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neoheros · 2 months ago

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the miya household is always the go-to household for all kinds of celebrations alike. you name it: birthdays, anniversaries, friday night dinners – check, check, check.

atsumu has always grown up in a home where his mom would host the parties for all her grown-up friends, and he’d always be the type of teenager to hide away in his room until the last of the guests finally leave.

it was a silly thing to do looking back on it now, but that was the old miya household.

in the new miya household (population: you and your husband), the two of you can’t just hide away in your broom closet until the last of the guests leave — it is your apartment after all.

at first, it was the big things: msby jackal’s celebration of their first tournament win (where hinata broke a window because he claims bokuto pushed him into it) or akaashi’s job promotion party (where the champagne bottle was so unfortunately aimed that when the corkscrew came flying, it hit the other non-broken window).

two broken windows later, it eventually died down to the little things: small get-togethers, a friend too intoxicated to drive needing a place to stay, or one of your favorites: friday night dinners.

“we’re home!”

there’s the sound of shuffling keys and shoes being taken off at the doorway, rustling of brown paper bags and footsteps.

you pop your head out from the kitchen and it isn’t a surprise at all to you when you see all four of your best friends (one being your husband) standing by your door way, all adorned with cheeky smiles and chinese takeout.

you call to them, “coats here, everybody!”

hinata goes over to you first, still as sweet as ever, and gives you a tight embrace (the same one he gives you every friday night), and you take his coat with a light smile on your face.

bokuto gives you his coat next, paired with an embrace of his own, your smile widens as you immediately recognize the coat you bought him for christmas last year, well and taken care of.

sakusa isn’t wearing a coat or a jacket tonight but still, he approaches you next to the coat stand anyway, and he embraces you just for seeing you again tonight, saying “thank you for having us”.

when you married atsumu, you didn’t realize you weren’t only marrying into his family, but his friends as well.

“you guys just missed samu, he dropped by for a weekly restock.” you tell them, pointing to the plastic bag on the table filled to the brim with the onigiri you’ve learned to love so much.

shoyo plops down on his usual spot on the sofa, “man, i wish onigiri miya personally delivered to my house too.”

“not to mention free of charge.” you add – proud.

he sinks deeper into his seat, “that’s just not fair.”

you seat farthest from tv, on the edge of the table and by the armrest, a seat empty next to yours as you wait for your husband.

“sorry sho,” you shrug, not sorry at all, smug smile on your face and you say, “it’s simply the perks of having the owner of onigiri miya as your brother.”

“that is such a lie.” atsumu rolls his eyes, and he takes his assigned seat next to you, hand immediately finding yours once he gets close enough. “i am also his brother — twin, even! — and i do not get half as much the perks you get.”

“well.” sakusa sits across from you, “i can understand that.”

and bokuto, in between sakusa and hinata, nods, “yep.”

“i can’t believe i’m getting bullied in my own damn home.” atsumu grumbles, and he stabs his broccoli on his plate with a fork.

you tease him, “you can’t?”

the rest of the evening feels warm. the windows are open to let in the fresh air of the streets of japan, the hustling and bustling of the bypassers outside your apartment building easily drowned out by the warm conversation shared in the warm flat.

( “no more hoisin sauce?” bokuto asks, digging around the stack of empty paperbags, fork in his mouth as he talks.

sakusa replies, barely looking up from the movie on the tv set, “sorry, finished it.”

and bokuto says, casually, “i’ll bring some over tomorrow. you guys need a restock anyway.” )

the five of you, sat down on the living room in front of the television, sharing mindlessly stories about your day, laughter and insults and compliments shared as food is passed around.

atsumu takes the red peppers from your dish as you laugh at something hinata says, he remembers - always - red peppers make you sneeze, so it goes unsaid that he takes them.

he does this so often that sometimes he doesn’t even realize it. he does this so often that he’s probably done it over a hundred times by now — like it’s part of him, like a habit.

you take some of your chow mein and place it on his plate, he doesn’t ask you for any, but you give him some anyway. you don’t even look at him as you do so, like it’s completely second nature for your hand to give him some of his favorite noodles and you don’t even have to think about it — like it’s part of you, like a habit.

“so, what time’s the game tomorrow?” you ask, and suddenly he’s out of his thoughts and back on the living room couch.

hinata looks to you, excited, “are you coming? it’s been so long since you last came to watch us.”

“well, depends on the time,” you tell them, “i’ve got a study group tomorrow in the morning.”

“study group?”

“i know right,” your shoulders fall, “our gen chem professor had us divided into study groups so we could easily catch up on her lessons.”

atsumu shrugs, “so? ditch ‘em.”

“i wish.” you sigh, “they’re the kind of people i just know wouldn’t have let me sit with them at the lunch table in high school.”

“oh, i know those people.” shoyo shakes his head, “had those people everywhere i went in junior high.”

you look at atsumu, “but you probably could have sat with them, you’ve got an aura like that — like you could be cool — but you’re not.”

that makes him roll his eyes, “who’s not cool? i am the coolest one in this table — and for yer information, i wouldn’t sit at any table ya weren’t welcome at.”

(sakusa nods at you, and bokuto says, “same here!” and hinata says, “me too!”)

“matter of fact,” you husband, offended at your doubt for him, continues, “i would flip that goddamn table.”

(and sakusa nods again, and bokuto says, “yup!” and hinata says, “definitely!)

your face feels warm, and you feel stupid for even bringing it up.

“you guys are silly.” you’re not as loud as earlier, but still, you say, “thanks.” and you bite back a smile.

“so…” shoyo grins at you, “ditch ‘em?”

“ditch ‘em!” bokuto repeats.

and for a second all of you look at sakusa, his turn to speak apparently, and he sighs, defeated, shoulders falling and he relents, and says, “fine. ditch ‘em.”

the three other guys cheer loudly and you roll your eyes.

“well, that makes four of us.” atsumu tells you, proud, “you’re outnumbered, honey.”

“fine.” you’re defeated, “i’ll ditch ‘em and come watch you guys play.” and the table erupts in cheers again, and you feel your heart become so full.

atsumu kisses your cheek and you swat him away.

“i’ll text natsu that you’re coming, she’s been pestering me over and over again when you’ll come next,” shoyo tells you, bright smile on his face.

bokuto nods, “i gotta tell akaashi too, maybe we can get everyone there like a reunion or something!”

and this makes you laugh, because, “you guys are acting like i haven’t come to watch you guys play in forever.”

and sakusa tells you, “it has been forever.”

“well, i guess a reunion or something would be kinda nice? we can have everyone come back here, bring out a few drinks.” you think out loud, relenting to the pleas of your oldest friends, and you can’t hold back a smile even if you wanted to.

“if anyone breaks a goddamn window in my home, everyone is getting charged the repair bill.”

the night ends quicker than you want it to, suddenly it’s 10 pm and the warm night starts to get colder.

“thank you for dinner, miyas.” bokuto tells you, grinning ear to ear as you walk him to the doorway, a barrage of shoes laid out on the floor, reminding you what a full house you have tonight.

you hand him his coat and his hat, and he embraces you tightly, one that you will never not return.

hinata comes up to you next, “thank you for dinner and please please please come tomorrow.”

“yes sho, i will be there.” you tell him lightly, and he embraces you as well (the same one he gives you every friday night).

the last to come up to you is sakusa, his hands already in his pockets, eyes tired and all. he doesn’t have a coat or a jacket, but he comes up to you anyway.

“thank you for having us.” he tells you, like he always does, and he gives you a short kiss on your right temple, like he always does, “it’s good to see you.”

you pat his arm, “you say that every friday night, omi.”

“what? no kiss for me?” atsumu calls from the side, arms crossed over his chest.

and sakusa replies, eyes narrowing, “never.”

(they have this conversation every single friday night.)

and just like that, all three of your guests for the night have left, leaving behind only two pairs of shoes left by the doorway — yours and your husband’s.

atsumu makes his way to you, his arms finding your waist immediately as he pulls you into his embrace, hugging you like it’s all he’s ever done correctly.

the apartment is quiet now with just you and him, and he loves this as much as he loves you.

“finally,” he tells you, smiling wantonly, “just us two.”

you smile back at him, “we have so many kids.”

and he nods, “even more tomorrow.”

your apartment, your home, it isn’t anything impressive, really. it’s not big or expensive or fancy, but for some reason, it’s always been the go-to place for everyone to have drinks at, for dinners to be shared, for windows to be broken.

“you really okay with that? the reunion thing here?” your husband asks you, his tone gentle, “its okay if you’re not, we can just cancel on ‘em. have the night to ourselves.”

you raise a brow, teasing, “and do what exactly?”

atsumu gives you a knowing grin, “i’ve got a list in mind.”

you laugh, “i bet you do.”

he comes closer to your face, “i can cross one off on it right now.”

and he kisses you then, the same way he does every single day of his life, the same way he plans to for a million years more.

you feel his smile melting into his kisses.

then he pulls away, smiling at you, voice gentle, cheeks pink, and heart full, “thank you for dinner, miya.”

you laugh again, and with the same amount of gentleness, you say back, “thank you for dinner, miya.”

atsumu knows you could never be unloved by him — you are too tangled in his mind, in his soul that you might as well take his heart entirely — it’s already full of you anyway, it has been since the day he’s met you.

“and no, we are not cancelling on them.” you tell him, pulling away, “i miss our friends and i know you do too.”

he tells you, “fine.” and he pulls you back in, nose close to yours, wide grin on his face as he takes you.

he wants to kiss you again, but to be fair, he wants to do that all of the time.

you give him a smile, “i’ll let you cross another thing off that list of yours if you do the dishes.”

and he groans, “you know omi already did them.”

“man, we have got to get lazier friends.”

“well, we can always call that study group of yours.”

(the two of you say friends, but it feels a whole lot more like family.)

together you and atsumu create a home filled with flowers, kindness, cozy pillows, and loud music. in your halls there is rest, good sex, good sleep, books, and dancing. there is space to be you, there is space to be him, there is space to be be the two of you, and there is love, there is love, there is love.

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obsesssedblerd · 11 months ago

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thinking about gojo taking the baby to work with him so you could nap peacefully and have a few hours to yourself. nanami and geto's lessons would get interrupted because the first and second years start going awwww when they see gojo arrive, happily wearing a baby carrier and proudly showing off his giggly blue-eyed mini.

#he'd be such a proud dad lol #“hi everyone also here's my baby! aren't they adorable?”#😂😂💕💕 love him #gojo imagines #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #teacher geto #jjk #jjk fluff #posts by rey <3 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader

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jojo-schmo · 6 months ago

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Okay hear me out- when Dedede and Meta Knight get to the point after they confess and are figuring things out, it takes a while for Meta to ever fully remove his mask. Hiding his face is not something that changes right away, even with Dedede’s endless compliments and reassurances and other forms of love.

With proper communication and being satisfied with mask kissies for a while, Meta slooooowly lets his guard down to return the affection, but in his way. And it’s an emotional and lovely experience for both of them. :’)

#sorry its been a long time since I’ve been in the metadede kitchen #i got lost on my way here #finally….my brain is allowing me to produce a little fluff again…… hehe #art #king dedede #meta knight #metadede #kirby series #i cooked this just for YOU #(im speaking to everyone reading these tags)

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yuwuta · 9 months ago

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I HAD TO HAVE THIS TALK WITH YOU, CAUSE I’D HATE TO HAVE TO ACT A FOOL — MEGUMI FUHSIGURO

cw this exists in the same rich kids/boarding school au as this piece, which are slowly forming their own universe, implied (past) drug use/underage drinking, more of megumi being your guard dog everybody cheer

Megumi scowls as yet another phone call goes to voicemail. He’s been standing outside the racetrack for fifteen minutes, watching Yuuji absolutely pummel Aoi in polo, and waiting for you. He huffs, just as Yuuji loudly celebrates another point, thumbing a text to Yuuta, asking if he’s seen you all morning. Yuuji claimed you’d left him all by himself after your shared morning class, Nobara was still in Switzerland, and Tsumiki also seemed to be ignoring his messages.

He needed answers, and quickly, because this is the free period that Muta and his goons also have free, and he would hate to go back on his promise to stop egging him so soon after you’d asked him so sweetly to knock it off.

Yuuta (received 12:57pm) — She’s fine, Tsumiki and I are with her. Picnic tables outside of the building 703. — Warning, your least favorite upperclassmen are here too, but don’t make a scene. They’re annoying, but not trouble yet.

Megumi squints, turning on his heels towards the large building opposite the racetracks. As he rounds the side that opens into a field, formally known as one the many lawns dedicated in the Gojo family’s name, and informally revered as your favorite lunchtime spot, he hears the familiar sound of Tsumiki’s laughter, and the unpleasant squawking of his least favorite upperclassmen.

Seeing you, Yuuta, and Tsumiki sitting at the picnic bench under the blooming wisteria was business as usual; seeing Hakari and another senior infiltrating the seating arrangement was not. Megumi frowns, strolling up to the table to halt the conversation when he’s noticed by you, and sized up by the upperclassman.

“Oh, uh—hey, I—good afternoon, Fushiguro!” the other senior has the decency to greet him, stumbling with their overly-chipper tone. Megumi eyes them and blinks. Their face is a familiar shadow to Hakari’s, but he never could recall their name, no matter how many times he had the displeasure of running into the duo.

“It was,” Megumi drawls. He turns his head to face you again, “You’re late.”

From this angle, you have to tilt your head up to make eye contact with him. There’s an innocence behind your eyes, genuine warning, weary concern; and still, so beautiful it makes Megumi’s thoughts venture elsewhere—only for a moment; he supposes he should be grateful for Hakari’s presence, just this once, because the interjection of his grating voice pulls Megumi back to reality.

“Relax, Fushiguro, we were all just talking, having a good time,” Hakari whistles, a dirty grin on his lips, “Ain’t that right, Kirara?”

Ah, Kirara. That’s their name. Megumi doesn’t have time to mull it over, or pretend to commit it to memory; the majority of his energy is focused on preventing himself from throwing a punch. Briefly, he makes eye-contact with Tsumiki, a silent warning in her eyes to not be violent; so Megumi looks to the other side of the table at Yuuta, whose hollow eyes are apologetic, but cautious. Megumi can tell they’ve both been doing their best to neutralize the conversation before he arrived, without setting off your own alarm bells.

