#but if i have a new laptop I can wait the month or however long it'll take to get it fixed properly

[khaoticqueer]

ive been wondering why ive been coughing and feeling shitty the past several days and worried I was sick. but I think it was my partner's laptop battery swelling and possibly releasing toxic gases or smth bc once we took it to be disposed of we both started feeling a lot better 💀

[bbokicidal]

"Are you serious...?" - Angst! [Hyung Line SKZ]

Notes : These are all obviously fictional situations, the red flags are just based off of habits we know they have (like Chan's need to be needed, Changbin being blunt/honest.) This post isn't me saying I think they have these red flags, it's just a fun angsty prompt I wrote down. If you don't like it, scroll and don't read.

If people like this - a maknae line will be written! If not, prolly not lol.

Warnings : Angst with no comfort, red flag behavior - some of these aren't even that bad or could be misunderstandings but still.

Maknae Line | "Good Luck, Babe." Part Two!! Here!

BangChan - Brushing off/Having the wrong priorities

One time, it was him forgetting a dinner date - the next, he was staying at the studio late when he was supposed to be meeting your parents for the first time. You let it slide because ultimately you understood that his job took up a lot of his time, and honestly? It wasn't easy to forget about but he had a tendency to take care of you and make up with it by quick gestures before he left the apartment or when he came home; Soft back hugs, quick cuddles before he fell asleep, or kisses in passing. Lately, however, he's been slacking. He'd begun to shrug you off any time you'd touched his arm or hand, nudging you away while he typed on his laptop. He'd tip his head away from yours while laying in bed together or he'd sit further away on the dressing room sofa.

The tipping point was when he was getting ready to go on stage and was standing in wait for the others to be ready. There was still five minutes and Chris looked a bit jittery, so you figured a quick hug or kiss would help ease his nerves. However as soon as you approach and reach to touch his arms, he steps back and keeps his eyes trained on his phone. You reach again, hesitant, and his brow furrows as he maneuvers to the side to get away. "Don't touch me."

Your lips pop apart in surprise. "...Are you serious?"

He looks over, eyes briefly wandering your face before he reaches to fix his in-ear and walks away to the door, disappearing around the corner and leaving you standing there alone. Even the soft touch of Felix's hand on your back as he passed by was warmer than anything you'd felt from Chris in the last two months.

Lee Know - Keeping secrets / Prioritizing Privacy within himself

Minho had a very, very bad habit of not telling you things. In this instance; That he was leaving for tour in two days.

A world. fucking. tour. The only reason you didn't know about it was because you hadn't been out of your home in the last few weeks unless it was for a quick coffee at the cafe or to grab lunch with a friend. Work was heavy during this time of year and as someone who worked remotely, you often spent grueling hours in your office on your computer - hunched, tired, head pounding and back sore.

So you would think that when you entered your bedroom one evening after just finishing up sorting files in your office, you'd be happy to see your boyfriend already there. And you were for a moment, until you realized he was packing three rather large suitcases full of his clothes and necessities. He looks to you, then away, wordless.

"Are.. you.. moving out, or something?" You breathe in a laugh, eyes wandering over Minho as he folds a t-shirt and tucks it into his suitcase with the others.

"No. I have to bring all of my luggage to the company building tomorrow so they can have it at the airport when we leave for Australia."

"Australia?" Your brows quirk. "When -- Why --"

"Tour." He stops his movements to stare over at you, a hint of irritation evident on his face. "We're going on tour for six months."

"Six--" You breathe out, eyes widening. "Six months. And you didn't think to tell me?"

Minho moves to drop a pair of pants in his suitcase. "I would've told you if you could handle the news, maybe. Every time I mention leaving all you do is whine and pout about how long I'll be gone."

"I get upset, yes, what girlfriend wouldn't be upset that her boyfriend is leaving for a week or two? But six months, Minho, I --"

"Don't start." He all but huffs out the words, shutting you up immediately. Minho turns away to continue folding items of clothing on the shared bed and as you watch him do so, you stand and have to wonder if you want to be there when he returns home from the tour.

Changbin - Not knowing the difference between being rude and being blunt

He didn't seem to understand when to stop. Changbin had a tendency to be honest, sometimes to a fault, though you never seemed to complain about it because most of the time it wasn't a big deal. He called Jeongin out for saying the wrong word when singing, or blatantly threw people under the bus when a joke was taken too far.

And he was like that with you, too. He would be honest with you when you asked his opinion of something - was the shirt unflattering? Were you being too loud? Was your makeup bad today?

He'd lay it on you point blank. Yes, the shirt fit a little weird. Yes, you were being a bit loud in his ear. And yes, your eyeliner was going in two different directions. Criticism that was asked for. But when it wasn't asked for? Oh.

"What is your problem?" He bites as he follows you down the hallway to your bedroom. "We have ten minutes, just wear the damn dress and put your shoes on. We have to go."

Your huffs mix with stifled sobs as you rip open your dresser drawer and dig for other options, hands shaking and eyes teary. "You just told me the dress looks ugly, Changbin. I'm not wearing it out if you don't like it--!"

"What does it matter if i don't like it? It's your body, wear what you want!"

"You're my boyfriend!" You retaliate, frustrated. "I want to look nice for you and -- for the group, and I want you to like what I wear, obviously!"

Changbin lets his eyes roll before he turns out of the bedroom doorway and down the hall. You pause to watch him go, listening as he bites about how he doesn't have time for this and needs to leave for the group dinner. You stand in front of your dresser in shock as the door to your apartment slams shut, leaving you in silence and all on your own.

Hyunjin - Being too cocky / Making you feel inferior

It hadn't happened before now, and you weren't sure why it happened at all. But it did.

You'd approached to gently hold onto your boyfriend's arm as he talked to an older idol - someone he looked up to and had just done a collaboration video with. You'd only come up to tell him that the food was delivered and he could have dinner before his stage, but the look he gave you when he finally turned his head was .... wild.

No words were needed. The way his eyes directed to the side you stood at before falling as if looking you over and then immediately looking away; The way the smirk on his lips only widened and his tongue pushed at his canines as he redirected his gaze elsewhere. The soft scoff that left his lips. The way his arm slipped away from your hold in clear nuance that he didn't want you touching him.

It made you feel like less. Like he was pretending he didn't know you - Like he wanted you to bug off and disappear from his line of sight.

Hyunjin had a tendency to put on a confident, bold persona when he was on stage and at first you thought maybe that was why he was acting this way. It was lingering in his body from the dance video he'd just filmed with the other idol and eventually, it would wear off.

But as he turned from you and lifted a hand to fix his hair, he talks to the other as if you're not even there at all. And you have to wonder if it's a persona for the video, or a side of him you had just experienced for the first time. Now you could only hope it wouldn't happen again.

[heegyukeluv]

love-battery (lhs) - req

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: Heeseung always would make you feel recharged just by being around. And you did the same to him.

my's note: hi hello here's a very fluff cute little thing! it's a request (thank you for requesting <3), so i hope you like it!!!! (have to say that when i chose the name of this fic, the jinyoung's song with similar name started to play on my head non-stop help)

warnings: skinship, established relationship, fluff, pet names, explicit language (i can't help myself. i'll always use at least one 'fuck' lol).

request: clingy gf with heeseung and it’s super cute and they’re in love, she really just misses him (here!)

wc: 3k

NOT PROOFREAD.

Even with your boyfriend’s tight schedule and the fact you both lived quite far from each other, you and Heeseung always managed ways to meet up and hang out for at least an hour or so �� enough to work as a full recharge for Heeseung.

However, for the last whole month you only saw Heeseung three times. You were used to seeing him almost every day, either by going to his and staying for a bit or he coming to yours for the same reason, and it was pissing you off how annoying adult life was being so far, unabling you to do your daily basis chores, let alone drive to Heeseung’s studio to be with him.

Heeseung normally had a tough routine as a producer by spending long hours in his studio, staying up all night working on his music and constantly dealing with tight deadlines. Your favorite hobby was to grab a coffee and some snacks to surprise him by showing up unexpectedly; and of course, to sit on his lap while he kept doing his things. 

But now you were the one fighting against time, as you had to deal with your last year in college, struggling with your final project and with your respective project partners – who would have thought that working with people would lead you to be that stressed, huh?

Your life was a total mess at this point, your sleep schedule chaotic, your body aching, begging for a pause to get some proper rest, but you really couldn’t give yourself that luxury; all the submission dates getting closer and closer making you go crazy in desperation.

And on top of that, you haven’t seen your boyfriend, the main source of your happiness, in almost two weeks.

“This is so frustrating, Hee,” you said with a realistic sad tone, when you decided to ignore the blank page on your laptop waiting for a new plot to pop up in your mind, and give your love life a little more attention, calling Heeseung. “It’s almost like the world doesn't want us to be together.”

“Don’t say such things, my love. Not even as kidding,” he interrupted you to say with a gentle voice. “We’re going to figure out something, yeah?”

“I’m sorry, Hee. But– I’m dealing with a bunch of stupid assignments with stupid deadlines in this stupid degree I chose, and you’ve told me early this week that you were pretty chill with your work. But I didn’t even have time to invite you over the days you said you’re free! Not to mention that if you were here I’d be paying more attention to you and getting fucked with my project.”

“Y/N–”

“And when I’m free you’re the one swamped with work! And, please, I’m not blaming you, babe, please don’t take it the wrong way. I love you and I love that you can work with the thing you’re passionate about. I’m just… Frustrated,” you unloaded with a long sigh, voice trembling a bit since your feelings were, also, a mess and your heart aching. “And I miss you so much. I wish we lived a bit closer, so we could meet more often in moments like this.”

You heard Heeseung soft breathing through the phone. He decided to let you vent instead of cutting you off, because he, more than anyone, knew how overwhelmed you felt whenever you had to deal with submission dates and projects. It was your third project in your whole degree, this one being the most important one, and Heeseung saw you in shambles during your working time in the smaller ones, fully understanding how hard it has been with this final one.

“I’m sorry you’re having to go through all of this, pretty girl,” you could feel the comfort in his tender, sweet tone. You wiped out a single tear that tried to escape your eyes, curving yourself into a little ball on your couch. “But you don’t have to do this alone, my love,” you heard a weird noise through his phone, very similar to a door unlocking. Your door unlocking. You frowned. “Don’t freak out, bae. I’m entering your apartment right now.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. “What?” You whispered in disbelief, your phone falling off from your hand, your eyes widening as you watched your boyfriend walk through the front door, smiling big and bright at you.

His dark red hair was attractively messy because of the motorcycle helmet. He also carried a big backpack on his back and a plastic bag with the logo of your favorite food place.

“You’re kidding me,” your voice was barely a whisper at this point, your lips curving into a smile that grew bigger and bigger, still finding it hard to believe that the man talking to you on your phone was now in front of you. Your beloved boyfriend was now in front of you. “Lee fucking Heeseung!” You almost squealed, walking in his direction right after he put his helmet and his backpack on the ground, to jump on his open arms which were waiting to embrace you in a tight hug.

Your legs instantly wrapped around his waist and your arms on his shoulders, his firm hands gripping on your thighs to hold you close and steady as you buried your face on his neck, inhaling his scent as if it was your favorite drug. You heard Heeseung chuckling at your reaction and you finally noticed how fast your heart was beating, everything feeling unreal. All the frustration you felt waving off your body quickly.

“Hi, baby,” Heeseung said in an affectionate way, with you still hidden on the curve of his neck, making him let out a small laugh at your adorableness. He missed you so much.

Your fingers tangled in his soft hair, pulling him into yourself as if you could become one before you started to kiss every piece of his exposed skin, from his jawline to close to his ear, to his cheek, the tip of his nose and finally his glistening, dreamy lips.

Heeseung let out a contented sigh when he felt your sweet taste, walking carefully through the living room so he could sit on the couch with you on his lap, the contact never breaking. He deepened the kiss by slightly brushing his tongue on your bottom lip, electricity running all over his body once you let him in to feel him closer, so intimately; his hands sneaked into your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your waist just because he needed to touch, to feel you more.

“I missed you so much, my love,” you whispered when you parted away to catch your breath, pecking his lip countless times as you said “Missed. You. So. Much. Oh. My. God,” and the last one lasted a bit longer, making Heeseung giggle and kiss you properly one more time. 

“I missed you too, pretty.”

Heeseung was looking at you with so much love, his eyes sparkling in joy for finally having you that close, touching, kissing you. He caressed your cheek while his gaze wandered all your face features, as if he was trying to memorize every one of them, completely endeared by your beauty.

Heeseung looked at you as if he just discovered what love is. 

You weren’t different, though. Your soft touch on his strands of hair, scratching slightly as your contemplated every piece of your very good-looking boyfriend, not holding yourself when your fingers started gently to trace his face; his big deer eyes now turned into little crescents, his pretty nose that you loved to kiss, the little charming mole on his forehead, and his so, so attractive lips adorning the most beautiful smile you ever had the chance to see. You were so in love.

Heeseung felt like he could stare at you all day and he would never feel tired, actually to have you close always worked as a battery recharge. And for you, Heeseung did the same, making all your bad feelings wash away easily because you had him, and you knew you could rely on him.

Ironically, the sound of your laptop on the coffee table indicating that its battery was running out, pulled you both out of your little love bubble, startling you slightly. The reality check hit you with full force, and the bottom of your stomach sank immediately.

You gulped, looking at Heeseung with a hint of sadness before you sighed and said, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy you’re here, but I–”

“You have things to do, I know,” Heeseung cut you off mid-sentence. His kind voice, the small peck on your cheek, and his cute smile making you shiver and melt. “But don’t worry about me, okay? You do your things, I’ll be around for whenever you finish, and then we can cuddle,” he said simply, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You’re staying?” You questioned with eyes sparkling in confusion. “I don’t want you to mess up your sche–”

Heeseung now stopped your talking with a sweet kiss, and then another, and another, and one more just in case. “I’m staying, baby,” he chuckled at your tilted head, expressing that you were very much confused. “As I said before, I’m pretty chill this week,” he explained with a warm smile, mirroring yours. “Anything I have to do, I can do from my computer or phone, so I’m all yours this weekend, my love.”

Heeseung fell even deeply for you when he saw your eyes shining like you received the best news of your life. And for you, you actually did. To have your boyfriend for a whole weekend after days without being able to see each other, you truly thought you were dreaming. 

So to have Heeseung feeding you while your hands worked on your writing was definitely something that you hadn’t planned for your friday. He was openly giving his opinion as well after you cutely asked him to, paying attention to every detail you shared with him about the plot you were working on. 

“So your idea is that after he leaves the house, you give an extra zoom on the door knob because someone is going to open, even though the house is supposed to be empty?”

“Yes! And then it’s revealed to be actually his ‘dead’ twin!” You explained excitedly, noticing Heeseung gazing very passionately at you. You blushed, feeling suddenly too aware, because your story now has been read by someone other than you. “I– I know it’s kinda simple and boring, but I mean– I got the approval to keep working on it, so…” You shrugged, trying to act cool, but your pout was showing how insecure you actually felt.

“It’s not simple or anything bad, my love,” Heeseung couldn’t resist the urge of kissing your small pout as he reassured you. “It’s impressive how your creative mind works, I’m really proud,” he said with his voice filled with sincerity.

You gave him a shy smile before going back to writing, heart beating fast with his genuine words.

Heeseung never left your side. You needed him around you every single second, not only to compensate for the days you were apart, but because Heeseung was really your source of energy. So to write on your computer while having his fingers intertwined with yours became a natural activity during the moments you were working on your project. You could feel Heeseung’s love stare at your face during those moments, completely in love by your focused expression. 

Sometimes he would leave your touch to reply to some of his co-workers on his phone, giving them the attention they needed, but in the meantime his head would be resting on your shoulder, completely addicted to your touch and to having you close – his hair tickling your neck making you lose focus for a few minutes.  

You both wanted and needed each other with the same intensity. Heeseung always loved your clinginess, emphasizing how lovable you looked with your pouty face whenever he had to leave the bed to go to the bathroom or grab some food in the kitchen and “leave you to die alone”, like you normally would say in a very dramatic way. Especially because he himself was pretty clingy too, holding you in a tight back hug whenever you had to go back home after visiting him at his studio, refusing to let you leave his side.

To move in together was a big dream. However Heeseung always talked with you about finishing your studies first before committing your relationship on that instance, so you could have your freedom without him disrupting your focus; he also knew that he wasn’t ready to have you so close for that long, afraid of scaring you off by how much he would be around you, maybe losing his own concentration on his work. 

And this behavior was being shown at that moment, by you doing the lunch and him hugging you from behind.

“I have to be honest, I don’t really see this as ‘helping’, Hee,” you said with a playful chuckle, not really bothered by his big hands resting on your hips as well as his chin on your shoulder while you did all the work. He was clinging like a koala, making it challenging to move around the kitchen.

“What do you mean? I’m clearly helping you,” he said with a babyish voice, making you giggle. You could tell he was pouting too. “What if you get hurt? I have to be close, y’know? To save you from danger.”

You laughed hard, throwing your head behind and profusely resting it on his chest. “The danger?”

“Yeah, the knife and fire and stuff…” He explained like it was obvious.

You turned down the heat on the stove, moving away from it so you could face your boyfriend, just to meet his big, adorable eyes looking at you with a dramatically pleading expression. “You’re right,” you said softly, cupping his cheeks and planting a kiss on his lips. “Thank you for protecting me from the dangers of my kitchen,” you added a hint of sarcasm to your very affectionate tone, without holding your smile when he nodded proudly, before pulling you closer to kiss you properly as now your self-proclaimed hero. 

After you finished cooking – with Heeseung’s help, of course –, you both shared the meal, doing constant “love shots” but with your food, just so you could feel each other’s touch.

Heeseung didn’t let you go back to work on your project when you finished eating, saying you needed a bit of resting time with him. And how could you oppose such truthful words? 

So you spend quite a long time of your Saturday afternoon embraced in Heeseung’s arms and scent all over you, making it difficult to choose anything different from being on the bed cuddling him. 

After changing positions many times, you now were on top of Heeseung, face buried on his neck while he hummed some random song, hands gently caressing your back and scalp, making you wonder if taking a quick nap at that moment would mess up too much with your project work.

As if a sense of responsibility hit you, remembering all your deadlines and especially that you had to finish at least the plot writing by Monday – in two days –, you forced yourself to try to move away. Your body refused, though.

“I should go,” you said, muffed into his skin.

“Yeah, you should…” Heeseung added, not moving an inch to help you with that. In fact, he held you closer. Your warm body against his own helping him to relax. 

“Like, reeeally gotta go…” You didn’t move as well, trailing kisses all over his neck as you refused to get up.

“Definitely you do…” His voice was a bit raspy in a sweet, tender way that made it even harder for you to leave. He was about to fall asleep.

You sighed, “I missed being like this with you.” You lifted your head just enough to see his serene expression; eyes closed, lips slightly parted and a calm breathing. You almost cried with the fact that you truly needed to go back to your life instead of staying there with Heeseung. 

Your hands caressed his face with all the care in the world, making him open his eyes, “I missed it too, pretty. I miss you every moment I’m without you, actually.”

You noticed a soft flush  on Heeseung cheeks and giggled at the sight of your ‘so cool’ boyfriend blushing in front of you. 

You always appreciated how Heeseung was not only a good listener to your worries and maybe overwhelming thoughts, but also unafraid to show you his most sensitive and vulnerable side in order to make you comfortable on doing the same. You cherished his presence in your life with all you had, not being scared of loving him so openly, because he did the same for you. 

“I love you,” you whispered, leaning in to tease a kiss. He smiled against your lips, closing his eyes again.

“I love you too, my love,” he murmured, mirroring your tone and capturing your bottom lip with his own, to pull you near and finally kiss you. 

You decided to stay for a bit longer, because Heeseung’s hands roaming your body with such care and tenderness, his sweet mouth working on yours, and his loving whispers against your skin were too irresistible.

The best excuse you found for yourself was that you were revitalizing so you could work better, your creativity would flow easily and you would finish it in no time.

And, well, he would be around you anyway, because he just couldn’t never get enough of your pretty face, or your joyful presence, or your addicting warm touches.

After all, Heeseung always worked as a recharger to your love battery, and for him, you were no different.

[hongcherry]

you're my tomorrow | j.ww

At first, you didn't think anything of it. Jeon Wonwoo was just a customer. However, his daily visits to your bookstore café started to become the highlight of your days. The little conversations here and there made you happy. It's because of him that you always look forward to tomorrow.

☕️ Pairing: customer!Wonwoo x cafeOwner!Reader

☕️ Rating/Genres/AUs: PG; Fluff with a sprinkle of angst, slice of life; Strangers to lovers, cafe au, non!idol au

☕️ Warnings: Reader is smaller than Wonu, ultra soft boi and supportive wonu *swoons*... can't think of anything else but ofc lmk otherwise

☕️ Word Count: 5k

☕️ Author's Note: Thank you to @justsomekpopstuff for giving me this plot idea! I def got carried away and wrote way more than I thought I would lol. I hope you enjoy it! Everyone thank JJ for the storyline ✨ Also, thank you Jess (@the-boy-meets-evil) for beta'ing and giving me amazing suggestions for some edits! 💗

Happy holidays to all (if you celebrate)! Stay safe and have a nice time 💖

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

Monday

When the door chimes a little after eight at night, you know it’s him.

He strolls in, usual glasses perched on his nose and jacket layered with a few specks of snow. His hair isn’t styled, soft waves adorning his head. He looks like the average person who’s winding down from a long day at work. From the two and a half months you’ve known him, this is his usual state on Monday nights.

