended and angry because what if he only did so because he pitied you now that he knew that you still held grudges over what happened last year.

That became a smaller worry though as you realized he was heading straight towards your classroom and you didn’t even want to guess the rumors starting if even just one gossipy girl saw him help you. You grew more anxious the closer you got but Taesan’s steps halted right before he got to the door. You almost bumped into his back at the sudden pause.

“Here,” he turned to you with the box that you took gingerly, making sure you didn’t touch this time.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, actually meaning it but you couldn’t tell with Taesan’s low hum and light on his feet disappearance if he believed you or not.

The third week of interviews went without a glitch. You were almost done which also added to your good mood. One less thing to worry about, one less to-do during your already busy weeks.

Taesan stayed behind in the clubroom this time too, hunching over the computer setup with the headphones on like always but for the first time you said bye. Or well your version of it.

“Don’t stay too late,” you told him loud enough, so he could hear you through the headphones but turned on your heels before you could have seen his reaction.

It was a good day, you decided. You got praised by your Literature teacher for your essay on the themes of social class and Confucian values in your recent obligatory read. The interviews went smoothly and the corner CU had a 1+1 promotion for your favorite banana milk. You even caught the bus just in time, getting on the vehicle after two giggling students. It was busier now than usual because lots of students had to stay longer in preparation for the Freshmen Open Day.

Apologies falling from your lips, you made your way through the crowd in the front of the bus and looked for a seat in the back. That’s where you caught sight of Taesan with his bag on the seat next to him and when your eyes met, he pulled his stuff into his lap. You hesitated for a moment but that was pretty much the only place left and it would have been more awkward if you didn’t take it. So you dropped the ignoring act, swung your bag to your front and sat down, drumming with your fingers on your knees. The bus departed from the stop and took a turn, the silence between the two of you becoming louder than the chatter around you.

You unzipped your bag and pulled out the banana milk bottles you just bought and held one out towards Taesan. The boy turned his head towards you, his dark eyes unsure and… was that blush on his cheeks? Your hands touched when he took the bottle from you, sending little tingles over your skin.

“Wanna listen?” He held out one of the earbuds of his wired earphone that he always seemed to have with him. So old-fashioned, so cool.

You felt shy as you looked him in the eye because it was like sharing something intimate. Still, you took the audio device and put it inside your right ear, smiling as the unfamiliar beats of a slower western song played. You pierced through the lid of the banana milk with your straw and hid your smile behind your drink when you saw Taesan do the same.

Maybe you were just warming up to each other after weeks of working together but it gave you the push you needed to ask about what you were listening to and it started a whole monologue about the kind of music Taesan liked and how his father introduced it to him. Honestly, he listened to a lot of bands you heard of but couldn’t really associate songs with and quite a few you hadn’t even heard about. You didn’t mind though, you liked listening to him talk about it, watching him gesture and slur his words when he got excited. It was a lovely side of him.

The bus ride never felt so short.

That one conversation and shared banana milk somehow led to daily song recommendations from the boy. He was always curious about your opinion even if you didn’t like it. Soon enough he could guess pretty accurately if you would like a song or not, so he even created a Spotify playlist just for you that he updated frequently. This turn of events was surely unexpected but not at all bad.

You also got to know that he would have liked to study sound engineering in university and you told him about your own ambitions and why it was so important for you to have near perfect grades and all those achievements. Belatedly you realized that you had never told anybody how much impact it had on you that you were constantly compared to your cousins.

It was a new side of Taesan you got to know, a side he didn’t show to just anybody and you realized it was the same with you. You hated showing weakness in front of others, yet it wasn’t too bad to admit to him that you tended to be judgemental with people because nobody had really been patient with you either before labeling you this or that.

But texting over the phone was one thing, you weren’t sure it would change anything in person. Sure, you had been seen together due to the interview project but that would be over soon. Not to mention you really didn’t want to deal with high school gossip in your last school year. And yet, you couldn’t help but look for Taesan whenever you were in the school canteen or near his clubroom. You caught yourself anticipating the radio announcements just to hear his voice. It was pathetic really, how fast you went from finding it annoying and purposefully ignoring him to waiting to see him.

Your heart did a little somersault when you actually saw him in the library one afternoon and only when you walked closer did you notice that he wasn’t just leaning over his papers but he was sleeping soundly, his pencil still in his hand, his textbook getting wrinkled under his weight. Briefly you wondered whether you should have looked for another place since Taesan must have chosen this corner table far in the back to have some peace but you would have liked to believe that he wouldn’t have minded you joining. After all, he waved to you casually like you were friends when you ran into each other on the corridors earlier that day.

Eventually, you pulled out the chair on the other side of the table and quietly put your study material down. You squinted at the books and printed papers around Taesan recognizing them as advanced Maths exercises on trigonometry. While you were trying to see if it was a sheet you had already done, something else caught your eyes instead. The light reflected on the silver bands around Taesan’s index and ring fingers down to the similar thin, metal bracelet he wore. You had never noticed that he wore accessories but you had never really paid attention to what he was wearing either (except his unmade tie). Or maybe due to the long sleeved uniform you couldn’t even notice it but now that he had his sleeves rolled up and arms outstretched, you couldn’t help but notice how long and elegant fingers he had, unfairly nice for a guy.

Taesan suddenly exhaled sharply which made you act on impulse. You leaned back in your chair and looked down at your randomly opened book just in case he woke up. However, his quiet sleeping noises soon returned to normal, so you deemed it safe to look up. You let out a relieved sigh when you saw his eyes still closed, his eyelashes casting a light shadow over his cheekbones. Dark strands of hair fell softly over his eyes and you weren’t sure what came over you but maybe all those silly romance dramas were right when they thought girls couldn’t stop themselves from brushing a boy’s fringe out of his eyes just once in their life. But just as you reached out, Taesan straightened his back and yawned like a cat, stretching his arms towards the sky. He blinked himself awake slowly but he froze the moment he noticed you right in front of him.

To make the situation less awkward for both of you, you smiled at him as casually as you could (which wasn’t much thanks to your racing heartbeat but still, you tried) and turned to your book, flipping to the correct page you wanted to review. From the corner of your eyes, you saw Taesan fix his clothes and sit up properly before arranging his rumpled papers to continue the Maths exercises. He must have been stuck on a problem though because he kept sighing and going back to the same page in the workbook. After his sixth or so frustrated sound, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What are you stuck on? Maybe I can help,” you spoke up, closing your own book, so he would see your focus was on him.

“It’s fine,” he dismissed your offer so fast that you could tell he didn’t even think about it. You were sure because that was what you tended to do too: claiming you could handle everything on your own. But still, sometimes wasn’t it nice to receive help? Like how he had helped you with that box?

“Okay, then what about explaining it to me?” You changed your strategy because sometimes even that much could help: offering a listening ear. Maybe he could realize the mistake he was making in the equation while telling you about it.

