#he wants the enemies to lovers trope so badly

[the-travelling-witch]

time for therapy (this will fix me™️)

[capinejghafa]

There's something quintessentially 2000s about fics where one character is always just irrationally angry at another character, and then that's called romance. Like Character A will say one thing, and then Character B will be like this mf is breathing... honestly, relax and go for a walk.

[nocturnalcharm]

Faking It (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

𐙚 prompt: charles forces you and logan to do a mission together in order to help you bond. 𐙚 cw: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, if this does well i’ll do a part 2 w smut ;) cussing, 𐙚 a/n:  thanks to everyone who's sent me req's! this wasnt a req but id already started it haha if youve sent a req ill try to get to it asap.... also so many ppl wanted to be added to a taglist but for the nsfw alphabet post i dont think it tagged like half the ppl?? so im sorry if u dont get tagged, im trying to fix it :)

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

“Professor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“(Y/N), it’s not me you should be apologizing to. It’s your team. That’s who you both let down.” He eyes flick between you and Logan.

“I’ll go apologize to them now.” You turn to leave.

“You too Logan.” Charles says.

On this latest mission, you needed to sneak into a factory and take down all of the enemies— But you and Logan were arguing so loudly, you alerted all of the rivals, turning a few quick sneak attacks into full blown fights. No one was badly injured but you still felt horrible about it.

“This is all your fault.” You mumbled, just loud enough for Logan to hear.

“My fault? You’re kidding.” He huffs.

“Shut up.” You walk ahead of him, on the way to the common room to see your team.

Everyone was sitting there, talking amongst themselves. Once you and Logan entered, they all stopped their conversations and looked at you.

“Guys. I am so sorry about this mission.”

“I’m sorry, extremely sorry, and I apologize for my behavior.” Logan mocked your expression of regret.

“You are such a child, Logan! I’m trying to apologize!” You raised your voice.

“I am too!”

“Can you two just stop?” Hank stood up, silencing you both. “Your attitudes have been getting in the way of every mission. If you guys can’t get along then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh..” You didn’t know how to respond. You couldn’t believe you let your dislike for Logan get in the way of your job, so much that they thought you shouldn’t be an X-Man anymore.

They all left the room, leaving just you and Logan to culminate in your thoughts.

“I think it’s pretty obvious we’re not going to get along any time soon.” He broke the silence.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He walked out, as you sat in the empty room.

The next day, Xavier called you and Logan into his office yet again. You were concerned, worried he might be kicking you off the team. But instead, he said he had a mission for you two.

“I need you to pose as a couple. You’ll be going to an upscale hotel in Manhattan. It’s a cover for a drug smuggling ring. You two will stay as guests in order to collect information. I need everyone that is there, guests and workers alike, to think you two are madly in love. We don’t know who could be involved, so we can’t have them think anything suspicious.”

“Professor, is that the best idea? We just blew the last mission because we couldn’t stop arguing.”

“If you two fail this mission, I will have no choice but to replace both of you. You are amazing at what you do, but your arguing affects everyone. Not just yourselves.”

“Okay. We won’t let you down.” Logan speaks up.

***

The trip to the hotel was long and frustrating. You two couldn’t agree on anything the entire time. You criticized his driving, he criticized what you put on the radio, and how loud it was. You called him an old man, which just resulted in the radio being turned off and continuing the last hour drive there in silence.

When you arrived, it was late afternoon. Logan, pretending to be your fiance, grabbed all the bags by himself and walked inside. The hotel was huge. It was upscale, classy. So fancy you were afraid to touch anything, in fear it might break.

“Hi! Checking in for Anderson.” He greeted the front desk clerk, giving his forged name. He dropped the bags on the floor and you wrapped yourself around his now-free arm, squeezing it.

“Hello, Mr. Anderson.” She smiled back, “Let’s see. You had the penthouse, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“We’re celebrating our engagement!” You beamed, holding out your hand, showing off your fake engagement ring.

“That’s lovely. Congratulations! We’ll have a bottle of champagne in your room for celebration.”

“Thank you so much!” You squeaked.

He finished the check-in process, then you headed to the top floor.

The penthouse was absolutely gorgeous. It was huge, the size of a decent apartment. Just like the lobby, you were afraid to break something.

“Wow.. This is amazing. Only time I’ll ever get to stay in a penthouse and it’s with you.” You said, as he shut the door.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Now, c’mon we gotta go to the pool. Get changed.” He handed you your bag.

You opened it, pulling out your bikini. It was the only one you had, admittedly from a few years ago. You didn’t have time anymore to relax by a pool or go swimming in the ocean, so this swimsuit had to do. It was a simple black string bikini.

You went inside the bathroom to change. Once you had your swimsuit on, you felt a little self conscious at the amount of skin showing, but figured it’d help with the whole ‘can’t keep your hands off your new fiance’ vibe you and Logan needed to exude for this mission.

You walked out of the bathroom, faking confidence you didn’t have. Logan had taken the opportunity to just change in the living space since he was alone. He was wearing black swim trunks. It was funny, it looked like you two had matched on purpose.

“Wow.” He said quietly, clearing his throat.

“What? You like what you see?” You joked at his clear uncomfortableness with seeing you in such little clothing.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” He spat, grabbing two towels, the key, and exiting the room.

The second you were out the door, you both had big smiles on your face. His arm was around you, holding your side as you headed to the pool.

It wasn’t too busy, just a few kids with their parents, and a bartender at the outdoor bar. You told him you wanted a drink, so that’s where you headed first.

“Hey, can I get two Mojitos?” Logan asked, handing him the room key “And can you just charge it to our room?”

“Of course,” He started working on the drinks immediately, while you two sat and people-watched. He finished the drinks, and gave you them and the room key back.

You said thank you as you walked off, hoping Logan would just follow. There was a small hot tub that was empty, so that’s where you went. You stepped in carefully, afraid of slipping, and sat down in the warm water.

“Really?” Logan whispered, a fake smile still adorned on his face.

“This is what couples do, Logan. And we’re a couple for this weekend. So sit down and act like you love me, sweetie.” Your grin was starting to hurt your cheeks.

He sat down across from you, and you mentally rolled your eyes. You got up, and repositioned yourself, sitting in his lap, “What part of ‘act like you love me’ are you not getting?” 

He was frozen for a moment, caught off guard but quickly acted like he was happy to have you there, to not draw suspicion. You both took sips of your drink, as you continued to nonchalantly looked around.

You two stayed at the pool for awhile, taking mental notes of the guests and employees you saw. Honestly, this hotel didn’t seem too strange. But Xavier said it was a front so you guessed that’s why it seemed so normal, for their cover.

Once your drinks were empty, and the sun had started to go down, you both decided to head back up to the room. He got out drying himself off before wrapping you up in your towel. He picked you up and carried you bridal-style to the penthouse.

“Logan!”

“What? Just acting like I love you.” He smirked.

Once inside the room, he set you down. “I’m gonna go shower.” You stated, not really knowing what to do. 

He just nodded, walking off to the kitchenette. You grabbed your bag and headed to the bathroom.

***

You mentally cursed yourself as you scrambled through your bag, searching for a pair of pajama shorts you thought you packed, but they were nowhere to be found. 

“This cannot be real.” You whispered. The only other clothes you brought were jean shorts, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sleep in those.

You pulled out your oversized sleepshirt, putting it on. The hem landed right above the middle of your thigh. It was a little shorter than the length of a nightgown, so you just hoped he wouldn’t notice. You slipped on a pair of panties, snatched up your things, and exited the bathroom.

You immediately bumped into Logan, who was standing right outside the door.

“What the fuck?” You raised your voice, annoyed. “Why are you right outside the door?”

“I was about to knock. You’ve been in there for over an hour.”

“It’s all yours!” You sassed.

You walked over to the small kitchen, and see he had already opened up the champagne. You had a glass as you sat on a barstool, writing down some notes about the people you’d observed earlier. Pouring yourself another glass, you headed over to the bed.

Just as you made yourself comfortable, Logan came out of the washroom, in just a towel. You stared at his wet torso for a moment, hypnotized.

“My eyes are up here.” He laughed.

You looked up, embarrassed.

“Forgot my clothes. Hey, wait, why are you in the bed?”

“…Because I’m the girl?”

“You're also the short one. I can’t fit on that couch.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s a big bed. We can both fit just fine. Unless you’re nervous. Never slept with a girl before, Lo?”

He sighed, clearly not wanting to argue, before taking his clothes and escaping back to the bathroom. You silently celebrated your victory.

He came out a few moments later, turning off the lights, sliding under the blankets and getting comfortable. You both ended up facing the same direction. If he was any closer, he’d be the big spoon, but there was a few inches separating you.

You adjusted your body, and accidentally felt your ass rub against him. You went rigid from humiliation, before scooting away slightly, ignoring it since he didn’t say anything.

You tried to fall asleep, but it was difficult, for many reasons. One, you’re not used to having someone else in your bed. Two, he was breathing heavily. Three, you couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy he was.

Of course, you knew Logan was attractive, you’d thought that since the moment you first saw him. But today, probably because of the faux-gagement, the touching, the flirting, you saw him differently. He was still getting on your nerves, but the flames between you two… His body… It was unlike before.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You twiddled your feet, moving around your body nervously, before unintentionally grazing your ass against his crotch again.

“Y’know, if you keep rubbing your ass against my dick, I’m gonna do something about it.” His words sounded gruff in your ear, but they gave you butterflies.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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[chaussetteblanche]

AHH i lived ur luke one do u think u can do another maybe like an enemies to lovers trope (sorry im a sucker for enemies to lovers)☺️

hi babe !! thanks for requesting ! don't apologise we're all on our knees and begging for enemies to lovers <3

I hate you

pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader summary : you and luke have been mortal enemies for months, will things change because of a quest? word count: 2.3k warnings : swear words, description of a wound

Luke had hated you since your first day at camp. To this day, you had no idea why. But after months of letting snark comments and aggressive capture the flags slide, you’d decided you had had enough. That had been the moment you'd officially become enemies. 

When he'd jeer at you, you'd bite back with even more venom. If you made him drop his sword at capture the flag, he’d come after you with his bare hands. When one hit, the other hit back harder. It was constant war. 

The rest of camp never understood this hatred you both harboured for one another. Singularly, you were both kind, generous and intelligent people. The kind of people you’d expect to get along fine and even become good friends. But no, it was always one thing after the next. 

So imagine your horror when a relatively new camper was chosen for a quest and found nothing better to do than pick you and your mortal enemy to accompany him. It was your worst nightmare come true. You froze when both your names resounded in the agora. 

You choked, coughed and held back from spluttering, refusing to embarrass yourself. You smoothed down your camp shirt and nodded. You did not look at Luke, even though you could feel his heated glower on your skin. He would probably find a way to blame you for this. Chiron looked between you and Luke with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. You could almost hear what he was thinking. Nonetheless, he abided. 

Walking back to your cabin to prepare your things, you could hear the word actively spreading behind you.  "Did you hear that-" "Yeah, he’s chosen Luke and-" "They’ll be lucky if they don’t kill each other." Rolling your eyes, you shut yourself in your cabin and leaned back on the closed door. You dug the heels of your hands into your eyes, groaning. This was going to be nightmare.

And it really was. By hour 12 of the quest, you’d managed to get yourself thrown out of a train, fought off two harpies and had lost Luke.  "Where the hell did he go?" you asked loudly as you and Alan, the young camper, walked in direction of your next task. "He couldn’t have just disappeared!" "I don’t know, maybe he’ll join us later on." Alan shrugged. You frowned.  "Do you know anything about this?" You slowly turned to to him and he took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no, I-" "I’d suggest you think twice before lying to me, Alan," you growled. Alan sighed. "Yes, he told me he wanted to see how badly you did on your own so he could report it to camp." "Right." Of course. Of course he would find a way to make the dangerous quest even harder than it needed to be. You inhaled deeply, trying to remind yourself not to take your anger out on this thirteen year-old child. Your blood boiling, you turned back around and continued to walk. If Luke wanted to stay behind, that was fine with you. Better that than have him be in your way. 

"Oi!" Called a voice about an hour later. Ugh, Luke. You ignored him, keeping a steady pace. He called your name again. You didn’t react until his hand came down on your shoulder.  Before he could say another word, you spun around and pushed him up against the nearest tree, your forearm pressing down on the column of his throat. "Who the fuck do you think you are," you snarled, close to his face, "to leave Alan and I alone? The quest comes before everything! It comes before your hatred for me and your stupid pettiness! So pull yourself together and stop fucking around! » You shoved yourself off him, glaring into his eyes. He looked at you darkly before grabbing your wrist and pulling you close to him. "Yell at me again, princess, and I’ll give you a real reason to scream," he warned in a low voice. You scoffed, ripping your wrist out of his grip.  "Shut up and start walking, Castellan."

The quest went smoothly -as smoothly as it could go considering the tension between Luke and you- after that. You found that the three of you made a pretty good team. Everything was going fine and you had been on your way back to camp when you crossed a griffin. You pushed Alan behind you immediately, taking out your sword at the same time Luke did. "Distract him, I'll go around the side!" Luke ordered, running off. Despite not wanting to follow his orders, you set your jaw and instructed Alan to hide. You twisted your ring, a gift from your mother which turned into a shield when twisted the right way, and waited for the shield to form before banging your sword against it.