Wonwoo entered your cozy bookstore café nearly three months ago. His order rarely varies, and sometimes he orders a drink he could get anywhere else. Yet, for some reason, he always comes here.

And throughout those months, you’ve realized you always look forward to his presence.

“Busy evening?” he asks while stepping up to the counter.

You’re in the middle of packing a pastry for another customer and quickly hand off the bag to your coworker.

“More so than usual; it’s finals week,” you reply with a small smile.

Wonwoo glances around, nodding as he takes in the sight of many tables occupied by people with textbooks, laptops, and notes scattered around them.

“I don’t miss those days,” he chuckles.

“I don’t either,” you agree. “So, what can I get you today?”

Wonwoo peers up at the menu behind you. You wonder why he does so since he usually rotates between three drinks.

“A hot chocolate,” he replies.

“Oh?” You can’t hide your surprise.

He grins, tilting his head slightly. “Should I have ordered something else?”

“No!” you hastily say. “You can order whatever you want.”

He pulls out a bill that exceeds the cost of the order and slides it to your side of the counter.

“Just thought I’d try something new for the holidays,” he explains, then leaves to find a seat.

“Wait!” you call out, bill in your hand. “You paid too much!”

If Wonwoo can hear you, he pretends he doesn’t. He continues his journey and ends up in the corner next to a window by the bookshelves. He retrieves a book from his bag, opening it where his bookmark rests.

Your hand falls to the counter with a heavy sigh. You guess you’ll give him his change when you give him his order. Normally, you’d call customer’s names or numbers for pick-up. But Wonwoo is different.

Wonwoo’s one of the rare customers who gets his order hand-delivered.

After completing the transaction in the system and making his drink, you grab his change from the register and walk to his table.

“One hot chocolate,” you announce and set the cup down along with his change.

“I’ll take the drink,” he says and brings it closer, blatantly ignoring the cash next to it.

“Wonwoo,” you say.

“Yn,” he answers, eyes flickering up.

There’s a small smirk on his lips that makes your insides churn.

“You overpaid,” you simply state.

“So?”

You move his money closer. “So, take it back.”

Wonwoo slides the money back to you. “Consider it a tip.”

“You know we don’t take tips here,” you say, moving it again.

“You should. You all work hard.”

“People are already struggling as is. If they can find solace in a little place like this, that’s all that matters.”

Wonwoo rests his hands on top of yours, which is still on the money, and slides it back to you.

“Then consider it a holiday present. From me to you,” he smiles.

His hand feels warm on yours. Your eyes move down, but you wish you hadn’t.

His large hand nearly covers yours, making you feel small yet protected. You can tell from his build that he’s strong and fit. You wonder what it’d be like to get a hug from him.

“I—” you struggle to speak.

“It’d make me happy.”

You sigh, nodding hesitantly.

He slowly removes his hand. “Thank you.”

“N-No problem,” you say, gathering the change and pocketing it. “Enjoy your book and drink.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo replies and picks up his book. He holds it up with one hand and uses the other to sip his hot chocolate.

You make your way back to the front, trying to ignore the lingering warmth on your hand and the feeling in your chest.

Tuesday

Wonwoo shows up at the same time but orders one of his usual drinks. It's a different book than yesterday and judging by the similar cover, it's probably the next one in the series.

Ever since Wonwoo “gifted” you money, you’ve been trying to think of something to get him. It’s a little tough considering you don’t actually know him. You know he works a duty-heavy job and that he lives nearby. You know he has a lot of friends despite him being so quiet. Although you’ve never seen Wonwoo and his friends in the same room, they often come with him to the café in duos or trios.

You also learned he’s an avid cat and gaming lover.

You were surprised about the latter.

“Is he also a student?” one of your new coworkers, Sebastian, asks thirty minutes after Wonwoo’s arrival.

You wipe off the cup in your hand and set it on the counter, calling the number associated with it.

“No, he graduated already,” you reply and watch him practice making a drink.

“You seem to know him. Are you two friends?” he wonders.

You lean against the counter. “I don’t think so. He’s just a regular here, so I’ve learned a few things here and there.”

“Ah,” he replies and hands you the finished drink.

You take the drink and start taking a sip to see how well he did.

“You should ask him out.”

You choke on the drink, eyes wide as you reach for a napkin to wipe your chin.

“T-That wouldn’t be appropriate,” you stammer.

He laughs and takes the drink from you. “He’s not working here, and it’s not like you’re paying for him to come by. I don’t see how it’s inappropriate.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. It’s not that you’re not attracted to Wonwoo, but it feels almost out of line. Plus, you’re not sure if you like Wonwoo, or just like the thought of him. You haven’t been in a relationship in years and would be lying to say you don’t miss having a partner.

You miss being able to share life memories with someone.

Wonwoo’s handsome. He’s kind, funny, caring, and fit—not that that’s a big deciding factor, but it sure is a bonus. Though, do you just want someone with those attributes, or do you want him?

“Just think about it,” Sebastian suggests and greets a new customer.

Your eyes drop to your feet in thought.

Part of you worries you’d make it awkward if he says no. It’s not like you are friends, so you won’t be ruining a friendship, but you enjoy seeing his face every day. His simple presence is one of the highlights of your days.

Plus, you don’t even know if he has a partner already!

You groan, putting a hand over your forehead as you try to organize your thoughts.

“Bad night?” a familiar voice asks from over the counter.

You drop your hand to see who it is.

Wonwoo stands with his empty cup and saucer, book tucked under his arm.

“Ah, uh, not really,” you reply sheepishly. You can’t disclose the true reason for your state; you’ve never been the best liar either.

“Well, I hope whatever is troubling you passes soon,” he says and holds out his dirty dishes.

“You could’ve left them on the table,” you say, grabbing them from his grasp. Your fingers touch his, and it’s difficult not to feel like a silly teenager in the movies, especially with your current predicament.

“I know,” he smiles, “but I wanted to tell you bye, and you seem busy.”

You set the items in the sink before addressing him again. “Still… But thank you anyway.”

“The drink was great, as always.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says, slowly stepping away from the counter.

You smile, nodding. “See you.”

His eyes linger on you before he turns and exits your café.

Wednesday

Wonwoo comes and goes as usual. It’s a busy night and you’re unable to speak to him much. It’s not the first time that has happened, so he doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of interaction. Regardless, you wish you could’ve spoken to him more.

That night was spent browsing the internet for the perfect gift for Wonwoo.

From gaming headsets to the top-rated books on Goodreads, you felt like you scoured every possible present for him. But none of them satisfied you.

It wasn’t until you came across bookmarks in your recommended section that you decided what to get him.

Maybe a bookmark was too boring, but you figured it was the safer option.

You spend over an hour searching for the right bookmark, but again, you come up short. They’re either too flowery, too plain, or too cliché.

In the end, you opt for making your own.

You find some DIY bookmark kits online and place an order. Trying not to second guess your decision, you call it a night—going to sleep as you brainstorm what to put on the item.

Thursday

“Do people actually read these books?” Wonwoo asks during your break, which you decided to spend with him.

Your gaze follows his to the wall lined with several bookshelves.

You chuckle, “Sometimes.”

“You said you got these books donated?” he asks, recalling an earlier conversation you had when he was a newcomer.

“Most of them,” you hum.

“Does your offer still stand?” he asks.

You turn to him with puzzlement.

He smiles. “You said I could take a book if I left one.”

“Oh,” you laugh out of embarrassment for forgetting. “Of course.”

Wonwoo nods and then stands up. He takes two steps to his right, then carefully plucks a book from a high shelf. He replaces the empty space with his own book.

Something about the simple act has your heartwarming. Or maybe it’s the way he’s so gentle with the books as if they’ll cry if moved too aggressively. You wonder if he’d touch you as carefully, if given the chance. Would you find comfort in his caresses the way you think the books would if they were personified?

Wonwoo sits in his seat again, perching his glasses higher after they slide down.

“Have you read this?” he asks, twisting the book so the cover faces you.

You analyze it for a moment, but the title doesn’t ring a bell.

Shaking your head, “Unfortunately not. I haven’t had the chance to read in a long while.”

“I guess running a business is time-consuming,” he teases lightly.

“How do you find the time? Didn’t you say your work is hard, too?” you ask.

He leans back in his seat, book resting in his lap.

“I make time,” he simply says. “I found it’s important to make time for things I care about.”

He’s staring at you in a way that makes you think there’s more to his words than he lets on.

“T-That’s a good habit, I suppose,” you say.

“When was the last time you did something for yourself, and not the café?” he questions.

Your brows furrow in deep thought. You thought the answer would come easily, but it doesn’t.

“I—I can’t remember,” you answer with your gaze down, a little dejected at the self-reflection.

Wonwoo sits up and leans toward you. He lowers himself until he can snag eye contact.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself,” he reassures. “I know what it’s like to bury myself in my work.”

“You probably think I’m pathetic, huh?” you laugh awkwardly.

Wonwoo shakes his head.

“It’s good to be dedicated to something. Your efforts are clearly visible,” he gestures to your crowded café. “But at the same time, it’s also good to not burn yourself out.”

You nod in agreement. “I’ll try to be better.”

“Not for me though. For you,” he says.

You offer him a kind smile that he returns. “For me.”

Friday

Wonwoo doesn’t come at his usual time.

You finally finished his gift last night and are eager to show it to him. You try to suppress your excitement, but it’s difficult to calm your mix of emotions.

As you made it, you realized it was the first time doing something non-work related. Usually, you’d be researching new recipes, doing finances, or simply sleeping. Last night, however, you were doing something personal.

Wonwoo’s words from yesterday ring loudly in your ears.

It felt good to take a break from work.

It felt good to feel like an actual person and not some workaholic machine.

Some say people come into your life for a reason. Maybe you’d still be stuck in your cycle, if not for him.

You wish he were here. 

Wonwoo’s usually a punctual man, so being this late sends uneasy nerves coursing through you. But, the idea of him not showing up at all is even more worrisome. 

Perhaps he’s working overtime and will be here soon. He’s never missed a day.

Yet, as minutes turn into hours, you begin losing hope.

Excitement transitions into worry. This isn’t his typical behavior. You don’t have a way to contact him either.

Is he hurt? Does he need help? Did you say something wrong yesterday? Did he finally decide he doesn’t like your café anymore?

Perhaps you’re too caught up with giving him your gift that you’re overreacting. It could simply be a late, late night at work for him.

He’ll be here.

Even if he just grabs his drink to go, which he’s done in the past, he’ll be here.

The bell chimes as your last coworker leaves for the night.

Wonwoo’s present sat abandoned in your locker throughout your shift. There’s an odd discomfort in your chest as you stare at it now. 

You’re not sure if it originates from being unable to gift it and see Wonwoo’s reaction, or if it’s because he never showed up.

Probably a combination of both, but more so the latter.

It’s uncanny to not see Wonwoo every day.

You had never thought about how you’d feel if you didn’t see him constantly. He was just always there. Always so reliable that you didn’t feel the need to consider what if.

What if he stopped showing up? What if you never saw him again? What if he no longer was a constant in your life?

You swallow the lump forming in your throat.

It’s a harsh reality to know he’s not required to visit. He can leave any time he wants. He can stop visiting your bookstore café at any moment.

There’s a strange thought about you not being good enough for him. Though, you’re not sure what that has anything to do with his absence.

Why would it matter if you weren’t good enough for him? He didn’t come to the café for you.

Did he?

If it was you he wanted, couldn’t he ask you out? Perhaps not as a romantic date, but as friends?

He never has, so he must not want to know you beyond the café. Meaning, he doesn’t come to it solely for you.

But, what changed for him not to show up tonight?

Unsettled with your thoughts, you decide to distract yourself with the final tasks you have to do before you leave.

However, the ride home is filled with more endless thoughts about Wonwoo.

Saturday

You come to work with less bounce in your step than usual.

The world outside seems dimmer. It feels as if the skies are going to be consumed with clouds and rain is going to fall. However, a storm was not in the weather’s forecast.

“Are you getting sick?” Sebastian asks.

You force a smile onto your face for the customer in front of you, handing them their order before looking at your coworker.

“No, why?” you wonder.

“You don’t seem well. Did you not sleep well last night?”

You wish you had, but you tossed and turned constantly. You didn’t think Wonwoo’s absence would affect you so much, but your mind kept wandering to every possibility for his no-show. In the end, you just gave yourself a headache.

“No,” you sigh, “but don’t worry about me.”

You try to smile again, but you’re sure Sebastian can see through it.

“Want me to close up tonight?” he offers.

“Don’t you have a big essay due tomorrow?” you question, remembering how stressed he sounded a few days ago.

“Yeah, but—”

“I’ll be fine,” you insist.

Huffing, he nods and grabs the cup from your hand. “Then go rest for a bit while I finish these orders.”

You purse your lips, contemplating arguing. In the end, you relent, moving to the backroom’s couch and plopping down.

You’ve been scrolling through your phone for ten minutes when you hear a familiar voice.

“Is Yn not here today?”

“Oh, she’s not feeling well, so she’s taking a break. Is there something wrong with our service?” Sebastian answers politely.

You shove your phone in your pocket and head to the door. There’s a small window that you peep out of.

You catch a glimpse of Wonwoo’s frown before he speaks again.

“No, everything’s fine. Will you tell her I hope she feels better?” he asks.

Sebastian nods slowly. Although you can’t see his face, you can see the cogs turn in his head.

“Oh! Ooh! You’re that guy.”

Wonwoo looks confused.

“I’m sorry?” Wonwoo replies.

“The guy that always comes in—”

Not trusting Sebastian to keep his matchmaking attempts at bay, you push through the door.

“Wonwoo,” you greet, trying not to seem too eager that he's here today even though you are.

Wonwoo’s eyes drift past Sebastian to see you. Instantly, his mouth begins to lift.

“Hey, you,” he says lightly, sweetly. “I heard you’re not feeling well.”

“Ah, I’m fine. Seb’s just overreacting.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes at you in a glare.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he scolds.

“I’ve rested enough,” you shoo with a hand.

“Ten minutes isn’t long enou—”

“Seb, do you mind attending to the customers behind Wonwoo?” you interject.

Sebastian eyes you before grumbling under his breath—something about you being stubborn—then greets the next customer.

You move down the counter to an empty space.

“What can I get you?” you ask Wonwoo.

He shakes his head. “Actually, I just wanted to talk today, if that’s okay. I won’t be long.”

You want to say he can take as much time as he wants, but you hold back.

Concern creeps from the shadows around you.

Is he going to tell you he’s leaving forever? Does he not like your drinks anymore? Did he find somewhere better? Someone better?

“O-Oh, yeah, okay,” you mumble and maneuver around the counter.

You lead Wonwoo to his usual corner, next to the window and the bookshelves. It’s a little quieter here.

You both take a seat from across each other.

You fidget in your seat, nerves making you angsty.

“Are you sure you feel okay?” he asks.

“Just tired, nothing to be worried about,” you smile.

Something in your chest warms at knowing he cares about your well-being.

“Hm. Alright,” he replies a little skeptically.

“Is everything okay with you?” You try to change the subject. “You didn’t come in yesterday.”

Your voice trails off, not wanting to show how concerned you were about his absence. However, Wonwoo can sense it regardless.

He smiles, though the small lift at the corner of his mouth tells you he’s amused with your attempt to hide your worry.

“Did you miss me?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen a bit. “I—Well. I just noticed you didn’t come because you always come, you know?”

He nods with a subtle smirk still on his lips, yet it fades after a few seconds.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come,” he apologizes sincerely. “One of my friends was in the hospital.”

Your heart drops and guilt kicks in. It’s not that you didn’t consider the possibility, but you had been more focused on him not liking you or the café.

“Goodness, I’m sorry to hear that. Are they okay?” you ask, frowning.

“He had to get surgery, but he’s fine. Just a little grumpy and whiny,” he chuckles.

You feel better hearing his small laughter.

“That’s better than being in pain, I guess,” you reply.

“Yes,” he concurs. He waits for a beat then continues, “I wanted to ask you a question.”

You tilt your head. 

A question. That sounds better than some statement about not seeing you again.

“Okay,” you say.

“When we last spoke, it was about you not having enough time for stuff outside of work,” he begins.

You nod to show you’re following but don’t cut in.

“Well, there’s this small event tomorrow. It’s nothing fancy, just some walking around. I wanted to know if you’d like to go with me?”

Your heart races as he speaks. You’re stumped for words. It’s as if you’ve subconsciously been waiting for this, but now that the time has come, you’re too nervous to answer.

“You can decline,” Wonwoo assures.

Although you’re anxious about the idea of meeting outside of the café, you don’t want to miss the opportunity.

“N-No! I mean, no, I don’t want to decline. What time? Where?” you hurriedly say before he can take back his offer.

He grins and holds out a small piece of paper.

You take it, turning it over to see scribbled numbers. You guess it’s his phone number.

“I can pick you up after work. You close early tomorrow, right?” he asks.

You nod, trying to hide your smile at him remembering your café hours. Though, since he visits frequently, you guess it shouldn’t be that surprising.

“Dress warm, okay?” he adds.

“Okay.”

Wonwoo stands from his seat, and you follow.

“Get some more rest tonight, Yn,” he says softly.

“Y-Yeah. I will,” you reply.

Although you’re no longer fretting over reasons for his no-show yesterday, you’ll be worrying about tomorrow now. Still, you’ll try to sleep—maybe even drink some tea or warm milk. You’ll try for him.

Sunday

Wonwoo comes to the café a few minutes before you close. He’s dressed in a fluffy hoodie layered with a light brown trench coat. He looks so…soft and warm.

Before you depart, you make a drink for each of you. He tries to pay but you profusely veto his offer.

The ride to the event is quiet except for the random music being played from his stereo. You’re unsure how long the ride is, but you don’t care. Even if you’re not speaking, it’s nice being with him in a new environment. It’s nice to see a different side of Wonwoo. And part of you hopes he likes seeing a different side of you too.

The event is free, but since donations are strongly encouraged, you and Wonwoo slip a few bills into the plastic reindeer before stepping onto the lit-up walkway.

People of all ages are enjoying the event. The walkway is wide enough to accommodate a couple of people at a time, but it’s still crowded. It forces you and Wonwoo to bump shoulders several times, and each time, you both apologize.

You notice a few minutes into the walk that he seems tenser than usual. You’re not sure of the reason, and he doesn’t seem inclined to disclose the answer.

You try to distract him by pointing out different features—from big blown-up Santas to mechanical reindeer moving up and down. However, it doesn’t seem too effective.

Wonwoo’s steps eventually begin to slow. He never comes to a complete stop, but with his slow speed, a lot of people pass by. Eventually, there’s a gap in the crowd and his body relaxes.

He must not be a fan of crowds.

“Can we sit for a bit?” you ask, not really needing to rest but there are picnic tables with fake candles on them nearby that are less crowded.

“Sure,” he says.

You guide him to an empty table and sit across from each other.

“Thank you for taking me here,” you smile while glancing around. “It’s so pretty.”

The area is filled with multitudes of holiday decor. There are so many lights strung that you don’t need streetlamps to see. It’s rather magical to see it all. It’s a shame you can’t see this all year round. But then again, it might lose its effect if you see it constantly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replies.

His eyes drop to your hands clasped on the table. There’s a slight shiver in them.

Suddenly, his hands are covering yours—warmth instantly shooting up your arms from his touch. He says nothing as he rubs his thumbs along your cool skin.

You want to say something; however, it doesn’t feel like you have to, so you just stare at him, a small smile on your face while you bask in the warmth he’s providing.

“How does it feel?” he questions after a few minutes.

You open your mouth to say “good” and to thank him for taking away your coldness, but before you can, he speaks again.

“Getting out, I mean. How does it feel to get out of the café?”

“Oh.” Your face heats rapidly. Thank goodness for your slow reaction. “It’s refreshing.”

Wonwoo hums, nodding.

“Should we walk around again, or should we go? I don’t want you catching a cold,” he says.

“I’d like to see more if that’s okay,” you admit.

“It’s more than okay,” he reassures.

He starts to stand, but you grip his hands to stop him. He stares down at you bemused.

“I have something for you,” you explain.

He sits back down, hands leaving yours when you pull away to retrieve something from your bag.

It’s a small black box with a purple bow on it, albeit the decor is a little squished from being confined to your small bag.

“What’s this?” he asks and carefully brings the box nearby.

“Since you gave me a gift this week,” you say, referring to his tip on Monday, “I got you one as well.”

“You didn’t—”

“Need to? I know. But, I wanted to. And I worked hard on it, so accept it, please?” you say lightly so as to not sound too serious. 

He smiles and nods, lifting the lid.

Inside is the bookmark you made him. On the bookmark’s center is a cat with a game controller. It’s simple, but that’s the best you could do with your lack of drawing skills. Attached to the bookmark is a purple tassel.

“You made this?” Wonwoo asks in amazement.

“I’ll only admit to that if you like it,” you say out of nervousness.

Wonwoo laughs and glances at you. “I like it a lot.”

“Then yes, I made it.”

His gaze shifts to the item again, examining it closely for a bit. Then, he sets it back carefully in the box and puts it in his pocket.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly.

“Of course,” you smile.

You and Wonwoo walk around for twenty more minutes before you call it a night. Throughout the entire walk, he held your hand in his free pocket. The warmth from his body combined with his sheltered pocket made your hand clammy. You felt embarrassed at the fact, but Wonwoo refused to release his hold. Truthfully, you didn’t want to let go, but you also didn’t want him to be disgusted at the feeling.