They’ve been patient, but he won’t be: “Get lost, Hakari.”

“Whoah, no need to rush things. Come on, I didn’t even get a chance to invite you to our party yet,” Hakari’s grin widens, “I just figured I’d get your owner on board before I pet the puppy, yeah?”

Tsumiki and Yuuta share a look. Megumi bares teeth to growl, rests his palms on the picnic table and leans over to deliver his message again, “Get lost.”

“Kin, don’t be so rude!” Megumi can hear Kirara’s teeth chattering beside him, a chittering voice attempting to cut through the tension, “What—what he means is that you’re all invited, really!”

Megumi turns his head, not to acknowledge Kirara or to back down to Hakari, but to look at you. He knows that you know that there are three options to how this ends, and given that he’s already got a strike in your book for bullying Kokichi, and that Yuuta’s route would cause significantly more drama than his, he’s hoping you’ll settle this yourself.

He tilts his head just enough, raised eyebrows in warning and wait; and then, you give a conceding blink, a small sigh, part your lips to speak, still looking at Megumi when you say: “Hakari, Kirara, you two should grab lunch. They’re going to stop serving the hot food soon.”

A command hidden as a suggestion. It makes the upperclassmen scowl, but still Hakari motions across the table to Kirara, and they both gather their belongings. “Whatever,” he scoffs, “You know where to find us when you want to have some real fun.”

Hakari flashes you a wink over his shoulder before he and Kirara make their way around the building and towards the main dining hall. When they’re out of earshot, you smile, look away from Megumi, and back down to your lunch, grabbing the single, wrapped daifuku and tearing open the packaging, before looking back up to him with a smile, “Well, have a seat, Megumi. Join us.”

Megumi scoffs, standing up straight again, “You’re supposed to be in a meeting with Gojo right now.”

“I already had Yuuta do my bidding this morning, because he was so sweet to wake up before noon,” you reply, taking the desert out of the plastic, flashing Yuuta a brief smile before looking up to him again, “So I told him lunch was on me, and we ran into Tsumiki on our way. It’s so nice out, isn’t it? Come on, sit with us, enjoy the weather. Yuuta was telling us about the new coup he bought.”

Tsumiki chimes in about her lunch, looking over at Yuuta’s half-eaten tray and wishing she’d got beef instead of chicken. He offers her what’s left of his plate, and she politely declines, before Yuuta insists, pushing his food across the table to her, and you pitch in, putting the remainder of your sauce next to her. The three of you seem to easily pick up where your conversation was presumably before Hakari and Kirara crashed your lunch.

Megumi’s scowl deepens. He knows that you know that he wants to know why Hakari and Kirara were here in the first place, he knows that you know that their party invitation was just a scheme to get you into trouble and get a rise out of him, he knows that you know he’s going to kick their asses six ways to Sunday unless you tell him not you.

“Megumi,” you cut through his thoughts, words noticeably heavier, “Sit.”

He rolls his tongue in his cheek, and you squint a bit, tilting your head to motion to the empty space beside you on the bench. You only spare him a sharp glance, before giving your attention back to Tsumiki, clapping happily as she shows you something she bought on her phone.

With a huff, Megumi rounds the table, sets his bag down on the soft grass and swings his legs over the bench and next to you. Tsumiki turns her phone to Yuuta, and your attention is back to Megumi, breaking your daifuku in half and offering a piece to him. He puts an elbow on the table, leans his cheek into his palm, a defiant expression on his face you pay no mind to—you scrunch your nose with a deceptive smile, bringing the mochi to his lips, and opening your mouth mockingly for him to follow. He blinks at you, slowly; once, twice, a third time before his head dips every so slightly, mouth a jar, letting you place the dessert between his teeth. Only after he has it in his mouth do you begin to eat your half, sparing a hand to raise your arm and pat the top of his head, “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Megumi tilts his head further into his palm. “You didn’t answer my calls.”

“When you called, I was eating lunch. It’s rude to take calls when you have company,” you defend yourself.

“Yuuta answered my texts.”

“Yuuta is scared of you,” you chirp, “And unlike you, he cares to not have write-ups on his transcript. He keeps his physical encounters off-campus.”

“I am not scared of Megumi,” Yuuta scoffs, leaning over to poke at your forehead, “I’m scared of Tsumiki. And I did not want to be scolded for getting blood on her new Chanel skirt.”

Between the two of them, Yuuta was certainly the more reformed one; it only took one incident of Tsumiki pulling at his ear and scolding him about using his words instead of his fists for him to actually listen to her. Megumi couldn’t blame him, Tsumiki was hellish when she was truly angry, and he feared Tsumiki as much as the next person, but he also knew how she had a soft spot for her younger brother; a mercy that Yuuta, Yuuji, and Nobara were not privy to when their violent streaks got the best of them.

Besides, when Tsumiki couldn’t get to him, you were there to tug on his leash and reign him in.

“Wimp,” Tsumiki coughs, “And simp,” she taunts her brother, “We ought to pick new bodyguards in our next life.”

You laugh softly at her teasing, but still, you rest your elbow on the table to mirror Megumi’s position, “You’re right. I call dibs on Yuuji.”

Your joke makes the others laugh, and Megumi rolls his eyes as you all chuckle. Still, he shifts to lean his head against your shoulder, sly as he knocks his head against your neck and reminds you of a simple fact: “That’s too bad. You’re stuck with me, in this life and the next.”

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i-dared-myself · 5 months ago

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Instances

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: Hiii helloooooo 👋!! I know you didn’t even write this request yet 👉https://www.tumblr.com/i-dared-myself/773155354439778304/ BUT it inspired me to ask if you could do something similar but sorta like 'moments the 9th member questioned if her members were actually ✨️just friends✨️ of hers' or 'the members being too in love with her to be subtle and she questioning it all' ykwim??? 😋

The first instance in which you questioned your relationship with the other members was, unfortunately, on camera. It was to be edited before uploading, thank goodness, or else the shipping would have been off the charts.

The group had been given costumes for another one of the role-playing games, and everyone was arguing over who was to be which role.

“Obviously you’ll be the princess,” Jisung says as he hands you your dress. It’s big and poofy and a tiny piece of you is squealing that this is your childhood dream come true.

“Okay.” You accept the clothes and slip into a changing room. When you return, none of the others have gotten dressed yet. They’re still in normal clothes.

“I could totally take Jeongin in a fight,” Hyunjin exclaims, tossing his hip to the side.

Changbin gives him a skeptical look. “Still…”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Really? What about Chan? You think you could defeat him too?”

Hyunjin’s gaze flicks over the older man before he nods. “Yeah.”

Chan shakes his head and scoffs. “Just put the costume on. We need to hurry this up.”

Hyunjin groans, but obeys. He grabs one of the many sets of clothing and bustles off with it.

“Are you guys almost done yet?” you impatiently ask. “Hurry this up.”

Felix brightens. “Help us choose! Who should be the prince?”

You shrug and pull out your phone. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

You hear Seungmin mutter something before your chin is tilted up and away from your phone screen. You’re staring up at him, face burning as his tongue wets his lips.

“Help us decide?” His eyelids fluter almost all the way shut. “Please, princess?”

You regain your bearings and swat his hand away. You gather your skirts up and stomp away, sneering at him. The camera crew splits up so some of them follow you.

“What was that?” Jisung scowls at Seungmin. “You’re cheating.”

Seungmin’s shoulders shake as he laughs. He smiles enough that his lips lift up to show his gums, eyes wrinkling shut. “Maybe it wasn’t for the game. Maybe I did it for me.”

You choke on absolutely nothing and fumble with your phone. It drops and just before it hits the ground, Changbin scoops it up and presses it into your grip.

“Go get ready, okay?” He smiles gently. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

So you rush off to the set, sitting on the couch. It has been designed to look like a medieval castle, with a stone fireplace in the back.

Eventually the others file in, and you’re surprised at the costumes everyone has been forced into.

Chan appears to be dressed as a knight, although the chest plate is hanging at an odd angle. His eyebrows are pinched together slightly as he attempts to fix it.

Hyunjin is sporting a bright blue dress with more sparkles than yours. You’re instantly jealous, even more so when you notice his giant wings.

Changbin got the short stick. He’s dressed in a dragon onesie with the hood pulled up over his head.

Jisung sits next to you on the couch, a weird hat with a feather on it placed precariously on his head. He’s holding a strange instrument that resembles a guitar.

Minho has a wig on that flows down to his waist. His dress is a dark green and it’s rumbled near his shoulder from him constantly fiddling with it.

Jeongin is next to him, on a throne it seems. A crown sits atop his head as he adjusts his pants.

Felix sits at Minho and Jeongin’s feet, legs crossed beneath him. He has a smaller version of Jeongin’s crown and a tiny frown.

Seungmin has long black robes and a fake beard. He keeps tripping over the robes as he makes his way to his designated spot.

“Everyone’s here,” the manager says. “This is similar to the family video, but without the missions. Try to maintain your roles the whole time, but if anything happens we’ll just edit it out.”

“So we’re just chatting, in character?” Chan summarizes. When the manager nods, Chan smiles and faces the group. “Everyone introduce themselves!”

You slowly stand, smoothing out your dress. “I am the beautiful princess. I am the fairest in the land, well-known for my hotness.”

Seungmin strokes his beard, humming. “You’re lucky we don’t have any frogs.”

You stick your tongue out at him as you sit back down. Felix stands next, clearing his throat.

“I am Prince Felix!” he announces, spreading his arms dramatically. “Son of King Jeongin and Queen Minho! Fiancé to Princess-“

“Hold on,” you interrupt, making Jisung snicker. “When was that part of the characters?”

The staff all shrug and motion for Felix to continue.

Felix saunters over to you, kneeling and taking your hand. He raises the back of it to his lips, pressing the softest of kisses to it.

Then he looks up, and your breath catches at the intensity in his eyes.

“My son!” Minho snaps. “You little bastard, get over here!”

The staff wearily say a reminder to watch the language. But you know it will be edited out regardless.

“Who’s next?” Chan questions.

Jeongin gets to his feet and adjusts his crown. “I’m the king! I have announced his engagement to her, but um, I love harems. I’m still looking for my own if she-“

Minho slaps his arm, scowling. “And what about me, huh?”

Felix hides a laugh, ducking his head. “My father is trying to steal my fiancée!”

“Hey, maybe she’s into DILFs.” Seungmin shrugs. He clears his throat and deepens his voice in an imitation of a wizard. “I mean, maybe she’s down to fuck a daddy.”

The staff all facepalm and mutter out reminders to calm down a little.

“Wouldn’t that be me, then?” Chan lifts a hand into the air hesitantly. “I think I’m more daddy than Jeongin.”

“No. You’re the knight that swore to forever remain a virgin,” Jisung sternly says. “Stay in character!”

“When did I-“ Chan cuts himself off with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Whatever.

“Shut up, virgin boy!” Hyunjin waves his arms to get everyone attention. “What about me? Don’t I get a love interest? What if I run off with the princess? It could be so dramatic and scandalous and-“

“You can get the wizard.” Changbin points to Seungmin. “You both have magic.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and groans. “But I don’t want the old wizard!”

Felix gathers you in his arms, dipping you slightly. “Please don’t leave me for my father. Uh, he has herpes.”

Jeongin splutters out a protest. “I do not have herpes!”

“Maybe it’s from that harem you’re putting together,” Minho grumbles. His chin rests on his fist.

Felix falls to his knees, wrapping his arms around you. “Please! I can’t stand the humiliation!”

“Yes please,” Jisung randomly says from the back. When Chan narrows his eyes at him, Jisung’s face turns bright red.

“I think it would be even more scandalous if I ran off with the princess,” Minho chimes in. “Instead of evil step-mother, I’m the hot step-mom. Except not step-mom.”

“No,” Hyunjin immediately says. “It should be me since I’m supposed to get them their happily ever after. So it would be hilarious if she runs off into the sunset with me.”

“Or what if I don’t have an affair, and just marry the prince,” you suggest, much to Felix’s delight.

Seungmin considers it for a moment before snorting. “Nah. Boring.”

“I challenge thee!” Jisung shouts at Felix. “A duel to the death! For her hand in marriage!”

You’re still wondering what is going on, when you’re suddenly hoisted over Changbin’s head. Your skirts fall into his face.

“I am the evil dragon, here to kidnap the princess and keep her in my lair!” he cries. “None shall best me!”

Felix gasps and covers his mouth. “Someone kill him! He’s stealing my wife-to-be!”

Chan levels his sword (pool noodle) at the fearsome beast (Changbin). “I shall defeat him and regain your fiancée! For the low price of some gold and maybe her hand in marriage.”

Felix purses his lips before shrugging. “I can live with sharing. Do it!”

Changbin starts laughing maniacally and spins around to sprint away. Because he can’t see with your dress in the way, he promptly smacks into a wall and collapses on the ground.

Chan gently places his foot on Changbin’s back, lifting his weapon proudly in the air. “I did it!”

Half the staff have left at this point. The remaining ones seem to be on the verge of tears.

“What if we just all share.” Jisung looks to Felix with his suggestion. “We all marry the princess, and each other.”

Hyunjin wrinkles his nose. “I guess it’s okay.”

“Sure,” Felix relents.

“Let’s just scrap this whole idea actually,” the manager says. “Go home, everyone.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second instance was, unfortunately, on stage.

You had been unaware of changes to the set, and when you were about to make your entrance, smoke machines were activated. You wander out from the cloud, joining the others on stage. You wheeze slightly, which causes Hyunjin to side-eye you.

“Seungmin,” you mutter from behind him as everyone takes their places for the first song.

“What?” He gets into the opening position.

“The smoke machine triggered my asthma and I don’t have my inhaler,” you say as you mimic his stance.

“Huh?” Seungmin stumbles over the first move as the song begins. Throughout the entirety of the song, you struggle to keep up. It’s difficult when your chest feels so tight.

Not to mention the lack of air.

When it finally finishes, you slump, hands on your knees as you gasp over and over again. Jeongin pats your back worriedly, looking to Chan for guidance. Seungmin whispers into Chan’s ear as Jisung and Minho distract the crowd off to the side.

“Inhaler?” Chan rushes to you. “You have asthma?”