You didn’t even think about it, you just stood up and walked to Taesan’s side of the table, sitting down next to him, leaning closer to see his scratchy handwriting and the calculations he had been doing. You might have blushed when you realized just how close you were but you refused to show it. You took studying seriously after all. So you looked the boy in the eye with a challenge in yours until he gave in.

Four minutes later he found the trigonometric identity he used incorrectly.

After sharing songs through texts and studying together at the library, the next thing that became a routine for the two of you was visiting the corner convenience store whenever you left the school together. When it first happened, Taesan claimed he needed to buy something too but he was looking around in the snack aisle suspiciously long (you missed your usual bus that day), so the next time you told him that you would catch up to him at the bus stop, he didn’t need to come with you. But more often than not, he went along with you anyways and ended up buying candies or chocolate bars. When you told Taesan about your go-to emotional support banana milk reminding you of your childhood, he told you that he wasn’t really into sweet things, so he bought all these snacks for his younger siblings. One time he bought a pack of four cream milk breads just for the freebie Pokémon toy that came with it because his little sister liked that character. It made you coo internally.

It wasn’t always just the two of you though. One day you were going over the English vocabulary with Jihan from your class in the library when Taesan and Jungwon walked in and took the desk next to you, eventually joining the English quiz. Another time Leehan needed to stay after school too because of his model student representative duties (a photoshoot for the Freshmen Open Day brochures apparently and suddenly you weren’t so sulky that you didn’t get the title) and he decided to tag along when he saw Taesan and you head over to the nearby CU.

“Ah, senior year is really hell. Everyone’s so busy we barely have time to hangout after school anymore,” he justified himself while throwing an arm around Taesan’s shoulder. “Jungwon told me you went to the library to study the other day. Since when do you do that? I thought you said being around so many people is distracting.”

You still heard Leehan’s voice as they disappeared into the snack aisle with the purpose of getting jellies and you walked forward to the refrigerated section, trying not to think too much into it. Maybe senior year changed Taesan’s mind, maybe he found the presence of others motivating now. Or maybe he just wanted to spend more time with you. The thought alone made you shy.

You were on schedule with the interviews and soon only the intro and outro as well as your own parts were missing. You wrote a script for the introduction and ending which Taesan improved with his experience of radio shows at school. You argued about whether your version with the ‘high school memories forever staying with you’ sentiment was too cringy or his ‘it’s only the beginning’ version was too vague but this time there was no harshness in your voice, there were no grudges held, it was only friendly banter as you went back and forth with arguments supporting your own ideas.

Eventually you managed to find a common ground, mentioning both the importance of keeping one’s high school memories as a reminder of their formative years and youth as well as being ready for what was coming. It was not even a question that it would be recorded by Taesan because he really had a nice voice and while you tried to stay professional and pay attention to his pronunciation and the flow of the speech rather than him, you failed miserably. Luckily, Taesan had enough radio experience to know exactly what to do. He introduced the segment with ease and charm, captivating the audience (you, for now) and you had to clear your throat to focus when he finished reading.

“We can start the interview with me,” you said, eager to get on with the tasks before Taesan could call you out on your behavior. He must have known your reason for the sudden change of attitude though because he smiled to himself, quiet but obvious about it, as he held the microphone out for you and hit record.

You knew all the questions by heart but still you waited for the boy to ask before you answered.

“When I was young, I wanted to have my own karaoke room. There was one on the basement floor in the building where I used to live and the owner auntie always gave me homemade honey biscuits. She seemed to be so joyful humming songs happily,” you said at the first question, glancing in Taesan’s direction briefly.

He must have been surprised – you were too –, because it wasn’t the model student-like answer everybody was expecting of you like saying your dream had always been to become a doctor or lawyer. Honestly, you had your own answers prepared and memorized ever since the questions for the student interviews were finalized and approved by your teachers. But looking back at it now, you felt embarrassed because even though it was just an interview, it wasn’t graded or judged, yet you had felt obligated to answer according to what other people would think of you. However, in the recent weeks as you got to know Taesan better, you realized that people would judge others without reason, without knowing them, even you. So you shouldn’t have changed your whole personality just so you would fit into this image they had of you. Even if it was about your parents’ or teachers’ expectation or your classmates calling you the teacher’s pet behind your back. You had been okay with the prejudices since high school was just one step in your foolproof plan to lead a successful life, you had been okay without building deep connections with other students because you had known that you would drift away after graduation anyways but only lately you realized that you could have had fun while also working hard. You could be yourself and let people closer. The world wasn’t going to crumble, it wouldn’t ruin your plans. You could be honest, both with yourself and others, because what was the worst thing that could happen? That they would judge you? They are doing it anyway, so it didn't matter.

“And now? Now I’m applying for business majors. I’ m not sure what exactly I would like to do with my life but I will get there. Who knows, maybe one day I will open a karaoke room, too,” you chuckled even though your ambitions were to build a bigger company, something creative and useful. You still had time to figure out the details.

In the beginning of the term you would have felt vulnerable sharing these about yourself in front of Taesan or the entire school because everybody expected you to know what you want to do with your life but now, it felt okay. You actually felt lighter, relieved. Especially because there was nothing akin to judging in Taesan’s eyes as he smiled at you from the other side of the table.

“Please tell us about your most memorable high school memory,” he recited the last question after you went over all the others.

Previously, you would have said it was being chosen as a class president because it was an honor and a proof of hard work but now, your academic achievements didn’t seem that important. What will you really remember when you will be older and think back on high school?

“Honestly, senior year so far has had some unexpected surprises, it’s hard to choose just one but maybe this one. Now,” you and me, just the two of us in the radio club room, being vulnerable yet not being judged. “I like the person I have been becoming ever since this senior interview project started and I think it's going to be a great memory one day.”

Silence embraced you as you finished talking, a bit nervous but without regrets. Taesan pressed a button and the recording stopped, ready to be saved.

“So karaoke room, huh?” He asked and you kicked his shin under the table for that teasing grin on his face.

“Your turn,” you reminded him as you passed the mic and adjusted the headphones around your ears. By then, over so many interviews you were sure Taesan knew what was coming too but just for the show you asked him about his dream job as a child versus now as well as his higher education plans.

“Becoming a musician was my childhood dream. My entire family loves music, many of us play an instrument, so it felt natural,” Taesan said and even though you didn’t know this, it wasn’t hard to imagine given his love for music and all that knowledge about genres and classics. “After I joined the radio club, I realized that I like it a lot despite the fact that here we don’t usually play music. So it would be cool to be a radio DJ on a music show one day but I’m interested in the technology behind it all, that’s why I will study sound engineering.”

You smiled to yourself because you had already known that latter part and it felt nice knowing you had come so far. After a few more answers, you got to the last question about his most memorable moment and Taesan’s feline eyes turned mischievous.

“Hm, a fierce girl yelling my head off during a live school radio radio–”

“Yah, be serious!” You interrupted him when you realized he was talking about what happened last year but your voice was more amused than scolding.

“I am serious,” Taesan claimed but there was a teasing tilt in his mouth. “It’s pretty memorable.”