Wonwoo drove you back to your café where your car was.

You tried to demand he stay in your car since he parked next to yours, but he still climbed out.

You stare at his eyes which are framed by his glasses; his cheeks are slightly rosy from the temperature. His dark hair dances softly in the wind. He looks so handsome.

Wonwoo leans forward and connects his lips ever so softly against your cheek. You have the urge to turn your face and capture his lips with yours, but you don’t.

There’s something romantic about going slow.

Wonwoo pulls back with a kind smile.

“You look beautiful tonight, Yn,” he whispers, breath ghosting your face.

You can’t stop the smile forming on your face even if you tried.

“And you look handsome,” you reply.

Wonwoo mirrors your grin.

“Get home safely, alright?” he instructs.

You nod. “You too.”

You unlock your car and climb inside.

Wonwoo lingers outside, watching with his hands in his pockets.

After starting your car and rolling down your window, you lean out and prop your head on your arm that’s resting on the edge.

He bends slightly to see you better, a small grin on his mouth. His face isn’t too close, but it’s closer than it should be for an average person. But, Wonwoo isn’t average.

He’s quiet for a while, and you take the time to observe his features again. Your heart is thumping loudly in your ears. The desire to kiss him resurfaces.

Maybe you’re starting to like Wonwoo. Not just because he’s attractive, kind, funny, and caring, but because he’s Wonwoo.

Wonwoo, who’s been a frequent customer at your café for months.

Wonwoo, who’s always been supportive and kind.

Wonwoo, who’s slowly capturing your heart.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks with a smile still on his face.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Because of Wonwoo, you’re always looking forward to the next day.

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

taglist: @musingsofananxiouspotato, @christinewithluv, @lockburn-castle, @iammisstora, @maknae00, @morklee02, @kittyhui

In story divider credit

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[youngsadlesbian]

REPUTATION — wanda maximoff.

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: taylor swift is your favorite singer, and wanda finds that adorable, even if sometimes you're a bit too much of a fan.

a/n: as my old friend hannah montana used to say: this is the best of both worlds. even though it's super random, i've wanted to write a swiftie!reader x wanda for a while. i hope you like it.

word count: 1,2k

warnings: swiftie reader, that explains a lot.

The day you and Wanda Maximoff started dating was one of the happiest days of your life. Wanda was everything you could ever want in a partner—strong, kind, intelligent, and incredibly beautiful. But there was one thing she discovered about you early on that she found both endearing and endlessly amusing: you were a die-hard Taylor Swift fan.

Your love for Taylor Swift wasn't just casual admiration. No, it was an all-consuming, heart-thumping, lyric-screaming, poster-hanging, album-collecting kind of fandom. The kind that made you want to burst into song at random moments, quote lyrics in everyday conversations, and plan your life around album releases and concert dates.

Wanda found it adorable. The other Avengers, however, found it hilarious.

"You're dating a Swiftie?" Tony Stark teased Wanda during one of the team's downtime sessions. "Isn't that like dating a walking, talking mixtape of heartbreak and revenge anthems?"

Wanda just laughed, shaking her head. "You have no idea, Tony."

When Taylor Swift's social media went dark, the world of Swifties plunged into chaos. Rumors flew around the internet, and fan theories grew wilder by the day. You were no exception to the frenzy. You analyzed every move, every clue, trying to decipher what Taylor was up to.

"Wanda, look at this!" you exclaimed one evening, shoving your phone in her face. "She posted three black squares on Instagram! What does it mean?"

Wanda chuckled and pulled you into her lap, wrapping her arms around you. "Maybe she's just taking a break?"

"No," you shook your head vehemently. "Taylor never does anything without a reason. This has to be leading up to something big."

As the days turned into weeks, your anticipation grew. Wanda patiently listened to every theory you had, from secret collaborations to hidden messages in old music videos. The Avengers, on the other hand, were amused by your relentless enthusiasm.

"What's the latest conspiracy theory?" Natasha asked one morning over breakfast.

"She's totally dropping a new album," you declared confidently. "It's going to be dark and edgy. I can feel it."

Months went by, and Taylor remained silent. It was torture for you. You spent countless hours on fan forums, discussing and dissecting every little detail. Wanda often found you hunched over your laptop, deep in conversation with other Swifties.

One day, you received the news you had been dreading: Taylor Swift had disappeared from the public eye completely. No more paparazzi sightings, no social media updates, nothing.

You were devastated. Wanda held you as you cried, whispering soothing words into your ear. "She'll be back, love. Just you wait."

"Why does this hurt so much?" you sobbed. "She's just an artist, right?"

Wanda kissed your forehead. "She's more than that to you. She's been a part of your life for so long. It's okay to feel this way."

It felt like an eternity, but one fateful day, Taylor Swift reemerged with a vengeance. She announced her new album, Reputation, and you were over the moon. You couldn't contain your excitement, bouncing around the room and squealing with joy.

"Wanda, she's back! She's back!" you screamed, nearly tripping over yourself in your enthusiasm.

Wanda laughed, catching you before you fell. "I told you she'd come back. What's the album called?"

"Reputation," you said breathlessly. "It sounds so fierce!"

You immediately pre-ordered the album, marking the release date on every calendar you owned. You even set reminders on your phone to ensure you didn't miss a single update.

The night Reputation was released, you transformed your living room into a Taylor Swift shrine. Posters adorned the walls, fairy lights twinkled, and snacks were meticulously arranged. Wanda helped you set up, though she couldn't stop chuckling at your elaborate preparations.

"This is serious business, Wanda," you said, pointing a finger at her. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime event."

"I can see that," she replied, grinning. "Are we ready?"

"Almost!" you said, pulling out your Taylor Swift-themed pajamas. "Now we're ready."

As the clock struck midnight, you pressed play on the first track. The opening notes of "...Ready For It?" filled the room, and you were instantly hooked. You danced around the living room, singing along at the top of your lungs. Wanda watched with a fond smile, joining in on the chorus.

By the time the album reached "Look What You Made Me Do," you were in full fangirl mode. You grabbed a hairbrush, using it as a makeshift microphone, and performed an impromptu dance routine. Wanda couldn't stop laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"You're incredible," she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"And you're amazing for putting up with me," you replied, pulling her into a hug.

The next day, you couldn't wait to share your excitement with the rest of the Avengers. You burst into the common room, blasting Reputation from your phone.

"Guys, you have to listen to this!" you shouted, earning amused looks from your teammates.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh great, more Taylor Swift. Just what we needed."

But as the songs played, even the most skeptical Avengers found themselves tapping their feet and nodding along. Natasha smirked. "I have to admit, it's pretty catchy."

Clint grinned. "I think we found our new workout playlist."

Steve, ever the gentleman, smiled at you. "I'm glad you're happy."

Wanda squeezed your hand, beaming with pride. "Told you they'd come around."

A few weeks later, Taylor Swift announced her Reputation stadium tour, and you lost your mind. You immediately began planning how to secure tickets, setting multiple alarms and enlisting Wanda's help.

The morning of the ticket sale, you were a bundle of nerves. "What if we don't get tickets? What if the site crashes?"

Wanda placed a calming hand on your shoulder. "We'll get them. Just breathe."

When the clock struck 10 AM, you and Wanda refreshed the ticketing site furiously. Minutes felt like hours, but finally, you managed to secure two tickets. You screamed in triumph, hugging Wanda tightly.

"We did it! We're going to see Taylor Swift!" you exclaimed.

Wanda laughed, twirling you around. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The night of the concert, you and Wanda donned your best Swiftie gear and headed to the stadium. The atmosphere was electric, with thousands of fans buzzing with anticipation.

As Taylor took the stage, you felt a rush of emotions. The opening chords of "…Ready For It?" filled the air, and you screamed along with the crowd. Wanda held your hand, her smile mirroring your own.

Throughout the concert, you danced, sang, and cried. Each song was a journey, and you cherished every moment. Wanda captured it all on her phone, knowing how much these memories meant to you.

When Taylor performed "New Year's Day," a soft, emotional ballad, you turned to Wanda with tears in your eyes. "Thank you for being here with me."

Wanda squeezed your hand. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

The days following the concert were a blur of happiness. You couldn't stop talking about the experience, reliving every song and moment. The Avengers, used to your Taylor Swift obsession by now, indulged you with patient smiles.

Wanda loved seeing you so happy. She often played Reputation in the background while you cooked dinner together or snuggled on the couch. It became your soundtrack, a reminder of the incredible night you shared.

One evening, as "Delicate" played softly, Wanda pulled you into a slow dance in the living room. You rested your head on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her embrace.

"I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too," Wanda replied, kissing your forehead. "More than you'll ever know."

[sports-on-sundays]

It kills me to see all the requested: nope! In your fanfics

How about, reader struggles to sleep due to the stress of her work & travelling so he comforts her and helps her sleep? I’ll take any f1 driver or barca player.

help me sleep / Pedri González

Summary: Pedri x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: censored cussing, sobbing, work problems, stress, anxiety

Requested?: YEs! yEs!!!!! YES, MATE, IT IS REQUESTED!!!!

Author's Note: First request, baby!!! I love you so much bestie! <3 I'm so happy you saw my subtle-not-subtle begs for requests 😭!!! And I hope it's okay I chose Pedri; the other day I was having major I-Miss-Pedri syndrome that we've all been having for the past however many months (I don't even want to think about how long it has been) so I decided as a tribute to my boy, the first request on my blog should be him.

I say 'tribute' as if he's dead or something 😭

I feel like I'm acting way too excited about this request for it to be normal, but that's okay! I'm happy, and I owe it all to you! Now, let's get into this-

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock went the clock on the wall. That stupid old clock that wasn't even set to the right time. You sat on the living room couch, at 2:34 A.M., dealing with work sh*t.

You walked in this evening, feeling ready to literally collapse, and was greeted by your boyfriend as the welcoming committee. It was sweet. He had bought you your favorite treat and flowers and everything and let you snack on it. Had a little snuggle with you. And the moment you stood up, telling him you had to unpack from your long work trip, he pulled you back down on the couch. "No way," he had said. "You're tired. Your bags can wait 'til tomorrow. For now, just relax."

And he really had convinced you. He really had. Soon after that, you had gone to your bedroom and gotten snuggled in together, and within minutes, you were fast asleep.

Only to wake up three hours later. You stared at the ceiling for a solid fifteen minutes, unable to fall back asleep as the stress of work and everything you hadn't gotten done and needed to get done crushed you.

Realizing there was no chance of you falling back to sleep now, you slipped out of bed as slowly as you could, as to not wake up your boyfriend, and quietly walked (or rather, stumbled, because of the extreme lack of sleep) to the living room.

And so now you sit on the couch, barely alive, feeling like a lump on a log but on steroids, dealing with work sh*t.

Suddenly, you get a message from one of your co-workers, though. Bad news... You click on it, and in the moment, with everything you've already gone through within the last seventy-two hours, this is enough.

You swallow, your phone slipping out of your hands. I'm trying so hard. How could my job be on the line? Your head falls into your hands, and you let out a angry groan, letting out quick, little breaths.

God, I can't do this. I can't do this anymore. I need help. Please, I need help. I just can't keep doing this any longer. I can't do this anymore.

Your eyes well up, and that turns into a tear. And that tear turns into another one. And those tears turn into crying. And crying into weeping. Tired, pathetic, pitiful weeping, until you're flat-out sobbing, unable to control it. The world spins as another glowing text comes in on your phone on the rug and your laptop shows more emails and the bags in the corner of the room are still full of your things from the work trip and and and and and...

Suddenly, strong, warm arms around your trembling body. You lean into your boyfriend's body, blubbering between gasps, "Pedri you weren't supposed to wake up... I know you're going through a lot too... I don't want to stress you out... I'm sorry..."

"Shhh," he soothes, rubbing your back. "Do you really think you're on your own? My love, we help and love each other. You can be vulnerable. I know it's hard. Don't you think for a second that I don't want to help you."

"This isn't your problem..."

"Your problem is my problem, because I love you," he mutters close to your ear. He gently closes your laptop and powers off your phone. "You don't need to worry about that right now."

"Pedri-" You grip his shirt, looking at him slightly manically. "Yes I do. I could lose my job."

His jaw tightens, but he says, "What you're doing is impossible. If you lose your job because it's too hard, then maybe you shouldn't be in this job. And it's not because you're a failure. It's because you're expected to do much more than anyone should be able to handle. If you lose your job, I'll be the first to support you until you can get a new one. Okay? But we don't even need to worry about that right now, okay?"

"But-"

Suddenly he takes your wet, tear-stained cheeks in his hands, and looks at you earnestly right in the eyes. "But right now, you need to calm down. Come on; why don't we go to the bedroom, okay?"

"Uh- y- yeah," you get up, feeling terrible at how much a mess you are. Pedri walks to the bedroom with you, his arm around your shoulders the whole time. He fetches a damp rag and gently wipes your face with the cool towel. You shut your eyes, letting out a shaky breath as Pedri pulls the blanket up to your torso. You lean back, sitting upright on the blanket.

"Can I get anything for you?" he asks after he finishes, taking your hand gently.

You shake your head 'no'. "Just sit down. All I need is you."

He nods and slips onto the bed and under the blanket next to you. Straight away, you lean your head on his shoulder and clutch his hand in yours. "Y/n, you know that it'll be okay," he murmurs. Not even a question. A fact. You know that you'll be okay.

"But Pedri, what if..."

"No 'what if's right now, okay?" He pulls you closer to you, rubbing your shoulders. You sit quietly together for a while, before Pedri slowly sinks into a laying down position, pulling you down with him. You snuggle close to him, resting your head on his chest. When you yawn, he says, "You're tired. Anything I can do to help you sleep?"

You breathe gently. "Just... talk to me."

He nods and starts whispering. At first, you listen to the sweet little things he's saying as he gently strokes your hair, but soon you're too tired to comprehend them. Soon your eyes are fluttering shut, and your mind is switching from daytime thoughts to nighttime dreaming.

Within your dream, you feel a soft kiss on your forehead and Pedri's perfect sweet-as-honey voice murmur, "Buenas noches, mi amor."

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Worship

PAIRING || Husband!Young!Tony Stark x Wife!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || 1.1K

SUMMARY || Over the years, you and your husband, Tony, have developed the perfect 'welcome home' routine when he returns from filming. However, this time, you decide to change it up, as he deserves to be worshipped in every way possible.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Actor!AU. Actor!Tony Stark. Young!Tony Stark. Established relationship. Explicit sexual content.

WARNINGS || Reader is described as tattooed.

SMUT || PWP. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Praise. Groping. Masturbation. Cock worship. Ball play. Oral (M receiving). Deepthroating. Cum swapping. Cum swallowing.

A/N || This story expresses my endless gratitude and love for my best friend, biggest supporter, and most lovely human to grace this earth, @ccbsrmsf1. Carol, I cannot possibly thank you enough for everything you do for me, but I want you to know I love you to the moon and back. Knowing you truly improves my life, and I love you so much! I can't wait to see what the future holds for us and our friendship 💙

EVENTS Masterlist || @anyfandomkinkbingo || "It ain't gonna suck itself."

Photo: Source || Graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark Masterlist || AU Masterlist

Four and a half months. That's how long it's been since you've seen your husband—none other than the famous actor Tony Stark—in person instead of via a laptop screen, but today, that will finally change. He's coming home, and you have freed up your entire evening, wanting nothing more than to give him the welcome home he deserves.

That's how you've found yourself on the bed in nothing but a dark red lingerie set that shows off your tattoos beautifully, waiting for your husband to find the little note you left downstairs. Candles are lit throughout the bedroom, and soft music is playing while you're waiting, the minutes ticking by in a seemingly endless fashion.

Until you hear Tony's footsteps on the stairs, carrying him to the bedroom where you're waiting. Your panties are entirely ruined from the arousal seeping through as you've patiently waited in anticipation of seeing him.

"Hi, Sun-" Tony says as the door swings open, but seeing you spread out on the bed immediately takes his breath away. Your legs spread, revealing your soaked panties as you let your fingers glide over the fabric, moaning ever so softly.

"Fuck," he whispers, his hand instantly shooting to the front of his pants, palming his rapidly hardening cock at the sight of you. A smirk lies on your lips as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, and Tony can't help but groan at the sight in front of him.

Tony quickly undresses himself, as his clothes are all starting to feel tight and uncomfortable on his body. With every piece of clothing hitting the floor, your eyes are raking down his body, and you can't get enough as you drink in the sight of your husband.

His messy hair beautifully frames his face. A red flush on his cheeks, half-lidded eyes, and pink, puffy lips give him a boyish charm, though his body is far from it. His broad shoulders lead the way to the dusting of chest hair you love to run your fingers through. The tattoo with the names of your three children—Hudson, Orion, and Paxton—and yourself is proudly visible over his heart.

His narrow waist leads you to his dark happy trail and your final destination - his absolute monster of a cock standing at attention against his chiseled abdomen. The tip is flushed red, a bead of pre-cum already gathered at the tip of his length, and you let out a soft gasp when he grabs it, his hand slowly working himself as he looks at you.

"Look at what you're doin' to me, Sunshine. 'M so fuckin' hard for you," he growls, his New York accent shining through as you clench around nothing, your hand falling away from your pussy so you can crawl over the bed, ready to worship your husband like the God he is.

Within seconds, he's standing at the foot of the bed, right in front of you as you sit on your knees. Your hand runs over the muscular thighs that frame his cock to perfection, and you're already drooling from the thought of you getting to taste your husband again.

Tony looks at you with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his lips. His brow quirked as he looked at you, his free hand tipping your face up to meet his gaze.

"What do you think, Sunshine? Do you want to have a taste of Daddy's cock again? 'M barely even home, and you're already cock-hungry for Daddy, aren't you," he says in a low voice, and you nod sheepishly as you run your hands over his hairy thighs.

"Y-yes, Daddy, wan' your cock," you tell him, and he smirks before leaning forward and letting the tip of his cock glide over your lips, wetting them with the pre-cum already leaking from the mushroom tip.

"C'mon, Sunshine, it ain't gonna suck itself," he says, and you open your mouth, allowing Tony to feed you his cock. His fist is wrapped around the shaft, working over the light blue veins as he slowly jerks himself off while you suckle on his tip, soft moans tumbling from your lips as you savor his taste.

"That's it, fuck," he groans out as you work more of him into your mouth, your tongue laving over the throbbing veins adorning his cock. Your nails softly dig into his thighs, and Tony throws his head back as he slowly ruts in and out of the warmth of your mouth and throat.

The moment he slides into your throat, you look up at him with big doe eyes, and your husband can't help but feel like he's so lucky to have you—to be married to such an amazing woman who will let him do whatever he wants to you in the bedroom without a second thought.

Tony keeps working himself more into your throat, and without a second thought, your hand slips off his thigh, only to cup his balls and squeeze them softly, making him moan your name loudly. Not your nickname, but your actual name.

A shiver runs down your spine as he does, as it only slips out when he's really far gone for you.

"You take me so well, Sunshine; feels like heaven in there," he says in a gravelly voice as he leans down to wrap his hand around your throat, feeling himself as he pulls back before pushing back in again, all the way until you're taking all of him.

"Good girl," he groans before lacing his fingers in your hair, and he starts to speed up his previous pace. As he does, you keep playing with his balls, rolling and squeezing them just the way he likes while you suck his cock in earnest, drool starting to spill out from the corners of your mouth. It's becoming a huge mess, but neither of you cares.

"God, I'm cumming-" is all he can say before you pull back until his tip is lying on your tongue, and you feel the jerking and throbbing motions of his cock as it empties itself in your mouth while you keep looking up at your husband.

"Don't you fucking dare to swallow it, Sunshine," he says once he's done, and he pulls out of your mouth. He quickly sinks on his knees before pulling you into a messy and wet kiss, as you allow Tony to lick his cum out of your mouth as he pulls you close.

You two only let go of one another once the need for air becomes more prominent than the need for each other. You're panting as you pull back, your forehead pressed against your husband's, and you pant with a large smile on your face.

"Welcome home, My Love," you tell him before you're pushed back on the bed, and it's his turn to worship you for the rest of the night, just like the Goddess you are.

[jerzwriter]

To Love & over Protect - Tobias x Casey HC

It took me three years to tell the story of how my messy kids finally got together. By the time they did, they were so in love with a solid foundation of friendship beneath them. The honeymoon period was intense; however, nothing is perfect, and transitioning from friends to so much more comes with its challenges. So, I decided it was time to finally write those stories, too. The first story was Money, Money and this second was a little jealous. This may be the last one, but never say never!

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 1,900 Summary: The chemical attack was over six months ago, and Casey is trying to adjust to her new normal with her new boyfriend at her side. The problem is? He thinks he needs to be there 24/7, and as sweet as it is, Casey needs him to understand, she can still take care of herself.

Tobias x Casey Masterlist Open Heart Masterlist Full Masterlist

Tobias glanced at his phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. Finally, the confirmation arrived, but not the one he wanted to see. The car he had arranged to pick Casey up from work at Edenbrook was stuck in traffic in Charlestown and wouldn’t be there on time. In fact, it was unlikely he’d be there for another hour.

“Fuck,” he muttered, leaning back in his office chair.

He’d ask her to wait, but he knew her too well. She’d tell him she knew how to get home and that she had managed to do so before he came into her life. She could take the T. It was nice out; she could even stand the 40-minute walk. He could just hear her. Tobias, I’ll be fine. And chances are she was right. But he wasn’t wasn’t about to take chances, not with her.