“It’s no big deal.” You wave a hand before sucking in as deep a breath as you can. It comes out of you in a desperate cough. “It hasn’t been bad for a couple years so I just-“

“Save your air,” Chan cuts you off. He straightens and checks for a staff member. When he finds one who’s close enough to the stage, he motions them over.

They seem confused, but do approach.

“Take her backstage and get her a medic,” Chan orders. He lifts a finger to brandish at you. “And fucking stay there until we get back.”

You wince at his tone, but walk away. You go down the steps and shuffle backstage. The crowd roars in bewilderment, but Felix diverts their attention with his abs.

The rest of the show goes by without you. You have your phone to amuse you, but it doesn’t help with the nauseating ball of nerves in your stomach.

Chan seemed really mad. What if you got kicked out of the group for this? You missed a whole concert.

Finally, they come back to see you. You can’t tell what they’re saying, since they’re all talking at once.

Chan stands there with his arms crossed. You swallow as you glance up at him, twisting your hands anxiously.

“You never told me you have asthma,” he eventually says. The others stop their rambling so he can speak.

You blink last the tears threatening to form. “I’m sorry, I just- I get it if you want to kick me out now and- and-“

“Oh!” His eyes widen and he wraps his arms around you reassuringly. “No, that’s not what I meant. We were just worried, baby.”

“The whole show, all I could think about was you,” Changbin adds.

“When are you not thinking about her?” Seungmin mumbles.

You’re still just staring at them blankly, because Chan called you baby. Did it slip out? Is there meaning behind it?

“Honey?” Jeongin places his chin on your shoulder once Chan steps away. “How are you feeling?”

Is this a thing now? Are nicknames what everyone’s doing these days?

“Better,” you respond. You push past the thoughts swirling in your head. “It wasn’t bad enough that I almost died, but I’ll be feeling it for a couple days.”

“Where’s your inhaler, love?” Hyunjin questions, circling his thumb over the top of your hand.

Your brain short-circuits. “Uh. In- In the dorms. But it expired a year ago.”

“We’ll get you a new one tonight, doll,” Minho promises.

“Will you carry it around at all times, angel?” Changbin asks softly.

You manage to whisper out an affirmation, unsure of what’s going on.

“Good girl,” Felix remarks, slipping on his jacket.

“I’m gonna-“ you cough, “go wait in the van.”

Jisung flashes you a worried look. “We’ll be there after we change, sunshine.”

“We have our phones if you need us, darling.” Seungmin smiles fondly at you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And the third was, fortunately, alone. It was when you finally addressed everything, as well.

About a month after the concert, the nicknames were still a thing. They used your name in public, but anytime you were alone they refused.

It was always Hand me the butter, baby or Wanna go shopping, doll?

But what makes you snap is when you break your wrist. Not just the injury itself, but how they react.

You come out of a turn unbalanced and fall, landing on your hand. You yelp at the sudden throbbing pain in your wrist once, and then they rush you to the hospital.

You are put into a cast and sent home, loopy on pain medication. You had apparently broken your wrist, although you found it hard to believe. No matter how many times they showed you your X-ray, you couldn’t comprehend it.

Jeongin said that was the medication talking.

So you sit on the couch, staring at the cast. It’s a pale blue colour that’s frankly depressing.

“You ready for bed yet, angel?” Changbin asks gently. He rubs your shoulder soothingly.

“Not yet.” You look up from it to the television, watching whatever show Jisung had thrown on.

“I’ll wake you when it’s time for your next dose of pain killers, baby.” The bags under Chan’s eyes have never seemed larger. “How are you feeling now?”

“Good.” You lean back against the couch. You slide off it after a moment, resting on the floor. “Tired.”

“Then go sleep, doll,” Minho chides. He sighs and shakes his head. “Honestly…”

“Don’t wanna sleep,” you stubbornly say. You try to cross your arms to further prove your point, but whimper when you bend your arm the wrong way.

Seungmin jumps to attention and whips around. He eases your limbs down and squeezes your non-injured hand. “You need rest! Just go to bed, darling!”

“I can’t tie my hair back,” you mutter angrily. Your face heats at the admission. “So I’m just going to never sleep and that way I won’t have to deal with it.”

Hyunjin squints at you. “Yeah, she’s out of it.”

“I’ll tie it for you, honey,” Jeongin tells you. He arranges himself behind you, running his fingers through your hair. “Does anyone have a hair elastic?”

Felix peels one off his wrist and hands it over. He strokes his thumb over your cheek comfortingly. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need your inhaler? Are you good to sleep alone tonight?”

You nod, making Jeongin groan as he loses his progress. “I’m fine, Felix. Jeez…”

Chan’s tone sharpens. “Baby, is something wrong?”

“You guys have just been so weird lately,” you slur, the exhaustion from the day and the medication getting to you more then you’re trying to let on. “Pet names and acting all worried and shit.”

Jisung splutters. “No we’re not! We’re normal!”

Hyunjin shoots him a filthy look. “Ignore him.”

“In truth, we’ve realized something,” Changbin carefully says.

Seungmin rubs at his face. “I guess we’re doing this.”

You’re limp at the feeling of Jeongin toying with your hair. You can barely put the thoughts together to say, “Huh?”

“We like you.” Minho pauses the show you had forgotten about. He faces you, expression serious. “And we understand if you don’t want to date because we work together.”

“Or because there’s eight of us.” Jeongin chuckles.

You swallow and glance down at your lap. “It’s okay.”

Felix shifts. “Uh, okay then…”

You stare into nothing for a second before standing, your hair complete. You lean down to kiss Jeongin. “Goodnight.”

Jeongin blinks after you pull away. “Uh… Sweet dreams.”

So you kiss everyone goodnight before wandering up the stairs to bed. They all watch you go before Changbin sighs.

“She’s too tired and drugged up to realize we’re not actually dating yet, isn’t she.”

Jisung hums his agreement. “We’ll tell her in the morning.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #fluff #and maybe a little bit of angst but only if you squint #asthma #i have reader asthma because I’m projecting #everyone here is an idiot

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samijey · 1 month ago

Text

meanwhile during the commercial break

#wwe #wweedit #sami zayn #samijey #jey uso #wwe gifs #wwe raw #monday night raw #raw #jeysami #wrestling #sami x jey #jey x sami #stuff i made #flashing gif #fried quality aah #siiiiigh #apparently not everyone saw this so here. more fluff

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ggukkiedae · 3 months ago

Text

delicate.

PART 1

when a rumor about you starts to spread about a previous relationship that kept you from falling for people again out of fear, virtually ruining your career, you fly to new york to escape for a bit. there, you run into a previous co-star who does what he can to take your mind off things and treats you as you and not as the actress with the biggest scandal of the year. god, was he making you feel things, but could you risk falling again?

pairing : choi beomgyu x reader

word count : 9.7K

genre : actor!beomgyu x actress!reader, fem!reader, angst, slice of life, fluff, scared of feelings, miscommunications, kinda slow burn

warning/s : cursing, previous toxic relationship, media manipulation, hate

PART 2 COMING SOON

South Korea’s Angel Y/F/N and Nation’s Boyfriend Choi Beomgyu revealed to be starring in Everlasting Shine together.

A smile made its way to your face as soon as you saw the headline. It was finally out to the public, and you wouldn't have to keep pretending you knew nothing about it. This also meant filming would finally start. Well, script readings first, then promotional shoots before actual filming.

The whole process for Everlasting Shine was strange to you, since the producers had asked you to keep everything secret and to train in close combat for a while. However, since it was a post-apocalyptic series where you’d be fighting your cast, you just went along with it and got training you thought would suit your character.

Now that the news was out, things were getting real. You would finally be able to meet your castmates and start with filming. That was one of the things you were looking forward to especially after seeing the cast list. Everlasting Shine had a cast that was well-known to the public, especially your co-star.

Choi Beomgyu. Also known as the Nation’s Boyfriend and a beloved singer-songwriter, he was starring alongside you as the “good guy” of the drama. He had a sudden rise to fame just a year and a half ago, just after he had played a minor character in a drama you were in. You were interested to see how much he had grown in the workplace. Obviously, from what you’ve seen in his projects, he had become a great actor, but you wanted to see how his work ethic grew to be like.

“What’s got you smiling?” Your manager raised an eyebrow at your excitement. You turned your phone towards Soobin with a grin, making him nod in realization. “Ah, yes. Exactly what my meeting just now was about.”

Soobin had always been the best manager you could have ever had. You both started out quite young in your jobs, which made the company assign him as your manager, but he had grown to be the most competent yet compassionate one there is. He was the best manager in the way Soobin always found you the best opportunities that he knew you’d enjoy while still making sure you didn’t get too worn out. He became your big brother in the way where he’d nag you, bicker with you, watch over you, and listen to you no matter how ridiculous the request as long as it was for your own good. Thank god for that since you didn’t want to attend meetings where they’d just discuss things that don’t need your opinion or input anyway.

You jumped, “Really? What’s up next? Do I still have to train? When’s the first script reading? When next month does filming start?”

The look on Soobin’s face made you want to back away. Not only was he presenting you with an apologetic smile, but it wasn’t the smile where he didn’t know the answer. It was the smile he had when he needed to break bad news.

“Oh no,” you backed away, “I know that look.”

In that moment, Taehyun walked into the room. Taehyun, your best friend and your bodyguard. He was with you throughout your entire career, and even before that. He was like your voice of reason who kept you out of trouble or from getting hurt by your own rash decisions. You trusted him with your life, and he always had your back. Which was why you’d hide behind his back every now and then. Now was one of those times.

“Tyun,” you hid behind him, “manager dearest is about to drop bad news, I can feel it.”

Taehyun shook his head in false exasperation. “Really? Right when I’ve finished parking?”

“Oh, relax,” Soobin began. “Y/n, and you by extension, Taehyun, will be lying low for the next few days.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Soobin began, “some rookie actor has been saying some negative things about you, so we’re going to let that die down first. South Koreans will believe their angel more than some rookie.”

You frowned. How could someone who didn’t know you say bad things about you? But you nodded and looked to Taehyun. “Looks like apartment hangouts will fill our schedule while they deal with… Who was this?”

“Lee Junsu.”

The name made you freeze. It was a name you knew all too well, and one you never thought you’d have to hear again. You exchanged looks with Taehyun. It had been five years since then… It couldn’t be the same person, could it? But who else would try to bring you down?

“You don’t think?” Taehyun looked at her in worry.

You shook your head. “It could just be the same name.”

“But no one else would have reason to go against you.”

“It’s been five years, I don’t think he’d still try.”

“Y/n, he was practically insane.”

“I’m sorry,” Soobin interrupted your mini spiel with Taehyun, “what am I missing here?”

Right. You’ve never told Soobin about your only previous relationship, mostly because it was a time you didn’t like to remember. It damaged the way you thought of yourself and your trust in others so much that you couldn’t even dream of trying to be involved with someone romantically ever again. Even making new friends after that relationship was hard. It took you two years to become close to Soobin, for God’s sake.

“Later,” Taehyun shook his head, “first, tell me. What’s this Lee Junsu trying to say?”

“Oh, um,” the eldest looked at his tablet, “that Y/n isn’t who we think she is. That she’s manipulative and that he’s uncomfortable with her because of some experiences in high school. Not much detail after that. Here’s a picture of him.”

The photo on the tablet he turned towards you sent shivers down your spine. The seemingly warm smile raised the hair on your arms as you remembered how cold the words spilling from it could be. You remembered how tight his grip could get, and how broken he could have your mind within a few minutes.

Taehyun, recognizing the face as well, glared and shut the tablet off. He brought you to sit on a nearby chair and tried to get you to calm down.

“I’m okay, just annoyed,” you looked at Taehyun, but he looked at her disbelievingly, “Fine, I’m kinda scared. But it’s him. Taehyun, I can’t deal with him again. I didn’t think I’d have to—”

Your breath was getting short, thinking back on the times he’d try to keep you from breaking up with him.

“Breathe,” Taehyun looked you in the eye and paced his breathing for you to follow. “Follow my breathing. He won’t get close to you, alright?”

“Hey,” Soobin’s voice was followed by his hurried footsteps before kneeling next to Taehyun in front of you, “are you alright? Stupid question, you’re not. What’s going on? What am I missing?”

Taehyun simply looked up at you as if asking for permission. You let out a long breath before nodding at him. It was about time her manager found out about him. Your best friend nodded then proceeded to help you up.

“Let’s get you back home, then we can tell Soobin, alright?”

You nodded and were about to thank him when a familiar voice rang through the hallway.

“Alright, Y/n, time to get you in our magic chair so you can look alive in your meetings— wait. Who do I have to fight?”

A small smile made its way up to your face as your stylist made his presence known. Yeonjun had only joined your team just a year and a half ago, but he was able to join your close circle, which used to consist of just Taehyun and Soobin, in a small amount of time (Soobin and Taehyun liking him a lot was a big help in speeding up the process). He always made it a point to listen to your ideas, try new things, and still keep you looking good while keeping your personality. It wasn’t even two hours into his first day when he started going off about your previous stylist’s bland attempts of keeping your angel image.

Just like Soobin, Yeonjun had become like a big brother to you. He didn’t just care about his job, he took care of you.

Which was why he was currently frowning, demanding Taehyun and Soobin for answers. The stylist’s mouth was moving in a way where you knew he was rapid-fire asking questions or ranting, and you could hear his voice, but the words were just sailing over and past your head.

“Can we go back to my place?” Your voice caught everyone’s attention. “I promise Taehyun and I will tell you guys everything.”

Yeonjun’s worry lightened as he looked at how upset you look. “Sure thing. I’ll order Chinese.”

Needless to say, by the end of the night, Yeonjun and Soobin were angry and looking for ways to take Lee Junsu down. (Though, if legally or illegally, the answer would depend on who you ask. Unless you ask Taehyun. He says both.)

What was supposed to be a few days turned into a week, then a week and a half, then eventually two weeks. Those two weeks were filled with the media trying to dig up your past with Junsu. That’s all you knew for sure, though, since your circle had decided to keep you from social media. That alone, though, told you things weren’t going too well. That’s why you were ecstatic when Soobin messaged you at the end of the first week that you could get back to working by the end of week two and asked you to come to the company the day before to get ready.