"Over here, you stinking pile of feathers! Or should I say fur?" You yelled as you ran backwards, away from Alan. You continued banging your sword against your shield and watched as Luke charged forward from the griffin's unguarded side. The beast shrieked as it was struck and batted Luke away with its large wing. Luke flew to the side with an 'oomph' sound. Despite your despise for him, you felt surprisingly concerned.

You darted forward as the griffin raised one of its clawed feet, ready to strike down Luke, who was slowly getting to his feet. The loud clang of claws meeting the metal of your shield made him look up quickly. You were straining underneath the power of the monster, pushing back against your shield with all of your strength. "Fucking. Move." You managed to speak through clenched teeth. Luke finally snapped out of his daze and bolted to the side. You readied yourself before jumping to the side, out of the griffin's reach -or so you thought. He swapped at you with his other clawed foot and despite you trying to run out of the way, managed to cut a gash in your side. You cried out. You heard Luke and Alan scream your name, but they felt far away.

You spun around, livid, and cut off the beast's hand as it came down towards you once more. Luke took his chance and stabbed the monster in the chest. The three of you watched as the creature turned to dust. You fell to your knees. Luke was next to you in a second, breathing heavily. He laid you down in the grass, muttering to himself. "Show me," he ordered, lifting your shirt up to reveal your stomach. You squirmed both from the strange feeling of having his eyes on your revealed body and from the stinging pain of the cut. "Gods- how bad it is?" you asked. The sound of Alan vomiting was indication enough. Luke bit his bottom lip, brows furrowed. "It's fixable. You just need ambrosia and a healer." "Really?" You hated the way your voice sounded so weak. Luke nodded strongly. "Trust me." And for some reason, you found that you did. He stood up and sheathed his sword before gesturing for Alan to take your bag.

"Can you walk?" he asked, though it sounded like more of a formality than a real question. You lifted yourself up on your elbows and groaned in pain. You shook your head, hating the fact that you had to rely on him of all people for help. "Okay, then." Luke bent forward, going to pick you up. "Wait." He stopped immediately. His eyes snapped up to your face, which had gone frighteningly white. You were staring at the gash across your stomach. It went from the top of ribs to the side of your belly button. And it did not look good. The cut was jagged and blood poured out all over your clothes. Luke watched, helpless, as your fingers reached out to touch the cut. You hissed in pain before looking up into his eyes.

"I'm going to die." Your voice shook dangerously. He hated the way your eyes watered and the way you looked so scared. He'd never seen you look that way before and he wanted to wipe the sight from his memory. You did not have a face that was meant to look frightened. You had a face which was meant for pride and victory. "Look at me." He grabbed your chin and kneeled next to you. "You are not going to die." He pulled a spare T-shirt out of his bag, balled it up and pressed down on your wound with it. "I know, it hurts," he cooed as you whimpered with pain. "Hold it here."

Ignoring your groans of pain, he pulled you into his arms and stood up. Your vision was becoming blurry, but you did all you could to keep pressing down on your wound with his T-shirt. You heard him bark out orders to Alan in the distance. "Luke," you spoke softly as black dots danced in your vision. "No, no, no, don't close your eyes, princess. Keep looking at me." "I don't wanna die," you whispered before passing out. Luke clenched his jaw as he sped up the pace, ordering Alan to keep up with him. "Idiot. You're not gonna die. I won't let you."

You awoke to a soft yellow light surrounding you. Slowly opening your eyes, you looked around to find yourself in the camp infirmary. Luke was on a chair beside your bed. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Hey." "Hi," you croaked, trying to sit up. Wobbly, you managed to sit somewhat straight against the pillows. "How're you feeling?" Luke asked, looking over your face. He was relieved it to find it less white that it had been two days before. "Like shit, really." You let out a hoarse chuckle. He laughed shortly, looking down at his hands. You were surprised to find it was a really nice sound. That had been the first time you'd ever heard him laugh, and it felt really good to be the cause of it. "How long have I been out?" "Two days and a half." You were quiet for a moment as you thought back to the last things you remembered. "I guess I should thank you for saving my life, Castellan."

Luke let out something close to a scoff and leaned back in his chair. "You saved mine first. Thank you." "Well, yeah." You coughed. "I couldn't just let you die like-" "I don't hate you, you know," he interrupted you. You stopped talking. "Not really."

"What do you mean you don't hate me? Of course you do. You can't stand me. You think everything I do is stupid and bound to failure." "No, I- I don't hate you. I'm envious of you. Of what you have." "Of what I have? I have a fucking hole in my stomach right now, Caste-" "Of your mom. Mostly."

Your lips made an 'O' shape as you understood. Suddenly, everything made sense. That was why he'd disliked you from the start. You had the one thing he never would. Your mother was a minor goddess and did not have many children. This permitted her to be frequently in contact with you and therefore play the role of a present mother. Your father always kept in touch with you. You knew that with each of them you would always have someone to turn to. Unlike Luke.

"Mostly?" you asked, tilting your head to the side. "I'm envious of how whenever you walk into a room, it immediately lights up. Of how everyone likes you. Of how you always look good, even if you've just been torn to pieces by a griffin. Of how you always seem to see the good in people, except for me, I guess. Of how you get along with everyone except for me." Luke didn't meet your eye as he spoke. "Maybe if you hadn't been such an ass when we first met, we'd have gotten along fine. And I do see the good in you, I just like to ignore it for my own benefit." Luke's eyes shot up to yours.

"What do you mean 'your own benefit'?" "Well, if I didn't ignore the way you're so kind to the new kids, the way you're so protective of your friends and Annabeth, the way you stand up for what you think is right, the way your eyes look when they catch the light just right and the way your laugh seems to draw everybody in, then maybe... Maybe I wouldn't dislike you at all. Quite the contrary, actually." You could feel your heart hammering inside your chest as you spoke. The way Luke was staring into your soul was not helping either.

"Say something, Luke," you pleaded. His first name felt soft and foreign on your tongue. You had never said it before.

Luke did not answer. Wordlessly, he stood up and was by your side in two steps. He cupped your cheek, leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. Your heart raced and when he pulled away, you found yourself chasing his lips. He looked deeply into your eyes and smiled before kissing you properly. Eruptions exploded in your stomach as you kissed him back. You pulled him closer by the shirt as his warm lips pressed against yours. Finally, you couldn't help but think. All those feelings you'd ignored and pushed to the back of your mind finally broke free and you almost cried from relief.

His free hand found the back of your neck and you shivered as his fingers caressed the skin there. You leaned into his touch and cupped his jaw before slowly sliding a hand into his hair. He let out a soft moan but before you could get too into it, a cough resounded throughout the room.

"I'm glad to see that you and Luke have managed to work through your differences, Y/N." Chiron spoke, amusement dripping from his words, as he trudged into the room. "Now tell me about your quest."

[theagstd]

One Night Stand ; 39

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter thirty nine ; wc | 5.8 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, adored by the peaceful look on your sleeping face. He's seen you asleep countless times, yet this morning feels different—

you're glowing more than ever. He likes to think it's because of him, that he's responsible for both the afterglow and the glow of pregnancy. He's lost track of time, aware only that he's been lying here well past his work hours.

With the tension from your recent fight, he's missed Saturday at the office and hasn't checked his emails, too stressed to focus. He knows he should get up and work, but how can he pull himself away when you're so beautifully asleep on his chest?

his eyes move around your face, taking in your features. the length of your eyelashes, your perfectly sculpted nose and your pouty lips that part just slightly with each quiet breath. your hand rests on his naked chest under your cheek he knows will leave red imprints on your pale skin.

his fingertips reach to tuck the baby hair behind your ears, and slowly he allows himself to do this action. you hum at the contact of his warm skin on your cold face as you push yourself closer and deeper into him, even though that's impossible when you're already so close to him.

he smiles at that, it makes you look like a baby laying on him. he doesn't want to wake you up but his duties call for him, although he doesn't really give a damn about it since he's so caught up in this beautiful dream with you, he must go. "baby.." He whispers, hoping to wake you up nice and easy.

You hum a little, shifting around, your hand searching for something he can't quite figure out. He looks at you, a bit confused, as your fingers keep roaming across his chest. Gently, he rests his hand on your arm, and you grab it, tucking it under your neck like it's the most natural thing.

Jungkook can't help but laugh, totally charmed by how cute you are. "Baby....i've got to go." he murmurs and you whine like a child. "I don't want to leave you too but.. i have to." "stay.." you mumble and he pouts. he wishes he could, he wants to, so badly.

"I'll be back soon, I promise." he drapes his arm around you and caresses your naked back. your skin so smooth and soft, he loves touching you, he could do it all day. "promise?" you ask. you're still half asleep, you have no idea what you're mumbling but you know you're being a whiny mess. "I promise, darling."

he places a kiss on your temple, his nose touching yours, and he lets himself stay like that for some time. "when you get back..." " mm?" "can you get me some strawberry tanghulu?" you ask and he frowns as he detaches his face from yours to look at you. "tanghulu?" "mm hmm, I saw them in my dream."

"them?" "them...they were dancing tanghulu's- before you laugh at my face! I don't know why it came to life."  you say, your tone growing sharper, almost defensive. But that only makes Jungkook laugh harder, especially since your voice went up an octave as you tried to sound serious even though you're sleepy.

"alright, i'll get them for you." your eyes flutter slowly as you open them wide to look at him. his galaxy orbs stare at you while he bites on the inside of his cheek, making that dimple you love more visible. you lift your head to see him, a small smile plays on your lips as your eyes slowly drift shut, the exhaustion pulling you back under.

You can barely fight it, wishing you could fast-forward to nightfall and sink into sleep all over again. "you're tired, sleep. I'll be back soon. you won't even feel it." "but i will. you're so warm-" you hug him tighter as you press your head inside his neck.

"and it will be so cold when you leave." you continue. you're being extra clingy and it's something he hasn't really seen. you're fond of touch and being around him but, this clingy? he thinks he's unlocked a different side of you and he loves it so much more. "i know baby. wait for me okay."

you nod as he places a kiss on your forehead and runs his fingers in your hair. "i think it's because i haven't slept well the past two days." he hums and says 'me too.' Jungkook forces himself to get off the bed, he's fully aware that if he spends another minute with you he's not gonna be able to pull away.

he takes a warm shower after he chooses his suit for the day. he walks out of the washroom with a towel draped around him and then puts on his shirt and trousers. you've wrapped your hands around his pillow still dozing off. he oils his hair then proceeds to button up his shirt and do his tie.

He can't take his eyes off you, wondering why he hadn't done this sooner—why he hadn't let you sleep next to him in his bed, in his room. You just look so right here, like you belong. He swears he's never seen anyone look so beautiful. It's like you're the light his darkroom was missing, like you complete it in a way he didn't even know he needed.

he walks over to you while he fastens the buttons on his wrist as he leans closer to your face. "i'm leaving baby. take care okay." "mm hmm." "have your meds and text me if you need anything." "okay.." he places a peck on your nose and smiles as he grabs his coat and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

This morning, Jungkook feels like an entirely new person, and it's all because of you. Arguing with you had drained the life out of him, and only now does he realize how weak he'd been over the past two days. The workload he's facing is intense, he should be feeling stressed and anxious.

Yet, as he sits in the back seat with his driver taking him to the office, he has a foolish grin on his face, replaying memories of last night and how beautiful you look today. he sighs as he leans his head back on the seat and he prepares himself to face the work that waits for him.

He also recalls the visit to your parent's place and makes a mental note to book the tickets this week.

;

You're woken by the restless, uncomfortable movements of your baby, who refuses to let you sleep on your left side. Turning to the right is a struggle too, with the weight of your belly, so you decide to get up. The pillows still carry Jungkook's scent, and for some reason, it makes you giggle like a lovesick girl.

Now and then, you take a small sniff, smiling as you relax. Maybe starting today, you'll see him try to love this baby as much as you do. You really hope he does. you pull yourself out of his soft bed and walk back to your room. you're greeted by Bam who sleeps on the bed, he lifts his head up when he senses you entering and immediately runs over to you.

"ohhh Bammie! i've missed you." you speak to the Doberman who twirls around your feet as if he's meeting you after weeks. "i'll be right back okay." he barks at you and you give him a little pat before you grab your outfit and walk into the washroom.

you freshen up and relax on your couch as Bam sits beside you waiting for his pets. Maya knocks on your door and you give her your brightest smile. "good morning y/n.." "morning Maya!" She walks over and gives you a quick pat on the head, taking a moment to notice the charming changes in your features.

Your smile is wider, your eyes are bright and full of excitement, and your voice is lively and high-pitched. the old woman knows everything has been settled and she couldn't have been happier about it. "I'm starving... could you maybe get me something sweet for breakfast?" you ask, and she clasps her hands together in delight.

"Absolutely! I'll be right back with something freshly made." Maya's over the moon that you've asked her for something sweet—her specialty. It's been a while since anyone has requested this; her children live far away, and she hasn't seen her grandchildren in a long time.