He sent her a quick text. Hey, hon. Getting out of work a little early. Wait for me; I’ll pick you up.

It wasn't exactly a lie, he was leaving early, it just wasn't planned until a second before. He opened his laptop, rescheduled a meeting or two, and ensured his patients had coverage. Then he rushed to the elevator, a full four hours before his shift was scheduled to end. He got off at the garage level, walking to his car at a rapid pace. Edenbrook was only an eleven-minute drive from Mass Kenmore, but with traffic, that could nearly double. He looked at his watch. It was 7:00 PM, and the sun wouldn't set for another ninety minutes. Surely she'd be fine. He knew he was overreacting, but he couldn't help it.

Therapy had gone a long way, but some memories could never be erased, no matter how much he wished they could. He was a doctor; he knew the signs, and he saw them in Casey that dreadful night. Her skin was no longer pale but became an ashen shade of grey. Her extremities took on a tinge of blue, and her breathing became shallow. Disorientation and lethargy had set in; she couldn’t focus on a conversation the last time he walked away from her in the containment room. He wasn’t even sure she knew he was there. That’s when he knew they had hours, not days, to unravel a mystery doctors better than him had never been able to solve, and the healthy fear that was driving him quickly morphed into terror.

The odds were against them, but he walked away from her with a promise in his heart and his heart in his throat. They’d find a cure. He’d find it. He’d see her again; he had to. They weren’t even on speaking terms prior to the attack, and that was no one’s fault but his own. But that didn't stop him from loving her. He may have been too clueless, too foolish, or too scared to admit it before, but there was no way he could deny it now. Tobias Carrick, Boston's most notorious confirmed bachelor loved Dr. Casey MacTavish with all his heart... and she didn’t even know.

The elevator door closed, and he had one minute. One minute to fall apart, to allow his body to tremble and his tears to flow. One minute to let the hopelessness wash over him and to pray to God for a miracle with all his might. But when the door opened, that luxury ended. The miracle was dependent on mere mortals; it depended on him. Never seeing the woman he loved alive again was not an option... her dying without even knowing how he felt was unacceptable. So he went to work.

The story had a happy ending, or as happy as it could be. An antidote was found, Casey survived, and their friendship flourished. In the dark days and months that followed, he was there for her, her rock ensuring she'd get through. It turned out that she loved him, too, and he had no idea just how much joy that would bring.

His Casey. She was his, and he was hers... but this was the real world, and he knew happily ever after didn’t exist, but dragons certainly did. They could appear at any time, be waiting around any corner, and they kept him up at night. He couldn’t shake the anxiety that gripped him. The mere thought of her in danger again filled him with a dread he couldn’t control, casting a shadow over the new life they were trying to lead.

Casey wasn't blind to it. She saw the signs and did all that she could to reassure him. She could handle herself, but Tobias couldn’t let it go. She was no longer to take the T. Boston's subway was too unpredictable, too full of potential danger. He had drivers on call to take her anywhere she needed to go when he couldn’t drive her himself. He even had groceries delivered to her apartment when he wasn't able to join her for errands. While Casey found it sweet and endearing at first, it was starting to wear on her, and she knew it was taking a toll on him, too.

When he arrived at the Edenbrook, his heart warmed as he watched her slide into the passenger seat beside him. She may have been exhausted after a long day, but she was radiant. She flashed that smile that lit up his entire world, and his heart skipped a beat. She was happy, healthy, alive, safe... and now she was here, with him.

“Hi, babe,” she greeted, leaning across the console for a quick kiss. “So, you’re my driver again?”

Tobias forced a smile, knowing what was coming next, but he could take the ribbing, as long as she was safe. He gently brushed stray strands of hair away from her face. God. He loved her.

“Hey, baby. How was your day?”

“Long,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “But good. I can’t complain. Though, I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to get home from work by myself. Might have to retrain myself soon.”

He chuckled half-heartedly and took her hand. She could tease him all she wanted to. At least he knew she was safe. But as they drove to her apartment, it was impossible to ignore how quiet she had become. Something was on her mind, and he feared he knew precisely what it was.

They found a parking spot, and she invited him in. Kicking her shoes off at the door, she headed directly to her room, collapsing onto the bed with a groan. Tobias lay down beside her, gently caressing her arm. He couldn’t have been happier to be by her side, but his heart was still racing, and he knew they needed to talk.

“Casey,” he said softly. She turned to him, her eyes warm and patient. “I know I’ve been… a bit much lately.”

She raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a small smile. “A bit?”

“Okay, maybe more than a bit,” he admitted.

“Considering the fact that you’re not supposed to be at work for another three hours and you offered to accompany me to the bathroom, I’d say it’s more than a bit.”

“I just… I can’t help it, baby. I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, but...”

“But?” She said, reaching to touch his cheek.

“I can’t stand the thought of anything bad happening to you, Casey. Not after everything… I need to protect you. I need to keep you safe. Having you hurt or, God forbid, losing you... it's not an option."

She reached for his hand. “I know, Tobias. I know you're doing all this because you care about me, and I love you for it. But you have to understand—this is no way to live. For either of us.”

“I’m afraid, Casey,” he said, his voice trembling with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “I’m terrified that one day something will happen, and I won’t be able to save you.”

Tears welled up in Casey’s eyes as she leaned in closer, cupping his face in her hand. “You already saved me, hon. You saved my life and spent the months following showing me how to live again. I’m here because of you in more ways than one. But now, I need you to help me return to the real world, and I can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to protect me from it.”

He looked into her eyes, the weight of her words seeping in. She was right, of course. He’d been so focused on keeping her safe that he hadn’t realized he was suffocating both of them in the process. This was no way for them to live.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help bring you back to life, not prevent you from living it.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for loving me and caring about me,” she replied. “But promise me you’ll work on this, OK? Talk to your therapist if you have to. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Tobias nodded, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her hair. “I promise. I’ll do better. I just… I love you so much, Casey. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You can’t guarantee that,” he sighed, his head filling with visions of that night against his will.

“Hey,” she said, forcing him to look her in the eye. “No day is promised to any of us, T, but there is only so much we can control. You know I’ll take care of myself, and I know you’ll do your part, too. But the rest... if we spend all our time worrying about all the things that can go wrong, we’ll never enjoy the time that we have. I don’t blame you, baby. We both went through a terrible ordeal, and it will take time to heal. But I have faith in you. I have faith in us."

He looked at her, his face twisted with all the emotions he was feeling at that moment, but the most prominent of them all was love.

“I love you, baby. I don’t have a ton of experience with this relationship stuff, and, well, ours got off to an eventful start....”

“It sure did,” she smiled. “And it’s not easy, but it will only make us stronger.”

Tobias's arms encircled her, and he pulled her as close as she could; Casey snuggled closer to him, relishing his closeness, his warmth.

“You mind if I stay over here tonight, kid?”

“Why,” she giggled. “Do you want to be with me, or are you just protecting me?”

“Oh,” he growled, rolling on top of her, his lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss. “I want to be with you all right. But two things can be true. I’m happy to protect you while I’m here... you can protect me, too, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does. I love you,” she smiled, giving him another tender kiss, then pulled back with an impish twinkle in her eye. Now, with all of this talk of protection... please tell me you have some on you because, if you’re staying, I have some fun activities in mind."

"You may not know this," he smiled, reaching into his pant pocket. "But I was a Boy Scout. I'm always prepared."

"And that's one of the things I love about you," she laughed, gripping his hands as they toyed with the hem of her shirt. But seriously, baby, promise you'll talk to your therapist. I want us both to heal from this. We have a beautiful life ahead."

He leaned in to kiss her forehead. "We sure do, and I'm not going to let anything, even my fear, get in our way."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[jpmarvel90]

PR Relationship

Masterlist Scarlett Masterlist

Word Count: 3110

Relationship: Scarlett x Singer Reader

Summary: Y/n and Scarlett are in love with each other and have a secret relationship that only a select few know about. Things change when Y/n finds out that Scarlett may have her eyes on someone else.

(I do not own the rights to the lyrics, I just think this sounds fits the story perfectly. It’s Secret Love Song by Little Mix.)

Y/N’s POV:

For the last 3 months, I have been dating the beautiful Scarlett Johansson. However, as she hasn’t come out yet, it was a complete secret with only Lizzie Olsen knowing the truth. At first it didn’t bother me at all. It was exciting. The sneaking around was fun and trying to sneak dates and kisses without being caught was exhilarating. But the last couple of weeks have started to get tiring. If ever I stay over, she’s kicking me out at like 5am so I don’t get caught by the paps, we never travel anywhere together and I’ve lost count of the amount of times she’s totally changed her demeanour around me because someone has walked by us.

Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand that Scarlett is scared of coming out. I’ve already done that and it wasn’t easy. I would never push her to do anything she’s uncomfortable with. But it’s starting to hurt, it feels more like she’s hiding me rather than protecting herself. Thing is, I love her and I’m willing to wait for her. Which is the problem, I’m scared this might break me.

So here I am, 4:30 in the morning tiptoeing around her bedroom getting ready to sneak out. I don’t want to wake her, she’s been so busy at work she deserves a good rest. I throw on some sweatpants and a hoody whilst picking up my underwear from the floor after last night’s activities. I leave a gentle kiss on Scarlett’s forehead before slipping out of the house, unheard, into the early morning.

As I’m sat in my car I can feel the exhaustion seeping through my body. I had been spending most nights at Scar’s which meant I was only getting a few hours sleep and it was starting to catch up with me. I’ve got to be at the studio at 8am so I decide there is no point in heading home. Instead I make my way to the beach to watch the sunrise and go for a swim. There’s no better way to start my day. Well other than getting to sleep in my girlfriends arms past 5!

I get to the studio early and I start having all of these thoughts in my head which I start to collate and write down. Lyrics forming as I write. I’ve not felt this inspired for a long time

We keep behind closed doors

Every time I see you, I die a little more

Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls

It'll never be enough

It’s not until I start to pull the lyrics together that I realise how much this whole situation is hurting me. By the end of the day it’s all starting to come together, the quickest that I have ever written a song. My team love it and are already planning for me to sing it on Jimmy Kimmel. I push back though. It’s not fair to Scarlett to hear about my feelings through an interview. But writing the song has helped, I’m feeling better already.

As I get into the car I check my phone. I’ve not spoken with Scarlett all day. That’s not unusual as for us though. But a smile forms on my face when I see a message from her.

Scarlett:

Hey Babe, thanks for this morning. I really needed that sleep. I know you’re in the studio all day so can’t talk. I’m working late but perhaps you could come over tomorrow? Love you xx

Me:

Hey Scar, no problem, you need your sleep! Tomorrow would be great. Love you too xx

The next evening I’m sat on the sofa in Scarlett’s living room her legs draped over mine as we watch TV. She has her laptop resting on her legs finishing up the last bit of work before she’s done for the day. I’m just sat scrolling through my phone when I seeing articles popping up about Scarlett and her new partner. We’d been so careful to not been seen together in more than a friendly capacity. In fact, by the way we act in public you wouldn’t think we were that close as friends.

But then my heart stops, the articles aren’t referring to me but Chris Evans. What the fuck?! I can feel my heart beating faster like it’s going to beat out of my chest. Then I click on one article, “Co-Stars Scarlett Johansson and Chris Evans spotting kissing on a dinner date.” A photo accompanying it. That was yesterday! I sit up with a jolt feeling like I was going to be sick. My God she’s cheating on me and she’s not even trying to hide it!

“Hey what’s wrong Babe, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Scarlett says concerned looking over her laptop to me. I try to speak but I can’t form words. I can see her starting to get worried as she puts her laptop down on the table and goes to put her arm on my back. I’m quick to pull away and just throw my phone in her direction. She looks at the screen and her eyes grow wide.

“Y/N this isn’t what it looks like, I swear. Please..” Running my hands through my hair I stand up not even able to sit next to her. “I mean it looks like you’ve got your tongue down Evans’ throat. Not sure what else it could look like Scarlett!” I say coldly trying so hard not to yell. “Is this why you hid me? Not wanting anyone to know. Am I the dirty little secret to keep until you have Evans?” Pacing round the room I can feel my chest get tighter and my breathing becoming erratic.

“NO! I’m not cheating on you Y/N, I love you!” “THEN WHAT IS THIS!” So much for not shouting. I can feel my heart breaking in two. “Please just let me explain. With the new Avengers movie coming out our teams thought it would be good PR if we got some rumours going about being in a relationship. We had lunch and dinner dates here and there making sure to look like a couple for the paparazzi. I promise you Y/N there is nothing going on.”

I immediately stop my pacing, turning to her in disbelief. “So you can’t tell anyone about me, but you’re happy to go along with a fake relationship for you movie. Great, good to know where I sit in your priorities. Did you even consider telling me, it’s weird but I would have understood? Instead I find out by finding a picture of you kissing!” I can’t stop the tears anymore, but I won’t let her see me sob.

“Y/N please…” Scarlett grabs my hands trying to get me to look at her. “I-I can’t do this anymore.” I whisper pulling my hands away. “Wait, what do you mean? Y/N?” she says in a scared tone. “I’ve spent the last 3 months doing everything you ever asked. I never pushed for you to do anything you were uncomfortable with, even if it was at a detriment to me. I was waiting for you to be happy in yourself that you could share us with the world. I have always put your first. I knew this could break me and it has. I need to put myself first this time as it’s evident you won’t.” Turning my back on her I grab my things and walk towards her door.

I can hear her running up behind me and she grabs my shoulders spinning me around. “No, you can’t go. I’m so sorry Y/N, I love you, please you can’t leave me. Don’t go we can work this out.” Looking in her eyes I can see the pain. Her cheeks are stained with tears. “We don’t need to work anything out Scar, you do. I just hope you find happiness one day without having to hide yourself way.” With that I walk out, my heart tearing from my chest. A part of me just wishing that one day she might be ready for this relationship as a whole.

Scarlett’s POV:

I had really fucked this up. I hadn’t slept for days and had shut myself away, calling in sick to work to avoid seeing anyone. I had never felt pain like this. Y/N was my world. I love her with all my heart. I had always intended to tell the everyone but it just felt too hard and she was so great at giving me time. But this PR relationship with Chris was by far the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. This isn’t me, I don’t intentionally hurt people but it feels like I did with Y/N.

Whilst in my cave of self-pity and depression I hear banging on the door. Dragging myself up I find an angry Lizzie stood there with her Wanda head tilt. Shit that’s terrifying! “What the fuck Scar?!” She huffs pushing herself into my house. “Well hello to you too Lizzie” I half chuckle. “You broke her when all she has ever done is put your first. I warned you that you needed to be honest with yourself or you’ll lose her.” She’s angry but her tone softens when she sees the state I’m in. “Geeze Scar when was the last time you slept?” She said pulling me in for a hug. “I can’t sleep without her.” I whisper tears starting to form in my eyes.

We move to the sofa and she takes my hands in hers. “From what I hear, Y/N didn’t get much sleep with you. Staying up til God knows when with you then being kicked out at 5am. Did you not notice how tired she’d been?” I just shake my head in shame. “I’ve screwed up Lizzie and I don’t know how to get her back. I’ve told my team I won’t go ahead with the fake relationship anymore but I know I need to do so much more than that to show her I’m in this for the long run.” I don’t dare even speak that I’m terrified that I’ve lost her forever, in fear that speaking it will make it true.

“Scarlett, you need to decide what scares you the most. Coming out and fearing people will see you differently, or losing Y/N, the woman you are madly in love with, for good. Just don’t take too long in making that decision or it could be too late.” She pulls me into a hug and we lie together on the sofa. “I miss her Lizzie” I sniffle. “Well, she’s performing on Jimmy Kimmel. How about we watch that?” I nod and she grabs the remote switching over to her performance.

Y/N’s Performance:

Jimmy: Performing her latest single, please welcome to the stage, Y/N Y/L/N!

The lights dim with a sole spotlight shining on Y/N who is sat at a piano. She starts to play as the notes ring out through the studio.

We keep behind closed doors

Every time I see you, I die a little more

Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls

It'll never be enough

As you drive me to my house

I can't stop these silent tears from rolling down

You and I both have to hide

On the outside where I can't be yours and you

Can't be mine

But I know this

We got a love that is homeless

Why can't I hold you in the street?

Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't it be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

Why can't I say that I'm in love?

I wanna shout it from the rooftops

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't it be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

It's obvious you're meant for me

Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly

Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep

But I'll never show it on my face

But we know this, we got a love that is homeless

Why can't you hold me in the street?

Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't we be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

Why can't I say that I'm in love?

I wanna shout it from the rooftops

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't we be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

I don't wanna live love this way

I don't wanna hide us away

I wonder if it ever will change

I'm living for that day

Someday

When you hold me in the street

And you kiss me on the dance floor

I wish that we could be like that

Why can't we be like that

'Cause I'm yours, I'm yours

Oh, why can't you hold me in the street?

Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't it be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

Why can't I say that I'm in love?

I wanna shout it from the rooftops

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't we be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

Why can't we be like that

Wish we could be like that

The lights faded as the camera zoomed in close enough to see that Y/N was crying before the stage went dark and the audience erupt in applause.

Scarlett’s POV:

Lizzie and I just sat there in silence. I could hear the pain in her voice and it hurt me to know that it was me that caused it. I was pulled out of my trance by Lizzie squeezing me into a tight hug whispering in my ear. “If this didn’t help you decide then I don’t know what will.” She was right, the only person who I care about is Y/N. I’m not scared anymore. I’m going to win her back.

I’m up all night with Lizzie working a way out that I can come out and show my love for Y/N. An Instagram post didn’t seem like enough and a press release was too impersonal. It needed to be something special, and that’s when Lizzie came up with a risky but perfect plan. I just hope that she could forgive me and we can start out lives together a fresh.

Timeskip

It was a week later and here I am sat in the back of Y/N’s limo. She just doesn’t know it. It’s the night of the Grammy’s and Y/N is up for an award. I’m so proud of her and it’s time to show her that she is my number one priority. Lizzie’s grand plan so far had worked. We spoke with Y/N’s team and I explained the whole situation. Her manager was surprisingly nice about and said that it explained a lot about her behaviour recently. She had agreed to arrange a secret plus one for Y/N. I would wait in her car to surprise to walk down the red carpet with her, as her girlfriend. I just hoped she wouldn’t kick me out on the curb.

My heart rate starts to pick up as I hear her talking as she walk towards the car. God I’ve missed that voice. The car door opens and she gets in letting out a slight sigh as she sits. It takes her a moment before she notices me sat there with a nervous smile on my face and she jumps “Jesus Scar, you scared the shit out of me.” We both let out an awkward chuckle. “What are you doing here?” She asks not quite able to maintain the eye contact. This is it, the moment I win my girl back.

I put my finger under her chin and lift it so she’s looking at me. My God she is breathtakingly beautiful! I then take both of her hands in mine taking a deep breath “Y/N. Since the day I met you, I knew I was going to fall madly in love with you. Every day I spent with you I fell more and more in love. No one has ever made me as happy as you do. I know it’s only been 3 months but I know you are the women I want to spend the rest of my life with. I screwed up, I know I can’t take that back. I was so paralysed with fear about coming out and people’s reaction to it, that I didn’t think about you and our relationship. I just let you carry on making the sacrifices for me. But today that changes. I love you with all my heart and I’m not prepared to lose you again. I am so fucking proud of what you have achieve this last year. You deserve everything you are going to get tonight. And…. If you’ll have me… I want to be there for you every step of the way. No more hiding. I want to walk down that red carpet on your arm as your proud girlfriend. And then I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you.”

There is a long silence as her eyes flicker between my own trying to get a read of me. I hope she can see how sincere I’m being, that I mean every word that I’m saying. “Don’t hurt me again. I don’t think I can survive if you do.” She whispers. The biggest smile appears on my face as I reach up and put my hand to her cheek wiping away the stray tear. “I promise I won’t. Can I kiss you?” I ask. “You never have to ask Scar.” And with that I pull her into a passionate kiss. I have missed her lips connecting with mine. It makes me feel complete. “You look absolutely beautiful Y/N. I’m so glad I get to call you mine.” She laughs and pulls me in for another soft kiss.

As we pull up to the venue Y/N grabs my hand. “Are you sure Scar? I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret.” I look at her and smile. “The only regret I have is not telling the world how much I love you sooner. Let’s do this.” The fear is gone, I’m only excited now. As the door to the limo opens, I see the start of our new life together.  

[rosewaterandivy]

Live from New York…

Summary: a meet cute for everyone’s favorite rockstar!eddie and head SNL writer/weekend update anchor gf

WC: 4204 🫠 (my hand slipped)

Pairing: rockstar!eddie x screenwriter!gf

Warning/Themes: work related stress, smitten Eddie, hectic SNL schedule built around cocaine, meddling actor!steve harrington, encounters in close quarters, Eddie wearing Le Labo Santal 33– which should be a warning all its own, my usual brand of filth™️

A/N: we’ve had our meet cute with actor!steve, now it’s Eddie’s turn!

Series masterlist | playlist | currently spinning:

At Studio 8H, you always hit the ground running on Mondays. Hopefully, you’d lazed away or slept off the hangover from the after-party on Sunday, but sometimes you weren’t so lucky.

Today was one of those days.

A subway ride from hell, you were pretty sure your bodega guy was mad at you (again), and the inevitable spins and mouth sweats which could only mean—

“Hey killer!” Pete greets, towing the week’s host and musical guest behind him.