Well, there you were on the last day of the agonizingly long two weeks of house arrest, at the company bright and early to hear what was in store for you.

“Hey,” you smiled while walking up to Soobin, “what’s on the schedule today, Mr. Manager?”

“You’re too chipper at this time,” he sighed but gave you a smile in return, “good morning, Y/n. You don’t actually have any schedules today, just a photo shoot for Everlasting Shine tomorrow with Choi Beomgyu. I thought you’d want to have breakfast together. It’s been a while, just you, me, Yeonjun, and Taehyun.”

The two he mentioned had just turned into the hallway as their names slipped out of Soobin’s mouth. Their idle conversation was interrupted as soon as you met eyes with Yeonjun.

The stylist grinned at you before leaving Taehyun’s side to fix your hair. “There’s our Angel. You ready to get out of here? I heard that some American diner-style restaurant with great corn dogs just opened thirty minutes from here.”

“Oh no,” Soobin cut in, “we agreed on breakfast in the building.”

You pouted at that. They had been cooping you up in your apartment or in the company for two weeks, and it was getting suffocating. Even your food deliveries were monitored by Taehyun… Which made sense because he was your bodyguard, but still!

It’s not like you were an idol with those crazed fans that do anything to be noticed. You were an actress, and actors and actresses never had the same restrictions as idols. But even idols got to receive their own delivery food. Not you, though. This stupid controversy was keeping you from doing anything.

Yeonjun was about to protest, but Taehyun spoke up. “It’s just not safe. You’ve seen what the people are saying and how the media is reacting. As her friend, it’s my job to make sure she’s okay. As her bodyguard, it’s my job to make sure she doesn’t get hurt. We are eating here.”

The finality in his tone almost made it sound like he was the eldest out of everyone there.

“This isn’t fair,” you brushed past Soobin and into his office behind him. “The PR team isn’t doing anything about the whole situation, and I can’t even post on social media about it.”

Soobin followed her in with an apologetic look in his face. “Listen, Y/n. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is. They don’t want to release a statement until they gather all the proof to debunk the statements and evidence against you. And, I hate to say this, but Junsu fabricated everything way too well. As for social media, if you go on and make a statement before the proof of your innocence is gathered, all shots will be fired against you. I don’t want you in any trouble.”

“They’re making it seem like I’m a convict.” A disappointed sigh escaped your lips as you slumped onto the chair, quiet mutters following soon after.

You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing to stop yourself from getting upset. This made you miss the silent exchange between your three friends. Yeonjun gave the two somewhat stricter boys pointed looks, mouthing a ‘she looks so sad’ to them.

Taehyun had rolled his eyes, but Soobin pursed his lips. You did deserve some type of break after being cooped up and silenced for about two weeks and running. He would regret this, but he was your friend before he was your manager.

“There’s a small restaurant behind the company,” Soobin’s voice made you look up at him in surprise, “and it’s somewhat hidden. I guess we can go there.”

“What?” Taehyun’s surprised reaction was drowned out by your and Yeonjun’s cheers.

In excitement of going outside, not even caring that it isn’t the diner you and Yeonjun had originally wanted, you threw your arms around Soobin. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He chuckled but ruffled your hair. Yeonjun got up behind you and pinched your cheek. “She’s literally so adorable, how could anyone believe those rumors?”

Taehyun pushed his way between you and the two boys before anyone could answer the question. “Bodyguard coming through.”

This made all of you laugh, easing the earlier atmosphere. And, as always, it felt like a normal hangout with friends rather than a breakfast run with your circle.

It was a great feeling, to finally be out again, even if it was in a small and secluded place without much people. Laughter filled the small dining area of the restaurant as the four of you joked around. Yeonjun was constantly taking pictures and arguing with Taehyun while Soobin was doing his best to confiscate the eldest’s phone. You, on the other hand, were simply basking in the fact that you weren’t in the company or your apartment.

Sure, there was the occasional group of people double taking and looking through the windows, but Taehyun always made sure to shift himself in order to hide you from the outside. You could tell him a thousand times that he was off duty, but his protective instinct never let up. Of course, Yeonjun had teased him for never exiting work mode. The mood was light and fun, and it felt like everything was back to normal.

That is, until just after you had paid the bill.

Just as you were handing the bill and your payment to the waiter, there was a slight ruckus outside. Of course, the outer wall of the restaurant being made of glass, you could easily see all the people gathering outside with their phones and, were those cameras?

“Is that Y/f/n?”

“Y/n! Can we get a statement on the accusations?”

“That bitch, look at her having fun fully knowing she traumatized and hurt so many people!”

A breath got caught in your throat as you turned your widened eyes towards your friends. Taehyun was quick to move by your side while Yeonjun threw his jacket on you, securing the hoodie around your head to keep your face hidden.

“We’re gonna go through the crowd, alright?” Taehyun calmly whispered while keeping one of his arms around you and the other in front of you. “Yeonjun’s gonna be on your other side to make sure nobody touches you.”

You looked up at him, stopping your progress forward. “You guys might get hurt!”

“We don’t care about that right now,” Yeonjun tightened his grip on your arm. “They’re practically bombarding only you with questions and unsolicited statements. They’re not after us.”

“But–”

“What are you still doing here?” Soobin’s voice was louder than he normally would let it reach. “The crowd’s gonna get worse, let’s go!”

“You’ll be fine,” Taehyun’s voice was firm as he led the pace.

Then you were out the door.

People were yelling, questioning you whether you actually did know Lee Junsu and all the other people who were speaking up about things you’ve done to them. There were people demanding you to speak up about the whole situation, whether it’s to defend yourself or lash out against the people accusing you. Hands were tugging on your clothes and pushing you around. Was it really this big of an issue? Why didn’t they tell you? But this couldn’t have all resulted from just one article. What weren’t they telling you?

You could feel your chest tightening, the breakfast you had just eaten churning in your stomach. The shouts all became muffled almost as if you were underwater while your vision, although mostly blocked by the hood Yeonjun had draped over your head, became blurry as your three friends helped push your way out of the crowd. You could tell that Yeonjun and Taehyun were yelling, but their words sounded way too far away from you. Suddenly, it felt like they were far away.

You were drowning, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

The drowning feeling didn't leave, not even when you were sitting outside your CEO’s office while waiting for Soobin to come back from his meeting with the CEO and the PR team. In your stead, Yeonjun had come in to help explain what had happened, leaving you with Taehyun.

Breathing felt like lifting weights, and your surroundings were still muffled. All that you could do was try to calm down while watching Taehyun pace in front of you in worry until his mutters became decipherable to you.

“I should have said no.”

“Tyun.” Your attempt to get his attention fell on deaf ears.

“We were supposed to just stay in here, but no. You just had to give in to them.”

“Taehyun?”

“She could have gotten hurt.”

“Please, Taehyun.”

“Fucking hell, they all could have gotten hurt.”

“Kang Taehyun!” His head snapped towards you at your outburst. “Can you stop blaming yourself? No one would have known that would happen.”

He ran a hand down his face before sitting next to you and handing you his water bottle. His eyes were apologetic as he waited for you to finish drinking water. “Are you okay?”

“I could be better,” a humourless laugh slipped past your lips. “Are you hurt?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he scolded you, “and worry about yourself. I’m debating on packing you up and shipping you off to New Zealand where no one will find you.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the doors to the office opened. Yeonjun walked towards you, face grim while Soobin’s heated voice behind him carried into the hallway.

“Soobin’s trying to convince them against it, but I don’t think they’ll change their mind.” He gave an apologetic smile before dropping the news. “You’re going on hiatus for the next month at least. They’re pulling you out of Everlasting Shine.”

The air grew heavy since the two boys knew how excited you were to start working on Everlasting Shine. All the hard work you went through while auditioning and physically training for your role went down the drain. You wanted to run away to where no one would find you.

Run away… Taehyun’s last statement made its way to your mind. Going to another country to escape for a while didn’t sound like a bad idea. But everyone would know if you went to New Zealand. It was no secret you wanted to visit the quiet country and surround yourself with nature. You needed somewhere no one would expect you to want to go to. Somewhere loud, busy, and not peaceful at all. Somewhere new to you.

That’s when it hit you.

“What did you just think of?” Yeonjun asked you suspiciously.

“Nothing,” you smiled at him before turning to Taehyun with a smile “I’ll see you soon. Can we go home?”

After everything that happened, how could he say no to you?

Sneaking away from Taehyun seemed almost impossible.

First of all, since your apartments were directly in front of each other, your noisy door would immediately alert the light-sleeper and make him check up on you. He also tended to check in on you every thirty minutes, casually walking in with the help of his spare keys.

To your delight, at around three in the morning, you heard his door open and the sound of the elevator. He was probably off to workout because he couldn’t sleep (like an absolute monster, in your opinion). You took that as your opportunity and took a cab to the airport.

16 hours of avoiding phone calls, ducking under hats and masks, watching movies, and reading later, you had arrived.

New York.

Everyone liked to think that they knew you, which isn’t false. You were an open book for the whole of South Korea to read, which is why they know that your idea of escaping would be going to a green country like New Zealand or Iceland. They knew that you would catch a flight there as soon as you needed to destress because you’d want to get away from all the people, skyscrapers, and noise.

Which is why you flew to New York. No one would expect you to go to the busiest city in the world, especially knowing you would get uncomfortable around the rush. It was a pretty smart and foolproof plan, and no one would find you. You adjusted the sunglasses on your face and took a quick look around. No heads turning, no whispering, no chasing. It was perfect.

Until you took your phone off of airplane mode.

You winced when you saw all the notifications rush in. There were hundreds of text messages from your group chat, and from the three boys individually. There were even over a hundred calls, most of them from Soobin. Huh, it looks like Taehyun probably tried to check in on you after his “can’t sleep workout” and told the others you were missing.

A familiar photo of your stylist falling over while playing badminton made its way on screen, requesting a facetime call. That’s what they must have turned to when they realized you must have turned your phone on airplane mode.

Preparing yourself for the scolding you were about to get, you found a somewhat secluded corner, took a deep breath, and picked up the call, keeping the camera off and your phone close to your ear.

“How’s my favorite stylist?”

“Y/f/n!” Yeonjun’s voice sounded relieved, worried, and angry all at the same time, making you sigh. “Do you know how fucking worried we are right now? When Taehyun called us at half past four in the morning saying you and a bunch of your stuff were missing, we all thought you had run off and fallen into a ditch or something!”

Maybe you should have left them a note… Oh well. Too late for that.

“Ask her if she’s hurt,” Soobin’s voice sounded from the phone, followed by Taehyun.

“Tell her to turn on the camera. I don’t think any of us can relax until we see her.”

“Guys, I’m safe.” You quickly connected your airpods before holding the phone further away and turning on the camera with a smile on your face. “See? No scratches or anything, and I have everything I need with me.”

Luggage. Clothes. Shoes. Toiletries. Laptop. Phone. Earphones. Chargers. Petty cash. Credit card. Debit card. Passport. Yup, everything you needed was complete.

Your three friends’ faces appeared on screen as well, looks of relief washing over their faces as they observed you. Soobin’s eyebrows furrowed as he observed you. Or something behind you. You turned around and saw a sign that clearly read “Arrivals'' hanging behind you. A sheepish laugh escaped your lips.

“Y/n,” he began, “I’m going to ask you this once, and I want you to be straight to the point okay?”

“I feel like I already know what you’re gonna ask but okay.”

“Where are you?”

“JFK.”

Yeonjun scoffed, “Well, Jesus fucking Christ to you, too. We just want to know where you are!”

A moment of silence passed in the call before Soobin sighed and Taehyun hit the back of Yeonjun’s head. “That’s JFC. I’m pretty sure she means she’s in JFK Airport. Does New York ring a bell to you?”

You laughed at their antics. If anything, seeing those two bicker while Soobin judged them would probably be what you’d miss the most for however long you were planning on being gone.

“Yeah,” a smile stuck on your face, “I’m in New York. I have an airbnb here for the next week, and I’ll probably spend most of my time there. Don’t worry about me.”

“Send me the address,” Yeonjun yelled as he walked towards what looked like his closet, “I’ll be there by tomorrow.”

“No!” Your call made the three boys on the other end jump slightly, “I don’t want you guys to get in trouble with the company. I’ll be fine on my own for a bit, okay?”

Taehyun looked at you questioningly. “You sure?”

All you did was smile and nod. It’s not like you weren’t an adult who could handle yourself. Besides, it would probably be nice not to pester your three friends for a while. They were the ones who were with you practically everyday.

“Fine,” Taehyun relented, “but at least update us once a day! And say it the moment you need us, you know we’ll fly to you.”

“Got it,” you smiled before turning to your manager who looked wrapped up in thoughts. “Soobin?”

“Hm?” He looked back to the call. “Ah, yeah, don’t worry. If the company tries to hunt you down, I’ll reason with them. It should be easy considering they cancelled all your schedules.”

“Thank you.”

With the chaos over with, you hung up and went to get your luggage, getting ready to go to your airbnb. But, for some reason, staying in the airbnb was the last thing you wanted to do that night.

The cab ride going there just showed you how pretty everything was. The buildings were tall enough to the point where the lights from the top floors looked a little like stars. Amidst the traffic and the horns honking, music played throughout the whole route. People in corporate attire headed home while others were all glammed out and getting ready for a fun night. Everything looked exciting, even that one little kid you saw dropping his hotdog by accident.

Seeing all the people experience the city in a way you would have never normally done on your own made you curious. Was it going to be as fun as it looked? Would everything be as pretty as it was from the backseat of the cab? Maybe it was worth a shot to explore.

Slipping on a slightly more but not too formal white tweed set and sneakers, you found yourself leaving the airbnb, looking around for somewhere you could grab dinner. That wasn’t exactly your best idea.

When you said you weren’t made for the city, you meant it. You weren’t prepared for the bustling people pushing past you or the close calls with cars speeding as soon as the light turned green (or before that, even). Luckily, none of your stuff fell out of your bag, and you never actually hit the ground.

But you needed to breathe.

That’s why, the moment you caught a glimpse of a more isolated alley, you stumbled your way over there. A door caught your eye.

It was a brown wooden door with black metal detailing, making it look like the door of some type of cottage. There was the smallest garden (if you could call a few potted plants shoved together with the plants growing into each other a garden) slightly separating it from the street. A wooden sign hung above it in true old fashion.