“So you’re saying I was the only girl interrupting you during a broadcast? Shocking,” you raised a brow at him, a small part of you feeling triumphant about the fact that in a way you were special even if your first actual meeting didn’t have the best circumstances. Thank god that his microphone wasn’t on when you showed up and straight up started questioning him. “Also, just to clarify I wasn't yelling. I just expressed my bewilderment about why you were playing that audio.”

“That was the only one under your name.”

“What?” You blinked, confused at Taesan’s quick response. He sounded like he meant it but you knew that couldn’t have been true, they got access to your entire recording folder accidentally. So if he didn’t see that, it meant he wasn’t the one checking their emails.

“To make sure things are running smoothly, we always have a script about our broadcasts and all the audio files are organized in linear order in a folder for that day. I just played what was prepared for me,” he explained and gosh, you felt so stupid.

All this time you thought he had been the one who chose the wrong file on purpose maybe to help his friend, maybe to just have a good laugh but it made sense that his juniors were more likely the ones doing such preparatory work.

“But still, you could have stopped it instead of just letting it play,” you muttered, trying to justify your reaction.

“Well, at first I thought it was actually a pretty unique tactic and then…” Taesan scratched his nape and looked away, then shrugged as if he just convinced himself to tell you something that might be embarrassing. “To be honest, I just liked your singing.”

At his words you felt the tip of your ears burn and heat spreading all over your cheeks. You were glad that the lighting in the room hid it well.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You found yourself asking quietly because thinking back you weren’t exactly nice to him.

Taesan gave you a look. Okay, true, you didn’t really give him a chance to explain before antagonizing him. And then it must have been weird to just bring it up.

“Right. Um, sorry,” you mumbled, embarrassed due to your too quick judgment but the boy just shook his head as if he had never been mad at the injustice in the first place. “About your answer though, you have to cut it out.”

Obviously with 60 people answering 6 questions, not everything would make it into the final cut, it would be more of a montage of answers, a glimpse of the seniors’ lives and you didn’t want to be reminded of that incident in front of the entire school. Not again.

“Nope,” Taesan protested, popping the ‘p’ sound, teasing just to be difficult.

“I’m deleting it,” you warned him but you seriously miscalculated several things: there was no way you could have reached the computer before him and with him standing in front of the monitor and keyboard you didn’t see anything. You tried to get hold of the mouse at the same time as looking over the boy’s shoulder but he made sure that he was always in the way which somehow turned into a one sided (struggle) wrestle match and honestly at that point you weren’t even trying to achieve anything and both of you just laughed at your poor attempts.

“Am I interrupting something?” Spoke up a newcomer you didn’t even notice. Sullyoon, another radio club member from the year, stood by the door visibly surprised to see you or well the current situation you were in: Taesan leaning against the desk in front of the computer and you pretty much plastered over him, trying to reach something behind his back.

“No!” You objected vehemently and took two steps back, stumbling a bit. Taesan reached out to steady you by the forearm and only after he made sure you wouldn’t fall did he turn to the girl from his club.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just forgot my buju here,” Sullyoon got over her surprise too and quickly retrieved the prettily decorated journal from one of the shelves. You watched her go and then buried your face in your hands because of embarrassment.

“Emotional support banana milk?” Taesan prompted after he saved the files and turned the computer off.

You smiled at him and followed him out closely. If you were any better off, you would have teased him about his flushed face but instead you just made him race you to the convenience store, so both of you would have an excuse if anyone asked about your red cheeks.

Now that all interviews were done, only the editing was left from the project and while you could have left it all to Taesan since he did the actual editing, you were there keeping him company all through it. First of all, you listened to all the raw material and decided which answers to include from each interviewee in the final cut and then you could help out when he needed a second opinion on the order or cut parts or whether the transition was smooth or not. When he was deep in the concentration mode, you just did homework or studied for upcoming tests. It took three sessions to finish it (you had to force Taesan to get his ass out of school during the second one because he was determined to finish it which past you would have appreciated but not even this project was worth losing proper meal schedule or sleep over it) and when you listened to the final version you were proud of what you had done, together.

“Should we celebrate?” You suggested once the file was sent to the principal and his secretary. You finished it pretty much on schedule and yet, you weren't as relieved as you thought you would be when you had first started it. But still, it was an achievement and you liked to celebrate small wins like this because if you didn't, who else would?

You meant it as in going out to eat something good. For example, in the tent restaurant two streets down the auntie was selling the best tteokbokki you had ever tried. But Taesan had his own idea.

“What about karaoke?”

“Yah! Stop teasing!” You glared at him but you weren't actually mad, it started to turn into a private joke between the two of you.

“I’m not!” The boy insisted and all it took was his almost pout to convince you.

There were karaoke rooms on pretty much every other street in this neighborhood, so it wasn't hard to find one where you booked a room for an hour and bought snacks and drinks at the counter from the girl who looked like a bored university student.

You usually went to sing with a small group of girls from your class, so it was the first time that it was just you and a boy. And not just any boy but Han Taesan. Somehow it felt more special. Sure, he might have already heard you sing and said that he liked it, but you were shy, so you insisted that he would pick a song first. He chose Dean's 21 and totally nailed it, the karaoke machine's high score proving that you weren't just biased when you told him that. You had already liked his speaking voice but when he sang, oh boy! You could have listened to him for hours.

You went with a girl group song you were confident in and it was fun. Song after song you both hyped each other up and the one hour passed by quickly. A part of you wished you could just pay for one more and sing until your voice became hoarse but the rational part knew that you shouldn't have stayed out too late. You still had homework to do and Taesan needed to memorize those English words for tomorrow's test.

It was the same T side of you that went a bit ahead of you and started thinking about the midterms and then how busy you would get once summer ended and the last term rolled around. It was still months away and yet, you wondered if it took that much for you to drift apart or the end of this interview project would be enough. You were a bit scared to know the answer, just how you were scared to answer Jihan's question the other day when she saw you walk to class together with Taesan. Admitting out loud that you liked him would have made it real and it would have made you vulnerable. You weren't sure you were ready to do that but it was certain that you didn't want to lose him.

“Taesan…” You spoke up quietly, swinging your feet back and forth on the bench in the bus stop after you spent the walk from the karaoke room to the stop in silence, lost in thought. The boy turned his head towards you, his fringe getting into his eyes, messy and beautiful. Your heart ached with the certainty only first love could. “Now that the radio segment is ready, will we go back to how we were?” You asked barely in a whisper as if speaking louder would have had its consequences. That was also why you had to rush to clarify. “Because I don’t want that. I… I would miss you too much.”

You didn’t mean to say it like that and it was a scary thing to admit but it was worth all the extra beats of your heart to see Taesan smile, a shy little thing stretching slowly from one side to another, his eyes sparkling under the moonlight and street lamps’ glow.

“Me too,” he said and you reciprocated his smile. There was a short pause, an inhale of the universe waiting, then Taesan called your name and you looked up immediately.

“Hm?”

He looked you in the eyes with those dark oceans of his. Once you associated them with the cold depth of the sea but since then you realized that you were wrong. You knew only a few people who had warmer souls than this boy.