And because this situation could only get worse, you hold up a solitary finger and duck into a nearby dressing room to puke and rally.

“Fuckin’ Mondays, am I right?”

A rich voice greets you as you make your entrance back into the hallway, someone wearing a panoply of rings shoves a cold water bottle in your hand while you push your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Y’alright there, boss?”

A nod as you guzzle some water.

“Just peachy, Davidson.” You heave a sigh, grimacing as you make eye contact with the host, Steve Harrington, and one fifth of the musical guest in the form of Eddie Munson. “Sorry for the uh—" you gesture vaguely to the dressing room.

“No worries,” Steve says with a smile, “We’ve all been there.”

Eddie, for his part, snorts a laugh.

“Charmed,” you chirp, readjusting your canvas tote on your shoulder and resuming your walk down the hall.

“Pitch meeting in 5!”

_

The Monday meeting was always a wash. Pitches that were half-formed or outright veto’d by Lorne or the host, and Pete giving the same pitch for the fourth month running that no one bit at.

Typical.

Steve was affable enough, charming in the way only an actor could be, easy to laugh and joke. Eddie Munson, however, was all long-limbed ease and looked at you in a way that was unnerving.

No matter. You didn’t have the time to contemplate why the frontman of Corroded Coffin irked you, not when the cast members were especially needy for your attention and the writers retreated to the conference room.

“Chloe,” you huff as the small blonde trails after you, mouth going a mile a minute about a new impression she’d perfected.

You stopped short at your office door, causing Chloe to bump into you. With a slow turn, you try to smile in a well-meaning way, sunglasses sliding down your nose again.

“Can this wait until later?” Your hand twists the handle, allowing you to slip inside the room and escape the sad fall of her face. “I promise you’ll have my undivided attention this afternoon, okay?”

That seems to perk her back up. She gives you a smile and salute before trotting off back to her dressing room.

You sigh and slide back against the closed door, eyes slipping shut for the briefest of moments. Not open long enough to clock a mop of brown curls lazing on your couch.

“Exhausting being on top, isn’t it?”

Your eyes open only to land on Eddie Munson, laid out on your couch as if he owns the place.

“How did you get in here?”

You cross to the desk, heaving your tote onto it and peel the glasses from your face. Falling into your chair, you await his reply and open up your laptop.

Rooting around in your tote for your notes, you notice a coffee cup and danish at his side.

“Is that my cherry danish and cold brew?”

“Hmm?” He turns toward the sound of your voice. “Oh, this? An intern dropped it off.”

Eyeing the bite taken out of the danish, you sigh. “And you just assumed it was for you?”

“It’s not?”

“Unless Corroded’s rider has something about cherry danishes on it—“

“I just thought since your little performance this morning, you wouldn’t be in the mood.”

He sits up with a stretch, arms rising above his head, a sliver of skin visible above the band of his boxer-briefs.

Calvin’s, of fucking course.

You repress the need to roll your eyes. “How kind,” you say instead, flipping through your notes and typing a few ideas down.

“I thought so.” Eddie stands up, depositing the danish and coffee on your desk. “I’m more of a bagel and lox guy myself.”

“I’ll alert the media.”

He smiles slow, which is more attractive than you’d bargained for, annoyingly enough. His teeth are perfect against the plush pink of his lips, and he’s close enough, leaning against your desk, that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne— wood, leather, and violet?— cut through with a faint aroma of tobacco.

“I only have your best interests at heart, sugar.”

_

By Thursday, things started to even out. Some solid pitches turned into sketches, bumpers filmed and canned, and one only one sex dream about Eddie Munson.

You’d take what you could get.

It was basically inevitable, that fucker has been annoying you all week— popping into your office uninvited, sending the interns out for inane tasks just to get you alone, and, the real kicker, sending Harrington in as reinforcements.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Steve says, taking another bite of his lunch— subs from the Teamsters, your favorite day of the week.

“Munson?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, having made out your garbled phrase. “Ed just comes on strong, but he’s harmless.”

You roughly swallow and take a sip form your drink. “Whaddya mean?”

Steve pauses, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Oh, uh,” he shrugs, “He likes you. Was that not obvious?”

You stare at him blankly.

Eddie Munson, attracted to you?

Yeah, when hell freezes over.

“He’s just razzing me,” you say, more to yourself than Steve.

He drops his sub on the wax paper and wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“That’s what you think?!”

“Well—" you sputter, indignantly. “If that’s how he shows his interest…”

Steve laughs, a bright and delightful thing. If only it wasn’t at your expense.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes. “Robin’ll get a kick outta this— holy shit.”

He pulls out his phone and sends off a text. The next thing you know, his assistant is barreling through your office door.

“You’re shitting me,” is what she says, eyes cutting from him to you. Communicating in some secret language of eye contact and gestures that was wholly beyond you.

That lunch was the last semblance of peace you’d had for the week before Eddie Munson began wooing you with increased vigor.

_

By Saturday, you’d had just about enough of his nonsense. More flowers than you knew what to do with, mini fridge in your office stocked with all your favorites, the writers actually doing their jobs for once— which was honestly just creepy, but you’d allow it.

“What did he do?”

It was the final read-through before the dress rehearsal later that evening. The writer’s room was packed, and no one had tried to kill anyone else yet.

Truly bizarre.

“What did who do?”

“Cut the shit,” You grouse back. “Munson, what did he do, threaten you idiots? Promise backstage passes— what?”

A hang-dog new hire sighed. “Said he’d have our guts for garters if we fucked up your week.”

“Yeah,” someone else chorused. “Said we’d wish all those Satanic rumors were true once he was done with us.”

And, as a result, no one had tried to steal your Emmy this week, you occasionally went home at a decent-ish hour, and no one had unnecessarily barricaded themselves in their dressing room.

Huh.

Maybe Harrington had a point.

Eddie Munson attracted to you? It’s more likely than you think!

The thought eluded you through the dress rehearsal and show itself, but reared its ugly head at the after-party.

A successful show, a compliment from Lorne, and several drinks had you feeling warm and buzzy. Harrington had wrangled you up on a table when “Teenage Dirtbag” came on, assured you it would be fine dancing on tabletops in high-heeled boots.

All was well and good until someone spilled a drink on said table and nearly sent you toppling to the floor.

Strong arms gripped your waist, settling you against a broad shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“The fuck was that?!” crowed up at Steve, the music far too loud for you to make out his response, before you’re carried from the dance floor to the coat check room and placed back on your feet.

Right side up, Eddie looks flushed and concerned, checking your face and body for any signs of injury.

“You okay?”

Voice softer than you’re used to, not the gruff exterior or persona he plays into for the public. And, it’s nice. You’re just buzzed enough not to be horrified at the realization.

You laugh and press a finger into his heaving chest, “You like me, dontcha?”

Eddie laughs, dodging your gaze as his chin tucks into his chest. “Honestly?” He says after a beat, “You scare the shit outta me.”

“What,” you pout, “Little old me?”

Your finger idly traces nonsensical shapes against the black cotton of his shirt. He takes a breath, watching the trajectory of your hand.

“Not in a bad way,” he allows, eyes finally dragging back to you. All warm umber and hints of whisky. His hand touches yours, bringing an end to your wandering fingers.

Eddie swallows audibly and cocks his head to the side. “You’re just so…”

“Intense?”

There’s that slow smile again. He takes a step closer to you, hesitant as if he’s expecting you to push him away.

You don’t.

A shake of his head that frees a few strands from the low bun he’d dawned at curtain call. You brush your fingers against the soft curls and scruff of his jaw.

Eddie takes in a sharp breath, eyes closing minutely as his forehead rests against yours.

“You,” he breathes, voice low, “Are going to ruin me.”

Not a threat, but a promise.

A smile tugs at your lips. “Awfully presumptuous of you, Munson.”

“Call it a hunch, sweetheart.”

You close the distance between you with your lips. They slot into his with ease, your hand tangling itself into the curls at the nape of his neck.

He groans, something low from the cage in his chest and steps between your legs as your eyes fall shut. Your back hits the wall, his hand cradling your head, thumb rubbing idly along your scalp.

Eddie smells divine, and you’re not sure whether it’s the drinks or your own hormones that are to blame. But he tastes even better, the burn of whisky a comfort as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

You open beneath him like a night-blooming flower, lips, and legs parting with ease. A wet click when you part, allowing you to take a shaky breath in. He moves along your jaw, soft lips sponging kisses there before lighting upon your neck.

“Fucking hell,” you groan, head rolling back against the wall behind you, earning a low laugh from him.

Everything feels amazing, your skin is buzzing at his attention, hands desperate to grab hold and never let go.

As his hips cant into your own, you can feel the hot, hard line of him. Your eyes flying open at the sensation and the thought that you may very well die getting dicked down by Eddie Munson in a coatroom.

But oh, what a way to go.

He’s on you again, lips and tongue eager for entry, before you can say anything stupid. Your mouth opens with a stuttered breath as Eddie slowly grinds against you.

He’s saying something, praises falling from his lips but you can’t possibly reply. Too wound up from arousal to be any sort of conversationalist. The pressure against your clothed heat is just right, and you’d like nothing more to get his pants off and ride Eddie to kingdom come.

That is until Steve Harrington barrels through the door.

“Oh shit,” he says, stifling a laugh. “My bad.”

He’s in and out in two seconds, but the mood is broken.

Eddie’s head rests against your shoulder while he catches his breath. You can feel the heat of his flush against your neck.

“So,” he begins, voice a low rasp. “I guess—"

“Your hotel is closer.”

He perks up at that, head rising from your shoulder with a quirked brow.

“Essex House, right?”

Eddie nods, picking up what you’re putting down. He scrambles for his phone, texting something before grabbing you by the hand and leading you out of the club and into the brisk New York night.

_

Falling back against the plush comforter, you drag Eddie down with you. Teeth clicking against each other in the effort. He huffs a laugh into your mouth, pushing you back against the pillows on the bed.

“You’re a pretty good kisser,” you say, propping up on your elbows.

“I may have heard that once or twice,” he says, tugging his shirt up and his head before tossing it elsewhere.

You make quick work of his jeans, while he occupies himself with mapping the geography of your body with his lips. He nips at your hip, earning a squeak of surprise from you as his arms cage you in.

His hair, now loose from the torment of your hands, tickles as it drags along your exposed skin. Eddie popping open the buttons of your blouse torturously slow.

Your lips claim his once more as his finger skims against the soft curve of your breast. You shudder at the sensation, unable to focus on anything except him.

Half-lidded eyes gaze down at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. With a roll of your eyes, you wiggle out of your shirt and pop the button of your trousers.

He’s quick to follow, fingers pulling at the fly and tugging the offending fabric from your legs.

The second the damp lace of your thong makes an appearance, Eddie groans loudly— head falling against your hip.

“Oh, my god.”

Too pent up to feel bashful, you tangle your fingers in his hair and give it a tug. Another groan, lower and deeper than the last.

“So pretty,” he breathes against your heat causing you to shiver.

His fingers hook into the fabric and pull them down the plush of your thighs, lips skating across the sensitive skin as he goes. Eddie is back on you before you can sit up to take off your bra; tugging you up to settle on his lap while reaching around to expertly unhook the lacy garment.

Distracting you with a kiss, it takes you a minute to realize that Eddie has apparently been struck stupid at the sight of you bare before him. His eyes rove over what feels like every inch of your body, as if he could never get enough.

“Hey,” you prompt with a roll of your hips. It’s delicious and delightful, sending sparks straight to your core. A soft sigh before you continue, “How do you want me?”

That seems to wake him back up. Eddie shakes himself alive and says with a bite to your lips, “As many times as I can have you, sweetheart.”

He lays you gently back down and grabs a condom from the bedside table. Before you can offer your assistance, however, he’s back between your legs with a singular focus: making you come. Hard and frequent.

By the time you reach your peak for the second time, he’s three knuckles deep and two fingers in. Your babbling incoherently while he smirks up at you, occasional coos of “Doin so well f’me” and “You can take another, right sugar?”

You nod, impatient for your next orgasm. Who would’ve thought that Eddie Munson could turn you into a needy brat without even seeing his dick?

Certainly not you.

“Eddie,” a broken pathetic whine from you. He’s worked in a third finger, impossibly, and you’re about to explode.

Pulling his lips from you clit, he glances up, lips and chin wet with your slick. “Yeah?”

The lighting in the room is low and warm, only enhancing his features, eyes blown dark with lust and lips ruddied and swollen from licking and kissing.

Another whine as you make grabby hands at him, “Wanna come on your cock.”

He chuckles lowly, sponging a kiss at your hip. “That so?”

You nod dumbly and wet your lips.

He rubs along your g-spot and your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Hmm,” he hums, “Why don’t you come on my fingers again and then you can make a mess on my cock?”

Not the answer you wanted to hear, but you’re too far gone to care. A petulant pout on your lips, but before you can make your retort, Eddie does that magical thing with his fingers again making you keen as you come.

Your vision whites out briefly, walls shuddering at his ministrations wetly.

“There’s a good girl,” he says, voice silky and low. “Knew you could do it.”

Damp fingers grasp your chin before prodding at your lips. You open your mouth to suck at them, tongue grazing against the cool silver of his rings as he watches.

Faintly, you hear the tearing of the condom wrapper as he extricated his hand from your mouth. Calvin’s long gone now, Eddie fists his cock to roll the condom down his shaft. And you can’t seem to pick your jaw up from the floor.

He looks almost nervous, brows furrowed and biting his lip. You can see why— he’s got the biggest and prettiest dick you’d ever seen. Cockhead flushed a rosy pink as he strokes himself, and you're not the best at spatial awareness but there are definitely several inches of him to reckon with.

“Hey,” you say with a swallow, mouth having filled with saliva at the sight of him. A jerk of your head, “C’mere, honey.”

With a smile, he returns to you. Kisses laved to your chest, neck, and finally lips while he situates himself against your petaled heat. Bumping against your abused clit, you sink back into the pillows with a moan.

Hands loosely cradling his collar and legs wound high against his back, you pull Eddie down for a slow kiss as your rock up against his shaft. He licks messily into your mouth as one of your hands snakes down to guide him inside.

He shudders at the sensation and the visual of your hand on his dick, small and dainty in comparison. “Fuckin’ hell.”

You hum contentedly. “You ain’t seen nothin' yet,” and drive the message home with a buck of your hips. His cockhead slips in, stretching you slightly but not unpleasantly.

He pauses, not wanting to hurt you or go too quickly just for it to happen again— too big, can’t fit. Surprisingly, you shimmy working him further into your cunt, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt.

Eddie thinks he’s going to die like this— bottoming out in the girl of his dreams, all before he can blow his load or get you off like he wants to.

The stretch is good— hitting depths you didn’t realize were possible until now. Making your own efforts with the aid of your fingers and toys appear pathetic. You could vibrate out if you skin at the sensation— keyed up and pulled taught before he’s even had the chance to move yet.

You clench at the thought, causing Eddie to pant and moan against your neck. His left hand taps at your right leg.

“Can you raise that up, just a little?”

You acquiesce, and he thrusts experimentally. The angle changes everything, causing your blood to thrum and punching the breath from your lungs. Right leg wrapped around his waist while the other rests lazily against his hips.

Eddie kisses you quick, tongue eager as he works you open. You can hear the smack of his skin against yours, both damp with the exertion, accompanied by a sound and sensation wholly unfamiliar to you.

There’s a wet squelch when he bottoms out every other thrust or so, and the coil in your gut gets pulled tighter and tighter. Heat and pressure are building in your cunt and radiating outwards.

You jolt upwards, breasts brushing against his chest, nipples hardening in the cool air. “Eddie I’m—" your voice catches in your throat, a tear falling from your eyes and cascading down your cheek.

Before he can see your unintended emotional display, you bury your face into the curve of his neck with a gasp. His hips stutter as you draw closer, neck growing damp with your tears.

“Shit. Did I—"

You quiet his concerns with a shake of your head, “No baby, I’m good. Keep going.” And with a languid roll of your hips, you seal the deal.

Eddie’s thrusts slow, the angle forcing his pelvis to tilt and drag exquisitely against your clit. Your head drops back against the pillows. He licks his lips and watches your mouth fall open with interest. He loves the way your eyes can’t seem to focus, the way your tongue lies heavy in your mouth, the way you try to hide from your pleasure, but he knows you’re excited.

Your next orgasm crashes upon you like a tidal wave, walls fluttering like the wings of a frantic hummingbird. You nearly scream from the pleasure of it all, mingled with a pinch of pain as a gushing soak drenches the both of you.

Your body jerks forward, pinned by Eddie’s hips and the cage of his arms holding you close. You can feel him moving inside you in long strokes before he stills to let you ride it out.

“That’s never happened before,” you slur out.

“Yeah?” He smirks, resuming his thrusts, pace nearly brutal now— diving into you so fast and hard that your eyes well up with tears. It doesn’t feel like you’ll reach the peak again, feels like you’ve been on the cusp since the coat room.

Your brain is fried and completely blissed out— fucked stupid by a rockstar you'd known for a week. You can only gasp in clipped short breaths as the air is continuously punched from your lungs.

Eddie bites his lip, eyes fixed on the way his cock spreads your cunt. The way your pussy is glistening and cherry red from his ministrations.

“Wish you could see yourself,” he groans out. “Such a good girl, takin’ all of me.”

Eddie could be talking gibberish and you would still nod along, falling apart as you stutter and plead, begging for him. I want it. I want it. Iwantitiwantitineedit. I need you.

A few more strokes and Eddie comes hard, thick ropes of come released into the condom, shuddering against the clenching of your walls— tight and wet and hot. Your name falls from his lips in a broken moan causing you to break open, crying out pitifully and throwing your head back against the pillows.

And, god damn, he’s just so pretty. All pink lips and pupils blown wide, chest heaving with desperate breaths before he collapses on top of you.

You feel positively ruined for other men. It’s unbelievable, the way he’s seared his touch into your body and brain. And yeah, if you had a soul or whatever, probably that too.

It may not be the most orgasms you’d ever had, but it’s damn near close and certainly the most intense yet. Your body trembles against Eddie’s torso, while he sucks on your neck, murmuring praises into your ear. Calls you sweetheart, baby, good fucking girl. Keeps himself inside, nestled comfortably deep.

You’re likely to faint if he doesn’t stop— intense whispers, slow movements, and rubbing sweetly against your walls. Eddie drags another orgasm out of you, miraculously so, almost letting you forget how torn open he’s made you feel. Your toes curl and go limp again for what feels like the umpteenth time, plaint against him as you catch your breath.

He lands a soft, barely-there kiss against the lobe of your ear and wipes the sweat from your neck and brow away.

“You okay?” He asks in a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “You got a little—"

“Overstimulated, yeah,” you answer with a laugh. Your arms drape around his collar lazily. “I’m good,” you say with a smile, “Never better.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s smile is a bright bashful thing. He ducks his head, like he can’t believe you’re real, and bites his lip.

“Gonna be pretty useless for the next couple of hours though.”

He glances back up at you. “Really?”

“Totally.” Your fingers card into his hair, working against his scalp. “This guy fucked me stupid and now I can’t feel my legs so.”

He laughs, the vibrations reverberating against your ribs before rolling off of you to discard the condom. His hand finds yours again in the near-dark, cool metal against the damp of your palm.

You lay beneath the fluffy duvet, facing Eddie. Your legs were entwined with his and he has a big, stupid grin on his face. You were sure your smile matched his own.

A phone trills into the still of the room, Eddie groans in frustration and grapples with finding it on the nightstand. He answers it with a huff of annoyance as Steve Harrington's voice cascades through the speaker.

“So…” he sings, the street noise of the city serving as background, “You guys fuckin’ or what?”

_

[levisolace]

[1] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 1: Windex and Baking Soda

WC: 7,182 Chapter Warnings: slight angst Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. story masterlist > next chapter

“It’s always my pleasure, Mr. Brown.”

The corporate smile on your face drops as soon as you hit the end button in the video call application on your laptop. It was the first meeting of the day with a client and you were already exhausted, wanting nothing but to go home and curl up in bed, heavily surrounded by your pillows and weighted blanket for hours. But you know that’s a dream that would remain a fantasy for a while. Why? Because it’s a Monday. It’s only the start of the week and judging from the pile of paperwork delivered to your desk this morning, you would have to work overtime again for the third week in a row. 

Being recently hired by one of the top leading firms in the country is a blessing you will be thankful for every day but as the week goes by and you’re on your fifth pile of paperwork, more than ten meetings in one week, you can’t help but think what would it be like to work for a small, quiet firm. You shrug those thoughts away as soon as they come. You’re grateful for the more-than-average salary the firm provides, at least.

The day went on as it always does: hours of you trying to ignore your back pain. It was becoming unbearable and you can’t even use the ointments your grandmother used to insist you use because it would no doubt infest the building with its smell—your reputation and first impression from your coworkers is at stake. 