Magic Island: Bar and Restaurant

The corner of the sign had a modern sticker saying 24/7 on it, slightly ruining the concept, but at least it told you that it was open. After double-checking your wallet, you walked in through the door to find stairs leading up to the rooftop. You climbed up the stairs. .

It wasn’t what you expected a rooftop bar and restaurant to look like. The floor was cobblestone, wooden tables and chairs with the same black metal detailing as the door littered across the whole area. A fishpond in the corner called your attention. On the opposite side of the room from the fishpond, there was an elevated wooden floor separated from the rest of the cobblestone floor with a black metal railing. That’s where the bar was.

“Welcome to Magic Island,” a waiter greeted you as you took in everything, “is there anywhere in particular you’d like to sit?”

Your eyes glanced towards the tables near the fishpond immediately, but they were four-seaters. It would be unfair if you asked to sit there.

A chuckle brought your attention back to the waiter who began to walk, gesturing you to follow. “You can sit there, it’s slow hours right now, anyway.”

A protest made its way up your throat, but you glanced around. There were only three or four other customers there, so there was quite a lot of space. You gave the waiter a grateful smile before settling down and allowing him to explain the menu to you. After ordering some pasta and sparkling lemon juice, you pulled out your phone to snap a selca with the fish pond behind you.

Y/n: *image attached* Y/n: Dinner at the prettiest cottage core place! YJ: Send some over! I don’t want Taehyun’s protein shakes for breakfast TH: You asked for them, excuse me? SB: Send food pics! If you like it, we can go there together! And stay off social media… Y/n: Will do!

You smiled as you looked at the messages. For sure, those three were still worried about you, but they were doing their best not to show it. It was sweet. However, no matter how sweet they were, you still felt the urge to go against Soobin’s wishes and open twitter, especially since you didn’t have anyone to stop you. You did, also searching your name as soon as you touched the search bar. A headline of a shared article caught your attention.

–

BREAKING NEWS: South Korea’s Angel Y/F/N Not as Angelic as She Seems

Six years into her career, Y/F/N is at her peak. The general public always rave about the dramas she is a part of, saying how she is such a great actress for excellently pulling off all those antagonist roles, especially the villainous and psychopathic ones, despite having the sweet disposition that earned her the nickname of South Korea’s Angel.

It turns out, she isn’t too far from the roles she has played.

Lee Junsu, a rookie actor in the industry, recently spoke up about what Y/n was like during their younger days. He spoke as both her ex-friend and ex-boyfriend.

Y/n allegedly was extremely possessive and controlling over her friends and boyfriend, to the point where she’d become both obsessive and manipulative in trying to keep them with her and doing what she wanted. Junsu reported that she would always stop him from auditioning in companies, claiming she should be the only one to become an actress. He reported that she would guilt trip him for stealing her chances whenever he went to apply and that she’d get angry when he spent time with his other friends without her, especially when he would forget to tell her about it.

He also emphasized on the fact that she would only keep guy friends around, and never made time to be friends with other girls. She would get angry when they spoke to other girls, but she didn’t control them the way she did her boyfriend.

Some of their previous friends have also spoken up saying that Y/n was rude as well, always pointing out the worst things and making fun of them. Screenshots of previous conversations with her surfaced, showing how she’d talk about her “friends” behind their backs.

As of this morning, there were additional rumors about her having bought her way into her career since it was revealed that she came from a wealthy family. There are, however, no further details on this additional detail to Y/n’s real character.

Despite all this, she somehow found a way to charm herself into becoming South Korea’s Angel.

Y/n and Magic Entertainment both are yet to make a statement regarding the situation. However, judging by the silence and the sudden disappearance of the actress herself, the allegories are, in fact, true.

–

With a roll of your eyes, you throw your phone onto the table in front of you and bury your face in your hands. None of that was true! If anything, it was the other way around. Junsu was obsessed with you and outdoing you in the industry. He literally spent months after you breaking up with him (for good reason, too, since he was hurting you constantly) trying different methods to get you to date him again. Gifts, apologizing, following you around, even gaslighting you by saying he was ruined without you. It only stopped when you blocked him, changed all your social media, and moved away for the rest of senior year and university. You had made your acting debut in freshman year of university, and it scared you, thinking he’d take that opportunity to look for you. But he never showed up, so you thought he had given up on you. You were wrong.

It looked like he still had a vendetta against you, especially now that you’ve definitely outdone him. But it was years ago, couldn’t he let it go?

“Finally in a scandal, huh?”

You jolted up in shock as someone addressed you. To your surprise, the last person who you’d ever expect to see was looking at you with a small smile on his face while he rested against the railing dividing the ground from the fishpond.

Choi Beomgyu.

You groaned. Of all people who could find you, it was who your Everlasting Shine co-star was supposed to be.

“Don’t you have a shoot for the drama?”

“Everlasting Shine?” He tilted his head in curiosity. “They postponed the whole schedule last week, that’s why I haven’t gone back to Korea yet. I opted out of the contract this morning, too.”

“So they didn’t even bother telling me until yesterday,” you muttered before burying your face in your hands once again. “Are you gonna curse me out, too?”

“Nah. I don’t believe them.”

You lifted your head to see a slightly teasing smile on his face. He gestured to the seat in front of you asking if he could take it, making you raise your eyebrow at him. You nodded, allowing him to settle in the chair either way.

“That makes you, my bodyguard, my manager, and my stylist, then.”

“Which makes no sense,” he rested his elbows on the table, leaning closer and speaking low as if he were gossiping. “More people should be on your side. You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever seen. You're always so respectful to your staff and co-stars and you don’t brag or put yourself on a pedestal. Why would anyone believe some no-name-rookie over you?”

His description seemed a little too personal to be an observation through the screen. “How would you know that?”

“I’ve worked with you before.”

“I know,” you looked at him, remembering the role from a few years ago. You played the spoiled daughter of a CEO, and Beomgyu played your character’s weird henchman/personal guard. You shook your head. “I just thought you would have forgotten about me after both your acting and music careers skyrocketed, Mister Nation’s Boyfriend.”

“Why would I forget about you? South Korea's Angel! Especially when you helped me on set and my role with you was what made my career skyrocket?”

A short silence enveloped you two after the brief round of laughter. You both probably remembered the same thing. Beomgyu had been so nervous on set back then that his few lines were all monotonous. As soon as you could see the director getting frustrated, you had excused yourself, saying you were dizzy. You remember sneaking to his waiting room and giving him a pep talk.

He had obviously felt stressed, so you took it in yourself to comfort him or even get his mind off of it. Ironically, nearly three years later, it was the other way around.

“Hey,” he leaned back, “can I buy you a drink? My treat since you’re going through all this shit. Actually, dinner’s on me, too.”

You looked at him skeptically. He seemed as genuine as the Beomgyu you worked with from years ago, and he did show no signs of being in any way repulsed by the idea of you. And, despite having only really spoken just then, he was the only person you knew in New York.

“I can drive you back to wherever you’re staying, too, since I am the only person you know here. So?”

For some reason, hearing your thoughts come out of his mouth made you feel like you could trust him even more. You shrugged.

“Sure.”

“Nice. Kai! Can we get a sangria here, thanks!”

You raise an eyebrow at him once again.

“I’m a regular here,” he laughed before standing up and looking to where, presumably, Kai was already attempting to put Beomgyu’s food on a tray, “hold on, I’ll just grab my stuff from my table. I’ll be back.”

Dinner with Beomgyu was more pleasant than you thought it would be. He never brought up the scandal again, and he carried the conversation almost the entire night. Not once did he let silence come over you. You didn’t notice until the night was over and he had dropped you off at the place you were staying in, but you were grateful for his company.

Not once did he bring up the scandal. He didn’t even bring up your line of work, which was something you deeply appreciated. Instead, he told you about why he loved New York and why he loved the small restaurant you were in. (“Not to mention they have the sweetest and most handsome Korean-American waiter who I’ve become close friends with. Right, Kai?” “Forget it. You’re not getting bottomless sangria for the price of one glass.”)

It was a nice experience, and he didn’t pry too much about you or your life. Sure, he was friendly and genuine, but that didn’t mean you would just put everything out on a platter for him. To be fair, you were pretty sure you scared him off with how quiet you stayed for most of the night.

So, when Choi Beomgyu appeared at the door of your airbnb the next day, a big smile on his face and a spare motorcycle helmet in hand, you were surprised.

“Good morning,” his bright and cheery voice made you shrink back just a little, “get ready, quick. We’re going to Sutton Place Park for breakfast.”

“It’s eight in the morning, I just woke up.”

“I know. Your pajamas are cute, by the way. You a fan of BTS? Because I’m pretty sure I can get you an autograph.”

Your eyes widened as you looked down at the BT21 pajamas you were wearing. You ran towards the bedroom, yelling at Beomgyu over your shoulder to come in and close the door. His laugh echoed throughout your place as you pulled some clothes from your luggage. Before heading into your bathroom, you stuck your head out the bedroom door and looked at him. “I’ve got some food in the fridge and the cupboards in the kitchen. Help yourself, I’ll be 20 minutes.”

Sure enough, 20 minutes later, you walked out the door in a white pleated skirt and blazer set, ready to actually face your would-have-been co-star with at least some dignity. But his lips pressed into a tight line when he saw what you were wearing.

“Y/n,” he shook his head, “what are you wearing?”

You gave him an offended look. “Hey, I like sets.”

“They’re cute, yeah,” he shrugged his jacket off, “but we’re having breakfast near Queensboro, not grabbing cocktails at Daniel. Here.”

The navy blue and white varsity jacket felt heavy in your hand, but you put it on anyway, taking comfort in the fact that it at least matched your color scheme for the day. Pretty soon, the blazer was replaced by the jacket, and a satisfied Beomgyu was smiling at you.

“So,” you asked him, “any reason you wanted to kidnap me from my perfectly good airbnb?”

Beomgyu snorted while leaning against the kitchen island. “Please, you came to New York to sit around in your place? When you’ve made a friend with a New York resident?”

“We’re friends? And you’re not a New Yorker.”

“First of all, ouch,” Beomgyu scoffed, “I was befriending you and you just did that?”

Your eyes widened, “No, I’m sorry! I can’t really– Making friends is– I don’t—”

“It’s fine,” he chuckled at you, “I’ve seen enough of your interviews to know you take more than one dinner to call someone a friend.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, New York resident. Not New Yorker. I studied here for a bit as a kid, you know? And I’ve been staying here for a while.”

You looked at him a little cautiously. His presence was intimidating, but not in the way where it made you want to back away. It was intimidating in a way where it felt like he could rule the world easily with how confident he was in himself. And, somehow, he didn’t make it look cocky or arrogant.

The eye contact he maintained felt almost too much for you. Yes, you visited a lot of talk shows and did interviews, but those usually had cameras and audiences that you could divert your attention to every few seconds or minutes. It wasn’t like that in real life. Beomgyu’s gaze held yours, never once wavering unless to chuckle or shake his head. It was almost too much, but it wasn’t.

He was so confident and self-assured, so what was he doing with someone so shy? On that note, his career was going amazing, so what was he doing hanging out with someone whose reputation was getting worse by the minute?

“Don’t look at me like that,” he gave you a pointed look. “I’ve made it my own personal goal to become your friend, and, as a good friend would do, I’m bringing you to a nice spot in New York where I know won’t be too overwhelming. You in?”

You looked at the helmet he was holding out to you for a second. Should you go? It felt like he was being genuine in wanting to be your friend. Besides, he was probably hiding from the Korean media as well, so he wouldn’t rat you out, right?

With only the smallest bit of hesitation because you could hear your best friend’s voice in the back of your head (“Make friends, but be careful!”), you took the helmet and looked back up to meet his eyes.

“Great,” He got off the counter and headed to the door, opening it for you. “After you, Angel.”

You let out a small laugh. “I don’t think I’m South Korea’s Angel right now.”

“You’re not,” he smiled at you, a softer one compared to his earlier grin, as he helped you down the steps and onto his motorcycle. “Right now, you’re just Angel. Not South Korea’s Angel. Forget about that while you’re here, alright?”

“Alright.”

“And hold on tight. Riding a motorcycle is different in real life compared to on set.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. The wind felt a lot more violent and unpredictable, and you were sure that your hair would have been a billion times more messy if it weren’t for your helmet. But it was a great feeling. The smile never left your face the whole ride there, and the bustling noise of the city seemed somewhat pleasant in a weird disturbing way. You were almost disappointed when Beomgyu parked the motorcycle.

“Off you go, ma’am,” he helped you off the motorcycle and grabbed a little black bag that you didn’t notice earlier. He led you towards a bench. “Come on. Do you like people watching?”

“I… actually do.”

“Good, you’ll like it here.”

The first thing that came to your mind in response to that was to object. You knew you were in a busy city, probably the busiest in the world, so why would you like people watching when there are too many people who could get way too close? But you took a look around the place.

The sounds of the river flowing filled the area as barely anyone listened. You could hear the car horns in the distance, but it wasn’t enough to bother you. There were probably around seven or eight people walking around the area you were in, so it wasn’t crowded at all.

“This is one of my favorite places to go,” Beomgyu told you.

Looking at him, you could practically feel his peace influencing you to relax as well. He smiled with such fondness, a smile that could only be given to something a person has grown attached to.

He casually sat on one of the available benches, placing his bag on the floor and helmet on top og it with certain movements, as if he had done it multiple times before. An expectant look reached you as he looked back to gesture to you to follow his lead. You could only comply and sit next to him.

“It shows.”

“What?”

You gestured around yourselves, only getting a little distracted by what you saw around you, “That you love this place. I can see it in the way you take everything in.”

Beomgyu looked at you curiously before turning back to look at the river. “It kinda feels like home, you know? Just without the Dispatch cameras following our every move or the average citizen recognizing who we are.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant completely. Sure, you had an international fanbase, but it wasn’t so big that you’d be recognized almost everywhere you go like in Korea. However, looking at the busy people in their own bubbles whizzing by while the river flowed without hesitation in the background did seem nostalgic to being at the Han River.