“You are my most memorable high school memory for a reason,” he whispered like it was a secret and a promise at the same time.

It left you speechless a moment too long and the bubble around you burst when the bus pulled up in front of you with a loud screeching sound. Taesan was quick on his feet but instead of getting on the bus right away, he looked back at you and held a hand out for you. You blamed it on not having time to think about it with the bus driver yelling at you impatiently and took it, following the boy onto the vehicle and to your usual place in the back with a smile on your face and a new rhythm in your heart.

Taesan didn't let go of your hand during the entire ride. As you closed your eyes and listened to the music he put on, you hoped he wouldn’t let go for a long time.

#stories #boynextdoor x reader #taesan x reader #boynextdoor fluff #taesan fluff

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petit-etoile · 1 year ago

Note

Congrats on the 200 Followers man! Here's my drabble for ya, go nuts on what you wanna write from this; “Kiss me and/or shut up.”

your heart understood mine

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 919 content warnings: ne.il new.bon said something about little astarions once & now i have Thoughts other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, idiots in love, established relationship, gender neutral tav, human!tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils, be added to the taglist here

summary: 'When am I happiest?' / 'When I'm looking at you.'

‘So,’ Astarion says casually, staring at his nails. ‘What do you think the answers truly are?’

‘The answers to what?’ you ask.

‘Don’t play coy,’ he says. ‘The little…love test. I was rather pleased you didn’t expose me in front of a stranger, but now I’m curious.’

You remember Zethino now. You take a moment to glance at him, though your hands are still busy sewing away at a tear in your armor. Astarion is watching you while wearing a guarded half-smile, neither interested in his nails nor in your messy stitches. Your cheeks heat up and you look back down at your uneven handiwork. Your throat tightens a little.

When you had asked him if he had wanted to participate with you, you thought Astarion would reject it. It seemed silly, so out of element for the both of you that the thought of him genuinely agreeing never crossed your mind. Yet now he questions you about it, questions you about your answers, and you feel more nervous now than you had when Zethino called you stira. Astarion takes your armor from you and begins patching it himself, fed up with your clumsy stitches.

‘The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous,’ Astarion recites sarcastically. ‘When is he happiest, my love?’

‘I don’t think you’ve ever been happy,’ you say quietly.

He hums. ‘Well, that’s mostly the correct answer,’ he says. ‘But you’re missing something. I know you can guess it if you really put your mind to it.’

‘You’re happiest with me,’ you say bravely.

You look him deep in his eyes, holding your breath. He laughs and nods, chuckling to himself while he tries to salvage a piece of leather. You think he might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell with how pale he is.

‘Many things delight the heart,’ Astarion continues, mimicking her monotonous timbre. ‘Only one makes it sing! Tell me, my sweet, what does he desire more than anything.’

Revenge. You had told the dryad he wanted revenge, but didn’t go into detail, not in front of someone unfamiliar. You watch as he untangles the thread, his hair soft and elegant, his hands assured and practiced. There lives a colony of butterflies in your chest. Your heart is beating so loud you’re certain he can hear it.

‘A life with me,’ you say.

‘You,’ he agrees.

‘A gaggle of little Astarions trailing around,’ you add.

Astarion looks up sharply, his mouth hanging open slightly. You press your lips together immediately and try to think of an apology but there’s something beneath his careful façade. You were right. You realize it now. You press a hand to your chest as if to stop your heart from pounding. Astarion wants a family, and he wants you, and even beneath that desire for revenge and for strength, once he succeeds then all he wants is you. He looks back down at your clothes in his lap and laughs shyly. You think you might faint.

‘The last, um, question,’ you stutter. You realize your palms are sweaty and blush.

‘Fear sits in the soul of all,’ Astarion says finally, voice soft. ‘To tame it, we must name it. What is his deepest fear?’

This time, you feel as though the answer isn’t so easy. Beneath the fear of Cazador and the fear of the mindflayers, there is something else brewing. You’re afraid to even mention it, but he’s curious and genuine. You slide closer to him and pull part of your armor into your lap so that you share the burden. He presses his nose to your temple and you distract yourself by touching the part of your armor he’s managed to save from your haphazard repairing.

‘You’re afraid of never breaking the cycle,’ you say carefully. You bite your bottom lip. ‘You’re worried that after all this rage, there’s no relief.’

‘Shut up,’ Astarion says.

There is little to no heat in it. You shake your head.

‘You’re afraid the you before Cazador is no longer there,’ you say. ‘And you’re afraid that because I am human, that there’s a ghost of you that comes after me.’

‘Shut up,’ Astarion insists.

‘Kiss me,’ you whisper. You turn to meet his lips.

Astarion presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You cherish it no matter how fleeting the kiss is. The silence, the quiet sorrow. It’s almost worth it for how he gently presses kisses against your temple and into your hair. He will never confess that what you said is true, and you’re almost thankful.

‘My turn,’ you say, clearing your throat. ‘When am I happiest?’

‘When I’m looking at you,’ Astarion says without hesitation.

‘O — Oh.’

‘You desire a lifetime with me,’ he says with a practiced blasé shrug. ‘And little Astarions of course.’

You flush. ‘Shut up.’

‘And,’ he adds, ‘you’re deathly afraid of spiders.’

He laughs and kisses you again, and you wish you could bottle up the sound in a music box to play it back when you’re feeling lonely. You know what Zethino meant now when she said your bond beat with pleasure. You blossom beneath his careful musings.

‘See? We’re close as can be,’ Astarion murmurs. He rests his chin on your shoulder and brushes his thumb against your thigh. ‘But darling, if we’re going to have a lifetime together, we really must work on your stitching.’

‘Only if you’ll teach me,’ you say.

‘Oh, I’ll be the best teacher you’ve ever had,’ Astarion agrees.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa .#my fic #pandimoostuff #* a thousand lives，and one #*bites my hands*#SEE I CAN WRITE HAPPY STUFF #ignore the slight angst in the middle

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latenightdaydreams · 6 months ago

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Please can you write about ex boyfriend Konig can't moved on from reader. He sneaked in her house and raped her. She resist him at first but then he just dicks her down.

You Can't Leave Me (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, rape, stalking, toxic ex, p in v, oral

1.8k word count

🚫

It’s now been eight months since you’ve broken up with König. When you found out about the trackers he put on your phone and car, it was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Since then, you’ve moved into your own apartment an hour away from König. Your phone number has been changed along with all social media deactivated.

The last several months have been hard, but you’ve been pushing through so well. Too well, actually. König never lost track of you. He knows your new address, phone number, job, and schedule. You changed your scenery, but not who you are. So, when you left one day, he knew where to look.

Of course, you move to your favorite city. You know König hates the city. He never wanted to move here. You move into the apartment that is only ten minutes from a bookstore, one that you become a frequent customer of quickly. König knows you like the back of his hand. There is no escaping him.

One thing he didn’t expect was you finding someone so quickly. It’s only been eight months. You were together for five years. It should take you longer to move on before realizing there is no one else for you. What the fuck is this?