Living alone, she's thrilled to have someone to cook for again. Feeding people is her passion, and having the chance to prepare a meal for a pregnant woman feels like a true blessing. It's not like Maya hasn't been cooking for you, she makes something for you every day. But it's always savory, a wrap or a sandwich, never anything sweet.

You're finishing up a book, but after so much reading and TV, you're starting to feel restless. You want something fun to do, but you're also too tired to move around much. Your gaze drifts over to the baby clothes still in their plastic bag. You've only bought a few things so far; there's so much more to get, and the thought of going baby shopping again excites you.

Maybe this time Jungkook could come along? Although Hoseok was amazing, too. he was not only curious but also wildly enthusiastic. You realize you haven't texted him since last evening, so you check your phone. Sure enough, he's left you a bunch of messages, mostly asking you about how you're feeling.

he's a good friend, he checks up on you and the baby and always leaves you smiling. Hoseok's a true friend, and you know you should keep him forever. While replying to his texts, your mom's call comes through, so you answer. "Y/N! How are you, darling?"

she greets you warmly. "I'm feeling the best! How are you and Dad?" you reply. "Oh, we're doing well! I was thinking, when are you coming to visit us? You always say 'soon,' but you never tell us when." You hum, then answer, "Probably next week? I want to see you too."

She immediately responds, "Come, then! Oh, and I have something to tell you." You sense she's going to bring up someone. "What now, Mom?" "Jessica, your dad's cousin's daughter—remember her?" You can barely recall, but you go along.

"Yeah, what about her?" "She dropped by with gifts to celebrate her twins! She looks so beautiful in her pregnancy; she's glowing!" You stiffen, rolling your eyes at the thought of what they might say about you. "Wow... I'm so happy for her,"

you respond as she continues to talk about them and how your relatives are doing although you don't really bother about them at all. your responses go as a hum or a yeah or wow without indulging too much with it. you look over at Bam and he tilts his head with his round eyes and you copy him and mouth blah blah blah while patting the dog's body.

Maya walks in with a warm smile, carrying a plate decorated with something so delicious and beautifully presented. "Mom, I'll talk to you later—uh, I've got to catch up on something," you say, waiting until she declines the call.

You sit up, folding your feet underneath you, eagerly waiting for Maya to place the plate on the coffee table. "I hope you enjoy a well-done French toast and berry compote," she says. Your mouth parts in awe as you look at how elegantly she's decorated the plate—almost like a dish for MasterChef. "This looks so stunning! It's too perfect to eat!" you exclaim, marveling at the effort she put into the details.

"This makes me feel like it's Christmas!" you add, pouting in delight. Maya is thrilled by your reaction, thinking the time she spent on this dish was more than worth it. "Enjoy, dear!" she says happily. "Thanks, Maya, you remind me of my late grandmother..."

you whisper the last few words, but the old woman catches on. "She must've loved you so much," she says softly. You sigh, leaning back, memories of your beloved grandmother flooding your mind. She used to make her famous apple cinnamon rolls just for you, even though your mother would scold her for spoiling your teeth.

But you both would do it secretly when your parents were out at work, and it was just the two of you. Maya realizes that you share a special bond with your grandmother and expresses her hope of creating a meaningful connection with you as well.

She knows how deeply Jungkook loves you—she can feel it, understanding how hard it has been for him to open up and love again after years of guarding his heart. But with you, it's different. She can see the love you both share, and she eagerly awaits the day those feelings are fully confessed, believing that when that happens, the house will be filled with joy, warmth, and laughter.

"Oh darling, I'm honored that I remind you of your grandmother," Maya says softly. "Maybe you could tell me more about her and the food she used to make for you. I'm a grandmother too, you know. I love my grandkids, but they live so far away...." You find it sad that many grandchildren don't get to spend time with their grandparents. It feels like an essential part of growing up—the love, care, and cultural heritage that only grandparents can pass on.

It makes you reflect on your own family, realizing with a pang of sadness that your children might miss out on those special experiences once your parents are no longer around since you're settled in Korea and them in Canada. "Maybe I could share those experiences with you," Maya offers gently.

"You're like a child to me, too." Looking at her, you notice how beautiful she is, her gentle features and the way her sagging skin crinkles into a heartwarming smile. Her warmth and the kindness in her voice feel so grandmotherly, exactly what you need in this moment. "Thank you, Maya,"

you respond with a smile. "I'd love that!" she leaves after a moment of silence. You quickly grab your phone to snap a picture of the beautiful dish and the moment, adding a little heart to the image before posting it on Instagram. You smile at how adorable it looks. Then, you take a bite of the thick brioche French toast—nothing like the typical, thin slices.

The warm berry compote, creamy whipped cream, and delicate dusting of icing sugar send you straight to heaven. The softness of the toast, the perfect balance of sweetness and tartness from the compote, and the airy cream combine in a way that's even better than you expected. It's so delicious,

you know it's something you'll be craving again soon. Jungkook replies to your story and that's something that happened for the first time because you haven't posted anything for a long time.

Jungkook replied to your story ; you're eating all that without me?

you giggle at his reply. Somehow everything feels different today, you know why yet you like to keep it a mystery.

; you left me so you don't get any.

J ; i didn't leave you hun, i was forced to!

; anyway... you did so :(

J ; i like it when you're whiny

; i think i'm coming out of my character, i should go back to being annoying

J ; omfg NO.

he's so cute that he leaves you all giddy. you can't wait for him to come home, you miss him so much that it hurts. Jungkook, on the other hand, has been having a rough day and even weird that his staff gave him a look whenever he made eye contact with them, but every text you send him brings him a sense of calm.

You're his safe haven, the missing piece he didn't know he needed, and he feels it deeply. Work has been a struggle lately, adding to his stress. So, when he hears a knock on his door, he calls out, "Come in," without thinking. His eyes land on the man standing before him, and after a double take, he lets out an angry sigh. "What are you doing he—" "What are these pictures?"

the orange-haired man cuts Jungkook off, tossing an envelope of photos onto his desk. Jungkook grabs it, irritated, and opens it. As he pulls out the pictures, he realizes they're of moments he never knew were captured.

His eyes widen at the photos of him holding you at the picnic, kissing you, and even some from your trip to Paris—the greasy pizza he warned you not to eat, and shots from the business party he attended in France. "You're doing the exact same thing Taehyung was doing, and now it's fine with you?"

Yoongi questions, leaning against the table. Jungkook stares at the photos, alarmed and confused. Who could have taken these secret pictures of you both? Jungkook hadn't fully registered Yoongi's words, but when they finally sank in, his eyes snapped up, seething. "Say that again," he demanded.

Yoongi took a breath and repeated himself. With that, Jungkook rose from his seat, his glare icy. "Don't you dare compare me to that bastard!" "Kook, if you're doing the same thing, what difference is there between you two?" "I don't take advantage of women! You know me! How could you even—"

"How could you think so low of me?" he asked quietly, disappointment thick in his tone. Yoongi smiled bitterly, looking down. "You think I haven't heard the rumors? Don't you think I read the magazines? Think I don't read the magazines or keep up with what you do?" He took in the success surrounding him as he stepped closer to Jungkook.

"If you knew so much about me, why would you hide?" Jungkook shot back. "That's not the point, Jungkook! What matters is what you do now—" "I don't sleep around anymore!" Jungkook yelled, closing the distance between them until they were almost chest-to-chest. Yoongi held his ground, determined not to let this turn into a physical fight.

He knew Jungkook's strength and his temper; so he kept his voice steady, refusing to escalate things. "that's not what the pictures say? i can't believe you got some women pregnant when you were so against t-"

"It's my wife!" Jungkook snapped, the words cutting through the room.

Yoongi's frown deepened, studying Jungkook's expression, searching for any sign of truth in his words. Jungkook exhaled sharply, finally stepping back from Yoongi and sinking into his chair. He rested his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. He hadn't meant to reveal it like this;

he knew he had to say something, but he hadn't expected it to come out in such a raw, exposed way. the older's lips part as he tries to take it in but he can't. he thinks he may have misheard it. "what?!" he asks and hears jungkook whine. "she's...not my wife but she's my- everything." Jungkook mutters under his breath, never expecting to admit this out loud, especially not to someone he'd looked up to for so long.

Yoongi takes a closer look at the pictures. He can't make out the woman's face clearly, but he notices how her bump grows in each photo. "When... when did this happen? How did you—" "It's... different now. I haven't been with anyone else since," Jungkook says quietly. Yoongi can hardly believe it.

After years of Jungkook being caught up in one scandal after another, he hadn't even realized that phase had come to an end. Spending time away, he'd only seen pictures of Jungkook and some pregnant woman circulating online, and he was worried Jungkook might've been making another mistake. He didn't want to see him go down that road.

"Kook..." Yoongi says softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. When he looks at Jungkook's face, he sees tears brimming in his eyes. "I was... worried when I saw these in the media." Yoongi turns back to the photos, feeling a bit relieved. Your face isn't visible in any of them—hidden by a kiss here, taken from behind there, or perfectly covered by a pizza slice.

Jungkook nods at the older words as he makes a mental note to check social media when he's free. Jungkook hadn't noticed anything was off, even though people in the building had given him strange looks as he walked to his office. "So... how is she?"

Yoongi asks, curious. Jungkook rarely talks about his relationships, so Yoongi wants to know if this is really something serious. Jungkook's face softens, and a faint smile appears as his eyes light up just thinking about you. "She's..." he trails off, mumbling, then gets quiet. Yoongi holds back a smile. "She's the one,"

Jungkook finally says, his voice low but certain. Yoongi takes a seat across from him, waiting for Jungkook to say more, but he doesn't. After a beat, he asks gently, "And... the pregnancy?" Jungkook shifts uncomfortably. The way he met you, and how things unfolded—it wasn't exactly a fairy tale.

"i met her at a club..."  Yoongi senses he's touching on a sensitive topic when he notices Jungkook's hesitation, so he keeps his tone light. "How many months along is she?" Jungkook's pulse quickens, panic bubbling up—he doesn't actually know. He has no real details about his child, and that realization brings a wave of anger and sadness.

Yoongi frowns, noticing Jungkook gulp and crack his knuckles. "She's about... six months along," he answers quickly, making it clear he doesn't want more questions, and Yoongi catches the hint. "Great, I'm happy for you both," Yoongi nods, giving Jungkook a steady look before getting to his feet.

"I'll head out, then..." Jungkook nods, and as Yoongi heads to the door, he pauses. "I hope we can catch up again sometime. Start fresh, if you're open to it... things have changed. Maybe we can all be better, too."

He offers a tight smile, then steps out of the room. Jungkook lets out a deep breath, sinking into his chair as he covers his face with his hands. No matter what Yoongi says, he knows he could never go back to them. Things may have changed, but the past is still there, unerasable—and he isn't ready to let it go.

Yoongi's presence stirs up his frustrations, yet there's a part of him that misses seeing him, the familiarity of having him around, even with all the weight of old memories. he may have changed in some ways, but he still wears the same comfortable sweaters and shirts, and he still speaks with his usual wisdom.

Outwardly, nothing seems different, except for the relationship that no longer exists between them. He pauses to breathe, feeling the stress build as worries about his image and the latest rumors churn in his mind. He's especially concerned about what people might be saying about you.

When he picks up his phone and checks Twitter, he sees the same photos Yoongi had left on his desk now posted online, along with captions like:

"Is the CEO of Jeon Industries going to be a father?"

"Is CEO Jeon Jungkook involved in another affair?"

He tosses his phone aside and gulps, his heart sinking. Rumors are one thing, but rumors involving you? That's something he can't stand. He needs to protect you.

;

Your next appointment is in two weeks, marking your eighth month of pregnancy—so close to labor now. You still don't know the baby's gender, but you aren't too curious; whether it's a boy or a girl doesn't really matter to you. All you want is a healthy baby, and you feel confident that will be the case.

As you watch the clock tick, you browse baby clothing websites, filling your cart with favorite outfits to choose from later. You're pretty sure you've added over 250 items by now, but who can resist when everything is so cute? Regardless of gender, you don't plan to stick to traditional colors ;

blue isn't just for boys, and pink isn't only for girls. After all, color doesn't define gender. Bam has been in a playful mood ever since he laid eyes on you. He jumps around, circles you, and constantly licks you, overflowing with affection. Your love for this dog is indescribable, and you can't wait to see the bond that will form between him and your baby.

After Jungkook shared his fears and expressed his desire to try, you're convinced that this has a real chance. You're not alone in this, and neither is your child. If Jungkook wants to make this a family, you're ready to embrace it with open arms, it's what you want, too. So, when you come across videos of dogs bonding with babies, you watch in awe, dreaming of that special connection for your own child and Bam. "aren't you a good boy Bammie?"

The Doberman gets so excited when you call him by the nickname you chose that he practically demands your attention, even while you're already petting him and talking to him. "Oh, you're such a good boy!" you coo, "and me?" just then, you hear Jungkook's voice as he approaches, setting his bag down by the couch.

After shrugging off his coat and washing up, he heads toward you, a warm grin on his face. "What about you?" you tease, noticing how his presence sparks a surge of energy within you. He's home, and he's getting closer, his eyes fixed on you with that look you love. He glances at you sitting comfortably in a fitted vest, your chest and baby bump so prominent, it's a sight he can't get enough of.