It felt strange, though, being there with Beomgyu. You originally designated going to the Han river and people watching to either be an activity done alone or on a date. You haven’t even gone to the Han river with any of your friends. It felt strangely intimate…

Although, it probably didn’t count because you weren’t sitting by the actual Han river.

A quick motion to your left brought you out of your thoughts as Beomgyu had practically snapped himself forward to reach into his bag. Why he didn’t just lift it up, you would never know.

He sheepishly takes out a container that looked like a chemistry experiment gone wrong and handed it to you.

“I thought you’d like a little dessert to start your day,” he smiled, “I love starting my day with something sweet. I hope you don’t mind that it’s all smushed, though. It got a little tossed around during the ride to your place and here.”

It was wholesome, the way he was sharing something similar to a tradition with you, but you didn’t eat most desserts with frosting. You didn’t want to disappoint him, so you opened the container, bracing yourself for the overly sweet smell, only to be met with a tamer fragrance.

“Carrot cakes,” you smiled down at the pastry, trying to figure out a way to eat the one dessert you would absolutely never say no to.

“Carrot cupcakes,” he nodded, “with cream cheese frosting. I heard on an interview that you prefer these over traditional cupcakes or cakes, so I got these.”

“Thank you,” you accepted the fork he handed you and immediately went to get a piece.

Beomgyu pulled out his own container of tossed carrot cupcakes and got ready to eat it before turning back to you and asking a question.

“So, what’s up with that? The whole avoiding-sweets-as-much-as-possible thing?”

The hairs on your arms stand upon remembering the overwhelming smell of sweets from whenever Junsu would lovebomb you to keep you from leaving him. You unconsciously stabbed a muffin harder than you have been.

“I bet you had the worst cavity ever,” Beomgyu hummed in a teasing manner, eating a piece. His eyes widened as he looked at the container in pleasant surprise. “I don’t blame you for liking this, though, this is amazing!”

“I like to think I have good taste when it comes to most things,” you laughed as he stuffed more of it into his mouth, handing him a tissue from your bag. “You’ve got a little something on your, well, everywhere.”

“Good food usually means messy eats,” he winked at you. “Speaking of good food and messy eats, I have actual food in my bag, not just dessert, don’t worry. It’s some chicken from a Korean place near mine.”

You simply grinned at him, nodding in thanks as you both turned back to watching the people walking by and making up stories of their lives to entertain yourselves. You were halfway through the box of boneless chicken when Beomgyu broke the topic of people watching and asked you what you had planned for tomorrow.

“I literally came here without a plan on a last minute decision.”

“Nice! I have a meeting with my manager this afternoon and a social call tonight, but tomorrow’s free. I’ll pick you up at 9AM? I can take you to a few good spots in the day then for some touristy things at night. You have to see the view from Empire State, I swear. We can have dinner after at Magic Island.”

He laughed at your curious look, making you sigh and shake your head. “You’re really spending your day tomorrow on the most disliked person in the current Korean media right now?”

“Hey, they don’t know you, and I’m trying to know you,” he held his hands up in mock surrender. “I want to know what goes on in your brain, you know?”

The blatant overuse of the word ‘know’ made you shake your head once more at the wiggling of his eyebrows, but a small laugh did escape you. Beomgyu leaned back, crossing his arms in satisfaction at making you laugh.

“You’re trying to know me by showing me your favorite spots in New York?”

“Something tells me I can learn more about you in those spots.” The look he gave you was genuine and not the same joking and playful look her had before. Though there was still a hint of mischief in his eyes. “So? You down for the Beomgyu Special Tour tomorrow?”

You made an exaggerated thinking face, laughing at his attempt of convincing you through looks, before answering, “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 10AM.” He gave a nod of approval before launching into another convoluted life plot he made for a random stranger.

Before you knew it, Beomgyu had dropped you back off at your airbnb, and you were making yourself some tea to get ready to facetime with your friends.

There was no doubt they’d all be surprised when they found out who was in New York as well as spending time with you and convincing you to hang out. In fact, you were surprised yourself when you realized that the only time you felt uncomfortable with Beomgyu was when something related to Junsu was on your mind.

You honestly did not know whether to be proud or scared.

With all other actors you’ve previously worked with, you would have had to be two weeks into filming (not even counting the production meeting and table reading) at least before you felt even remotely that connected with someone the way you seemed to be doing with Beomgyu.

“Y/N! MY CHILD, I MISS YOU!” “Yeonjun’s blaring voice was the first thing you heard as soon as the call connected.

A small laugh slipped past your lips as you watch your three friends bickering, each trying to be the main person in the frame.

“Will you guys knock it off?” Taehyun made his way to the middle, elbowing an offended Yeonjun and Soobin to the sides. “Y/n is grinning not just her amused grin and I need to know why! Spill.”

You just shook your head. Taehyun was always able to read you well, and the grin on your face hasn’t left since Beomgyu took you out anyway. “I had a pretty good night. And morning. And I think I’m gonna have a good day tomorrow, too.”

That seemed to catch the attention of the two boys who were still bickering behind Taehyun. Soobin raised an eyebrow while Yeonjun leaned forward, much to Taehyun’s dismay.

“And why is that?” Yeonjun was quick to ask.

“You guys know my would-have-been co-star on Everlasting Shine, right?” Once all three of her friends nodded, she smiled.

There was a moment of silence while the context caught up to the three boys before Yeonjun’s jaw dropped.

“No way?” The stylist had practically pushed Soobin out of frame in surprise at his realization.

Taehyun, the ever protective best friend, narrowed his eyes with suspicion. “Choi Beomgyu? You’re hanging out with Choi Beomgyu?”

Your nod seemed to have pushed Yeonjun back through the screen as he stepped away and grabbed a pillow from the couch, hitting the two other boys with it. Out of the three of them. Yeonjun seemed to be excited rather than suspicious or pensieve.

“I kinda ran into him by accident,” you mess with the cuffs of the jacket you were wearing. His jacket. “It’s like some huge coincidence, given the circumstance. We talked for a bit, then it kinda evolved into us hanging out today and, well, he’s taking me on a New York tour tomorrow.”

“Oh my god!” Yeonjun sat back down, leaning in closer to the screen. “A coincidental New York run-in with the charming actor you were supposed to star alongside with? Y/n, my darling child, my angel, you’re literally living a full-blown rom-com!”

A small lifeless laugh escapes your lips despite the feeling of heat creeping up your neck, “Yeah, well, my rom-com’s kinda missing one big part. The part where the audience actually roots for the main character.”

“Hey,” Taehyun’s voice caught your attention, “you still are the main character. Just… don’t worry too much, okay? We’ve got you. We’re making progress.”

“Progress?”

“Progress.” Soobin nodded in confirmation. His voice was careful in the way he spoke, breaking his unusual silence. The expression on his face softened as he noticed your confusion and the hints of anxiety regarding the scandal creeping up on you. “Some people who knew you are starting to question Junsu’s story. Old classmates, people you’ve worked with, just anyone who’s been around you actually. They’ve been quietly reaching out to the company.”

“The truth is coming to light,” Taehyun added, his eyes sharp. “Pretty soon, that sorry excuse of a human being is gonna face the repercussions.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment. The tightness in your chest that came with thinking about the whole scandal eased the slightest bit. People were on your side. There was a chance that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the end of you.

“Speaking of truths,” Yeonjun inserted, lifting the mood with a mischievous smirk on his face, “Can we circle back to the fact that the Nation’s Boyfriend Choi Beomgyu is playing New York tour guide for you? Honestly, it sounds suspiciously… romantic.”

Your cheeks heated up as you shook your head. “It’s not like that, though. He’s just… He’s easy to be around.”

“And hot.”

The way Yeonjun wiggled his eyebrows made you look at him and let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeonjun”

“What? I’m just saying, there’s nothing wrong with some romance as your redemption arc kicks in, right guys?” He looked at Soobin and Taehyun, both who just gave Yeonjun judging looks.

Despite your best effort to remain stern about it, you laughed. The same laugh you haven’t been able to do with your friends in a while. It felt like a fresh breath of air being able to laugh like that with them again, even through a screen. The chaos of everything brought back a sense of normalcy.

But as the warmth of the chaos faded at the end, a complication in the back of your mind came forward, sending chills throughout your body.

Because as the room fell into silence, the gravity of the things Taehyun, Soobin, and Yeonjun were doing for you—not just as your bodyguard, manager, and stylist, but as your friends— settled on your shoulders. The fact that they were risking their names and careers to help you weighed down on your chest.

And somehow, Beomgyu’s kindness felt just as heavy.

The way he chose to believe in you, to get to know you before following the public’s opinion on you, to spend time with you despite your reputation being at its worst.

It scared you. Because if you let yourself get used to that kind of warmth—what happens when it’s gone?

And worse—what happens if you ruin him too?

that's the end of part 1! delicate has been something in my drafts for more than a year, and i was never satisfied with how things were rolling out in the plot, but beomgyu's mixtape is giving me motivation (i say a few hours before panic's release). i haven't posted here in a while, but this is my comeback, i'm claiming it! i missed writing~

see you in part 2!

~ cia 🫶🏼

#CBG1 IS COMING #STREAM PANIC! I'TS COMING OUT IN LIKE AN HOUR!#my writing comeback is here!#everyone say thank you choi beomgyu for the inspiration!#beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x y/n #txt x reader #txt x you #txt fluff #txt #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together

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scealaiscoite · 2 years ago

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poly fluff alphabet ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

a = affection; is anyone more overly affectionate than the others? when it comes to physical vs verbal, who prefers what?

b = bed; what’s the sleeping situation like? are there regular sleeping arrangements - does anyone like to sleep alone?

c = comfort; when someone’s feeling down, how do the rest look after them?

d = dates; what do dates look like? who usually plans them, or are is it a group affair?

e = events; who drags everyone else to their family/friends’ events?

f = fights; are arguments something that happen often? what are they over, and how are they resolved?

g = getting together; how did it all come about? were there any pre-existing relationships between them?

h = hobbies; does anyone share any hobbies/passions? how do they include the rest of their partners in them?

i = in sickness and in health - when someone falls ill, who’s the carer and who’s the germaphobe? is there anyone that resists being looked after?

j = joker; who’s got the best sense of humour? do they like to tease and banter with everyone else?

k = knowing; who can read their partners like a book? is there anyone who’s got their walls up, even around their partners?

l = lavish; is there anyone who really likes to treat their partners/show them off? how do the rest tend to react - who revels in it, and who’s made shy by it?

m = memories - is anyone more on the sentimental side?

n = nights; what’s the nighttime routine like when they’re all together?

o = open; how open is everyone with one another?

p = pda; what’s pda like with them? is there anyone who loves it, and anyone who’s less fond of it? what actions/words does it manifest as?

q = quiet; who prefers to spend their time with their partners out and about, and who likes to spend it at home?

r = romantic; is anyone a bit of a sap for their partners?

s = sharing; is there anyone who’s particularly territorial of their partners?

t = terms of endearment; nicknames! who’s crazy on them, and who do they make cringe? what’re the go-to’s?

u = urge; who’s the most impulsive? who do they loop into their plans, and who entertains their antics?

v = vacations; how do holidays go? are they big exotic trips, or the occasional staycation?

w = worthy; how are insecurities handled? is anyone more self-conscious than the others?

x = xoxo; who checks up on their partners a lot when they’re apart? do they call, or are texts enough to make them feel close?

y = yearn; who misses their partners the easiest (ie, calls them to hear their voices when all they’ve done is run to the grocery store)?

z = zealous; who was especially eager in their pursuit of the relationship? was anyone more reserved in their want for it?

#i made this like a year ago for my own fic blog and used it maybe twice but i rlly like it so. here ye go <3 #watch me reblog this nine million times on my main until i’ve sickened everyone of it lol #prompts #poly prompts #polyamorous prompts #poly fluff prompts #ot3 prompts #ot3 memes #poly rp meme #prompt list #writing prompts #writing exercise #fluff prompts #rp meme #soft prompts #fluff writing prompts

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saltcxrcle · 11 months ago

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cereal-lized ✫ winchesters

summary: a morning after a rough hunt

pairings: dean winchester x gn! reader, sam winchester x gn! reader, platonic! dean winchester x reader, implied sam winchester x reader

requested: yes/no: by anon! thank you for requesting this, i hope this is what you envisioned :)

words: 745

warnings: no use of 'y/n', smidge of angst, fluff, none really

a/n: thank you again to the anon that requested this! also i couldn't resist having sam and the reader together since they're besties with dean 🤭. also sorry for the bad pun for the title, i couldn't resist lol

𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You managed to pull yourself out of bed this morning, detangling yourself from the arms that were wrapped around you. You trudged through the halls of the bunker to get to the kitchen, where you found Dean in his 'dead man' robe, sitting at the table. He was practically slumped over his bowl of cereal, his head in his hand as he chewed slowly, staring at the wall blankly.

The hunt for the three of you was a rough one, not only on your bodies but also on your minds. You never liked going on hunts when they involved kids, and you guys had to deal with changelings. It took you guys a lot longer than it should have to try to find where the mother changeling had the kids, and by the time you guys found and killed the thing, it had fed on over half of the kids it took.

It hit the three of you hard as the drive back to the bunker was dead silent. No music, no conversation. Just the rumblings of the Impala and the low noises of breathing coming from you, Dean, and Sam.

Your sock-clad feet led you to the shelves that held the tableware, and you grabbed a bowl, then looked in the silverware drawer to grab a spoon before sitting across from Dean and pouring cereal and milk into it.

Usually, whoever got up first in the bunker would make breakfast for the three of you, but it was always either you or Dean since Sam would go on his morning runs and come back after you had just finished cooking breakfast. But this morning was different for obvious reasons. Sam didn't go on his morning run, and Dean made cereal instead of the typical eggs, bacon, and toast he would make for the three of you.

Dean made eye contact with you as he chewed his food lazily and nodded at you in acknowledgment.

"Morning." You rasped out before diving into your breakfast. You usually had an appetite in the mornings but you were not feeling it this morning. Regardless, you still need to eat something and cereal was your safest bet.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, content with just being in each other's presence as your spoons clinked against the porcelain of the bowls the two of you ate out of. You and Dean found solace in each other's company, whether it be in silence or the random conversations the two of you would have when avoiding research for a hunt. Sam would complain when the two of you would procrastinate and tell you two to shut up (even though you saw the slight smile on his face when you and Dean would get into petty arguments).