König walks behind you at a distance as you walk to your date. Wearing a yellow summer dress compliments your body, paired with white sandals. Is that…make-up? That’s not right, you don’t wear make-up; you don’t need it. You’re so naturally beautiful.

He watches you walk into a café. A very handsome brunette man stands and hugs you. His hand resting above your ass, comfortable with your body as if he’s touched it already. When did he miss this? He glares at the two of you before walking away and going to your apartment.

While you’re out on your nice little date, König breaks into your apartment. Not really breaking in when he finds your spare and uses it, right? He enters your apartment for the first time, taking a deep breath. It smells just like you.

König walks throughout your home, looking at the new photos on the wall of your city friends. One of you with this new guy. He knocks it over. He continues on to your bedroom, seeing your bed is messy; you never make it. His eyes drift to the floor where he sees a pair of black underwear. With little thought, he stands and walks to them. A little white stain, you were aroused? By what? Who?

König lifts the underwear under his mask and to his nose, taking in a deep breath. Exquisite. He shoves the underwear into his pocket and keeps looking. Stepping into your bathroom, he turns the light on. His eyes fall to a little purple case near the sink. It can’t be. Is his little Schatz on birth control?

A sharp stinging feeling deep in his gut travels up to his heart. The mental image of that pathetic worthless man going raw into his Kleine Perle disgust him. You’re whoring yourself out, he knew you’d be lost without him.

He turns the light off and sits on the toilet, pulling out your panties to sniff while he waits for you. An hour passes and he began to grow worried that maybe you went back home with that loser. Right as he was going to check his phone, he hears your keys in the door.

You enter your apartment while on the phone. For safety, you always call a friend while walking.

“Yeah, I’m home now though. I love you, Ann. I’ll see you Tuesday.” Once you hang up, you kick your shoes off and place your purse on the hook.

As you pass your photos in the living room, you notice the photo of you and Finn has been knocked over. A wave of anxiety rushes over you. You try to reason with yourself. It’s almost been a year and you’ve never seen König. He’s probably moved on the same way you have.

You enter your bedroom and turn the lights on. The door closes behind you as you take off your dress, tossing it into the hamper. You grab out a pair of pajamas, placing them on your bed. Reaching behind your back, you unhook your bra, tossing it aside. When you do, you look down at the floor and notice your black pair of underwear is missing.

Maybe you put it in the hamper? Slowly, you walk to the hamper and look inside. At that moment, your bathroom door opens. Your eyes go up and meet the dreadful pale blue eyes. Your heart beat sky rockets, your feet moving ahead of your brain as you turn to run.

König is fast. He reaches out and wraps his arms tightly around your stomach. Lifting you in the air as you kick and scream, slamming you down hard on the bed. The air leaves your lungs and your screaming stops. König pulls out your underwear from his pocket and shoves it into your mouth. He grabs your arms and pulls them behind your back, pulling off his belt with one hand and tying your hands together.

When you try to kick him to get away, but he just climbs on you, resting his weight on you. “Where are you trying to go, Hase?” He growls.

Your screams are muffles as you try to squirm away from König.

“I saw your birth control pills.” He grabs a fist full of your hair and pulls your head back. “That is still my pussy. You are still mine.”

You shake your head no and try to break free from his grasp. His 6 ’10 280 lb body is just too big to fight back against.

König’s hands begin to travel along your mostly naked body. Your skin is just as soft as he remembers. His finger hooks your panties and moves it down. You buck backwards like a horse and try to kick him. A heavy hand comes down and spanks your ass cheek, you whimper.

“Stay still. I don’t want to have to hurt you.” König finishes pulling your underwear off completely before standing off of your body and getting undressed.

“It’s a shame you thought that you could get away from me. Bigger shame you decided to give away my body to another man. You know I don’t like that.” You can hear his pants drop to the floor finally.

König walks to your body and drags you to the center of the bed. He joins you on the bed, spreading your ass cheeks and pushing his face between them, taking a deep breath.

“That’s still my fucking pussy.” He grabs your ass and jiggles them before climbing over you, one leg on either side of your thighs.

His heavy cock slaps against your cheeks. He spits in his hand and rubs it around the tip of his cock, rubbing the tip along your folds. The feeling of his cock being pressed up against your entrance makes you squirm your hips, but that doesn’t stop König.

König spreads your ass cheeks with his hands so he can have a clear view of your pussy. He looks down at you and pushes himself into you. You tense up, only making yourself tighter for him. A loud moan leaves his lips as he buries his cock deep inside of your pussy.

He doesn’t allow you any time to adjust to his enormous dick as he slams his hips into you. You shake your body, trying your best to break free of his belt around your hands. Eventually you manage to spit your underwear out.

“Stop!” You cry out as you kick your legs as you writhe under him.

“Just take my cock.” He groans.

One of his hands comes down on your head and pushes your face into the pillow, holding you there as he picks up his pace. He rams his cock hard enough to cause pain, forcing the full length of his cock into your tight cunt. Your cries are muffled.

König yanks his head back and forces your head up. “What? You can’t handle my cock anymore?”

“Fuck you! Get off of me!”

“What? You don’t like my cock anymore?” He asks in a condescending tone.

“No!”

“Shut up.” He pulls his cock out of your pussy, grabbing you by your hair and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

König puts you on your back and slaps his cock on your lips, rubbing it back and forth. You try to turn your head but he grabs your jaw and forces you to stay still. The tip of his cock presses against your lips pressed tightly together.

“Open.” He lightly taps the side of your face.

Your mouth opens and König shoves himself inside. He forces his way into your throat, finger tracing the outline of his cock appearing. You gag, causing spit to come out of your mouth and on to your face. König keeps pressing in until his balls are resting on your face. Not being about to breathe, you kick and arch your body.

“Shhhh, calm down. You can take it.” He pushes even further.

König begins to rock his hips, fucking your throat. His heavy balls hitting your face over and over. This causes you to gag again and you throw up, turning your head to the side and vomiting on the floor. He laughs, “Are you going to be a good girl or should I keep going?”

“I’ll be good.” You pant with tears in your eyes.

“Gut.” König growls as he walks to the other side of the bed, joining you.

He lays behind you, lifting one of your legs and tells you to hold it. His hand covered in your spit handles his cock as he slips it into your pussy. Your gummy cunt welcomes him back. König grabs your face and turns your face to his.

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Mine.”

“Say it, Schatz.” His voice trembling as he bullies his cock deep inside of you.

You try to suppress the orgasmic feeling his cock gives you. As much as you like Finn, his cock is nothing compared to König’s. No matter how toxic König is, you can’t help but to miss him.

“Yours.” You moan out bashfully, hating yourself.

“What was that?” A grin crosses König’s lips.

“It’s yours!” You angrily moan.

“Fuck yes!” König rolls his body on top of yours, your leg pushed over as he grasps your hip and thigh. As he thrust into you, he pulls your back to meet his thrust.