He gives Bam a gentle pat, motioning for the dog to move, then settles beside you. "Am I a good boy?" he asks, dimples showing as he bites his lip, watching you with those soft, round eyes. After a long, stressful day, being here with you fills him with the peace he's been craving. "Hmm," you murmur, moving your face closer to his, studying his tired features;

his slightly droopy eyes show his fatigue, yet the way he looks at you and smiles reveals he's still present. "You're okay. Not amazing, but not terrible," you say, tracing his jawline with your fingers. His eyes stay locked on your lips as you speak. After last night, Jungkook senses that there's more between you both. "Is that so?" he whispers, leaning in. "Yes..."

you hum, surprised when he softly kisses your lips. The touch relaxes you, like you've waited for it for days, not hours. "I missed you," he murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. "Mm-hmm, me too..." you respond, fingers tapping on his smooth skin as you admire him. He gazes at you a moment, then clicks his tongue and looks away, asking,

"Which city do your parents live in?" "Toronto." "Thought so. I'll book the tickets then." You smile and nod, feeling slightly anxious. "For when?" "This Friday sound good?" he asks. "Yes." Jungkook picks up his phone, texting someone as he talks to you. "Let your parents know, then." "Okay..."

Your voice drops, and he notices, turning off his phone to look at you. "Nervous? Not sure what to expect?" he asks softly. You nod, eyes fixed on your bump, fingers tracing patterns on the couch fabric. "Hey..." he places a comforting hand over yours. "It'll be alright." You give him a tight smile and nod. "By the way... how far along is she?" he asks suddenly, surprising you.

"She's seven months now—almost eight in two weeks." Jungkook's eyes widen; it hits him just how close you are to the due date. "Wow..." he chuckles, realizing he'd guessed wrong when talking to Yoongi. Curious, you ask, "Why a 'she' now? Last night you called the baby a 'he.' What do you think the gender is?"

Instinctively, you feel it's a girl, but you want to know his thoughts. He hums, thinking aloud as he glances down at your bump, trying to decide. "I think... boy. But—" "But?" you prompt as he hesitates, his hand trembling as he reaches to place it on your bump, only to pull back and place it on your palm instead.

You guide his hand to rest over your bump, holding it there. He hesitates but eventually relaxes into the touch. "But...?" you ask again, watching him. He looks down, then smiles softly. "I want her." You blush at his words, the pink in your cheeks spreading across your face, making him smile.

He loves seeing you like this, and now that he's working on himself and the bond the three of you share, he realizes he's becoming a little obsessed with making you happy. "I want her too..." you murmur. "Looks like we're both on team girl, huh?" he replies, rubbing your bump and lingering, secretly hoping he'll feel a little kick. His gaze stays fixed on your belly, and you sense his wish, so you gently guide his hand lower.

"She's here. Just wait for her," you whisper, and he patiently focuses, waiting to feel something—anything at all. His brow furrows with concentration, but after a while, neither of you feel any movement. "Guess she's not in the mood for a kick," you say softly. He nods, smiling tightly as he pulls his hand away. "Maybe... she's just not ready for me either,"

he murmurs, his voice trailing off as he stands. Feeling a twinge of sadness, you stand as well, grabbing his coat while he picks up his bag, and the two of you head upstairs in silence. He takes a cold shower, then slips on his sweatpants and a black t-shirt before stepping out of the bathroom, and using a towel to dry his damp hair. You're sitting on the couch, watching him.

"What?" he asks, catching your gaze before turning to the mirror to apply his skincare. You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The bump presses into his back before the rest of you can it's a little awkward, but it works. You look up at him, meeting his eyes in the mirror's reflection.

"What's wrong?" you ask softly. He sighs, resting his hand over yours on his waist.  "just had a bad day.." he murmurs. "you can tell me about it, if you want to." Jungkook's heart clenches at how soft you sound like you do not want to intrude but you also want him to know that you're always there for him. he loves the feeling of being cared for and you give him, so much that he feels so lucky. "work is getting stressful."

he says leaving out the rumors and the whole Yoongi mess from you because he does not want to worry you. "it will be fine. work is not work if it isn't stressful." You say this, and he chuckles, nodding.

Your hand rubs his stomach to comfort him, sending a flutter through him. He loves how gently you treat him, like he's someone precious, making him feel like a child in the best way. "Hey, you come here!" he says, grabbing your hand and turning you to face him, his tone playful. You can't help but smile as he relaxes. "I think you're forgetting something..."

he teases, watching you frown in thought. He bites his inner cheek, waiting for you to remember that silly dream you had. "What did I forget?" you ask, a bit lost. He groans, laughing. "Your dancing tanghulu dream!" "Ohhh!" you start to laugh, trying to hold it in, but it escapes, and he chuckles along with you.

"I got them for you," he says. "You did?!" you exclaim, eyes lighting up. He nods, leading you downstairs, where a brown paper bag sits on the counter. You open it to find a box with strawberries, grapes, and tomatoes coated in a glistening sugar syrup, skewered on sticks. your eyes sparkle at the fruits in front of you as you grab one and poke it into your mouth.

"careful bear, the edge might hurt you." He leans back against the counter, watching as you savor a mouthful of the crisp, sugar-coated fruits. A soft moan escapes you as you close your eyes, head tilted back in bliss. "My cravings are finally satisfied!" you declare. "Is that so?" he teases. "Mm-hmm, try one!"

You bring a piece to his lips, but he shakes his head, smiling. "Have one!" you insist, nudging him. He wraps his arms around your hips, opening his mouth as you press a strawberry to his lips. He bites into it, and your palm hovers beneath his chin to catch any sugar bits that fall, which you quickly pop into your mouth, licking your fingers. "Good, right?" you ask.

"Mm-hmm," he hums, satisfied. As you reach for a grape skewer, he gestures for you to stand between his legs, so you press your back to his chest, leaning into him as you munch on the rest of the fruit. Occasionally, you offer him a bite, though you end up eating most of it yourself. "Happy?"

he asks, and you nod eagerly. His heart swells as he watches you, delighted just to see you smile. Gently, he brushes his fingertips along your lips, collecting the little sugar crystals, then pops them into his mouth. When he reaches to get the last bit, you stick out your tongue, licking his finger clean.

His eyes darken slightly, watching you with a smirk. "You're quite the tease." you slowly nod with your lips still wrapping around his finger, your tongue rolling. "you taste good." you say after you let go of his finger with a pop sound. "you know what else tastes good..."

his voice raspy as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "what is?" you whisper innocently, like have no idea what he's gonna say next when you very well know what it is. "my dick, baby." your fingertip traces his chest and abs, you feel his nipple harden at your touch, he bites back a moan. "that i know."

you whisper as you lean closer to him, pressing your lips on his neck. "y/n.." he groans and grips your hips tighter. "yes babe..." the butterflies that he felt when you call him that. "call me that again."

you press your lips to his ear and suck on it as you whisper. "babe.."

"fuck"

"you like that?" you ask as you palm his bulge.

"fucking love it."

next chapter ⇢

[cosmicdahlias]

I Hate Everything About You

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

You’re a student at the same college as Stanford. You hate his guts for being a successful arrogant bastard, but secretly have a crush on him.

warnings: slut-shaming, slapping, oral, rough sex, choking, breeding, drugs (weed)

this is my first stab at an enemies to lovers fic. i’ve always loved the trope, so this was a lot of fun. i also definitely didn’t include them smorkig weed because i’m like missing it and living vicariously through my writing or anything. 👀💦

You sat in your dorm finishing your homework. You were in your junior year at Backupsmore University with a major in theoretical physics, winter break was two weeks away. Tonight you were on edge, dreading a knock on the door. The reason? You had been assigned to write a research paper with Stanford fucking Pines.

Oh my god how you hated him. Success and praise flocked to him. You were the only feminine presenting person in your major, and thus had to fight tooth and nail to be seen as even half as good as your male classmates.

It drove you mad how professors just seemed to naturally love him, whereas they never showed you the time of day. And worst of all? He was arrogant and self-absorbed. He thought himself so much better than the other- in his words- “troglodytes” around him.

But what you hated the most was how attracted to him you were. How could you want to fuck someone so badly when you hated their guts? You always tried to repress your feelings, but some nights you still shamefully found yourself with your hand between your legs, thoughts running wild of Stanford using you like a sex toy.

You quietly seethed over your homework when you heard knocking at your door. You sighed heavily and pushed your chair back, savoring your last Stanford free moments.

You swung the door open and there stood the man that you despised more than everything.

“Stanford.” You said coldly.

“Y/n.” He responded, not even entertaining the idea of making eye contact with you, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.

-

Barely an hour had passed before you two found yourselves locked in a heated argument. A simple disagreement over formatting had boiled over.

“Jesus christ, Stanford why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?”

“I’M making things difficult? I’m not the one who’s been shooting daggers all night, barely responding to my questions because apparently talking to me is like pulling teeth. What the hell did I ever do to make you hate me this much?”

“Oh you really wanna know why I hate you? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that professors fawn over you for the most menial effort, meanwhile I’ve had to work myself to the bone, slaving away just to earn half the recognition you barely have to lift a finger for.” You spat.

“Well maybe if you kept your legs closed every now and then this wouldn’t be nearly as hard as you make it.”

Hot tears formed in your eyes, you quickly raised a hand and brought it down hard on his face. He stumbled back, his cheeks turning bright red and not from the slap. You looked down, a bulge clearly forming in his pants.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” You thought, quickly growing angrier that he had managed to turn you on like this.

“For fuck’s sake Stanford, are you serious?” You said through gritted teeth.

“I- well I- it’s not like I can help it. I’ve never been slapped before.”

You stared at each other for a moment, the sexual tension building.

“Look,” he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation “it’s clear we both have some underlying feelings for each other, perhaps it would be for the best if we-“

“Whoa whoa whoa,” you said, cutting him off “maybe you do, but I certainly don’t.”

“Oh please, don’t lie to yourself. I catch you staring at me during lectures all the time, undressing me with your eyes, nothing anywhere like the malice you so pretended to demonstrate tonight. Admit it, you like me. Despite aaaaaall of your personal hangups about my successes, you genuinely have feelings for me.” He said, crossing his arms.

He let his words hang in the air, a smirk creasing his lips. God, he was such a dick.

“Now,” he continued “I was going to say I think it would be best if we just put this to bed, literally.”

“Stanford, no I-“ the blush on your cheeks betrayed you.

He chuckled, tilting your chin up. “I knew it, you want this.”

He pressed a firm kiss to your lips. He was right, you did want this. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t imagined him between your thighs during class. You reached a hand down, fondling his cock over his pants.

“Mmm, fuck.” He groaned into your mouth.

You both began removing each other’s clothes desperately. He looked down at your naked body, his breath shaking. He took your breast in his hand, stroking your nipple with his thumb.

“Do you know the things those brutes in class say about you, about your body? When you walk into the room every man fucks you with their eyes, but you like it that way, don’t you?”

You took his thick cock in your hand and stroked it, he moaned and buried his head in the crook of your neck. He pulled himself away then pointed to the floor. You sank to your knees in front of him and wrapped your fingers around his cock again, pumping the near 8.5 inches in your hand. He tilted his head back, groaning and cursing.

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby.”

You went to slowly take his head in your mouth, but he seized a fistful of your hair and shoved the full length down your throat. You choked and gagged.

“You know I was thinking of being nice, but honestly I think you deserve to be brutally fucked after the way you’ve been acting. How does that sound, princess?”

You nodded with his cock buried in your mouth.

“Good, although honestly I was planning on doing it regardless.”

He gritted his teeth and resumed bucking furiously into your mouth. You to whimpered and gagged around him, tears streaming down your face.

“You’re my little slut now, you understand?”

You let out a muffled “Mhmf.”

“Look at you, letting me fuck your mouth like this. Do you let anyone else do this to you?”

He pulled out to let you answer. “No.”

He shoved his cock back in your mouth. “Let’s keep it that way. I’m not big on- mmf, sharing. I always figured the rumors of you being the campus whore weren’t true. You have too much self respect for that, but I bet you’re so dirty when you’re alone. Picturing me fucking you in every position, touching yourself and cumming with my name on your lips.”

He quickened pace, fucking your mouth rapidly in pure aggression. He growled and his hips stuttered, he was going to cum in your mouth if he kept going like this. He pulled you back by your hair and you took in a gasping breath. He didn’t give you a chance to breathe before picking you up and throwing you facedown on the bed.

He knelt behind you, slapping your ass hard a few times. “There, now I think we’re even.”

His hands pinned your wrists to the bed and he teased your entrance for barely even a second before slamming every inch inside you. You struggled to hold back a loud moan, trying to not let the whole floor know that you were getting absolutely wrecked.

He growled and moved his hands to your hips, fucking you so hard that it felt like his cock was going to split you in half.

“I have a confession to make, y/n.” He breathed between violent thrusts into you. “I saw you, two weeks ago, in the library. You didn’t see me, you leaned down to select a book off the lowest shelf and I could see your panties under your skirt. Pink with black lace. God I- I couldn’t resist, not after watching you eye me up in class. I found a quiet part of the library and stroked my cock to the thought of you.”