You had a good rapport with the eldest Winchester, being able to match his stubbornness and sarcastic responses with your quick wit and level-headedness when it came to tense hunts you guys would be working. You eventually broke through his tough exterior and became each other's best friends. He was able to confide in you in ways that he couldn't with his brother.

A couple of minutes had passed before Sam made his way into the kitchen, still in the sweatpants and black t-shirt he wore to bed, and went over to the fridge to grab a water bottle.

"Morning." Sam greeted the two of you as he closed the refrigerator door.

Dean mumbled something that sounded like 'morning,' but you couldn't tell because his mouth was full. You heard Sam bustling about the kitchen behind you before sitting down beside you with a bowl and spoon and planting a kiss on your head as he did.

You smiled at him before going back and eating your cereal slowly. At this point, the cereal was kinda soggy, but you didn't mind.

Dean grunted something, sleep still riddling his features as he shoved his bowl towards Sam, a couple of spoonfuls left in his bowl.

Sam's eyebrows pinched in confusion as he looked at his brother.

"Have the rest. I'm done." Dean said before getting up, his robe swishing behind him as he padded out of the kitchen and down the hall.

You and Sam stared at the doorway that Dean left through, puzzled. You shrugged it off before going back to your now very soggy cereal. Meanwhile, Sam scoffed and shook his head before grabbing the cereal and pouring it into his bowl.

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fic-dumpster · 7 months ago

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Kakucho x Reader || blurb, romantic vomit, kissing.

Thinking about Kakucho…

he’s so big and rough around the edges, yk? He struggles to find the right words sometimes, but the moment you’re sitting on his lap and he has you close, arms wrapped around you? He’s eyes literally sparkle and go oh… so very soft as they delicately travel all over your face.

He loves it. He loves you, your company, your presence, your everything. You know he’s honest, although a bit unpolished, but that’s just part of his charm. And in those moments when it’s just the two of you and he can’t get his tongue to work, you cave in with pleasure; knowing exactly what he needs without further instruction.

It’s not one sided, that deep connection? No. He also knows how to move you, handling you with so much care with… those hands that have felt and caused so much pain. He knows sometimes you need it—him. No questions asked.

Then there’s the kissing. It’s not a spark extinguishing in an instant. It’s a lasting sensation—a fire ignited, burning through both your bodies the moment your lips meet. You’ve been keeping at steady peace, no hurry to end or move on. His cracked lips stroking gently yours… yours that feel soft and plump as his tongue caresses its edges.

A moment that should last forever, but it’s been a while and both your lips had gone a bit numb, that familiar tingling already taking over your swollen lips. Breathes blending as one and it’s so safe with him, so easy to let go. He’s got you.

“Be good and let go,” he rasped, voice gone hoarse from the lack of use of it.

And you do… because you know he’ll take care of it all. Just like you’re there for him, he’s there for you.

#I’m here disassociating with Kakucho while everyone around me talks about Panettone #omificstags #kakucho x reader #tokyo revengers #blurb #kakucho hitto #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev fluff #fluff #tokyo revengers kakucho #tokyorev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers x you #kakucho #kakucho x you

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sunnie-angel · 2 years ago

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a little something to celebrate 100 followers (and finishing my finals!)

Jason’s thigh shifts under your cheek. The fabric of his jeans is warmed by your combined body heat, worn soft in the way a best loved pair always is. It’s been a long day, a long week actually, but its over now. You’ve made it through though and there’s nothing but a glorious evening free ahead of you now. You’re lying on your side, eyes closed, head pillowed by Jason’s delicious thighs. He was sitting on the couch when you came home, thighs splayed wide open and absorbed in a book. He’d looked so comfy sitting there, it was all you could do to control your descent onto the couch. You’d flopped down, boneless the instant your body made contact with his. Jason’s thighs were just as comfortable as they looked, warm and firm with just the right amount of give. He looks down at you, fond.

“You gettin’ comfy down there sweetheart?” It’s wry, and probably accompanied by a smile, if you could be bothered to look up and open your eyes to see it.

“Mmmhmmm.”

You nuzzle your face further into his thigh, let the smell of detergent and Jason wash away the day. He reaches for something over you, pulls down a soft fleece blanket to cover you with. He drapes it over you, let’s you adjust it the way you like it. He pets over your hair once, twice, then buries his hand it to cradle your skull. There’s a rustle of pages and you know he’s gone back to his book.

You drift there, warm and comforted by Jason’s steady presence. There’s nothing but the sound of your combined breathing punctuated by the occasional turn of a page. You’re not sure how long you stay there, but by the time you open your eyes again the quality of the light has changed. The living room is only lit by the low warm light of several lamps, the sun completely gone down. For the past few minutes Jason’s gone back to petting your hair, finished with his book.

“You back with me yet?”

Instead of answering, you try and bury your face even further into his leg. His thigh just so firm and biteable that you give into the urge and gently clamp down.

“Hey! Okay, we’re both getting up now. You can either wait here on the couch or sit in the kitchen with me but I need to start making dinner.”

He tries to shake you free but you’re not ready yet. It’s not until he bends over to kiss you on the temple that you magnanimously let him go. Turn up to look at him appraisingly.

“Kitchen but I get to be your taste tester and I get to bring the blanket.”

He laughs then, bright and loud. Sweeps you up, blanket and all, and bridal carries you to the kitchen. Sets you down on one of the bar chairs across the counter so you can watch him, and then starts to pull out pans. Gets the black tea and spice chest out of the cupboard and starts digging for the mortar and pestle under the kitchen sink. Chops and peels a ginger root, adds it to the pot with the tea and spices before covering it all with water to boil. He cleans up as he goes, pulling out the ingredients for pasta as the water boils. You rest your head in your hands to watch him work. A few spoonfuls of sugar and a cup of milk go into the pot now. His hands are steady and mesmerizing as they use a ladle to aerate the boiling milk. The kitchen smells amazing, warmed spices and tea filling the air. A steaming mug appears in front of you, as if by magic.

“New spice blend. Let me know what you think.”

Jason winks before spinning back to the stove.The chai is rich and sweet on your tongue, warming you up from the inside out. It’s probably your favourite version yet, but then you say that about every new iteration he lets you try out.

Jason’s multitasking in a way your tired brain can’t quite catch up to. Pasta’s boiling in one pot, chicken seasoned and shallow frying in a pan, and his knife’s flying to dice garlic and cherry tomatoes. He darts forward with a bit of chicken on a fork, gets you to blow on it before carefully putting it between your teeth. It’s plump and juicy, fat adding salt and the basic seasoning doing the rest to make it delicious.

“It’s good. Taste tester approved. The chai and the chicken.”

“Glad to know my cooking meets your high standards.”

He grins like quick silver, hands never stopping their motions. There’s a pesto sauce cooking off with the chicken and its fat, garlic frying up with it. A dash of cream and the colour goes a soft green. The chai’s almost gone now, a satisfying weight in your belly that only makes you hungrier. There’s pasta on another fork waving in front of your face. Annoyed, you snap it up with your teeth.

“It’s cooked.”

A cloud of steam and the pasta’s drained, tossed into the chicken and sauce. Two bowls appear on the counter filled with chicken and pasta, topped with cherry tomatoes and grated Parmesan. You’re not even sure when he had time to grate cheese. It looks so good, your mouth is already watering.

You’re warm and relaxed, still bundled in a blanket, the dregs of chai still in the mug wrapped in your hands. There’s food on the table, good food made with care. There’s a beautiful man leaning across the counter from you, in the apartment that you’ve made a home together. It’s been a long day, but you’re home with the man you love and none of that matters anymore.

#thank you everyone!#here’s something a little self indulgent to celebrate #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #tooth rotting fluff #snack fic #sunnie writes 🌻

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hitlikehammers · 5 months ago

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that tune without the words

“It was nice, walking through those woods, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another line item for Eddie’s getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—but then his tone’s turning sorta wry: “Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.” 💕

rating: t ♥️ cw: mid-S4, Vol2, steve goes back for eddie’s ‘body’, interdimensional bat venom can be a hell of an paralytic inconvenience ♥️ tags: eddie munson lives (to go on a date that’s not walking through dead hell-forests 🎉), steve harrington having a one-sided/unfiltered heart-to-heart with the cute boy who carved his probable bisexuality indelibly intonstone 💎 (no biggie), an over abundance of flirting in times of mortal peril, planning a future in an actively crumbling hellscape=(soon-to-be)couple goals, happy ending (and hopeful ending, too!)

for @steddielovemonth day two: "if you're lost, you can look and you will find me // if you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting" —Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

title credit here🪶

When they tangled with Vecna, Eddie’s body gets left behind. Sure, yes, they all know the timeline, the logistics, how the story goes. The gates seal. Supergirl goes nuclear. They kinda-half-lose. The town’s a fucking mess. They gotta lick their wounds.

But the in-between bits get hazy, see.

Specifically when Steve went AWOL and ran back, jumped through the closing gate he’d just barely managed to climb up through in the first place, given the extent of his wounds, and runs for the body they abandoned because he doesn’t leave his people behind.

And somehow in just a couple days, Eddie counted as his people. Even just his body.

The strength, the speed, the stamina to not have been stuck in the Upside Down, to not have dropped the dead weight in the way back up, to not have got suctioned in and crushed in half as the fissures crept closed: that’s the fucking stuff of legends, of parents lifting trucks off pinned children. No wonder they call Steve the mom.

But yeah. Eddie’s body’s left behind.

For like…ten minutes, max.

Then Steve fucking Harrington had to be all Steve fucking Harrington about it, say fuck that, and weigh the risk of two dead bodies as sufficient collateral to leap like it was a fucking two-for-one at Melvald’s.

Bastard made it back, too. Bloody as fuck, everything that’d healed even a little bit torn at least twice as wide in breaking back open; three extra broken bones, with at least on being a rib that there’s genuine concern over puncturing a lung with one more wrong move—and a likely one, given the evidence thus far.

And also, there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s breathing, who they don’t know until later whether Steve managed to somehow resuscitate, or if the powers that govern the hellscape zapped him back for nefarious reasons, or maybe they’d all just…fucked up and missed that Eddie wasn’t even all-dead in the first place.

Details, remember. The in-between parts got real hazy.

Eddie knew the truth form the get-go, though.

Having to witness Henderson fall apart, draped across him was maybe the most harrowing thing eddie has ever had to live through—but the point was, he did live through it. Everything was foggy, and he felt like his world was blinking too long in between knowing it was still there, like reality and his place in it were too close to sleep to be rooted, to be trusted, to be sure at all that it would last and that his shitty attempts to get any air in weren’t just painful acts of desperation to delay the inevitable.

But then there had been lips on his lips, and he’d tasted his own blood there but then more blood, other blood.

And his lungs were blissfully full for the first time in what felt like eons.

He wants to turn to find out who’s there, whose mouth had just spared him in his torment for even a few extra moments before the end, but he—

He can’t fucking move. He hadn’t realized that part before—oxygen deprivation, hell of a distraction apparently—but now that he clocks it?

That lungful of air’s gasping out fast as fuck as eddie panic because what’s happening what is happening—

What’s happening is that mouth on his again, giving him back the breath he’s foolishly wasting on panic, coupled with a too-broad hand, palm braced at his chest and fingers curled up his shoulder: firm. Steadying.

“Poison,” a voice says low, close to him enough that eddie thinks he maybe feel warmth from it but he’s not sure, he’s not sure what he does and does not feel and that’s most of the fucking terror: “in the venom. My legs were numb as fuck after, the went too deep at the core and it just fanned out, couldn’t feel a fucking thing but the pain til we got supplies.”

The hand moves fuller to his chest like it’s testing something, then the lips are back, filling up his lungs, like someone who knows how this works, who’s done it before—

A lifeguard would know. Would have done it before and…

Okay, like, Eddie didn’t spend most of every summer the past handful of years in a carefully disguised little copse of shadey trees near enough to keep the community pool in his sights because he was planning to get in the water, y’know?

“But then it felt like there wasn’t enough air when I tried to breathe deep, way worse than my legs, like from,” and he touches Eddie’s neck, then, where the bats barely got him by comparison to…other places so Eddie thinks—with the newly-restored moments of oxygen to his brain cells—Steve’s talking about his suspicious noose-shaped souvenir.

Eddie wants to be able to see, wants to see and know with all his sense that this is steve: touching him and coming back for him and saving him and—

“You’re still breathing,” and shit, it’s like Eddie’s prayers are answered without a god believed in, his fucking lucky day, because Steve’s leaning and holding still so the his cheek under Eddie’s nose, and the bow of his lips just at the corner of Eddie’s mouth, gasping out his assessment when the hint of damp the exhale gathers on his skin, all with a kind of relief that feels…too big, really. Like Eddie can’t possibly deserve that. They barely know each other.

But fuck if Eddie—who was very much banking of giving up the goddamn ghost down here just a couple minute prior, especially once everyone had left and he was just staring at the red lightning waiting to be struck down for good—but fuck if Eddie is gonna pretend he doesn’t want to deserve that care and relief, to merit and earn it for himself, specifically from Steve, especially the Steve he’s gotten to know in the last seventy-two hours. All the shit about crisis revealing a persons true nature?

Sign Eddie the fuck up for a) all of Steve Harrington and his truest true nature as well as b) the sworn duty of keeping this far too tightly wound paladin barbarian crossbreed marvel of a specimen from any more crises, and ensuring the opposite instead, maybe like, holding him close. Kissing his neck. Falling asleep in each other’s arms. More…stuff like that.

Time probably moves faster the vacuum of real actual Armageddon, so. He probably can shrug off the ‘barely know each other’ stuff.

His heart’s doing a little floppy-floppy thing with Steve’s mouth still so close; with knowing Steve’s mouth had been closer, so. Yeah. He’s sold, 100% on board. Bring him the dotted line, he’ll be Mrs. Harrington by morning.

Or…evening? It’s just fucking dark here, he doesn’t even remember what day it is.