Pitiful mewls freely leave your lips; a mixture of shame and euphoria consumes your whole body. You look back at him, your eyes meeting, as you see the same possessive glare in his eyes as he always has. Will you ever escape this man?

378 notes · View notes

dilf-docs · 6 days ago

Note

Hello! I love what you write it’s amazing! ✨

Can I request an Eddie Brock one where the reader is her neighbor and they are pretty close and she’s in love with him but he’s still obsessed with Anne, and one day she sees him really sad (about Anne) and invites him to see her band and she starts playing (The one- The Warning) and idk something interesting happens:0

Take A Chance On Me

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: being in a relationship with eddie is a bliss! except for when he mourns his ex relationship with anne, which unfortunately, seems to be pretty much all the time. in the middle of all that sulking, you come up with an idea. will you be able to make him choose you this time?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, situationship lol, so angst!!, sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie (he's still mopping around), hurt/comfort, exhibition kink, fingering, oral (f. receiving), p. in v., riding, creampie, you can tell i've been listening to ABBA ijbol, no venom :(

word count: 4,394 words

side note: hi, tysm for requesting! since this request is very specific lol but has similar themes to my previous eddie work i decided to make it as a follow-up in the neighbours au; not a series yet but it was an interesting idea to add to their dynamic!!! hope you like it <3 in case you wanna read the previous part for context as to where this two are it's here

Ever since that night, your relationship with Eddie has grown. Hell, you may say you're a day away from being official any time.

And there are time's when you're so sure of it, like when he stops by your apartment and kisses you like there's no one else in the world; to later make you come hard with the lights off (hey! you gotta start a tradition or two).

But there are other times when you knock on his door and he doesn't open, only for you to use your spare key, finding the room scented with empty bottles, your neighbor mumbling something like Anne through his sad pouty lips.

Yes, Anne. A name that makes you seethe like it burns; a ghost that haunts the spaces of silence where Eddie seems to doubt what the hell is he doing: why is he there―with you.

Your heart feels heavy, and it feels sort of pathetic that it's his hurting what hurts you the most. In the end, things are like this: you love helping people, your empathy may be infinite and you're sure you've never loved anyone like you love Eddie Brock before.

So it's this combination of things that makes you take the following decision, hoping to make him pass the page, so whenever he gets drunk again, all his lips will ever whisper is your name over and over again; that his sadness belongs to him, and not the only person that seems to be keeping you away from your happy ending, even if they don't know about it.

To Eddie, you're the sweetest thing in the world. Nobody kisses like you do, hugs with the tightness you do, loves as much as you do, fucks as good as you do or bakes killer cookies like yours.

That list does nothing but grow, as he is constantly mesmerized by every new little thing he learns about you: your favorite movies, the new recipes you try (he's more than happy to beta taste them for you), the way you sing (you do have a good voice that made him squirm at the other secret talent you had) and your kindness, which has done more hurt than good lately: because Eddie can't fathom the idea of you, taking care of him during his sad drunken mopping nights, while listening to everything about Anne on repeat.

He knows it hurts you, that he's starting to create creaks in your relationship, the hope slowly fading away from your eyes each passing day, doubts creeping up your smile, erasing that shiny beautiful light of yours; it's the only thing stopping him from calling you his girlfriend, and still, he can't stop.

It's like a vice at this point, and he wonders if he'll ever sober out of it.

So today he knocks on your door, hoping to set things straight even if a part of his heart still beats for Anne. It may be selfish, but after you came in his life, he can't imagine it without you.

But when you open up, he's at loss for words.

"Why are you wearing that?"

You scoff. "Hope it's not an offense, judging by your tone"

His eyes roam over your body, and even if you tend to be more on the confident side, you can't help but feel shy. After all, he's never seen you like this before: all glam.

It's a jacket, well his jacket, a small black top and black very short shorts. You surely are playing the part tonight, switching your usual pink and sunflower bubbly style to something more... rock.

"Why?" is all he asks, and you feel obligued to answer. Besides, you were going to knock on his door after getting out, not expecting he did it first. The surprise is ruined, but his incredulous eyes suffice for now.

"So, my friend has this band" you explain, "and they just got sick. The thing is, they had a gig today in a bar where they're regulars, so naturally, cancelling at last minute is not an option"

"And?" you love how oblivious he can be sometimes.

"And, I found a replacement" his face remains blank, so you sigh a little dissapointed but deliver with chirp, "me!"

"You?"

You roll your eyes, "is there a problem?"

"No!" he corrects hastily, "I'm just surprised, that's all. I know you like to sing, and have a good voice! But there's a huge gap between that and well, playing in a gig"

"I know, but I used to have a band when I was in highschool; I'm used to this things"

His mouth falls a bit, and maybe his head starts to cloud with ideas of your clashing new style and angel like voice; or maybe it's you wearing his jacket, a garment of his for you to bear in public: a first. It's a bit stupid and too daydream-ish for his liking, so he blurts:

"I didn't know that"

Your laugh is so light, it feels like wind blowing across a field.

"Oh, Eddie baby" he blushes at the pet name and endearing tone, your voice dropping like it does whenever you want something he's more than willing to give you, "there's a lot you don't know about me"

In the end, you convinced Eddie to join you, who, if you're being honest, didn't need that much convincing.

He was sold just with the idea of seeing you sing, which intrigued him. There's a huge difference in your drunk karaoke nights that annoyed your neighbors and playing live in a gig. Eddie wants to see what you have to offer, and as for you? Well, this is your plan: your plan to make him forget about Anne once and for all.

It may be silly and immature but hey, you're young! It's okay to be wrong and possessive sometimes, and your friend just did you the favor of faking an illness to give you a spot to shine and put that voice of yours to use, that's a bit rusty since your highschool days. So, no pressure! Your potential boyfriend is on the crowd and ruining this would cost your kind friend their job. Good thing your optimism doesn't seem to expire, because Lord! Your hands are trembling and sweaty when you hold a microphone again for the first time in a little more than a decade.

"Hey" you exit out of the curtain, and the dim lights now bright up a little, directing themselves towards you, "good evening"

You hear a bit of muffled voices that sound confused, asking for your friend, and you can tell the crowd are regulars. Yikes.

"I'm here on behalf of Isha. They're sick, so I'm covering just for tonight" you decide to go for a little jokey joke to light up the otherwise judgemental room, that seems to be testing you―like they know all your weak spots; smell your nerves. "So don't like me too much, as I'm a one time thing"

Eddie laughs, but covers it with a cough when he realizes the room is awfully quiet.

"Okay, uh, for tonight's set, I've got a few things prepared" you fumble a bit with the papers where the lyrics are (you've always liked to be a bit old fashioned), like you're clumsy and it's your first time, not reflecting the fact that this idea has been simmering for a while―every song rehearsed and planned. "Songs, I mean, I've got a few songs prepared"

You start with something smooth, which makes people divert their attention back to whatever they were doing. To you, that's a bit dissapointing, but as long as they don't judge and Eddie keeps his eyes on you, you think you can make it.