As you’re typing back an email from your superior, Atty. Dot Pixis, you halt when you feel the buzzing on your table. You pick it up mindlessly, checking to see the notification. A smile spreads on your face to see that it’s your previous boss, Vanessa. 

hey. how’s working with the big leagues?? pixis is not tiring you out too much is he?? i can give him a word if you want.

pixis is treating me really well, nes. thank u for checking up on me! i miss everyone there at the firm and little ian :(( 

Vanessa, besides being your former boss back in Olsen & Associates, is also your friend and self-proclaimed older sister. She's a well-known attorney, and Olsen is a legend back in law school because she’s an alumnus who’s actually cool and doesn’t have their head up their asses. However, after deciding to settle down and start a family, she opened up a small firm in her hometown. 

i might just have to visit bc i miss my little sis :(( should’ve never let u leave

technically, it’s your fault i left 

i know :( don't remind me

Two months ago, Vanessa told you that ODM is hiring and Pixis contacted her to see if she knows anyone to take the job. Your jaw dropped to the ground when she told you she recommended you and you can send in your resume if you’re interested. It was an offer no one could pass up so before you knew it, you were being hauled into a hours-long bus ride and then anxiously seated for an interview in the city you used to live in. And after about a week of being a nervous wreck waiting for their response, you were contacted that you’ve been selected for the position.

Now here you are, finally settled in your office. You still can’t believe you have your own space in this huge building. You would’ve never thought you’d be working here in the firm you only used to stare at in awe while passing by years ago. 

Although, you have to admit that you miss the warm feeling of the small firm where you all know each other, exchange heartfelt greetings, and gossip when there are not too many clients. Now, you pass by a new face every now and then, most not even bothering to greet you or spare you a look. You can’t blame them. The work here is drastic. 

By the time you left the office, it’s already dark and way past office hours. As you were driving home, you remembered you still needed a few supplies in your apartment. You haven’t exactly settled yourself in, prioritizing work more. God, you even still had a few boxes to unpack. 

You stopped by a 24-hour supermarket that you spotted on your way to work this morning when you had to reroute because of the traffic. It was a little out of the way but it would do. It was still two hours before midnight, anyway.

As you drag your feet through the aisles and drop whatever you felt like you needed in the cart, unwanted memories come creeping in. The air in Paradis City is still the same. Even if a few buildings might have changed or some stores you used to frequent have closed down, it was still the same Paradis you knew—a buzzing city filled with dreams. The streets are never empty, famously congested by students from top universities or office workers. 

When you got the offer for the job, you weighed out the pros and cons. There were only two cons you were able to determine:

You don’t want to leave Olsen & Associates and Vanessa’s hometown, Trost, and

You’d be going back to your hometown, the one you promised not to go back to. 

The pros outweigh the cons, obviously. That weight being the thick fat salary you would be getting. Besides, Paradis is huge and has like three million residents. It’s not like you’d cross paths with him. And it’s been years. He probably forgot all about you anyway. You barely think about him. It was just a silly puppy-love relationship. No biggie.

Keep telling yourself that.

Shut up. 

“That one’s better.”

A voice directed to you made you snap out of your thoughts. It made you painfully aware of how you had been staring at the two options of green tea in your hand for probably more than the normal minutes it takes one to decide. The tall brunette had on a face mask covering half his face, his hair parted in the middle, and he wore a simple light blue button-down and black slacks. He was about two feet away from you when he pointed at the tea canister in your right hand. 

“Oh. Thanks,” you replied sheepishly. Desperate to run away from the embarrassment of zoning out in the middle of a public space, you take his advice and put down the canister on your left hand back to the shelf. 

“You’re welcome. I see my friend drinking it all the time so it has to be good,” he nods and you see his cheeks prop up, probably sporting a smile beneath the mask. You smiled back and thanked him again.

“Can you grab that one for me?” He points at a sweet one, a flavor in contrast with the green tea you chose. It was on the shelf being blocked by your cart beside you. You quickly mutter an apology and reach for a can. 

“My fiancée prefers her tea fruity,” he explains even if you didn’t ask, his ears tinted a bit red from his own statement. You immediately find it endearing. He seems very fond of his partner as he continues to babble about her. “Well actually, she prefers coffee with an unhealthy amount of espresso shots but I eventually persuaded her to drink tea once in a while.” 

“Moby! I know we usually don’t get this brand but guess what? This has a free pink sponge!” 

You freeze at the sound of that awfully loud and familiar cheerful voice heading towards you at a fast pace. You couldn’t turn your head. Your fingers unconsciously grip the can you’re holding harshly with wide eyes. Silently, you were wishing that the person just had the same voice as the crazed tall woman with glasses you used to know or the man beside you isn’t named ‘Moby.’ The former would hardly be the case because from the sound of the voice, the personality of being uncaring of the silent atmosphere of the supermarket, and the way she ran excitedly from your peripheral vision, you were sure that this person was your old friend Hange. For the latter, your last hope dies down as you see the stranger turn his head at the sound of his name and reply with a sigh.

“What the hell are you gonna do with a sponge, babe? We have lots of sponges.”

“Okay but imagine! We swap out Levi’s sponge with a pink one.” 

“I don’t think Levi cares about the color as long as it cleans.”

The fight or flight response in you went crazy at the mention of the name you haven’t heard in years, heavily leaning on the former. You could just hand this guy named Moby’s tea and make a run for it. You doubt Hange would care while being heavily invested in her free pink sponge. 

But why would you run? You only run when you’re scared or did something wrong. Which is it? It can't be the latter, right? 

I did. 

Oh? So you did. You’re scared, huh? That she’d get angry at you for what you did back then. 

I am. 

Run then. That’s all you know to do anyway.

Shut up. Leave me alone. 

“Miss? Are you okay?” 

For the second time in front of the same stranger, you were snapped out of your trance and find yourself gripping the can so hard that you think you’ve made a light dent on the can. Damn, you should really get a decent amount of sleep. You’ve been losing it a lot lately. 

You shake your head and slap your cheek lightly with your free hand. “Sorry. Lack of sleep. I’m fine. Here.” 

You turn to him and hand him the can, hoping he wouldn’t mind the barely noticeable dent you made. Purposely, you don’t stray your eyes away from the man. You don’t want to be the first person to acknowledge Hange. Maybe she doesn’t even remember you. Maybe she doesn’t even want to acknowledge you. 

“Greenie?” 

It was more of a mutter. But with how loud Hanji’s voice is, you and Moby clearly heard it. 

That’s when you look at her and actually see her. She looks the same as you saw her last. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail and her brown eyes were covered by thick-rimmed glasses. Nothing much has changed from her appearance except for the disappearance of the youthful look now replaced by maturity. Her gaze is fixed on you, slack-jawed. Her reaction doesn’t surprise or faze you, having expected that much. It’s what would follow that you’re nervous about. What would she say? Will she get angry at you? Or will she even remember who you are? Somehow, you dread that last possible outcome worst. 

“H-Hange,” you breathily let out. You wonder if it’s audible. 

Her fiancé also looks shocked, staring at you and then back to Hanji with widened eyes. “This is Greenie? The Greenie?” He points at you while asking Hange who was still frozen. His tone and reference to you immediately tell you that you have been discussed with people you never met, no doubt now knowing your past with them. 

Greenie. You haven’t heard that nickname in a while. 

It was silent for a few seconds, eyes not straying from each other. You probably look apologetic—scared, even. The man beside her is waiting too. You think he’s having a mini breakdown in disbelief. 

When you see her start to lunge at you, you shut your eyes, expecting her palm to collide with your cheek. You expect her to slap you and scream at you in the middle of the cold supermarket. You expect her to ask you where you got the nerve to come back to the city after all you’ve done. 

Instead, what she did broke down all your expectations. 

Long and slender arms wrap around your figure, pulling you tightly to her chest. Your face is squished against the fabric of her fluffy parka jacket. Even if you suddenly have trouble breathing with how tight her hug is, you were thankful that it covered your face and how you were biting your lower lip, trying to suppress the relief that comes with tears.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

You couldn’t even answer. Or move at all. Not that you even know what to say. 

“Hange. You’re killing her.” You hear her partner say. Hange instantly loosens her grip on you, muttering an apology with a slight chuckle. When she looks down at you, you give her a gentle smile.

“I missed you too, Hange.” And you meant it. 

The tall woman was still not letting you go, arms wrapped just below your shoulders because of the height difference. Even if you were caged in her arms, you can still tilt your head up to look at her. Suddenly, tears started streaming down her face as she tilts her head down to you, her mouth quivering. Then it turns into full-on sobbing. You chuckle as she starts swaying you with her, going side to side like a pendulum as she sobs while wailing your name repeatedly. 

There was no stopping Hange when she gets like this. So you let it happen. You let her hug you like she did many times before. You relish the moment, wanting to pass out and let loose in her hold. Maybe you’re dreaming and you’ll wake up in your bed, filled with disappointment and yearning for some warmth.

When she was satisfied, she let you go and introduced you to Moblit, her fiancé and coworker. They walked with you as you continued to shop, telling you stories about her and Moblit. Thankfully for your sake, she didn’t ask you much about yourself or what happened when you were away. She just asked how you were doing right now and what you were doing in the city. Although you were scared that the news would get to him, you told her the truth that you recently got hired at the law firm. 

“So you moved back then? Like permanently?” Her brows raised in excitement. 

“Well, I have a temporary contract for six months before I’m permanently employed there so hopefully,” you shrug while heading to checkout. As expected, Hange doesn’t care that you practically explained that it’s technically a ‘not yet,’ she shrieks and jumps up and down anyway. 

“Oh my god, this is perfect! Greenie, one of my bridesmaids had to back out but we already had the dress paid and it’s a no-refund. Can you step in for her and attend our wedding? Would you? Please? Please?” Hange begs you, hands clasped together as she stares at you with puppy eyes and a pout. 

You stop in your tracks and feel your heart sink to the ground. She wants you to attend her wedding knowing that many, if not everyone, you used to know will be there. And if his name was so casually mentioned earlier, that meant that they were still very much best friends and he would definitely be there.

And a few minutes ago you were convincing yourself that you wouldn’t accidentally run into him in this city. Now, you have to actually see him and be in the same room for a few hours? 

You start with a chuckle. “Oh. I wouldn’t mean to impose—” 

You were abruptly overpowered by her loud negation. “No, you wouldn’t! Everyone would be ecstatic to see you! I swear.” 

“But—“

Hange sighs dramatically, shoulders slumping with a pout on her face. “I guess it’d be too much, wouldn’t it? You’re probably busy, right? Right. Sorry, I just got excited.” She turns to her boyfriend. “Moby, can you pay for our stuff and Greenie’s too?” 

“What?”

Your eyes widened but before you could protest or take a strong hold on your cart, Moblit was already dragging it away and sending a flying kiss to Hange who giggled like a schoolgirl to catch it with her fist. You turn to her in disbelief as he turns his back. She catches your face, knowing what you’re about to say. 

“It’s fine. That won’t make a dent in his bank account.”

Just like that, you were painfully reminded how no one could get a word in with Hange. 

“Un-fucking-believeable.” 

Niccolo, the training chef, flinched from behind him when the silver-eyed man let out an unprovoked profanity as he entered the restaurant. Connie, his loyal secretary, doesn’t even bat an eye at the unprofessional behavior of his boss, only following behind him with a straight face. 

“Shithead. Call Nile later. Tell him I want a new team on this…” his words halt in disgust as he sees the unfinished, poorly done walls of what was to be a new branch of Kuchel’s. “or I’ll fire his stupid construction company out of every damn project. Verbatim.” 

“Will do, sir.” Connie nods, mentally sighing. Not only is he used to hearing the profanities, but he’s also used to being ordered to say it too. 

Levi nods at his secretary’s response, eager to leave the abomination that was supposed to be at 80% progress at this date. As he turns, he’s faced with Connie and a blonde man he doesn’t know. 

“Who’s this?” 

The blonde man practically shivered at his haze, the corner of his lips twitching at the sides. It was a sad attempt at a smile. Mentally, Connie sighed at his boss’ unfocused mind when there was something that greatly irritates him. The trainee chef was just literally in the car with them and Levi told Connie to bring the chef with them on the way to check the new location. 

“This is Niccolo, sir. He was in the car with us. He’s the one highly considered by the HR,” Connie expertly answered. 

“So you’re on the last stage,” Levi addresses Niccolo. The nervous man gulps but answers. “Yes, sir.” 

Connie watches the exchange, feeling a bit of pity for the tall man cowering at the gaze of such a short guy with a temper taller than a skyscraper. He was exactly like this when Levi interviewed him for the position. 

“Sorry, I had to make a detour because some shitheads can’t do their job right. Let’s go.” 

And so Niccolo and Connie followed the grumpy man back to the vehicle they just got not even three minutes ago. 

Not that he knew what to expect or had guesses but Niccolo was utterly surprised that he was brought to the first Kuchel’s restaurant. The legendary one that went viral. 

When he passed by the reception area, his eyes widened when he saw the reservation list filled with no spots left. It was practically booked for the month from what he saw. 

The kitchen smelled amazing, each one of the cooks was busy and they actually looked happy while working. They worked with so much coordination and laughter like he had never seen before. 

He thought that he’d train or cook with them today, seeing as they’re Kuchel’s main branch’s team. He was excited too. But again, Levi surprises him when he pushes another door open from the kitchen, revealing a staircase. The man says nothing but climbs upstairs. 

Confused but too scared to ask, Niccolo only stares at Connie but who beckons him to follow him up the stairs. When he sees Levi take a glance behind him, his feet move on its own, following the cold short man’s steps.

He sees a living room first. It’s a simple home but maintained well enough to look pristine. He kept on following Levi as he eventually led him to a kitchen. Levi turned to him and he’d be lying if he said that his heart didn’t jump at his sudden order. 

“Do whatever you like. You have an hour.” 

And then he leaves the kitchen, leaving Niccolo confused as he looks around at the domestic kitchen. He sees Connie, Levi’s assistant aggressively mouthing the words ‘cook anything’ as he follows Levi back to the living room. 

“Good job. I think he liked it.” 

Connie whispers to Niccolo before he leaves. Normally, he isn’t allowed to tell the training chefs what Levi thinks. But he’s feeling a little silly and Niccolo is his friend and his best friend, Sasha’s, boyfriend. 

Just like all the other training chefs, Levi brought Niccolo to his old home to cook something for him. Levi is hella picky with them but Connie could see that he actually liked his friend’s food. There was no pursing of lips, which was the worst of them all. Connie had to scramble and get the trainee out before he burst the room into a myriad of colorful words no one wants to hear. 

When they got back to the office, Hange was already there and most probably uninvited. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, four eyes?” 

Levi’s eyes were seething with annoyance as he sees his friend sitting at his desk on his chair, spinning around like an idiot. It was hard to believe that this woman is a professor at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. 

“Shorty! You’re here!” She exclaimed, slamming her hands down on the fine wood of Levi’s desk to stop the chair from spinning. 

“Get the fuck up before I strangle you to death, Hange.” 

Hange chuckles but stands up anyway, skipping before plopping herself on the couch in Levi’s office. “Can you relax? I was just here to remind you that I’m getting married.” 

Levi groans and rolls his eyes. “Who would fucking forget, Hange? You text a fucking countdown at seven in the morning in the group chat tagged to everyone. The mute option has been fucking useless since you learned how to do it.” 

Levi sits down on his chair and switches on his computer to return to work despite his friend’s unsolicited visit to his office. 

“Oh! I wanted to ask you something too! Do you have a date for the wedding? So I can take note of a plus one, maybe?” 

He gives a blank stare to his friend for a second before turning back to his screen. “You know you can ask me that through a phone call, right?” He began typing away on his laptop, answering a few emails Connie forwarded to him. 

“Well, you blocked my number so I thought that you’d rather see me in person.” Hange shrugs with a grin.

Levi pauses, remembering that he did block Hange’s number that one night she insisted for he come over and watch a horror movie with Erwin and Moblit. He was working and couldn’t turn his phone on do not disturb mode so he had to specifically block Hange’s calls. He then proceeds to forget to unblock her until now. 

“So, no date?” Hange presses further. 

Levi grunts, annoyed at the stupid question. “Who the fuck am I gonna bring? It’s not like I’m gonna bring a random girl to your wedding, Hange.” 

“You totally could. They’re called escorts,” Hange suggests like a know-it-all.

“I don’t want a random stranger in your wedding pictures, four eyes.” 

“I would rather have that than see you so depressing in my pictures with your bitch face. Oh! Want me to set you up on a blind date?” Hange’s voice rises again, something that happens when she gets excited over an idea. 

“Fuck no,” Levi spat. 

“Your last serious relationship was decades ago, Levi. Give it a try again.” 

If looks could kill, funeral flowers would be thrown at Hange’s casket instead of wedding flowers. His fingers hover over the keyboard, hanging frozen at her words. At the mere implication of you, his blood boils and his chest tightens. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Well–”

“Are you saying I’m not over her again, Hange?” 

Before she could answer, the door swung open, revealing a tall blonde man with thick eyebrows who was grinning cheek to cheek. Great. Erwin’s here. Maybe they could send a few more uninvited people, order greasy pizza, and have a party in his office. 

“Over who?” Erwin asks, ever the gossip man. Levi grunts and rests his forehead in his palms as Hange greets Erwin enthusiastically before answering.

“You know who.”

Erwin narrows his eyes at Levi before sitting down on the other edge of the couch. Hange tells him about getting a blind date. “You could try, Hange. I’ve set him up with surprise blind dates before and you know how that went.” 

“Can you two fucking shut up and leave? I’m trying to work here,” Levi spat in annoyance. The pair ignores his grumbling, carrying on their conversation like he wasn’t in the room.

“But I have never set him up with someone before,” Hange points out. 

Erwin purses his lips. “I doubt that you can find a girl better than me, Hange. I tried everything.” 

Erwin and Hange look at each other with mischief, clearly enjoying Levi’s suffering from their teasing. He knows they won’t stop. If anything, it only egged them on further.

Hange places a finger on her chin obnoxiously. “Maybe you could ask the girl to wear green next time.” 

Erwin nods, crossing his arms like he’s actually considering it. “Absolutely. We all know Levi still loves his greenie.” 

God, even her nickname is a pain to hear. 

Levi slams a hand down his mahogany desk so loud that people outside his office probably heard it. It didn’t faze his friends who were snickering on the couch though. They know he’s about to blow. He’s so frustrated that he almost ran a finger through his well-kept hair but caught himself before damaging it, exhaling loudly in frustration before speaking. 

“Look, you dipshits. I told you a thousand times. Forget about that damned woman. I’m not dating because I’m goddamn busy with all these expansions, not because I’m not over a girl who left us all without a fucking trace.” Every word is laced with venom and he ends it with a huff. 

“Fine. We get it. You’re over her but you’re still angry at her.” Hange rolls her eyes. 

Levi doesn’t know exactly when they started referring to her as mere stories or inside jokes. But evidently, it turned out that way. They used to be hurt at the thought of her disappearing. Slowly, they started to forget. Except him. He’s still angry and confused when he thinks of a reason why. 

“I am,” he admits.

“And if she comes to see you again? What will you do?” 

This question again, Levi thinks. 

He sighs. Like an automated machine, he answers the question as he did a myriad of times before, the first being the answer to one of your stupid games of what-if questions when you were together. Most were just ways to make him say those damn three words to you. It was usually just dumb things like “What if I was a worm?” and he would roll his eyes and tell you that he would unhesitatingly kill you before kissing you when you frown in disappointment. One question, however, deeply offended him more than anything. 

“Levi, what if I asked you to break up with me?” 

You were sitting on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs, still reeling from the sad romantic movie the two of you watched where the disabled paralyzed man still decides to die even after he fell in love with his caregiver. 

Levi, who’s in the middle of choosing another movie from your collection of DVDs, freezes in his seat. He doesn’t turn to look at you but you see his whole body tensed up having heard what you said.

“What if we break up like that?” 

You repeat the question with a pout on your lips. Levi finally looks at you with a frown on his face. He sighs and looks away, gaze lifting up for a second as if he’s thinking. 

“No,” he answers even if the question upsets him. “We’re not gonna break up.”

You noticed that his mood falters from your question.  Feeling a little bad, you wrap a hand around his bicep, pulling yourself close to his side. With a smile, you lean in and give him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t be sad. It was just hypothetical.”

He instantly leans unto you. He always does so when you’re near—like opposite sides of a magnet being pulled together by force. He always wants to be near you.

“Can you just go back to stupid questions like the worm shit?” He asks with a low voice, faces too close to each other that his lips could brush yours. 

You give him a teasing grin and hum, nodding but doing the exact opposite of what he asked. Ever his stubborn girl, you continue asking. “But what if I leave you?” 

He glares at you, not very pained this time, knowing it’s just you teasing again. Instead, his brows furrowed as he gazed down at you with his silver eyes. His eyes flick down to your lips and his lower lip brushes against yours for a millisecond. When you were sure he was about to kiss you, he shoves a hand at your face and pushes you away with a little force, making you land on the couch on your back. 

You laugh but curse him out loud for his attack. Levi huffs, crossing his arms and looking away. 

“If you do that, I will ignore you for the rest of my fucking life. You’re dead to me.” He says it with so much conviction that you know he doesn’t mean a word of it. 

You sit up again, frowning then lightly slapping his shoulder. “That’s rude. What if I come back to see you, then?” 

He scoffs loudly, still looking away from you, and spots his box of cleaning supplies. Then, he says the second thing that comes into his mind, thinking that the first one he thought of would seem desperate and pathetic of him. 

He opens his mouth to speak and the words you hear from him causes an ever louder laugh out of you. He smiles before pushing you on your back again. This time, pulling himself on top of you and sealing your lips with a kiss. 

“I’d spray her with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on her stupid face, and kick her out.” 

Usually, the statement is so funny to them that it ends the conversation. Sometimes, he even gives them a demonstration where one of their unlucky friends gets to be on the receiving end. But this time, Erwin has a follow-up question that goes straight to Levi’s chest.