He picked up his pace, the slaps of his hips meeting your ass only aroused you more. “When our professor announced the assignment I knew I had to have you. I went and spoke to him after class and convinced him to pair you up with me. And now look at you, taking my cock like the whore you are, just like I knew you would.”

You gripped the sheets in your fingers as he pounded you into the mattress. Jesus fucking christ the idea of him getting worked up because of you was enough to fuel your masturbation fantasies for months. The thought of him stroking himself- in public no less- just because he saw your panties, good god you were going to savor that image in your mind forever.

He flipped you over on your back, kissing you deeply. His hands found your hips and pulled you onto his cock, resuming his aggressive rhythm.

“I love the feeling of fucking you from behind, but I need to see those eyes.”

He slid his hand to your throat, gripping it tightly. You choked out a weak moan and the corners of your vision started to turn to black static.

“God you’re gonna make me fucking cum. I want you to look in my eyes as I breed you, princess.”

He pounded faster and faster, savoring every moan and whimper that passed your lips. You dug your nails into his back causing his cock to twitch and throb, edging him closer by the second to cumming inside you.

“Look into my eyes, look into my eyes as I cum in you.” He demanded.

The sight of your doe eyes looking back at him was what did it. His brutally fast pace faltered and his breathing hitched and as he felt himself release deep in you, his hot cum coating your walls. He moaned your name loudly.

He panted, exhausted and collapsed beside you, trying to catch his breath. You were about to kiss him when he started making his way down your body.

“Stanford what are you-“

“Finishing the job, I’m not about to leave you unsatisfied like some kind of neanderthal would, I’m better than that.” He muttered.

You rolled your eyes, there he goes being arrogant as usual.

He took your clit in his mouth, you reached a hand down and buried it in his hair. He hummed against you, tongue lapping at your delicate nub.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you?” He teased.

“Nnnngh, Stanford.”

He looked up at you and chuckled. “Please, call me Ford.”

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them against your g-spot. You arched your back instinctively and he held you in place by your hips.

“Getting close already are we?”

“Mmh, I can’t help it, you’re too good at this.”

“Surprisingly research goes a long way. It’s amazing what certain books can teach you.” He said with a devilish smile.

“You fucking nerd, I didn’t say you could stop.” You tightened your grip on his hair and pushed him against your clit, he let out a little “hmf”.

You rocked your hips against his tongue, feeling yourself tip over the edge.

“Ahh hah, oh Ford.”

Your orgasm shook you, hitting you hard. All you could do was focus on your breathing. Ford watched you intently, god you looked so perfect when you came.

He moved himself up on the bed, coming behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist, spooning you.

Goddammit, you really thought you were going to just bottle up your feelings for Ford until the day you died, but here you were in post coital bliss with him pressed against you.

-

The conflicting feelings of fucking the classmate you thought you despised moments ago started to weigh on you, you needed to take the edge off. You rolled out of Ford’s arms and off the bed, his eyes following you. You dug around in your bedside drawer pulling out a small baggie and a glass pipe.

You packed the bowl and flicked the lighter, taking in a long drag. You let out a cloud of smoke and sighed heavily before laying back down next to Ford, who was still watching you. You raised an eyebrow.

“What is it six fingers?”

“Nothing, I just-“

“Lemme guess, those anti drug psa’s really got to you as a kid.”

He looked away, embarrassed.

You rolled your eyes again. “Jesus, you really are a fucking nerd. Here.”

You handed the pipe to him, he took it in his hand, studying it for a second before flicking the lighter taking a deep inhale, you watched him hold his breath and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Dude, holding it doesn’t do anything, breathe.” You snorted.

He took gasping breath and let out a hacking cough, smoke coming out of his nose.

“That’s what they- ack- always do in the movies.” He wheezed.

“For the love of god, you really need to get out more.”

You passed the pipe back and forth for a good while, talking about random shit. By the end of it you were both sufficiently stoned.

You quickly learned that Ford was very affectionate when he was high, he pulled you close against him, nuzzling the back of your neck, peppering your skin with kisses. He traced the curves of your body with his fingers.

“You know, I was starting to think you genuinely hated me.” He murmured into your neck.

You let out a long sigh. “Ford don’t think I ever actually hated you, I envy you. Everything seems to come so easy to you, almost naturally. Your professors love you and- I don’t know- it was just hard not to feel a twinge of jealousy. Like this college wasn’t even my first choice, everywhere else rejected me and I still have to bust my ass just to be seen as being worth anyone’s time.”

Ford took a breath and exhaled deeply. “BMU wasn’t exactly what I had planned on either, I mean, remember what they said at orientation? This is no one’s first choice. My dream school was West Coast Tech, but things… fell through.”

He paused, you could tell there was weight to that last part, memories too painful to say aloud. You didn’t pry.

“Y/n, I want you to understand it hasn’t been easy for me either. I’ve had to work twice as hard just to make something of myself at a school with nonexistent educational standards.”

You felt a pang of guilt for ever assuming this was in any way easy for him. You turned to him, holding his face in your hands and kissing him deeply.

He broke away. “You know I was thinking we could grab coffee in the morning before heading to the library to work on our paper together. I- if you want, that is.” He looked away, nervous.

You smiled and kissed him again. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You laid your head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead. His breathing deepened as he began to fall asleep. You soon felt your eyelids grow heavy, following Ford into slumber.

[ash5monster01]

Learning to Love

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 3k

→ Part 1

Masterlist

You're used to crude comments, truly. Living in the Outer Banks has proven nothing other than the fact that kooks will always be cruel, even if it's towards other kooks. As long as you're in a bathing suit, something is going to be said. Which is proven true as you lie on the beach, book in hand, and sunglasses hung low on your nose. It's your only day off and you were going to enjoy it. Soak up the sun as much as you can because summer would fade away before you knew it. You had only chosen the two piece bathing suit to get more of a tan, maybe a little extra sun. It's only twenty pages into your book you hear two boys snickering not far from your own set up.

"Look a beached whale, should we call the authorities?" your ears burn red only slightly, after all you were used to it. Honestly you could care less anymore.

"God, she has to know that's gross" the other responds after his bellowing laughs have calmed down. They truly can't be that stupid they don't realize how loud they're talking right?

"No decent looking, hell self respecting man would ever date a girl like that" this punches the air out of your lungs. You knew your body type wasn’t considered attractive. This was common knowledge, but to hear someone say you couldn’t possibly ever date an attractive man is something else entirely.

“I know I wouldn’t” the boys laugh again, hands clapping together as they stare you down like you were the most disgusting thing on this beach.

You’re not upset about what they were saying. You survived highschool after all. Your school had already been divided by kooks and pogues, add in the big girl and that’s a recipe for disaster. You’ve heard the most vile and mean things a person could say. Somehow you came out of it with still a little self respect, hell even some confidence, because if you were anything at all it was strong. You had dated here and there, never had anything stick though. Maybe that’s why this comment resonated so hard with you. No matter how decent a person you meet maybe you’re bound to end up ugly and alone because an attractive man belongs with an attractive girl.

Rafe has had to attend hundreds of useless business meetings since his Dad died. He had wanted this. When he was nineteen and trying to prove to his Dad that he was worth it, but now he was gone. He had no one to impress anymore and at twenty three he carried the burden of being the CEO of an entire company with his last name on it. So that’s how he finds himself inside of dark clubs at noon, sharing a scotch with guys willing to play dirty to get what they want. He often wonders why he had wanted this life so badly. Everything he had believed in for so long was now gone. His Dad, the treasure, and now even kooks and pogues. Ever since his sister had found that treasue social classes had been practically eliminated or at least weren't acknowledged like they were before. All of this had now left Rafe without a sense of self and he desperatley needed something to change.

"Man, why can't they hire pretty waitresses to look at anymore?" Levi, a coworker slurred as he watched their waitress walk away. Rafe noticed her shoulders stiffen because she had heard what he had said. He hated he felt guilty over it.

"It's a bar, not a strip club" Matt, another coworker teased and Rafe rolled his eyes. Four years ago these guys could've been his best friends, and he would've teased the waitress right along with them. Now things were different, he was different.

"I happen to think she's cute" Rafe told them before finishing the last sip of his scotch. He knew when he got back to the office people would give disapproving looks but he didn't know what to do with himself anymore. It was like he was just floating and letting the tide drag him along wherever it wanted to.

"Yeah right" Matt snorted out a laugh and Rafe gave him a confused look as Levi started to laugh along with him.

"Seriously Rafe, you’re way out of her league" Levi told him, his shoulder bumping with his own.

"No I'm not and there is no such thing as leagues" Rafe told them with a pointed look but the boys just continued to laugh anyway.

"Yes there is and the only one's in Rafe Cameron's league are tall hot blondes with legs for miles and tan skin smooth enough slide on" Matt said and Rafe felt his stomach clench as they spoke. Had he unintentionaly maintained a type, only taken someone for their looks? Flashes of ex girlfriends went through his mind and he had realized after all this time he had only taken women for surface things.

“That can’t be true” Rafe shook his head and the boys just chuckled.

“Admit dude, you’re an asshole and you like pretty little things. Nothing wrong with that” Levi said as he slapped his back, taking another sip of his own scotch. Rafe however realized there was everything wrong with that. Yeah he’s been a jerk his whole life but had he ever actually dated a girl he liked? Someone with substance?

“Hell would freeze over the day Rafe Cameron dated someone other than a supermodel” Matt pointed with the scotch in his hand and Rafe just shook his head, eyes scanning over the small crowd that littered the bar. For the first time he was seeing people he never would’ve noticed before.

He wondered if this was a side effect of his life before. Privileged kook, popularity, a need to impress everyone around him. Had women become a part of all of that too? A side effect of a need to please, to be the best. Had he been wasting years of actually meeting someone with a personality due to his natural self destructive ways? God he hoped not. Then again he couldn’t recall ever really liking the girls he dated, he usually just tuned them out and used them when he needed to make an appearance with a date. He had never actually dated someone for fun. Worst of all he hated that everyone knew this of him. That he dated for appearance instead of happiness. He wanted to change that.

You could only take so much of the harassment coming from the two boys on the beach, so after three hours you declared you’d had enough sun and started to pack your things. When the cover up slipped over your head you didn’t miss the applause coming from them. Rolling your eyes you grabbed your bag and started the hike up the beach. You needed a drink.

Rafe hadn’t been able to shake the thoughts over the girls he dated. After a very long recollection of every girl he had ever brought around he couldn’t think of one he actually enjoyed spending time with. With this in mind he dismissed Matt and Levi back to the office, claiming he’d find a way back on his own. He needed more time to think about this, and a stiff drink to go along with it. So that’s how he found himself now sitting directly at the bar and not inside the dark booth. The whiskey in his hand suggested he wasn’t making it back to the office anytime soon.

Normally he wouldn’t remove his focus from the drink in his hands but when a bag is slapped on the counter top beside him he finds himself lifting his head. The girl claiming the seat beside him is dressed in stark contrast to his own attire. He’s still in his work suit, tie loosened around his neck, but the girl beside him has clearly just come from the beach. Her hair is wild and wrapped in a bun a top her head. A red bikini strap peaks out the collar of the white coverup. Her breasts had left wet spots slightly see through to the red fabric of her top, like she had left the beach in a rush.

“Hit me with the usual Randy” she calls to the bar keep and Rafe can’t tear his eyes away from her. She’s bigger, sure, but the dip of her hips and small pouted lips have Rafe every bit of intrigued. He can’t help the thought of her being a girl he might’ve never noticed before escape him. He wanted to notice her now.

“Rough day?” Randy smirks at her when he’s back, a tall glass with a dark liquid set in front of her. She takes a sip before responding.

“Every day is a rough day” she mutters and Randy just chuckles before walking off to serve other customers. It’s only when your eyes lock with his own Rafe realizes he has been staring this entire time. “Let me guess, you got something to say just like everyone else today”

“I, what?” Rafe doesn’t expect the coldness from you and how strong willed you are with it too. You aren’t scared of him, he isn’t used to that.

“Listen I’ve had my fill of assholes today so if you don’t have anything nice to say, keep it to yourself” you told him before turning back forward and taking a large gulp from the drink in your hand.

“Got someone bothering you?” Rafe asked finding his cool. He finally got himself to tear his eyes away from you, eyes scanning over the liquor bottles behind the bar. You turn to look at him, eyes drawn together in confusion.

“Not one specific person, everyone for some reason thinks they have the right to comment on my appearance” your words get him to turn back at you. Normally men don’t make you nervous but when you watch him eye you up and down you can’t help the way your heart accelerates.

“I happen to think you look just fine” the scoff that falls from your lips shocks him.

“I’m not looking for your pity, I happened to over hear today that no decent self respecting man would date me so let’s not lie to each other” you tell him and Rafe now feels the air knocked from his lungs. He can’t believe anyone would say that to you. Let alone to your face.

“If it makes you feel better I was told today that I only date woman for surface things” now you were the one drawing your eyebrows together in confusion, looking to the mystery of a man beside you.

“Surface things?” you question the stranger and he chuckles, his rings clinking on his whiskey glass.