But what where you really thinking? Being optimistic means you're often let down, as your pink bright ideas end up crushed by the real gray world. And you can handle it―as you're no weak, but resorting to singing a song that feels oddly specific about the situationship you're currently living in hopes of making Eddie forget his ex fiancée and get whooped by your mesmerizing voice is actually kind of crazy!

But yeah, now you're nearing the end of the set list and almost everyone's eyes are on you. Of course, Eddie is the most attentive, taking every word that pours out of your melodic mouth like if he's thirsty, and your voice is the only thing that can help him. He never leaves your silhouette, and it may be you dreaming, but there's something like guilt and love behind his eyes; torn. Yeah, you do feel like you're dreaming, and it's been so long since you felt this alive; you kind of forgot how happy singing made you.

As the crowd is engaged, you find it fitting to make a pause and announce the next song. You know your voice comes out as shaky, but hope people think it's about tiredness and not nerves. Why are you nervous, thought? People love you! It's because this is the final part of your plan: singing this song you used to be obssesed long ago, but now seems to perfectly sum up those raw, angry and vulnerable feelings fo yours you're simply not used to; they say music helps us put a name to that we can't, and that has never been more true.

"For the next song, well, our last song" a few booing echos in the crowd, and you can't believe you made it this far. Maybe Isha did lost their job, "it's called The One, by The Warning. Hope you enjoy"

Eddie's had such a blast tonight, he hasn't noticed the past of time, completely lost when you announce the last song. Among other things he's forgotten, is the fact he was supposed to talk today with you about the future of your relationship.

It's kind of your fault: how can he remain focused with such display in front of him?

The band begins playing, and soon, your voice fills the air:

I'll do anything to make it happen

Tell me your secrets, what are you hiding?

Some people sing along the lyrics, while others just listen attentively. You make it to a part of the song that sounds like:

Can you explain to me what's this feeling?Love it or hate it, it's never leaving. Want to believe, that you feel it too.

Oh, Eddie feels nauseous. The lyrics hit a bit too close to home, and he fills called out in the room of oblivious people.

He can hear your vocals breaking a bit, as raw as he's never heard before. He feels so bad, he's about to make the most ridiculous thing of his life and jump onto the stage to hug you, but he can't interrupt you. So he sits there, palms sweaty and nerves tense.

He's been dumb, but like, really dumb. Of course you know it: how can you not? He swears every morning after, his hangover unbearable, your kindness hurts more than his headache―because there's pain behind your eyes, and he knows you remember more what happened than he did. He feels undeserving of your compassion and all the care you give him, even if you know Eddie's still hung up on Anne.

There is no reason to even doubt it. Please, understand that I am not lying. My heart is true, it beats for you.

How can you still love him? Still root for him? How can you give him your heart knowing a part of his still beats for Anne?

Fantasizing that something might happen, always wishing that I was the one.

He feels torn, because he knows it's you he wants to be with. You're the reason his days have been brighter ever since he lost everything, the reason he smiles whenever his door knocks and why he isn't alone in this sulking anymore. So he hates the fact that he can't heal faster and move on, because that's all that's really stopping him from just being him and you.

Give me something I can feel, I'm too afraid to ask. What is it I need to change, for you to love me back?

He's done mourning but he knows grief doesn't pass in the blink of an eye. But he's sure of it already.

Say that you will really never hurt or leave me. Say it and it will come true. Hold me like you really love me: tell me that you do.

Those three words he's been holding back: afraid of feeling too much in such little time; afraid of thinking he would ever feel his heart beat for anyone else, the confession dripping from his eyes but not past through his sealed mouth.

And I know that I'm not the one on your mind. But still, I will be the one.

The song ends before he's registered, and amid the applauses, you leave the stage, almost running behind the courtain. The band bids goodbye and Eddie finds himself leaving his table and moving onto where the small improvised dressing room is.

He's done pondering. You will be the one.

You didn't plan to rush backstage like that, but tears started to burn in your eyes and it was getting harder to contain them infront of the crowd.

They loved your show, but you feel empty, even if a little relieved. There was a pressure before and now it's gone, but there's a thing that hasn't gone: the doubt.

You wonder if Eddie understood the words you feel like a coward for not voicing, the feelings that threaten to spill like a hot cauldron, the rage burning your throat when he talks about her, like she's all there is in his mind. Then comes the sadness; you can't help but wonder if he will ever choose you.

Tonight, perhaps, is the day all those what-if's will be answered, and their possible answers won't hunt you anymore.

It's like he read your mind, because there's a knock in your door and it's like you have memorized a bit too much of Eddie: the traces of his face―with wrinkles that mark the gaps in your relationship, the loud way in which he eats, the sounds he makes when he rides his bike, especially those when you wrap your arms around his; even the way his knuckles call for you through the door.

You clear your throat, trying to hide your broken voice. "Come in"

Eddie's face pops up, and all you can offer him is a weak smile. "Did you like the show?"

He tries to measure what he's about to say, because he doesn't know where to start, but the glow in his eyes betrays him, so he excitedly says: "It was great! I didn't know you had that in you, baby"

Even the pet name doesn't make the smile reach your eyes. Oh, he's screwed up for sure.

"Thanks" you mutter, small. You hate feeling like this: the last time you did, you were still in middle school. Your kindness was taken for weakness, and you promised yourself you would never let your heart be taken and used again. Yet here you are, hope planting a seed inside of you that's grown into a rose with thorns that pierce your sweet heart whenever it beats for Eddie. But you can't stop: the roots are too deep in you, and you can't find yourself to kill the flower that's bloomed out of this one-sided love.

"Listen, y/n" oh, he's serious. No petname or nothing. Maybe he's finally opened his eyes and realise this fooling-around-thing you've got going on isn't going nowhere; that your new isn't as exciting as it was before, and his heart will never be yours. You'll never be the one.

"Y-yes?" you can't fake it. Your voice cracks, so you avoid looking at him, "tell me, Eddie".

He shouldn't start with that, seeing the way your face fell and body shakes, even though you're sitting.

"Fuck. Baby, no" he coos, getting closer and dropping on his knees, forcing you to look at him by taking your face softly by the chin, "look at me".

When you meet his eyes and they're already glossy, he feels like he deserves a higher punishment than what any physical one could ever accomplish.

"No, no. Shit, I'm sorry" he tries wiping your tears with his thumb, but you keep on crying more. "Ah, fuck"

"Are you done with me?" you ask on a shaky whisper.

Funny saying that when you weren't even a thing. But you can't help and yearn for it; said what first came onto your mind.

"No!" he corrects, so quick and loud it startles you. "What made you think that?"

"The song-" you start blabbering, "No, I'm sorry Eddie, it's my fault. I shouldn't put on a show that's m-more like a tantrum if we're being honest. We're adults and we can talk, for God's sake! That was so immature of me. Let's just forget this and- I don't even know what to do or what to say, just, spare me from walking out or taking the elevator at the same time I do because it's just gonna be so embarrasing- please, if you're gonna break up with me, do it quick-"

He didn't want to, but he feels the need to interrupt your little rant by now.