“And if she insists on staying? What will you do?” 

Levi went quiet. Hange and Erwin give a knowing sad look at each other that Levi doesn’t catch. They didn’t mean to push him this hard. But they had to know if he was ready. 

From just outside his door where Connie’s desk is placed, his secretary listens in as well. He heard about his boss’ ex. The whole office knows about it. His mysterious ex and the only woman Levi Ackerman loved. That was what everyone knew. But from spending too much time with his boss more than he wanted to, Connie had learned the following about his boss’ only relationship:

Her nickname is Greenie because she liked green tea. Levi prefers black tea but he accidentally told you he liked green tea too then ran with it for four months until Hanji revealed the truth accidentally.

The four of them knew each other for a long time. He doesn’t know if they met in high school or college. But in school, definitely.

After getting their undergraduate degree, she asked Levi to break up and broke his heart with words.

After the breakup, she disappeared from Paradis. Levi waited for her for a long time, broken and yearning. She didn’t come back. Now, all Levi has is bitterness in his body.

Those are what Connie gathered from his little detective skills to cope with having to work under the horribly mannered man. Then, he shares it with his best friend, Sasha, during his lunch break. 

He listens a little more, the email he was reading sitting idle for longer than it should. His boss still doesn’t answer. 

Inside, Erwin and Hange await their friend’s reply who is still lost in his own thoughts. Erwin decides to push him one last time. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“If she comes to you for closure, will you accept it? You’re over her, right? You can stay angry, that’s valid. She did you wrong. But will you at least hear her?” 

Levi keeps quiet but listens to Erwin. The word closure gives his stomach an unsettling feeling. It felt wrong to hear it. But it doesn’t matter. His friends were just bored and bluffing again. He can bluff too. 

“I don’t really care about her as much as you think I still do. When I see her, I’ll do what I said I would. Then it’s done. I don’t care what she does anymore.” 

It’s been five days since you coincidentally met Hange and Moblit. Before you parted ways, you exchanged numbers and your old friend has been messaging you nonstop. You appreciated it. Hange was always light-hearted and kind. You’re glad she found someone who appreciates her and takes care of her. So when she mentioned that there was a conflict with the invitations, you offered to fix it for her, knowing a thing or two about it. You handled project management a few times as an intern. 

There was once a time when you called her your best friend. You know that’s a title you no longer hold but either way, you were glad to talk to her again. Even if you know that in the very near future, you would have to face what it holds for you. Now that Hange is back in your life, it’s only a matter of time and you’d have to see your ex again. You lie awake at night thinking of what you’d do then. 

It was Saturday. That means no work for you after lunch, thankfully. You ground through your paper works and clients like a corporate machine all week, wanting to finish them before Saturday so you wouldn’t have to go overtime on a weekend. And after about nine cups of highly caffeinated green tea, you finally finished all your work for the week. Now free from the shackles of labor and capitalism, you slung your tote bag over your shoulder and headed out of your office and onto the elevator. 

Passing by Pixis’ office, you inform him you’re taking your leave which he cheerfully allowed, wishing you a happy weekend before you left his office. You bid him to have the same and left the building, anxious to see through the next events of the day. If this was a normal weekend, you’d be content with wasting away in bed as soon as you rushed home. 

You handled the invitations over the week, using your break time to oversee how it’s going with the printing service you trust for things like this. They generously accepted your request for a rush order, knowing who you are. 

The invitations were piled into a box on your coffee table by Friday, ready to be sent out to Hange’s guests. When you texted Hange that they were ready, she sent over her apartment’s address, telling you to personally meet her there on Saturday after work. She argues when you tell her you can just send it in the same day through an app, whining about how she wants to hang out with you. 

Hange, ever the persuasive and persistent person, got you to agree. That, and you still feel guilty for declining her invitation to her wedding. 

After you press the doorbell, you wait patiently with your left hand holding the small box of invitations. Her apartment was apparently a penthouse. An apartment in this building already costs an arm and a leg. Hange is smart and talented, one of her research must’ve been really successful. You also remembered that she was probably living with Moblit here. Ah, the wonders of having a partner in life—shared rent. Maybe you should get a roommate. 

When the door was taking too long to be answered, you shoot up a text for Hange. 

hey i’m here outside ur door ! :)) 

ok! just wAit a bit

It didn’t take Hange long to reply, easing your anxiety a little. When it takes more than a minute after she sends her text, you tilt your head in confusion. Are you at the correct address? Maybe you’re at the wrong unit. You were pretty sure you were on the right one, though. You rechecked it a few times. 

You wait a little bit more before ringing the doorbell again. You assume she’s probably grossed into something and can’t take the door at the moment. With a sigh, you wait a few more minutes, turning away from the door and deciding to scroll through your social media accounts that you barely use. 

A smile involuntarily plasters itself on your face when you see the posts of your coworkers from Trost. Warmth spreads to your chest as you see the office through the pictures, reminiscing your time there. It’s suddenly frightening, the realization that you’re alone in this huge city with no one to turn to. It’s a feeling you’re awfully familiar with, a state you’d rather not return to. 

When you feel yourself drift away to those thoughts, you pull yourself away immediately, figuring that the time you waited should be enough to press the doorbell again. 

But as you turn around to press it for the second time, the door swings open harshly in a swift motion, making you jump a little in surprise and fear as you hear an annoyed groan from a man that is most definitely not Hange coming with it. 

“For fuck’s sake. Did Hange give a woman my addre…”

The two of you froze. 

The raven-dark hair parted in the middle. The undercut. Those gray eyes and his beautiful piercing gaze. Those high cheekbones and soft cheeks. Those furrowed brows and scrunched forehead that was softly dissipated from his face when he sees you standing behind the door. Those delicate pink lips, now parted in awe and mirroring yours.

Neither of you can move like you were frozen in time. Every muscle in your body refused to move. Your brain stopped functioning and wasn't even able to conjure a coherent thought, much less a response. The only thing you could do was stare at the man you once called home. 

He still had dark under eyes but they were more prominent than before. You hate how it still suited him even if you hated how little he sleeps; they make his gaze heavier, willing you to get lost with him. A few strands of his fringe fall over his eyes. They were a little longer than what you were used to but it was still the same haircut you used to run your hand over when you were cuddling. It was a little unkempt. And even though his white shirt is a little crumpled, it still smoothly falls over his frame. It drapes from his defined shoulders to his waist until the hem of the shirt goes over the band of his gray sweatpants that hugged his legs loosely. 

He breaks the gaze spell when his eyes go over you, top to bottom. He stares at your shocked and devastated countenance, the casual but decent clothes that you changed into after work, the box in your hand, and the way your right foot has stepped further back than your left when he opened the door, ready to run away at the thought the man who opened the door was angry. 

You open your mouth to speak. You know you have to say something. Anything. Hi? Hello? How are you? Is this where Hange lives? Why the fuck do you still look so hot? 

But none of that comes out.

Why? 

Levi’s face hardens before you can speak, wiping off the bewildered eyes and replacing them with his infamous glare, silver eyes glistening with specks of anger. His mouth closes into a frown but not before scoffing at you. The scorned expression on his face shuts you right up for a second but you try and carry on.

This time, before you can speak, he slams the door shut in your face with an impact so loud it booms through your whole being enough to raise all the hair on your skin, leaving you standing there in his floor’s corridor appalled and deeply belittled.

Your startled brain is more confused than ever. As you decide to slowly process what happened and not even ten seconds after he harshly shuts his door, it swings open again, revealing the same man who not-so-gently shut it, with a hand still on the knob and the other holding something blue.

His arm outstretched towards you and you were faced with a nozzle of a familiar spray bottle. With a straight face, he sprays the fucking liquid right on your face. You immediately shut your eyes and mouth, leaning your face away from the spray. Although it’s far enough to not cover your face if you hadn’t moved, you still cringe when you feel the tiny droplets on your skin.

You lift one eye open, scared that he’s about to spray again. He puts the bottle down to his side, looking satisfied with his work. When you open both eyes, he shuts the door again, leaving you in the corridor with heightened emotions from the first time he did it paired with an itching aggravation. 

Was that a fucking Windex? 

Hold on. Windex? 

The door swings open again and he fully reveals himself without a hand on the knob like the two times before. This time he’s holding an orange cardboard box labeled Pure Baking Soda and reaches into it with his other hand. 

You shut your eyes close immediately, realizing what was happening when you remembered his words to you years ago. 

“I’d spray you with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on your face, and kick you out.” 

The baking soda hits your face, making your nose involuntarily scrunch up because of the fistful of powder he threw at you. When you guess that he’s satisfied after successfully throwing you the promised baking soda, you blink your eyes open, finding him still standing there with a straight face. 

“Are you done?” you asked with a deadpan face, covered with baking soda.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

[ncityprincess]

sweet like candie 💻🍭

loser jae x cam girl oc

a long overdue sequel to the peeping jae. our favorite engineering student found himself in a pickle a few weeks ago. as mortified as he was, he quickly discovered a new side to himself. let’s see how he handles this newfound boldness.

not proofread 🤷🏾‍♀️

MDNI!!! MATURE CONTENT

xocandiegirlxo has logged on

jaehyun's heart was racing, eagerly waiting for the fun to begin. 8:00 pm had quickly become his favorite time of day, because that’s when candie, his new favorite cam girl, did her solo shows.

the engineering student spent all of winter break locked in his bedroom with the curtains closed and his laptop on. ever since that incident happened last month, jaehyun’s head was polluted with the filthiest thoughts imaginable. he desperately needed an outlet for them.

he pleasured himself way more than he ever had in his life. every time he closed his eyes, all he could think about were the raunchy images of y/n and johnny fucking each other right before his eyes. as freaked out and embarrassed as he was, it piqued his interest in sex even more. it’s not like he had much access to women, as he wasn’t exactly a ladies man. his lower head started to do all of the thinking for him, and eventually he found a way to get his foot into the door.

he turned to camgirls.

jaehyun, the extremely intelligent but generally nervous college student, had discovered a cam girl site not too long ago. being that he wasn't the type to approach a girl in real life, he decided to take his shot with a beautiful cam model. separated by a computer screen and however many miles, it was a safe way to practice being comfortable with women. tonight, he had transferred a few hundred dollars from his savings account to book a private session with his favorite cam girl, candie.

candie was perfect in his eyes. she was sweet, stunningly gorgeous, had the brightest smile and this distinct twinkle in her eye. she was an angel. and sure, she had a way of making men feel special. it was her job after all. but when candie spoke, it was as if she was speaking to jaehyun and only jaehyun.

the video chat was connecting, each agonizingly long second made jaehyun's pants tighter and tighter.

candie finally popped onto the screen, looking as beautiful as ever. she wore a pink lacy lingerie set, and tied her long locks back with a matching pink ribbon. her lips were plump and kissable, which was exactly what jaehyun wanted to do to her right now.

"hi baby, i didn’t get to see you during the last few shows", candie said with a pout.

"hi candie...sorry, my family came over and i wasn’t able to log on. i missed you so much” jaehyun said sincerely.

"aww, I missed you too baby boy. my show wasn’t the same without your sweet comments in the chat"

jaehyun scratched the back of his head shyly.

"mmm, so, what kind of fun are we gonna get into tonight, handsome?” candie said in her pretty, flirty voice.

"...umm, hmm, uh..." jaehyun bashfully stuttered.

"don't be shy baby, we always have such a good time when we're together, isn't that right?"

"yeah, yeah we do"

"we sure do! go on, tell me, what do you wanna see me do for you?"

candie let her hands roam across her voluptuous body, sensing that the shy man needed to relax a little more.

"do you like my outfit baby? I put it on just for you. it's my favorite color, pink!" candie said with a giggle.

"it looks lovely on you, but could you maybe...stand up. so I can see it better?"

"hehe, you want me to give you a little spin, baby?"

"please" he said eagerly

candie giggled again and slowly stood up from her bed. she tilted her webcam so that jaehyun could see all of her. she ran her hands up and down her body, spending a little extra time on her bra clad breasts. she let out little soft sounds of satisfaction. jaehyun leaned a little closer to his laptop screen, finally starting to get into a lusty haze. candie turned around slowly, bending over slightly so that he could get a good view of her plush ass. jaehyun ran his hands up his legs, slowly unbuttoning his pants.

candie turned back around and faced the camera.

"did you like my little fashion show, baby?"

"yeah" he grunted

candie tossed her hair over her shoulder. “what should i do now, handsome?”

jaehyun collected himself and gathered enough courage to speak his true thoughts.

“i wanna see you play with yourself…. if…that’s okay with you?”

“i thought you’d never ask. i’m sooooo horny baby. i’ve been dying to touch myself all day. how should i do it?” candie purred sweetly.

“uh…take your clothes off first, then touch your boobs please”

candie giggled at jaehyun’s polite demeanor. she could tell he was someone who didn’t get out much. but unlike the guys she normally got requests from, jaehyun still remained respectful, even in a dirty situation like this. he actually treated her like a human being.

jaehyun got harder and harder as he watched his favorite cam girl strip out of her lingerie. he felt like he was watching some sort of goddess enchant him.

candie followed his instructions and began to fondle her perky chest, running her hands over her hard nipples. “mmm baby i wish you were here to do it for me” candie moaned out.

“yeah, me too candie. would you let me kiss all over your boobs if i was there?”

“yeah” she breathed out.

“n-now can you maybe touch your pussy?”

candie’s hand moved down her stomach and stopped at her wetness, allowing it to coat her hand. she moved her hand in small circles on her clit, moaning softly at the friction.

“mmmm baby i’m so wet already, need you to help me make it better”

the neediness in candie’s voice made jaehyun shove his hand into his boxers once and for all. he groaned as his hand gripped his shaft, giving it a light squeeze. his ministrations became more focused as he heard candie get louder.

“baby i want you so fucking bad. wish you were in my mouth right now. i’d take you so deep in my throat if you’d let me. would you like that?”

“fuuuck yeah i would” jaehyun’s hand was working overtime moving up and down his length. he couldn’t believe he had a pretty girl in front of him doing whatever he wanted. he watched her slip two fingers inside of her glistening hole and she laid back flat onto her bed, giving him a perfect view of her pussy.

“wanna be your little slut for you babe. i’d let you have me whenever you wanted. you wouldn’t even have to say a word. i’d just lie back and let you have it. you’re so fucking sexy” candie moaned.

jaehyun didn’t even care if she was laying it on thick or not. her words were getting him exactly where he needed to be. he was so close to cumming, but he didn’t want the moment to be over so soon. he couldn’t keep his hands off of himself though. it felt too good to stop now.

“fuckkkk. fuck yourself really fast now. and rub your clit too. i’m so close baby.” jaehyun was surprised by the sound of his own voice. he had never heard himself sound so gruff and husky before. it was starting to give him some newfound confidence.

“ahhhh. i wanna cum so bad baby. make me cum make me cum pleaseeeee” candie whined. jaehyun’s eyes were lazer focused on her hand moving frantically in and out of her body. each motion made her breasts jiggle. he was so close he could taste it.

“fuck, let’s cum at the same time, yeah?”

“please baby i’ll do anything. just wanna cum.”

jaehyun started a countdown from 10 all the way to 1. he heard candie let out a sexy, drawn out wail as she came. immediately after, he shot out a hefty load all over his hand and boxers. he let out a guttural groan as he milked himself dry, overstimulating himself just how he liked it.

a few moments passed and jaehyun grabbed a kleenex to wipe off his hand. he felt his ears get red and had a bashful look on his face. he couldn’t believe he just did that. but he didn’t regret it one. bit.

“hehehe, i had a lovely time tonight, handsome boy. we should do this again sometime.” candie said sincerely and she grabbed her discarded lingerie.

“yeah?”

“of course! you made me feel so good baby. you’re a perfect gentleman” candie smiled at him softly.

jaehyun smiled and scratched the back of his head. “oh! let me send you your tip. you were amazing, as usual. i really hope we can do this again soon candie.”

jaehyun sent $300 to her profile, and candie smiled widely.

“you are so sweet! thank you for your generosity. will i see you again for tomorrow’s show, handsome?”

jaehyun wanted to see her every single night for the rest of his life.

the end 😁

[astorythatwritesitself]

Notebook November (Notevember) 📓

Looking for a new challenge, in light of the dumpster fire that was once the NaNo organization? Not a huge fan of the 50k goal because of time, motivation, lack of a solid enough concept, or generally don't vibe with it? Do you desire or hoard new stationery the way a dragon desires and hoards sparkly rocks? Notevember just might be up your alley!

What is Notevember?

Some bullshit I made up like a month ago & I absolutely doubt I'm the only one with such a concept, either 😂 A variant of the NaNoWriMo challenge; for those who find specific word goals daunting, who prefer to work longhand, and/or who get more satisfaction seeing... tangible results, as it were? Like, you can absolutely do this digitally if you really want, but this is very much aimed towards folks who find writing longhand just hits a little differently.

Rather than aim for a given number of words, you're aiming to fill up a notebook!

Supplies?

You will need:

- An empty notebook. My personal preference is a 70-100 page spiral or classic composition notebook, but use one that's however large or small you want! This is also an excuse to finally crack open any empty notebooks you might have lying around, yeah?

- Writing implements of choice

And... that's it! Throw in stickers or whatever else you might want, but all you'll really need is a bundle of paper & something to mark it up with.

How to play?

Start filling the pages.

It can be a single story! It could be character or general writing exercises. It could be research notes, timelines, observations of people around you, overheard conversations, a collection of passages, quotes, poetry, or lyrics that speak to you. It could be a little of everything!

The only goal is that, by the end of November, you've filled up each page - and it's your call, if that only means the front of a page, or front and back.

Notevember is meant to be flexible & relatively forgiving, especially if you tend to have a lot going on. The notebook could be one small enough to keep with you throughout the day so you can jot down lines on a lunch break, in a waiting room, on the bus - or it could be something you do at home, after waking up or just before bed or whenever you've got the time.

Other Thoughts?

I have found that I get more satisfaction and more motivation to continue when I can like... see a result. Number Going Up just doesn't quite work for me like it does for other folks, but seeing empty pages fill up, seeing the distortion and wear of the notebook as it gets used? That gets me to feel, 'Ah! Something Is Happening!' There's also (a little) less tendency to try and edit as I go; working longhand with a pen does better for me to get that zero draft/concept on the page, rather than agonizing over creating a polished product from the start.

I've also found I get more into that... 'no one will ever have to see this, it can be as messy & misspelled & senseless as it needs to be' mindset easier, than writing on a tablet or laptop? -shrug- idk It Just Hits Different and that's all there is to it.

Share snippets, characters, whatever you're doing, if you want! But this is a little more aimed at those who just need to get things down, who want to have An End Product, but maybe don't have fully coherent plots or polished pieces, and don't usually have much to share - it's just between you and your notebook. You don't have to share or invite anyone else in, if you don't want to.

So! That's about the long and short of it. If you think you like this idea, feel free to join in; and whatever you are or aren't doing for November Writing Time - good luck, and take care!

[panicfanatic]

What A Blessing (To Meet Someone Like You).

I'd never really processed just how much my life was set to change after I'd left school. I suppose five years of sitting through the same classes with the same people all day five days a week does make it hard to acknowledge that one day, you will sit your exams, go to prom, and then never look back. You get a job, start earning money, then before you know it, you're moving out of your childhood home. You get your own place, and even though it's just some shitty flat in central London, it's your shitty flat in central London, and you're proud of it. You try your best to keep in touch with old friends, but eventually there will come a day where you get a new phone, and while you're transferring all of the contacts from your old one, you forget to add a few numbers; the numbers of people you once saw every day, but now only speak to on Christmas and birthdays. If you can even remember the latter. You grow up, and enter the world as an adult. It's bittersweet, but time marches on, and your life as you knew it begins to shape into something else entirely.  This was the truth I had to deal with. I left school, and enrolled in college, then in the blink of an eye, I was graduating university with an English Language degree and buying my own place two hundred miles away from my parents. I stopped speaking to friends from school, and I began living my new life.

Which leads me up to now. I sit at the kitchen table in my tiny flat, sighing as a headache begins to form behind my eyes. I stare blankly at the screen of my ancient laptop, silently willing the words to write themselves. I'd never managed to do much with my English degree, and now I sit here with a job at a tabloid newspaper that I secretly hate, wishing I could move on to bigger and better things. Instead of publishing gripping romance novels for the masses to read and love, I spend my time writing about music and celebrities and sports and things I really couldn't give any lesser shits about. It's my only source of income, however, so there isn't much I can do. I barely constitute as a journalist, even though that is supposedly my job title. 

I would write those gripping romance novels, but the prospect of sharing my prose with anyone, even my closest family and friends, fills me with such terror that I can't bring myself to send an email to the publisher's office, like I've been planning on doing for months now. Every time I hover the cursor over the 'Send' button, I freeze with horror and close out of the tab. It's sort of like stage fright but for nerds. 

I would write those gripping romance novels, but the prospect of sharing my prose with anyone, even my closest family and friends, fills me with such terror that I can't bring myself to send an email to the publisher's office, like I've been planning on doing for months now. Every time I hover the cursor over the 'Send' button, I freeze with horror and close out of the tab. It's sort of like stage fright but for nerds. 