“Appearances, apparently I’ve never looked deeper” this has you chuckling right along with him, lifting your own drink to your lips.

“Look at us then, two sides of the same coin. Makes you wonder if there really is anyone out there actually happy with who they ended up with” you say mostly to yourself, knowing this perfect stranger on a normal day would never look your way but you also would never find yourself thinking you had a chance with him.

“I think there is, at least the people who weren’t chewed up and spit out by the world” the optimism is what shocks you the most when he speaks. A hope for something better down in there.

“I wish I was one of those people” you find yourself saying and the boy turns to look at you again, eyes scanning over each of your features.

“Maybe we should prove them wrong” now you’re laughing, looking bewildered towards the boy beside you.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” you ask and he smirks, clearly having some sort of plan.

“We date. I prove to my coworkers that I date someone for more than just their looks and you prove to all those assholes that you can date a guy as good looking as me” he gestures to himself, as if his body is some of God’s best work. You scoff at his clear cheekiness but actually find yourself considering.

“I don’t even know your name” you laugh, trying to remind yourself that this ideal is completely absurd.

“Rafe Cameron, nice to meet you” his hand reaches across the bar, you take notice of how long his fingers are. With the shake of your head you find yourself putting your hand in his own.

“It’s not that simple” you tell him and he just smiles, dimples forming around his pressed together lips.

“Isn’t it though?” he says, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes and you sigh, finally removing your hand from his own.

“Date? As in fake date?” you ask and he nods, his head tipping to the side.

“Exactly, an agreement of sorts. We both benefit from each other, everything to gain and nothing to lose” he tells you like he’s already worked out every way this could end.

“We just met” you inform him and he shrugs, implying this wasn’t an issue.

“I’ve seen people date over less” he tells you and you sigh, holding your hand out to him. He looks are your empty palm confused and you quickly roll your eyes.

“You can’t take me out ion a date without my number dream boy” you tell him and he smirks while grabbing his phone out of his pocket and placing it in your hand. He watched as you meticulously open his contacts and punch in your number. You’ve named your contact ‘baby ❤️’ but he doesn’t get your real name until you type it into other names.

“Y/N? I like that” he smiles at you and you chuckle, clicking on the profile photo to take a selfie.

“We’re already off to a bad start if you want to stop liking people for just their surface things” he likes how quick witted you are and you don’t allow him a response as you lean into his personal space. “Can’t be a real girlfriend if I don’t have a profile picture in your phone”

You smile so easily and he instantly notices how beautiful it is. He’s not looking at the camera anymore but leaning in and taking in the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with the sunscreen and salty skin. You were like a walking beach and he loved that more than anything. That is how he finds his lips pressing softly against your cheek as the camera shutter clicks on his phone. Your body has chills that you have to brush off quickly as you look at the entirely real looking photo on his screen.

“If I didn’t like what was on the surface you would never be my fake girlfriend” he finally says as he takes his phone back before you could text yourself his number.

“I don’t like how easy this is for you. Are you sure I’m your first fake girlfriend?” you ask and he laughs, eyes falling on your face again.

“The first and the only” and you decide that coming into an agreement like this with a stranger shouldn’t be this simple.

“Then we need to lay some ground rules” this has him raising his eyebrows as you grab a napkin from the bar. He watches as you leaned over, searching for a pen behind the bar. Unashamedly he took the opportunity to inspect your ass, admiring the curve and thanking the see through fabric for revealing the cheeky bikini bottoms that laid over your large curves. He had never openly allowed himself to be attracted to a bigger girl. but now he was briefly wondering what it would be like to be suffocated by one.

“So, what’s these rules?” he smirked at you once you were sat back upright in your seat. He watched as you popped the cap off the pen with your teeth and leaving it in your mouth.

“Don’t worry pretty boy, I’ll keep them simple” you tell him, dropping the cap from you lips into the bar. He felt himself flush slightly at the nickname, watching as your neat and loopy handwriting moved across the napkin.

1. Must actively text/call/interact for a week before first “official” date.

2. PDA must be limited

3. Don’t catch feelings, no matter what

4. Attend whatever event your fake significant other asks of you

5. Most of all, don’t tell anyone, ever, that this is fake

“PDA must be limited?” you roll your eyes at the fact this was the only rule he questioned but you sign at the bottom of the napkin anyway.

“I don’t want to waste all of romantic gestures on something that isn’t real” you explain to him and he nods, sliding the napkin in front of him.

“I have a lot of work dinners I would like you to attend” he says as he signs the napkin.

“I’ll try my best” you tell him and now he’s furrowing his eyebrows at you.

“It’s your rule” he points at the napkin, more confused with you than when you first walked in here. “What could you possibly be busy with?”

“Work” you tell him and he still looks confused which you find adorable. Now rule number three only applies to you.

“Every night?” he questions and you chuckle as you return the pen to the other side of the bar.

“Usually, comes with the territory” and you laugh as he continues to try and process what you’re saying.

“What territory?” he asks and you smile, finishing the drink in front of you.

“My bar” and you gesture to the building around you. Rafe suddenly realizes why you know the names of the workers and why they know your usual drink order.

“You own this place?” and you nod, sliding off your seat and grabbing your bag. You also grab the napkin, now signed by you both.

“Don’t forget rule number one handsome” you tell him before heading towards the exit, determined to have a good rest of your day off. Rafe can only watch as you walk away, baffled any of what just happened actually occurred.

“Randy, I’m gonna need a refill”

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

Comment if you want to be added to the tag list :))

[mirohlayo]

HATE YOU LOVINGLY | LN4 (pt1)

( you hate him just as he hates you. but maybe it's just his way to show he fell hard for you. )

warning : angst, jealousy, fluff

note : light enemies to lovers because it's literally my favorite trope 🤭 also this first part is like the whole context, next part will be more interesting

word count : 3.7k

↳ part 2

!! english is not my first language !!

lando doesn't really know when he first started to hate you. he thinks it just happened like that, all of a sudden. the truth is that when he first laid eyes on you, he never intended to detest you. this can be seen as a complicated relationship. and actually it is.

he hates you as much as you hate him. he can't stand seeing you. he can't stand being near you. because he knows how much he get annoyed by just being in the same room as you. he knows how hard it is to not yell and curse at you. he hates you badly. but maybe it is just a way to bury his true feelings regarding you ?

being oscar's best friend is one your biggest proud. not in the way of you being a total jerk and prove to everyone your best friend is a famous f1 driver and take advantage of it for you and self seeking. but in the way of you being able to have such an amazing and fulfilling friend, whom you support everyday for his achievements in f1.

your relationship with oscar is like siblings. you have the same age as him but definitely the same vibe and energy. you support him as well as he supports you. you bring each other up and always look out for both of you. it's genuinely a healthy relationship, no toxic behaviors and no toxic feelings.

you know each other for a long time now, since kindergarten. your parents are good friends and you had spent your childhood mostly with him, stuck to his side. you two went through different friends groups but always ended up together at the end. you basically grew up with oscar, like real siblings. until your paths force you to part ways.

his goal to be an f1 driver tear oscar from you. fate is sometimes painful. he started from an early age karting so you two had barely time to see each other. but yet you remained close. you always tried to attend his kart racing, always cheering him up. you were definitely his number one fan and he was so thankful towards you. when he became a f2 and f3 driver you still tried to attend the races but studies called you back.

you decided to pursue your studies to achieve your dream and especially your dream career : being a f1 presenter. seeing oscar drives and feeling the atmosphere of the sport of formula filled you with wonder and then it becomes an evidence. you were made for this job. so you put all your efforts and all your sleepless nights into your classes, into your essays. and the work finally paid off.

you're finally going to be a f1 presenter for this new season.

no need to say how much you are happy, finally graduated from university. and plus you will be able to get the job you so desperately wanted. first thing is to tell oscar the good news. you know how proud and happy he'll be, you always bothered him about this degree during the rare f1 races you could attend, university took up a lot of your time and you could very rarely come and support your best friend.

but he is understanding and he's by far the most supportive person, he always says you'll achieve your dream. and now that it became true, you didn't wait a second to tell him you got the job of your dream. so you decided to attend the suzuka race.

-

the drivers parade just ended and oscar is making his way back to the garage, where you are waiting for him. you stand here, scrolling through your phone while peeking out to make sure you don't miss him. your hear footsteps getting closer to the garage and a voice you recognize well. you lift your head up and your look fall on oscar's teammate. you glance at him, already feeling a little bit annoyed by just seeing his face. you try to ignore him and go back to your phone.

lando knows you're here. he also knows you glared at him too. well he spotted you as soon as you had entered the garage. and also him can already feel a sour sensation, he's fed up with you.

he first laid eyes on you some months ago, actually during the second race of the year. he had never seen you before because of course you're oscar's best friend and you had no one to support in f1 in previous years. but oscar being lando's new teammate, you obviously had to show up for him.

he'd be lying if he said he didn't find you unsettling. well to make it clear he found you extremely attractive. you were the most beautiful woman he has ever seen in his whole life, and who knows how much he had met lots of pretty girls. but they didn't even rival you and your beauty a little. no, he knew you were different from them.

first he was just watching you from afar, stealing glances at you whenever you would show up around the paddock. you were mostly talking and laughing with oscar, so he often caught you smiling and he found that adorable. you intrigued him a lot. never ever he wanted so bad to talk to a girl before. but he didn't, he just gazed at you.

and it seemed like you were constantly with oscar. always. always with him. so he had never gotten a chance to talk to you. but soon this curiosity turned into something else. something bad.

he suddenly started to hate you. him either doesn't really know it started or what are truly the reasons. he's just sure you became the most annoying person ever to be. it all started when he noticed you never congratulated him for his performances or podiums. but always oscar.

when oscar would ends up on the podium, or do a great job in qualifying, you were always there to support him and jump into his arms, hugging him so close. you would always tell him how proud you are, how amazing he did and that he's pure talent. and the mclaren members would definitely agree with you. but when it comes to lando, there's no reaction from you.

you never tell him congrats or that he did a good job, never. you never show him a hint of support. first he didn't really care, though seeing you only be proud of oscar and not also him while he did the same good job as his teammate if not better, it was kind of disrespectful to him. but he also knew that he didn't talk to you, you didn't know him and you are not close, of course you won't congratulate lando the same as you do with oscar.

but still, the driver thought just showing some respect and support for him and not just only for oscar could be appropriate and appreciated. the rest of the team always cheered up for lando, and surprisingly even the loved ones of oscar would congratulate him. except you. you were the only one amongst oscar's friends who don't seem to care about the other driver.

and lando hates that. fucking hate that. he is also a driver of the team, he's also doing a great job, so why would oscar be the only one to receive your support ? he doesn't understand, even if you two are not close it's important to not neglect him and to actually care as much for him as for your best friend. it looks like you ignore him. oscar is not the only mclaren driver to win and earn points. lando exists too.

he hates the fact that you act like he doesn't exist.

but from your point of view, it's completely different. of course you care about lando. you won't lie, maybe you care about him more than you care about your best friend. how much you want to show him all your respect and support, how much you also want to hug him after his every podiums. but you don't, because you're just scared. you are being a coward.

it's so stupid. yet you can't fix it. you're also so bad attracted to lando. like he's consuming your every thoughts since you first caught a glimpse of him at jeddah race. his presence, his way to be, his sassy personality, his smooth driving style. you're captivated by him just as he is with you. you so want to talk to him, to finally have the guts to say some words to him.

but you think it'll be weird. and that he'll think you're a crazy fangirl or whatever. because if you suddenly start to hug him overnight to show him how amazing he did then he'll be uncomfortable. that's what you think. when all he wanted was you to actually do it. wrap your arms around him and he's already all yours.

you can't help it, you don't want to make you a fool out of yourself, you don't want to push out things. you're too scared because after all he's the teammate of your best friend, you are nothing for him. you can't be something for him. he must have others priorities, others people and girls he care about. you can't behave like he's one of your closest friend and expect him to act positively with you.

and that's why you're clumsy around him. plus with your shyness it's difficult to not look like ridiculous in front of him.

lando can't barely stand the fact you only see oscar in the team, so when you started acting clumsy around him it was the last straw. he started seeing red, oh how annoyed he was.

once you were walking in the paddock to join lily, the girlfriend of oscar. she was in the garage so you just walked towards her. but as your turned on a corner you accidentally bumped into lando. you lifted up your head, and your crossed his eyes. he didn't look bothered, though his look was somehow intense staring at you like that.

embarrassment took over you and you quickly murmured a soft "sorry" barely audible. which lando didn't hear of course. you were too shy and embarrassed to speak louder, and you run away without giving him a look. he watched you disappear, and the indescribable feeling that he felt at that moment really hurt him.

so you're like that ? you're that disrespectful towards him ? first not a hint of congratulation and then being rude ? are you serious now ? he scoffed and rolled his eyes. such bad behaviors.

or that one time when you called him stupid because he blocked oscar's car and you didn't expect him to hear you. but he did. he was about to confront you and was ready to argue with you but he calmly walked away. it was a bad idea. but he really felt disgusted and kind of disappointed. you really had the guts to call him like that when you can't even manage to greet him ?

you can't even look him in the eyes, and every times he's talking it seems like you don't listen to him, sometimes interrupting him. when you would ignore him the whole race. and all of that. all of that stuff was making him go insane.