"Y/n, stop" you feel even more embarrased now. You start to drift a little and begin considering to move out of the country and change your name. "Who said anything about breaking up?"

Ah, you feel stupid. Stupid, but hey! How can you not come to that conclusion? It's both of yours fault.

"Y-you didn't" you whisper, "but-" you try to reason yet the anger and embarrasment is a bit too much.

"I didn't yet I can understand why you'd feel that way" he sighs, "but let me explain, please"

With a nod, you motion him to continue.

"I'm the only one who should be saying sorry. You did nothing wrong, baby; in fact, your little solution to talk out your feelings surprised me a lot. In a good way! You know I love your voice. But anyways, as I was saying, I'm sorry about everything. It's just... it's not fair to you: you've been nothing but sweet, loving and the best girl I've met ever. I feel like I don't deserve you, and after tonight, if you choose not to stay with me, I'll get it. You're worth of much more than a sad, older and bitter nobody" he ends his sad little man speech, and you can't help it but leave your sit and wrap your arms around him, burying your face on his shoulder as you whisper lovingly on his ear:

"I know, Eddie" you stroke his hair gently, "but I'm not leaving you. Never"

He lets himself sink into your embrace, the perfume and sweat such an intoxicating smell, he's drowning in your scent already.

"Good" his voice turns husky, dropping an octave. The hard on his jeans doesn't go unnoticed, "because I wanted to give my rockstar a reward"

You laugh, and he feels better seeing you smile.

"Seriously, Eddie? How can you go from vulnerable to horny?"

"Both are states of vulnerable!" he defends, "besides, tell me that you don't want it" he motions for you to stand against the dresser, your back against the mirror, goosebumps in your skin when it touches the cool surface.

Eddie grips the flesh of exposed skin your shorts show, leaving a trail of kisses against the bare tights. He pulls them off, and you gasp out a contained moan.

"Someone c-could find us, Eddie"

He growls, his head in between your legs, the panties blocking him from your pulsating cunt. "Let them" he pronounces it so deliciously, you find it hard to resist the panic of being found; Isha will kill you if they found out, but hey, the plan was to get back with Eddie so in the end, it worked, right? Can't get mad at that.

The panties come off with a yank, and you can barely ask if he locked the door before his tongue gives the exposed dripping folds a generous lick. You arch your back at the pleasure that runs through you.

"Mpmh, Eddie" you groan, feeling his slow but steady movements. Your breathe comes out ragged, more when he uses his thumb to caresses the sensible zone with fast circles, making you cum with a cry, yet it muffles inside his mouth that captures your lips in a kiss.

You can taste yourself in his lips, but let him devour your mouth.

"Want more?" Eddie groans against your mouth, his fingers going inside you, softly touching the entrance. You moan against his lips, moving your hips greedily in response.

"Yes" you moan out, making him chuckle.

"Seems I'm not the only horny one here, baby" he mocks, "are you that needy?"

You huff out, annoyed at the accusation.

"Don't worry, you and I both know we love to help each other out" his voice is soft, "besides, it's been a stressful day for us, hasn't it. Let me make you feel better, baby"

His hand travels inside you, his middle and forefinger sliding lazily into you. You tense up, feeling him touch your clit, his fingertips stroking over sensitive tissues. He can see the mirror fogging, and if he didn't have his head in between your legs, he'd probably see his face full of your juices.

"Shit" his voice comes out of his chest, sounding rather gutural and animalistic. "God, how wet you feel, baby"

You mewl. But it's not enough, his fingers falling short: you need to feel all of him. Now.

"Eddie" you beg in need, "please".

"Please what?"

Your hands travel to his pants, undoing his jeans. His large palm stops you before you can reach his underwear.

"Say your words, baby" he taunts, and you hate the way your neediness leaks from in between your tights.

"Just... I need you, Eddie"

He gets rid of the jeans by himself, and you stroke his member covered by the fabric. You get rid of it too, and the next thing is your mouth saying: "I want to ride you"

Even in his haze, he reacts a bit, looking around the room.

"There" you point the chair you were sitting previously on.

He sits down, obeying without a word. You come close, gripping his member firmly in your hand. You pump from the bottom to the top, making him roll his eyes and throw his body back from the pleasure.

His eyes go blank as you sit over his dick, already leaking with pre-cum. Eddie grabs you by the hips, the veins on his arms more notorious, some tattoos popping up like they are 3D.

"You're beautiful" he mutters, and you feel like giving him a reward: so you grab his dick with your hand as his grip gets tighter.

He presses his tip against your fold, side to side, like if he was painting your tight walls with his juices.

He pushes the first centimeter inside, and as soon as you stretch out for him, he starts thrusting, getting a whimper out of you.

"Fuck" he curses, deep inside you. His body shakes, and you feel every single vibration provoked by the friction. You feel dizzy as you go up and down, the rhythm delicious. He keeps moving, his hips doing a circle, all to feel more of you.

"You feel so good, baby" he praises, in ecstasy. You keep moving up and down, covering his long. You bite back a moan, "might end up helping me more than I was going to help you"

He's fucking you silly, and your mind goes blank, so after the thrusts and his confession from before, you dizzy out:

"Everything is for you, Eddie; just for you. You're the only one who can make me feel like this"

"How does it feel?" he asks in a whisper against your ear, his thrusting getting sloppier.

"Feels so good"

"As good as you feel" he moans out, his breathe whistling through his gritted teeth. Your ads bounces against his tights, the sound of skin clapping in the tiny room a very obscene echo. "C'mon, baby. Make me cum"

You tighten with the plea: tights, stomach and ass. Your core is swollen, burning with each new thrust. Eddie keeps you tight as profound as his strong arms can; there'll be a bruise tomorrow.

He pushes all his length inside, keeping you open so he can bury himself deep in you, with strong thrusts against your shaky cunt. His jawline tenses, painfully close to his orgasm.

Your voice comes out muffled, "Harder".

It's funny how no one has even checked the room. No knock, nothing. You suppose they all went out their way when they saw you about to burst in tears, to give you space, a space you're pretty thankful for now.

"You're mine" he rests his forehead against yours, "say it"

His hips shake as you pronounce, "only yours, Eddie"

You can't contain it any longer. There's relief after the intense orgasm that shakes every bone in your body, overestimulation when you feel him cum inside of you, thick shots painting your swollen walls.

You let yourself fall into his arms, the chair creaking with all the weight. Sweat glistens as you try to get your breathe back, your heart beating so fast you fear you'll have a heart attack.

"Tell you a secret?" you hum tiredly against his shoulder, resting your head in it as his long thick fingers comb through your damp hair. You can't believe your plan made it this far, but since you're still in the haze, you can only nod and hum.

He gets closer to you, his hot breathe tickling your ear.

"You're the one, y/n" your heart beats even faster, and you hide your face against his hot skin so he doesn't see the new tears that are forming in your eyes: they're happy tears. "I love you"

Is this is a signal to sing and not voice out your problems? Who knows, maybe next time, if you sing Money Money Money by ABBA, you won't be so broke.

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