I leave the block of flats and cross the road, my feet subconsciously carrying me towards the coffee shop on the corner that I frequently visit. I enter the small, cosy shop, smiling softly at the gentle scent of coffee beans and spiced syrups hit my nose. The shop is warm, and I already feel more at ease as I approach the counter. I give my order, then wait for my drink to be made. I quickly pay for it and bring it to one of the tables in the corner, near another table where a tall guy with fluffy brown hair and circular glasses sits, long legs stretched out and a book in his hand. I don't catch much of his face, as his nose is buried in the book (it appears to be a notebook of some sort, but I can't really tell), but he seems to have nice taste- he wears a cable-knit sweater with black pants, and his black rain-coat hangs over his chair. I glance away as I sit down, pulling out my phone. I scroll mindlessly through Twitter, and I actively feel my brain becoming numb as my eyes skim over the latest celebrity drama that I'm undoubtedly going to be asked to write about within the next week. I sip my coffee absently, idly wondering why I pay so much for it every day when my income isn't exactly as disposable as I'd like to believe. I push the thought away, allowing myself to just enjoy my regular spiced latte, because you only live once, right? So what if I go bankrupt over coffee? I'm going to die one day, anyway. It won't matter then, will it?

I almost jump when I get a notification from my closest friend, Angelica. (She often goes by Angel to those closest to her, which is ironic, considering she is anything but). I open the message, and I don't know whether to be disappointed or amused at the image she's sent. It's some stupid meme she probably got from Tiktok, and I roll my eyes fondly as I type my response. 'What the fuck. Weirdo.' Her response is simply dripping with disdain, and I laugh softly under my breath. After a moment's hesitation, I ask her if she wants to meet up. Her reply is immediate: 'Of course.' I tell her where I am, and she promises to be here in ten minutes, tops. I know it will take her at least twenty, but I let myself believe her as I order her a drink. 

It does indeed take her around twenty minutes to arrive, and she collapses into the chair opposite me. "You got me a drink." Is all she says as she gulps down at least half of the coffee.  "I did. I owed you off last week." I shrug, taking in my best friend's features. Her hair is a wild mess of caramel-coloured curls, matching her light brown skin. Her almost-jasmine eyes are bright, as always, and her full lips are set in a smirk.  "Oh, so it's not from the kindness of your heart then. I see how it is." She rests her chin in her hands, her bright eyes meeting mine. "How you doing, anyway? You still on that magazine shit?" "Yes, I am still on that magazine shit. Unfortunately." I sigh softly as I drain my glass. "What about you? Still living off your dad?" She snorts. "Nah. He made me get a job. Bullshit, if you ask me." "No way you have a job." I gape at her. "What is it?" "I work in a music studio now. Producing, and shit. It's actually quite fun. Plus I get money for it, so." She huffs out a laugh. "Well, glad to know one of us is enjoying their job." I laugh, then add, "So, when did you start this?" "About a month ago. I think I forgot to tell you." Angel's always been like this, ever since school. She's the only person I kept contact with from school, and never once has she changed. God, her whole house could burn down and she'd forget to tell me. I suppose she just assumes I already know, on some sort of spiritual level, everything that's happening in her life in real time.  "Of course." I roll my eyes fondly.

"We had a band in, last week. Lovejoy, they said their name was. The music they were making is pretty good, actually. The sort of thing you'd enjoy." She hums softly. "Yeah, and they're doing a show soon. You should go. You need a break, anyway."  "Hm. Maybe, I'll think about it." I fall silent for a moment, the name of the band ringing a bell. Lovejoy...  "Promise me you'll go. You overwork yourself, and you're clearly sick of your job." Angel stares at me intently, her gaze piercing, and I find myself nodding.  "Okay, okay, I'll go. What did you say the name of the band was again?" I pull up my notes app so I can write a reminder in my phone to buy tickets and research the band.  "Lovejoy." Angel supplies as I type it into my phone.  "I feel like I've heard that name somewhere..." I trail off as I search my mind. I catch glimpses of dining tables and empty word documents, of frustrated sighs and coffee shop visits. What was the article I was supposed to be writing about again? Some up-and-coming internet band? "I think I'm meant to be writing an article on them and interviewing them." "Oh my God, then going to the show is the perfect opportunity!" Angel grins widely at me. The fluffy-haired guy gets to his feet, but I don't watch him leave and instead turn my eyes back to Angel.  "Sure." I smile back, allowing myself the slightest bit of excitement that I'll get to see a concert and get some work done in the same night. Maybe a tabloid magazine isn't so bad after all.

Even after eight years of not being a secondary school student, my lack of work ethic has always remained the same. I shamelessly went straight to my bedroom after re-entering my flat and pulled up my favourite film on my laptop instead of doing any sort of work. I can feel my old teachers looking down on me, even from here. I shrug off the guilt and get comfortable in my pyjamas, and even take the liberty to make myself a hot chocolate while I burrow under the many blankets of my warm, comfy bed. So what if I have a night off? It's not like I do it every we- oh, wait, I do. Whoops.

After the film has ended, I pull up Lovejoy's website, searching for tickets to their show. I find the show nearest to me and quickly buy myself a ticket,satisfied with myself; this counts as work. I'm going to the show to interview the band I'd been asked to interview. Buying tickets counts as working. Or at least preparing to work. I'm telling myself this now so that when I fall asleep later with my laptop still open on my lap, I can feel a little less bad about it. 

I give a few of their songs a listen, and I find that Angel, as usual, was correct; it is the sort of stuff I enjoy. I fall asleep to one of them named 'Taunt,' and I feel a strange sense of warmth as I slip into the land of dreams.

[hyungseos-cafe]

Pairing: Neighbor!Sangyeon x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff and comedy

Warning(s): None

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: Being the new lead executive manager meant moving to a new city and new cities mean new experiences. New experiences included receiving a fresh matcha latte on your door step every morning before work. For weeks these lattes showed up until one day you finally caught.... Your neighbor?

A/n: Hi ally! Tysm for placing your order with Hyungseos-cafe! I hope you enjoy! I also made Sangyeon to be a clumbsy and silly boy  ₍ᐢ.  ̫.ᐢ₎  One more thing! I ended up doing some light research on matcha and heavily referenced this page!

Order for @winterchimez

┊⋆ ˚✯✩. Songs to listen to while reading: Blue - Kamal, Patterns - Chelan + NNAVY .✩✯⋆ ˚ ┊

Taglist: @deoboyznet

000. 

“I just can’t find any coffee shops that make good matcha lattes here” Sangyeon heard coming from the hallway. He had just come home from a long day of work when he heard the unfamiliar voice speak. His interest had suddenly peaked at the prospect of a new neighbor since his previous one left about two months ago which left the third floor of the building relatively quiet. He began rounding the corner when his eyes where the voice had come from. 

You just moved into the older apartment complex after your job transferred you to the newest branch where you now have the role of lead executive manager. Finding your way around the big new city was easy, however finding a coffee shop that makes a matcha latte just how you liked it… Difficult. Your search for a good coffee shop began as soon as you landed. Coffee shop-hopping, that’s what your best friend on the phone said when you told her your troubles. 

Making eye contact with your new neighbor, you whispered to your best friend who was on the other line about calling her back later. 

“Hey” Sangyeon waved 

“Oh hey! I’m your new neighbor I guess” You waved back 

“I’m Sangyeon! Welcome to the neighborhood!” 

“Y/n, thanks”

That was it, that was the only interaction Sangyeon had with you. Oddly enough this short interaction fueled his desire to make you his best matcha latte… Erm, well after he learned how to make them. 

001. 

“Wait, so there's two grades of matcha?” He thought out loud, there are two grades of matcha, ceremonial grade matcha and culinary grade matcha. 

“Ceremonial grade matcha is used in Japanese tea ceremonies and culinary grade matcha is used for coffee and baking” Sangyeon jotted down in his notebook. The poor boy had 10 different tabs opened on his laptop. 

“Alright, so next step is to buy some matcha” 

The next following days Sangyeon spent researching the best tea houses to visit and inquired about their matcha tea powders. After hours of research, Sangyeon settled on ‘Lucid Dream Tea House’  , the city's most highly rated tea house. Upon arrival, he noticed the delicately decorated interior. High ceilings with floor to ceiling windows, brick walls, dainty fairy lights and wooden countertops with mismatched wooden stools. 

“Hi, welcome to Lucid Dream Tea House! How can I help you?” The kind barista greeted him. 

“Hey, thanks! I was actually looking for some matcha powder, do you sell that here?”

“We do indeed, would you want to try some?”

Sangyeon nodded as the barista walked over to the bar and prepared a matcha flight. The barista began by soaking the matcha whisk while sifting some matcha powder into 3 different cups. The barista then poured a small amount of hot water into each cup before one by one whisking. 

“Alrighty, so the first cup here is called the Matcha Sunrise which has a base of our culinary grade matcha from Shizuoka prefecture with milk and a fresh mango puree” The barista explained while handing the cup over to Sangyeon. The latte has a slight bitterness from the matcha that is cut with the tartness of the mango puree. 

“Next, we have just our classic Matcha Latte sweetened with a simple syrup infused with vanilla bean from Madagascar” The barista explained, the latte was a perfect balance of sweet and bitter. Sangyeon nodded, pointing out the unique flavor of the vanilla bean. 

“These are delicious! Before I get to the last one, I would love to buy some matcha powder to make some lattes at home” 

“That’s really great to hear! I’ll make sure to send you home with our signature matcha powder” The barista smiled. 

“Okay, our last and final latte is a bit of an experiment for us I would admit, so it doesn’t quite have a name yet. This latte is again our signature matcha powder with milk and a sweetened black sesame paste” The latte was delicious and had a slight nutty flavor from the sesame paste. 

Sangyeon sat at the bar contemplating which latte he wanted to recreate and after some deep thought, he decided to start with the classic latte. It required very minimal ingredients and was rather simple. Once he mastered that, he could move onto more complex drinks. Meanwhile the barista went to wash the cups and retrieve a can of matcha powder for Sangyeon to purchase. 

After the barista returned with the matcha, Sangyeon stood up to follow the barista to the register. “Have you decided which latte you’d like to recreate?” The barista gently questioned. 

“Yes, I actually have! I want to start with something simple, so the classic matcha latte you made seemed perfect!” 

“Oh wonderful! Just a quick tip though, as you are just starting out, you don’t actually need to buy madagascar vanilla. It’s actually quite expensive, so just a simple vanilla extract from the supermarket will do the trick” 

“Thank you” Sangyeon bowed as he finished paying. 

002. 

“Okay so, first step is to soak the matcha whisk in hot water, done. Next heat up some milk in the milk frother, done” Sangyeon spoke to himself while he prepared the vanilla infused simple syrup. Taking the barista's advice, he went for the cheaper vanilla extract. The simple syrup was just equal parts water to sugar with a splash of vanilla. 

“Now we take out the whisk and sift some matcha into a bowl” He began taking a mini scoop of the matcha and delicately sifted it into a small bowl and poured some hot water over and began whisking. 

“Last step, pour the frothy milk into a cup with a bit of simple syrup and then pour the matcha on top” 

Before rewarding himself with his hard work, Sangyeon began cleaning his work station. Cleaning up his little mess from the milk splatters on the counter top and a mini matcha explosion from accidently sneezing when he sniffed the matcha. 

“Let’s hope this tastes good” Sangyeon said to himself before going in to take a sip. His face contorted, bitter. Too bitter. 

003. 

“The cup I made last time was way too bitter,” Sangyeon noted as he began researching on his laptop. Apparently the bitterness was due to the water being too hot, the matcha was required to be heated at a certain temperature. 

Taking what he learned from many failed attempts, he went back to the kitchen to heat up some milk in the frother once again before lowering the temperature for the boiled water. This time, he made sure not to sneeze again because this matcha powder isn’t cheap… 

Using the leftover vanilla simple syrup, he mixed the matcha and gave it a quick taste…. 

004. 

While practicing his matcha latte making skills, Sangyeon made an effort to pay attention to when you left for the office every morning. 7:30 am, that was the time you always left which meant he would have to wake up at least an hour before to prepare everything. Honestly waking up at 6:30 wasn’t too bad considering he used to wake up earlier for his previous job. Now that he worked a less strenuous job that didn’t require him to be at the office until 10 am meant he had ample time. 

The next morning, Sangyeon woke up 15 minutes before his alarm that was set at 6:30. He was so excited to surprise you that he rushed to get ready. Once he entered his kitchen, he began laying out his tools. Milk frother, matcha whisk, sifter, cups, milk, matcha powder and the second batch of vanilla simple syrup he made the night before. 

Pouring the milk into the frother and soaking the matcha whisk, Sangyeon began placing a small heaping scoop of matcha and sifted the matcha into the small cup below. He poured over some hot water and took the whisk from the water and started to gently whisk while the milk was heating up. After the matcha was slightly foamy, he poured a bit of the simple syrup into another tall glass cup before pouring in the frothed milk. He then took the matcha he whisked and poured it over the milk with the back of a spoon to not splash the matcha. 

Sangyeon checked the time “7:15” it read, meaning he had 15 minutes before you left to drop the latte off at your door. Quickly, he jotted down a short note on the back of an old receipt and headed to your door. Calming down his breathing, he placed the drink onto your door mat leaving the note next to it and knocked on your door. He sprinted back to his apartment, watching through the peephole he saw your face light up with a smile. Seeing your eyes light up taking a sip made him smile. 

005.

“I’m telling you! Someone in my building keeps dropping off these amazing matcha lattes for me! I don’t know who it is” You spoke on the phone, you had just left the apartment complex before hopping onto the train with said latte in hand. The note attached to the latte read “Hope you’ve been enjoying these lattes! They’re so matcha fun to make” You smiled, shoving the note into your pocket. 

From the other side of the door sat Sangyeon on the floor giddy with excitement. Now that he knows you’re enjoying his lattes, the next step was to upgrade the notes. He had been scribbling notes onto old receipts and he knew that you deserved better. Sangyeon turned to get ready and headed out to the nearest stationary store. There, he picked up some memo pads and nice pens. He picked up a variety pack of fruit memo pads and a pack of nice gel pens. 

The next morning, Sangyeon woke up a little later than usual, 6:45 am which meant he only had half an hour to prepare everything. Sangyeon quickly got ready and rushed into the kitchen to soak the matcha whisk while heating up some water. Surprisingly, everything went well considering the limited time. As soon as he finished garnishing the latte with some matcha powder, he took a memo sheet from the stack he bought yesterday and jotted down a quick note. 

“Have a great day ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ” the note read, however little did he know, you were behind the door leaving a few minutes early. Your boss had to call out suddenly which left you with more work than you could manage. As soon as you opened your door, you were met with Sangyeon. His eyes slowly widened as he realized the situation. 

He abruptly shoved the latte (with a lid of course) into your hand and quickly turned around with the note dropping from his hands. He was caught. Sangyeon was surprised when you knocked on his door with a sheepish smile. 

“H-hey neighbor” You began holding tightly onto the cup so as to not drop it from nervousness. 

“Hi, I’m sorry if you thought someone else was making you lattes” Sangyeon sighed, not looking into your eyes. 

“Oh, no, these are delicious! I was wondering who made these, so I’m really glad I found out it was you” 

“Really? I’m glad you like them! I can always stop if you want, I didn’t want to overstep your boundaries”

You smiled, your neighbor was this shy, incredibly talented and handsome man, yet he was quite modest which made him all the more adorable. You stood there smiling at him, but it was your turn to be shocked as the time passed. 

“Shoot, I’m so sorry, I really need to leave now. Gosh, work got really busy. Will I see you later?” You hurriedly sputtered out as you headed towards the stairs, turning to hear his response. 

“Yeah, no worries! Get to work safely” 

006. 

It slowly became a tradition that Sangyeon would make you a custom matcha latte every morning adorned with latte art and a sprinkle of matcha. You woke up every morning expecting cute latte art and honestly, you were never disappointed. The notes slowly became sweeter until one day the words scribbled shocked you. 

“Meet me at Lucid Dream Tea House tonight at 6, I want to ask you something” the note read, your heart began beating outside of your chest. Did your neighbor just as you out? Unfortunately for you, work came first, so you sat through a long meeting… Which could have been an email that dragged on longer than expected. However, luckily for you, the tea house was just a block down from your office. 

Once you arrived, your eyes met. It was Sangyeon, he sat at the table near the large windows with what looks like another latte? He looked handsome with his hair slicked back, he was dressed casually in a sweatshirt and jeans. It was a simple look, but something about it made your heart tingle. Maybe it was the specs or the hair? Or maybe it was him. 

“You’re here” Sangyeon beamed, his smile was gorgeous, almost as gorgeous as his face. 

“I am, thank you for inviting me”

“It’s no problem, I actually brought you here so I could as you something”

“S-sure” You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, the worry in your eyes evident as your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Well, now that you know it was me making you these lattes” he gestures to the latte in your hand 

“I– I uh, well, I was uh” Sangyeon struggled to get a coherent sentence out as he cleared his throat.

“Wou– would you like to go out sometime?” 

“M– me?” You pointed to yourself, the shock was evident in your face as you sat back in your seat. 

“You seem shocked, did I say something wrong? I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

“No, not at all! You just took me off guard, I wasn’t expecting you to return the feelings. That’s all” 

It was his turn to be shocked, it completely shook his world that his neighbor, the one he’s been making lattes for actually returned his feelings? The endless trips to various tea houses, the hours of research and many failed lattes made it all worth it. You were worth it. 

“We’re the perfect matcha, don’t you think?” You giggled at your own pun. 

“Absolutely” Sangyeon smiled, he reached across the table to take your hand in his.

[chaifootsteps]

Metallica Anon here responding to Taxidermy Anon's roll call. I'm going to be a little more extensive with my post so grab a snack and a drink. I'm a 31 male and I'm 10 months older than Viv. My story began around November of 2019 when I was (and still am) a member of a forum related to a show that I used to love but completely lose interest in. (If you're wondering what show? Let's just say Blitzø would love it. 😉) Then I noticed a few members had this particular character as their avatars. That character turned out to be Angel Dust of Hazbin Hotel. My curiousity grew and I eventually watched the pilot. I was completely enamored with it. I loved the animation, the characters, the voice acting, etc. Not long after, I began watching Helluva Boss and soon became enamored with show as well. For nearly four years, I was quite emotionally attached to Viv's shows, almost at the level of the cartoons I loved from my childhood. For a while, I thought Hazbin and Helluva could be some of the greatest cartoons in history. Unfortunately, as Phil Collins once sang, something happened to on the way to Heaven.

Actually, three things happened. I'll explain each one.

The Long Wait for Hazbin Hotel: I don't know how or why I managed to hold on for so long, but I did. I've endured HH's signing to A24 in 2020, the voice actor replacement debacle in 2021, and the character "redesigns" in 2022. I remember in November of '22, I had two things to be excited for in '23: the new Metallica album in April and Hazbin in the summer. (At least one of the things happened.)

To occupy my mind, I binge watched a cartoons until Hazbin would air, which I assumed would be as early as June. When June came, a lot of us were expecting at least a trailer. What did we get?  A cheap Angel Dust picture! I think this is when my hype for HH began to deflate. Then in July, Viv announced HH would be delayed due to the WGA/SAG strikes. At first, I thought the reasons were understandable, but then found out A24 can promote their stuff during the strikes. This made me feel suspicious on what’s going on. Once summer ended, I officially gave up on Hazbin Hotel… then the trailer came out with a release date, which is JANUARY 2024!

Did the trailer reignite my interest? HAH! No! I’m wasting any more time waiting for this shit! But that’s not the only reason…

The Decline of Helluva Boss: Up until this year, I loved Helluva Boss. I enjoyed the shenanigans of Blitzø, Moxxie, Millie, and Loona. I would always find some enjoyment in every episode, even the bad episodes like “CHERUB” and “The Circus.” However, Helluva had long waits between episodes ranging from two to six months. Yet somehow, I endured because at least new episodes were coming out.

Then came the episode “Exes and Oohs.” I hesitated to watch it at first as some previews and clips I saw turned me off. Then I finally watched the full episode… and I absolutely hated it! Unlike the previous bad episodes of HB, I did not find ANY enjoyment in this episode. Then came the episode “Western Energy “and the same happened again. Hesitated to watch at first, finally watched it and absolutely hated it. I began to question myself on why I am I still watching this. Finally came the episode “Unhappy Campers,” and that episode was the final straw for me. That episode made me so angry that I wanted to smash my head into my laptop. Three strikes, you’re out!

Ever since that damn episode, I swore off Helluva Boss. I have not watched a new episode or even rewatched an old episode. It also got me thinking if HB’s writing is this bad, I believe HH’s writing will be just bad or worse. Now let’s get to the source of the shit…

Viv’s True Colors: For a long time, I did not know very much about Vivienne Medrano, her history, or who see really is. I simply viewed her as a regular person who somehow found success in independent animation…

Then came spring 2023 when I learned of the ErinFrost and KenDraws allegations against her by Ayy Lmao’s YouTube videos. Those allegations really got me thinking and my views of Viv began to change. Later in the summer, I began using my abandoned Tumblr account and I stumbled upon the Viv Critical community… and learned everything awful about Viv. Not only is Viv awful, so is her fanbase. I can honestly say that the VivziePop fanbase is probably the most toxic I have ever been in… and this is coming from someone who was apart of another infamous fanbase back in the 2010s. I mean, I have never seen a creator that encourages their fans to attack and send deaths to anyone who has even the slightest bit of criticism.

*sigh* This post has gotten too long so I’m gonna wrap it up. Fuck Viv, she’s a leper messiah. 🖕

-Metallica Anon 🤘

That was a great story, Metallica Anon. Sucks that it had to happen, but if it had to, glad you found your way here!