he's so fucking fed up. like he's so annoyed to the point he hopes you won't show up to the races, even though you're already rarely present. but when you're not here around the paddock he knows it'll be a good week end. no need to worry. because he knows he won't see your face, he knows he won't have to handle you.

he hates you to the point he hopes you'll stop being friend with oscar. but does he really want this because he doesn't want to see you anymore, or it is something else ?

is it the fact he doesn't hate you, but maybe hate seeing you giving all your attention to oscar ?

is it the fact he doesn't hate you, but hate the way you ignore him, act like he doesn't exists when all he wants is to be the only one you would look at ?

no. no it's not that. lando knows it. it can't be that. he hates you, your person. but why was he feeling strange then ? maybe because you are also always showing him that either you don't like him. that you desperately can't stand him.

he's acting the same way as you. he acts clumsy. and he ignores you. once you tried to approach him but he barely did look at you and walked away, and leave you alone like a poor child. or sometimes you would offer your help to the race team, but he's always the only one to refuse it and to reject it like you're doing everything wrong. you just don't understand at all.

you can remember, the first time he had addressed you your first words. but it is not a good memory. you were in the garage, near the cars of the drivers. they looked so pretty. the liveries were perfect. and you couldn't help but brushed softly lando's car, tracing the littles details on the halo. but you didn't expect him to caught you. he glared at you with frowning brows. "don't touch my car. oscar's one is enough for you" he said coldly to you.

yeah, you really started to hate him since this day. he's so disrespectful with you and he's not afraid to show it. but a part of you is still attracted to him, and despite the fact you can't stand him, you know that you're slowly falling for him. that your heart is succumbing itself to love. to his love.

it's so weird. you hate him just as you love him. and it's so strange because he hates you just as he loves you.

you sigh and shake your head, you were dazzling again. "y/n !!" oscar's voice makes you lift your head and you smile, your best friend is mirroring you. he walks towards you and wraps his arms around your shoulders. "you didn't tell me you'll be here !" he says and smile wider, so happy to see his childhood best friend.

you giggle and pull back, resting your arms on his forearm. "surprise oscar" you reply. he gives you an other smile before joining lando. they need to talk about strategies for the race later, and you hesitate to follow him. you don't want to be near lando, you hate him and oscar knows it. you always confess about whatever is disturbing you to him and so this topic has not escaped.

but oscar gives you a reassuring smile, and you know by his look that he doesn't mind if you follow him. actually he want you to stay a bit more with him before the race. because he missed you during these past few weeks.

"i know you don't like lando but it's okay, just don't talk to him" he says and approaches the group of lando, andrea, zak and two others strategists. "like i already do it" you scoff. he sigh "not false. but you get what i meant. just ignore him like usual".

you sigh and now you're standing right in front of the man you despise. he's leaning on the counter behind him, nonchalantly listening to the strategist. you try to keep yourself concentrated, but you notice it. you notice how lando is stealing glances at you. more like glaring at you but still he often turns his head to look at you. and he does it on purpose, he keeps gazing at you intensely. which disturbs you frankly speaking.

but it's enough. you don't even listen to the guys at this point. you shift and gather your courage to plant your look in his eyes. he realizes what just happened and you can tell he's disturbed, a hint of surprise hidden behind those blue eyes. but he holds your look, and you too. it seems like the world and the time stops. like they are only you in the garage.

the atmosphere is suffocating, yet strangely tense. it feels like the whole air is burning, but your bodies are filled with desire. as if a link brings you closer. you can feel your heart beats miles away, and lando sure he's not better. his gaze shift to your lips for a second, but he pulls himself together before you can notice it. but just, just one kiss.

he asks just for one. one kiss is enough right ? he just wants to see what it feels like to move his lips on yours. maybe it'll be sweet and soft. it means nothing right ? he can kiss you and yet act like he doesn't like you. he can, a kiss means nothing to him and you right ?

he inhales deeply, feeling his muscles and whole body get tighter. it's bad. really bad. how much effect you have on him just by a simple look. it's not fair. he can't loose all his senses, he can't loose his mind because of your presence. no he can't, because he's sure he despises you. he can't fall in love with you. no this is no longer what he wants. before maybe.

he's just afraid of the reality. he's scared and he denies it. but one day he'll have to accept it. he's falling in love with you. and falling very very hard.

-

the race was absolutely amazing. p2 for lando and p3 for oscar. mclaren couldn't have dreamed better. the drivers spray the champagne on the podium, and you stand here, watching them proudly. they did a great job today and you can't hide your joy just like the others members.

then you all go back to the garage, and oscar is welcome by you and your open arms. he literally throws himself into your embrace, and you smile wider while rubbing his back. oh god, you're so proud of him. "you're amazing oscar. you don't realize how proud i am of you. so so proud. you deserve this podium"

"thank you y/n. i love you, you know" he softly says, enjoying your hug. "me too oscar" and he pulls you closer. you can hear all the cheers from the garage, everyone is so happy about the results.

but lando is... different. he watches as all of the race team congrats him, and some of his closest friends hug him. obviously he hugs them back, thanks them for their precious support. but when he pulls back and catch you hug his teammate, he started to feel... jealous.

yes, jealousy.

thinking about that is funny, because for real why would he be so jealous of his mate for some girl he's hating on ? it's ridiculous, but yet he's glaring at oscar despite himself. oscar is the only one always congratulated by you, and lando is simply falling behind. but he can't help it, he's asking for it. asking for one hug.

just one quick hug. it's nothing right ? he wonders what it would be like to feel your arms around him, to melt into your embrace. maybe it'll be comforting. but it means nothing right ? a hug and a kiss are nothing, he's just curious that's all.

but it is enough to ask ?

lando sighs and shakes his head. what is wrong with him ? he's getting insane because of the one person he's supposed to hate, but it seems like his true feelings can not be hidden anymore. is he going to admit it ? will he finally face the reality and says that he's falling for you more and more everyday ?

meanwhile, you are still at oscar's side, waiting to tell him your good news. you let him finishes his duties and wait for him in his driver room. he opens the door and smiles at the sight of you. "my best friend is here for the best podium. couldn't have asked for more" he gives you a sweet look. "true you couldn't have asked for more because i want you to know that i'll be a f1 presenter for the next season". you ramble and grin.

he stops what he was doing. his brain really stopped to function correctly. did he hear well ? he shift to look at you, and the surprise in his eyes make you laugh. he looks so surprised but also happy, like he's smiling so hard right now. "what... for real ? you're graduated ?" he asks still not realizing.

you quickly nod your head and smile widely. "i'm going to get the job of my dream. so see you next year on the track!" you say and he runs to hug you. this is literally the best day of his life. double podium for mclaren and then his best friend lands her dream job. everything is genuinely perfect. his heart hurts from joy.

he quits his driver room to tell the new to lando. because he's too overwhelmed by the happiness, he needs to share it. oscar knows how lando hates you too. he knows how you too can't handle each other. but it's stronger than him, lando must know about the news.

he finds his teammate nearby, and he doesn't wait a second to run towards him. "lando !! know what !" he starts thrilled. the curly haired frowns a bit. "what ?" he asks. "y/n will be a f1 presenter for the next season, she just have been graduated !! mate i think i'm dreaming, pinch me please." he rambles and stretch his arm.

lando stops working. what ? no he's dreaming too. "i think you should pinch me too because i feel like i'm in a dream which i'll never wake up from" he says, his eyes darting out. what the fuck is happening ?

so handling you during the races was not enough, now he'll have to see you every weekend for a whole year.

it scares him. because he knows how much impact it'll have on his feelings. it's going to be difficult. so hard. he can't barely stop himself from thinking about you all day so being in your presence every week end will be another level.

but strangely, he can't wait. he can't wait for this next season, maybe because he'll finally be able to see you more than this year....

[hoshipills]

Seventeen as romance tropes

I have been thinking about this for a while so I am excited to present it ^^

read it under the cut

Seungcheol- CEO/Mafia

This man is MADE for the ceo trope. tell me you look at this man and don't think of some rich ceo. Like one those stories where he is the ceo and you are a employee or like some normal person. He falls for your kindness and beauty. and then does some grant gestures to impress you. yes, that kind.

he could honestly be a good fit for mafia as well and for obvious reasons. he just gives off that aura. like he is some mafia boss and you are like a flower shop owner or something. and he is just so smitten. everyday visiting your shop and buying flowers just to see you.

Jeonghan- Academic rivals to lovers

I could imagine him being the one who gets marks without trying as he is naturally so smart but then you work your ass off for those marks, so thats how it all starts

Jeonghan would be such a tease. he would make snarky comments about you when he gets the first rank and you get the second. and when the reverse happens you wouldn't back down as well.

and finally i picture a scene where you both must be project partners. as you work together you discover maybe he is not too bad.

Joshua- fake dating

This man screams fake dating. like it could be any scenario, my favourite one is finding a fake boyfriend so you could escape your parents' torment to get a boyfriend or they will set you up on a date. it starts of normal as a dinner and of course they LOVE him so they invite him to celebrate Christmas with them or something . he agrees to avoid suspicions( when it was just to get close with you)

you guys would be forced to be in one room in the name of being a couple, you have to act all domestic with him

so basically in the coarse time you would fall for him because who wouldn't for this man.

Jun- Mafia enemies

I am honestly a sucker for this trope.

when you both are under same mafia organisation and just despise each other. so it is always you both fighting and throwing nasty remarks at each other and to the point you point guns at each other

let us just assume there came a scenario where you all were attacked by the rival mafia gang. they know how badly you hate each other so the boss is like, shoot jun and come with us or something like that. you would just stare before shooting this boss' leg and running away with jun and when he asks why you didn't shoot him, you are just like," i hate you but that doesn't mean i want you dead."....like the angst? the tension? i would be signed up.

Wonwoo- detective

I am currently having a wonwoo brain rot, him in those glasses, suits and sitting with those case files and solving it, ughhh.

you two would just be paired up to solve a case. and in the mean time you fall in love with each other as you guys solve it.

i could imagine the ending being something like when you suddenly realise who is the culprit, you are hit on the head or something, you find yourself in the basement of the culprit. there would be wonwoo as well, both of you tied up. and just when you are getting killed, you ask wonwoo to leave but he doesn't. somehow you guys escape and catch this guy. you are like, " you should've left when I said " and then wonwoo is like, " how can I when I love you.".😭😭

Soonyoung- Oblivious to lovers

you are both so in love with each other, every body sees it except you two. like you guys are bestfriends, always with each other. the kind of bestfriends where someone sees you both and prolly think you are a couple when you are not. and when someone says that , both of you end up becoming a blushing mess.

Its just so obvious by the way you look at each other and snuggle up in each other's arms while watching a movie.

the confession probably becomes a result of you fighting. in middle of the argument, he just yells, " because i am in love with you.", and oh my god.

Jihoon- Co-workers

this man belongs in a place with music so let him be a producer in a entertainment company, you are a fellow producer or a lyricist there. so you get to work on few songs together and thats when you start falling for each other.

like i could clearly imagine those late night stay ups at the studio, deep conversations at the middle of the night, getting takeaway for each other, coming up with the tunes together and what not honestly.

he would be all giggly spending time with you, sometimes grabbing a coffee together and just enjoying each other's company. subconsciously you end up making the songs about each other <3

Minghao- Second chance

hao is such a soft spoken person that makes me think he is suited for the more mature tropes.

like in the case, you two are like high school bestfriends and he is literally head over heals for you. but with college and all you grew distant. 10 years later, you guys reunite, he discovers you are a single mom. that doesn't change the fact that his old feelings return as he spends time with you.

I can perfectly imagine him playing with your kid and your kid obviously love him. you fall for him as well. I could imagine those talks with him about life and love. he would be the reason you would believe in love again. ugh I could go on.

Mingyu- Forbidden love

lets us say it is set in some historical era. you are like the princess and he is some kind of worker there. you two are not allowed to be together but in your lonely life, he adds up some light. so obviously like a sane person would, you fall for this man and of course he loves you back <3

but then again its forbidden, he sneaks into your room to be with you and all those stunts. ( for some reason mingyu reminds me of angsty tropes so)

your secret would be out and all those sacrifices to be with each other and honestly you would leave the world behind to be with him. happy ending or sad ending, this would be lit af.

Seokmin- childhood friends to lovers

Anything else with him is just too much. he is so pure, he would fit right in with friends to lovers. like imagine being neighbours with him from childhood, so you are friends for a long time.

He develops a crush on you gradually, you take time to realise your feeling but you do eventually. you both go to the same high school so for the most part you stick with him.

its time for some high school prom or something, so he decides to ask you out but poor baby is nervous.

he does end up asking after a lot of trying and of course, you agree so happy ending.

Seungkwan- Class clown x nerd

he would be that guy in class who is loud and always making everybody laugh while you are like the nerd who always scores good marks and indulges yourself in reading books.

you two never talked in school but lets just say you both join in the same coffee shop for working part time. you recognise him but he doesn't recognise you at first. later he does and is sincerely sorry for not recognising you earlier.

you two get close and he would be one of the first people to read your poetry and you would probably be invited to see his Lego collections or something.

when you guys get together, the whole class is shocked because they haven't seen you both talk even once.