“Too much,” and Steve’s not moving form where he’s gauging—presumably—Eddie’s breaths at the source, whispering and so, so close as he waggles his hand around; “before, but,” and Eddie gets it quick: too much commotion. To much hysteria, and more than merited, but Dustin’s sobbing? Robin’s shaking, Nancy’s armor-grip on her gun making trying to measure a pulse less than worthless and Steve…Steve has getting them the fuck out before the gates closed, Eddie remembers hearing that—which begs the question of why he’s here again bow, but one thing at a time.

The one thing Eddie wants to focus on is Steve thought to come back at all, and thought it not inpossible to find him alive and not-yet-but-still-eventually-capable-of-kicking, because the bats had numbed him to fuck, too.

And he hadn’t told anyone, Jesus fuck—this man, and giving more shirts about him already than Eddie’s maybe given for anyone, is gonna be what actually manages to put him six feet in the goddamn ground.

“I had a feeling,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t have to try and fail to turn to see the triumphant smirk he’s pulling, still relieved but like, vindicated now, too.

“And even if I didn’t,” he sobers quick; “I wasn’t leaving you here.” And Eddie wouldn’t stilled if he was capable of moving in the first place because…yeah, he’s basically figured he was being left here. Was pretty much solidly on his way to making his peace with it too when feet landed close to his knees and lips closed over his own and the rest is…

Is now. Where Steve Harrington doesn’t leave Eddie Munson, even as the world ends in their fucking faces and all proves to be as good as lost.

He won’t settle for them counting among the loses and that’s…

That’s just kinda…wow.

“Was really banking pretty hard on that feeling, too,” and Eddie hears Steve’s voice strain a little, even as there comes a little tiny huff of slightly manic laughter, and a rip of fabric from fuck knows where. “Want to get to know you better, Munson,” he says, tight like he’s holding up tensions, or swallowing back pain and Eddie doesn’t like that, and likes even less that he can do fuck all about it right now.

But if they’re gonna be in the business of getting to know each other better, then Eddie’s filing that sound away in the ‘keep that shit away from Steve forever’ file.

Eddie likes dealing with forevers in his head, because they so rarely work out for him in life. He craves disappointment, maybe; but.

“Walking through the woods, half-fucking paralyzed was some of the,” Steve starts, honest and earnest before Eddie catches half-a-shrug out the corner of his eye and…maybe he’s not the only one who deals in forevers in their head, and if he’s suddenly not the only one, maybe less disappointing could possibly be imminent.

Maybe.

“It was nice, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another thing for the getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—then his tone’s turning sorta wry:

“Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.”

Eddie wants desperately to laugh, to bump shoulders with Steve again like he did a little, tries for more when they were walking side by side, he wants so fucking bad—

Then there’s fire in his fucking throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve sounds more startled than concerned, where Eddie’s kinda afraid his neck is melting into lava or some shit; “yeah, yeah, baby,” and hold the fuck up, what did Steve just say, what did Steve just call him? Our of nowhere?

The lava feeling’s way less important; in fact, takes enough of a back step to make some sense with Steve’s neck words, with his hand back in Eddie’s chest to brace his shoulder:

“You’re coming back, just keep,” he’d tries to laugh, and the sound had gotten lost on Eddie in the agony but it hadn’t been lost in Steve, his baby, holy fucking shit—

“Oh.”

Steve’s tone is something entirely new; awed a little, floored a little, not bad, so that’s a plus, but…overwhelmed like at the edges but then fucking ecstatic in the middle, which down here shouldn’t even be possible, until his hand pressed a little harder into Eddie’s ribs on the less mangled side and—

“Strong enough to feel, now, even when I still can’t feel everything,” Steve’s face swims, gorgeous and kinda like an answer to the universe in the minimal view space Eddie has to work with as he slowly crawls back online, a process not actually being helped by Eddie putting together what’s causing Steve’s reaction—the way his heart’s pumping’s growing a little undeniable even on his own end, and Steve’s hand feeling the raw effects of Steve on Eddie’s body right now isn’t helping matters at-fucking-all, but also Eddie never wants that touch to leave him ever fucking again, ever.

It’s a delicate sort of contradiction.

“Shit, yeah,” and Steve’s laughing, and it’s a soft joy-tinged thing less than the manic hysteria thus far.

Eddie’s fucking toast, man. No hope for him now.

“Strong enough even if I’m kinda fucking shaking,” Steve holds out his hand that, yeah, is in fact a little trembly but hey.

Eddie can’t feel shit yet too good, but he’s almost certain he’s got to be no better. Blood in his veins certainly ain’t winning any awards for steadiness.

And Steve leans down, this time back with another one of those vaguely hysterical laughs and Eddie can’t see everything outside of the angle his head’s held at just now, and the whole problem really starts with how he can’t feel a lot of shit á la bat venom, but.

If Eddie had any money, he’d actually wager that Steve fucking Harrington. Just touched his lips to Eddie’s neck, just kissed where his pulse would kick between his collarbones. And, true or not, the possibility of that?

Holy fucking shit.

“I hope these aren’t too tight,” Eddie sees the motion from Steve’s shoulder, feels…or thinks he feels the lightest ghost of pressure at his fucked up side: tight. The tearing from before; Steve had been wrapping his sorry ass up.

Talk about Eddie’s goddamn knight in shining armor, Jesus fuck.

“Pretty sure it came down to the fact that their poison hit me like it did because of where they got me the worse, and that’s what made me hope in the first place, you know. Your worst bleeders are in the meat,” and yeah, Eddie really does think that’s real sensation for the soft press of Steve’s hand at his flank, not say nothing of the burning flush to his cheeks, blood’s moving just fine there.

“Fucking deep but not so close to the bloodstream, to pump around and make it worse,” and he touches Eddie’s neck again, and ah: that was why Steve had the reaction he did, mainline to the ticker to get it all swum around. “More of it in you, obviously, because there were more of them, more teeth, but not up here,” and fuck Steve Harrington for the way his hand brushes Eddie’s neck almost tender-like, just…fuck him; “no a direct fucking line to the source.”

Yes. Fuck him. Preferably soon and with Eddie at full sensation and on a horizontal surface that’s not bloodsoaked and vaguely reeking of rot.

Just, y’know. If anyone’s taking note of preferences.

“Thank god for it,” Steve breathes out, the air fluttering over Eddie’s face and he can feel it and he wants to cry, he wants to jump up and dance; can’t do that year but his pulse makes a damn good attempt.

“But yeah, anyway, just walking through hell with you was,” Steve shifts back to the part where he’d seemed to be extolling the virtues of apocalyptic flirting, but before Eddie can file it away to do so much better in whatever’s to come? Steve’s slotting his fingers between Eddie’s own; he can’t feel the whole of it, but he damn well feels enough to know the way they fit is perfect, like they were cut form the same clay millennia ago.

Of course Eddie’s heart goes flippy-floppy again; it fucking has to.

“Not the part about Nance so much, though.”

And Eddie thinks he frowns because…oh.

Oh right, yeah, he really hasn’t had a glimmer of hope in hell that what kinda feels like is happening right now was even on the goddamn table, so…maybe he had tried to funnel his sense of pure and unadulterated loss into at east giving the boy he wanted, what < i >that boy wanted.

Whoops.

Won’t be making that mistake ever again, though, at least. Lesson learned, loud and clear.

“That’s been and gone, man,” steve sighs, a if Eddie needs more convincing. “And I don’t want to go back to where I left it. I want to love someone, who loves me.”

It feels heavy and vulnerable, but all Eddie wants to do is shot me, it can be me, let me have the adventure of learning how to love every bit of you better than you ever thought to even hope after pretty fucking please with a goddamn cherry on top—

“So she’s,” Steve huffs, definitive-like: “out of the picture. She could maybe learn to be that, but, and Steve moves, the most intentionally he’s done it so far to look Eddie straight in the eye when he wraps up the point:

“I’m not interested enough to wait.”

Which means it’s no fucking coincidence, that eye-contact, and Eddie’s ping-ponging pulse for it is 100% prevent valid and then some.

“And I know can’t talk right now, so I get this isn’t really,” Steve sucks his teeth in a genuinely unbearably adorable way; “fair, or probably even like, wholly ethical,” and Eddie’s only been around for days but that sounds like Robin right there, and the feeling of a dangerous pull near his cheek makes him think the urge to smile wasn’t wholly ignored by his beat to shit body, fucking progress.

“So think of it just like a,” he hums, then snaps his fingers as he lands on: “suggestion! A suggestion. Like me, just, putting it out there, which I usually do before anyone feels the same way anyway so this is just like, variation on the theme, but,” and Steve’s eyes are so big, Eddie’s never seen them looks this way before while Steve tips his whole face so Eddie can watch before he can sit up or turn his neck, must be fucking painful but he doesn’t even flinch, and Eddie’s only ever just kinda fallen for the puppy droop of those gorgeous eyes. Now they’re all, big and wide and bright and breathless and holy shit, Eddie’s really is just so screwedbest thing ever.

“I want to take you to dinner, a movie.”

Okay, hold up. That idea, said out loud and meant and directed to him: that might be the best thing ever.

“Maybe a drive in so no one will see if you let me hold your hand, or put my arm around you, or start necking with you halfway through,” like that isn’t making Eddie wonder if he just can’t feel the hard on every piece of him is very convinced he has to have right now, if his body can actually pony up just yet.

“If you want, of course. We could go slow,” and it’s like Steve’s thought about it, like this isn’t just adrenaline and near-death and zero impulse control. It’s most like he…like he actually wants. “Just a movie, even like at my house. Or yours. After they,” Steve clears his throat, the only part he’s even hinted awkwardness in; “after they take care of that.”

Ah. Right. Eddie probably does now have a trailer anymore.

Weird how little he’s caring about that at the moment.

“I could cook, I’m not bad at it,” Steve’s ploughing in with secret knowledge because: Harrington. Apron. Sauce on his cheek. KO-fucking punch to the heart, no survivors.

“Takeout’s fine too, I’d get whatever you wanted,” he pivots before trialing of, chewing his bottom lip then saying a little softer:

“But I would look up recipes too, practice to learn your favorite foods.”

And maybe Eddie really was never supposed to survive the Upside Down. He just maybe completely misinterpreted the way he was gonna fuckin’ die .

“I’d kiss you at the door if that’s okay, if that’s not to far,” then Steve’s bit-sparkle eyes darken even in the hell-dim around them; “or take you to bed if you wanted, but only as much as you were sure.”

And y’known how Eddie’s heat’s been flippy-flopping?

What it starts doing then leave that schoolgirl shit to dhame.

“I want to date you, basically,” and Steve’s shoulders are all squared up, like he’s making a pitch that has any chance of failing, and Eddie does have some working knowing of the past failures…thing, but he genuinely believes those fuckers have been at least partially brain dead to leave a man like this free for the taking, by Eddie of all fucking people.

“I want to try, and see if we can be something,” and the way he says those words, it’s…it’s like a soft perfect flame in Eddie’s chest, the first thing he thinks he can feel again fucking perfectly right,

“‘Cause fuck Eddie, I’ve been looking for something for what feels like forever, and the only thing I keep coming back to for any of it is thinking about you, and ain’t that a plot twist, the deepening of the idea that any of this stretched last what started in that fucking boathouse. “Had a whole-ass sexual awakening over you when you started shepherding my kids, can’t let that go to waste, man.”

And holy shit, dude. Eddie can’t leave him hanging on that confession no matter how mostly-carefree his smile stretches. Because Steve’s been in it since last fall?

Well, Eddie’s not one to easily be outdone.

“What?” Steve squints at Eddie’s face which…okay. He probably looks absurd but he’s trying really hard here, and miming isn’t easy when your muscles don’t want to get on board, yeah?

“Are you,” Steve scrunches his nose; tips his head; considers; “are you trying to,” he frowns, like he’s ready to dismiss what he’s guessing but then says fuck it and leaps:

“Are you trying to whistle?”

Yes, oh my god, sign him up for his marriage license for real, they’re meant to fucking be.

It takes Steve a second to make sense of the absurdity, and the fact that it’s only a second is a feat in itself:

“When I was a lifeguard?”

Eddie watches the timeframe, the length of admittedly varying types and depths but always constant infatuation, start to sink in and then:

“Jesus, Munson, for real?”

And lips are coming for his lips, and he’s real hopeful he can feel them this time but: no. Not yet.

But they fill his lungs up quick and full where he’s getting better which breathing by the minute, but. Any but if a boost is appreciated.

Especially from those lips, felt fully yet or not.

“That’s just because I’m gonna lift you up here in a second to crry you, and it’s gonna hurt like fuck no matter how gentle I try to be,” Steve warns him; “so breathe as slow as you can until I can lay you back down topside.”

Right. Right, because…the Upside Down was breaking apart and they’ve been here how long, fuck, they need to get a mov on…probably.

But Steve doesn’t seem concerned about anything but getting his arms around Eddie to pick him up just right, and then staring at him all star-bright bbsome more, and that’s…way more pressing, to be honest.

“But when we get there,” Steve glances behind him; “how about we look into doing that in a way that’s more spit-swapping, less rescue breathing, that cool?”

And holy fucking shit, Eddie genuinely believes right now that he could fall in love with this motherfucker, what the actual hell.

That, and he thinks he’s gonna enjoy it, to boot.

Jesus H. Christ on a goddamn cracker—

He’s looking forward to it more than the air in his fucking lungs could even hope to rank.

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wherein steve goes back for eddie #and doesn’t KNOW if he’s still alive #but goddamnit: he has reason to HOPE #confessions #romance #planning a future #idiot4idiot #developing relationship #fluff #humor #snarky internal monologue #an overabundance of flirting in times of mortal peril #steve POV: walking with you through hell was the nicest date I’ve ever had #(maybe less focus on the ex-girlfriend next time; not a deal breaker for a first try but definitely room for constructive criticism)#steve is definitely thinking long term here so: plenty of time to get it just right #also: eddie wants it to be known that just because this bat-venom-paralytic hasn’t worn off yet and he can’t reply with words?#he is NO LESS ENTHUSIASTICALLY ON BOARD with steve’s proposals #baffled a little? sure #but 100% ready and willing as soon as he’s able #the ordeal of asking the cute boy out just after everyone thought he was probably dead #planning a future in an actively crumbling hellscape=(soon-to-be)couple goals #happy ending #stranger things #steddielovemonth #prompt: time after time by cyndi lauper #hitlikehammers writes #hitlikehammers v words

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