Vernon- brother's bestfriend

Vernon is that guy would be at his bestfriend's house every weekend to play a few video games. so you would practically seem him almost every week.

he is the type of guy to have a crush on you but won't tell you because you are his bestfriend's sister after all. you have feelings for him as well but you are too scared to tell him.

you know those scenarios where he stays the night at your house and in the middle of the night he comes down to the kitchen for some water where he catches you eating some chips, yeah goes perfect with him. you guys would chat up and in that tension end up kissing.

the next day it goes something like you two talking about what happened, get together and now kind of scared to break this out to your brother.

Chan- Regency era

Chan as some prince in regency era is what i live for. I honestly don't know how the story would go. you could be some princess, and you both are arranged for a marriage. it was diabolical at first, you both thought it would never work out by the way you always disagree on things.

but then one day he just had a bad day, you were the only person who comforted him. thats when he realises life with you might not be as bad as he initially thought.

things start to work out and you would eventually fall as well. let this be slow burn and I would eat it up so bad.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

“Are you blind? I love you!” (“I Love You” Prompts List) + “kiss/touch me, everywhere” (Praise/Soft/ETC Smut Prompts) with Tony Stark please? 😃

Secretly in love

PAIRING || Tony Stark x Bounty Hunter!Reader

WORDCOUNT || ~ 950 words

SUMMARY || You and Tony have been madly in love with one another for years, but to the outside world, it looks like you're harboring a deep-rooted hatred for one another. Feelings are revealed when it almost goes wrong during a mission, and the sexual tension between you two is finally resolved.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Enemies to lovers. Idiots in love. Mutual pining. Misunderstanding. Use of Y/N.

SMUT || Oral (F receiving). Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!).

A/N || This drabble is part of Nicoline's Summer of Drabbles. I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for giving me this amazing idea as well as proofreading! I am forever grateful for you, bestie! 🤍

EVENTS @anyfandomaubingo || Bounty Hunter!Reader @fandom-free-bingo Maritime May || 'My Old Man's Got a Problem' @kinky-things-happen || Cunnilingus

@marvel-smash-bingo || Enemies To Lovers @mcukinkbingo || Trope: There's only one bed @sweetspicybingo Hurt/Comfort || Human shield

Photo: @ccbsrmsf1 || All other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || Summer of Drabbles

As soon as you got Steve's phone call about a meeting at Avengers Tower, you were on your way, knowing they would need your help once again. A few years ago, you were hired by SHIELD to do your job as a bounty hunter for them when they needed you, and today's one of the rare occasions they have asked for your help.

By now, you knew the drill. Get changed into your tactical gear before heading up to the meeting room, as they will brief you right before going on the mission. Just as you're about to head into one of the gym's changing rooms, you spot the man you're always looking forward to seeing: Tony Stark. However, you'd never tell him that because, to the outside world, you both have a deep-rooted hatred for one another.

He doesn't say anything as he goes to change, though he wishes he could. He has to hold up this facade of not liking you, but he would love to do nothing more than fuck you right then and there as he tells you how badly in love he is with you.

The moment you walk into the briefing room, you're greeted by the happy faces of Steve and Natasha and the seemingly emotionless face of Tony. He's less than impressed with your presence, but you're used to it by now.

"What's got your panties in a bunch, Stark?" Natasha asks, making him glare at her when you can't help but chuckle at her question.

"My old man's got a problem with me being here, Nat. You should know that by now," you say, making her laugh aloud, and Tony rolls his eyes at your joke. Once you've taken your place next to Natasha, Steve explains the mission you've been called in for.

"Y/N, you're here to take Nat's place during the mission. While she's an amazing spy and fighter, we need someone with your abilities, so you'll be going on the hunt with Tony. This will be a perfect bonding moment between you two, and I hope you two will finally learn to behave during the mission. There's no one to save your asses when it goes wrong, so you two must work together to finish this mission successfully."

Once the briefing is over, Tony and you go to the Quinjet, accompanied by Steve, who gives you the last instructions before it's officially time to leave. During the trip, neither of you says much aside from a few short comments, and when you're there, the only messages shared relate to the matter at hand.

Only when Tony throws himself in front of you as a human shield is he getting a reaction out of you, and not one of hate. As soon as the mission is successful, you get to the hotel room and immediately turn to him to give him a piece of your mind.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Stark? I could handle it perfectly-" is all you can say before he cuts you off.

"Are you blind?" he asks with a pointed tone. "I love you!"

"You... love me?" you ask him, your entire demeanor softening as soon as the words leave your lips. After holding up this facade of being enemies, letting the mask slip momentarily feels good.

"I do, Y/N. However, when I first met you a few years ago, I thought you didn't like me, so I put up this front. I guess it was easier to hate you than to show anyone - and more specifically, you - how I'm feeling," he says as he walks closer. With every step he sets closer, your heartbeat steadily rises.

Rather than returning his words, you close the gap between you two as you grab his hair, your lips molding together with his perfectly. The moment your lips are pressed on his, a new world opens for you two, and you're not sure how you ever could've lived without him.

"I love you too, Tony. I want you to kiss and touch me. Everywhere."

With those words, Tony pushes you back onto the bed you were in front of. You land with a smile, enthusiasm, and a need for Tony seeping into every fiber of your being. With skilled fingers, he undresses you completely, leaving not a single inch of your skin covered, before stepping out of his clothes, too.

"I can't believe I finally get to have a taste of you. I've dreamt of this moment so many times, and now I won't let you leave this bed until it's time to go home," he grumbles as he gets onto the bed, your legs spreading as you're waiting for his arrival. As soon as he's comfortable between your thighs, he dives in with an enthusiasm that has you arching your back and pulling his hair, your hips grinding against his face, seeking the friction he's willing to give you.

"Close, I'm fucking-" is all you can say as he latches onto your clit, pushing you over the edge with a scream of his name. He doesn't waste any time as he climbs over you, his cock immediately lining up as he carefully works his thick length into you.

"That's it, you're taking me so well, Gorgeous. It's a good thing there's only one bed here because there's no fucking way you're sleeping anywhere else from now on," he tells you, and you nod as he pounds into you, only prolonging your high with every thrust.

When you two return from the mission, Steve and Nat look at each other approvingly, knowing their plan worked perfectly, and you two are happier than ever.

[mofsblog]

Uh oh, I got reminded TFGraves exist and I'm mentally ill and going to make it YOUR problem!! (Translation: I'm going to gosh about them)

They just mean so much to me? And they just feel soo?? Special?? And unique on a meta level as well? It's already one thing that they are a canonised mlm pairing because historically those ones tend to be more controversial because it tends to make cishet dudes (aka leagues main demographic) more uncomfortable because cant fetishise it (also yes they're not Technically "together" but idc its explicitly canon they have feelings for eachother). It's another that both are surprisingly developed and nuanced charaters (could go on for hours about how theyre both self destructive and have abandonment issues and repress their feelings in very different ways) that are morally ambiguous and have a complex and multifaceted relationship with eachother and yeah i know league lore is subject to retcons and having differet writers but idk. i think its impressive we got two nuanced developed queer male characters WITH A COMPLICATED AND DEVELOPED RELATIONSHIP WITH EACHOTHER in a game known for its bigotted player base. Another thing i fucking love about this ship is how the riot writers were like "what if we subverted some tropes and made the more flamboyant one implied pan and we made the traditionally masculine one, who highkey has toxic masculinity, gay". BUT ALSO HIS TOXIC MASCULINITY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HIS QUEERNESS. like yes he cant express his feelings directly to save his life but the fact he's a gay man is completely not relevant to that and he's canonically had a bunch of ex boyfriends and is canonically a monsterfucker/hj. I'm not over how they took a pretty cishet masculine thing and made queer. Like the rough outlaw who hates talking about his feelings and is out for violent revenge on those who've wronged him..... except the guy who's "wronged" him is actually his best friend who he has mutual feelings for and also he fucks men. IDK THAT MAKES ME HAPPY. im insane.

moving on to other thing i like about them is that the sheer range this ship has??? Like yes there's gut wrenching fucked up dynamic that drives you crazy as you pyschoanalyse and unpack the layers of all of THAT. "that" being the fact a man thought he got abandoned by his best friend and got tortured and isolated in prison for 10 years and during those 10 years the only thing that kept him from killing himself was the sheer rage and want for vengence (towards someone he probably had repressed romantic feelings for) AND THEN WHEN HE GOT THE CHANCE TO KILL HIM, HE COULDNT BRING HIMSELF TO DO IT 💀 (im literally never going to be normal about that) and during those 10 years the other man actually got all of their mutual friends killed in an attempt to save him and the survivors guilt fucked him up so bad its implied he failed trying to drown himself so he changed his entire name and personhood instead to isolate himself from the soul crushing guilt of it. BUT DESPITE THAT ANGST, there's a surprising amount of domesticity and comfort with this ship??? No like you'd think these two would be friends to enemies to lovers BUT NO, theyre actually friends to enemies to friends to friends who are fucking pinning for eachother like crazy. Despite the angsty dynamic these two also have the best friends who have known eachother for ages and who everyone think is dating but both are oblivious or dont believe the other feels the same BUT THEY ALSO HAVE opposites attract bickering marriage couple who constantly tease and banter with eachother. like the range is crazy

No but I feel like something that makes me emotional about this is that they tried to kill eachother and badly hurt eachother unintentionally but like, instead of being homophobic about it and making them just hate eachother forever and never reconcicle (which like those ships are amazing and valid and also thats literally another league ship/hj), the writers made them make up???? AND LIKE? HEAL? KINDA? Like no they havent worked through everything and no neither of them like talking about their feelings but they're "partners" again and they have this really domestic understanding of eachother and theyre managing and theyre bantering like they used to and theyre literally so comfortable around eachother and look, graves isnt tormented by his time in prison as much anymore and hes just a genuinely goofy criminal dumbass who robs people and cracks jokes that irriate his partner AND IDK ITS SO DOMESTIC AND FUNNY? BUT IT DOESNT FEEL OUT OF CHARACTER. THESE TWO JUST ARE IN A GOOD PLACE DESPITE EVERYTHING AND IDK THAT MAKES ME HAPPY???? why did league of legends make compelling queer ship

[hina-hina]

König and the reader with the best friends to lovers trope. This trope is 🤌 and I want the fluff and cuteness overload. Maybe the reader is in another unit? Dealer's choice on that one.

This is one of the BEST tropes with König, Thank you for requesting!! I hope you like it!! ヾ(^▽^*)))

I took a couple liberties with this one but I hope you like it nonetheless! Also, a lot of this post is based off his biography from warzone, but of course I could have still gotten stuff wrong so I'm sorry about that!

|| König Having a Best Friends to Lovers Trope With Reader ||

Warnings: Tiny bit of angst,

Gender-Neutral!Reader // Romantic

This trope with him is just(❤´艸｀❤)

I imagine that both of you enlisted together

You were the first person he told about his plans to volunteer for the German Armed Forces

You, of course, tell him you are going with him

He tries to talk you out of enlisting but you refuse to let him go alone

You both try to become recon snipers but only you get selected for the platoon

You can tell König is hurt by not being selected due to his size

But he won't dare let you onto this, making sure you know that he's still happy for you

Despite the two of you being in different platoons, you still spend almost all of your off duty time together

You two do missions together often and he loves knowing that you have his back even if he can't see you

Imagine he's in a fight with an enemy and they get the upper hand somehow

A shot rings out, the enemy dropping dead and falling from where he had been pinning König

"I got you, big guy," your voice crackles over the coms

He just swoons

The others on his team would tease him about it and he's is infinitely glad his mask hides his face

Also imagine if the sniper hood he wears was originally yours

Imagine you comforting him after the Urzik hostages were scared of him

So, imagine their so scared of him and they refuse to go with him and you just start yelling at them to get them to go and your tone spurs them into action

Later, he thanks you but says you didn't have to do that

You hug him and say, "They don't know you like I do. Your not scary to me, König."

And that's the moment that it hits him that maybe he doesn't just love you as a friend

He would feel super guilty about this however

You were such a good friend to him and he didn't want to ruin it!

But he couldn't help it, he just realized how pretty you were and how you were always so nice and stuck up for him

Definitely had a whole ass crisis about it

Gets super blushy when you talk over coms because your voice gets super low when your focused

He gets teased a lot by his other teammates

When he gets recruited by KorTac, he is so scared to tell you

I mean, you guys got into this together and he doesn't want to leave you

He would be inclined to turn it down until you convince him to take the opportunity

You would place your hands on his cheeks and smile softly, "We will always be best friends, no matter how far we are from each other. I love you, König."

His heart soars and plumits at the same time because he thinks he just got "friend zoned" but also you said you loved him

So, he end up going but you two have video calls and send letters often

I imagine he confesses after you get hurt

He learns from a member in your platoon that you were shot while on a recon mission and were hurt badly

He immediately asks to take leave to go see you, halfway begging, halfway arguing with his boss

He is eventually granted this and he immediately goes to your bed side, taking your hand into his

He hates seeing you in the hospital bed but he won't move until you wake up

When you do eventually wake up and ask what he's doing there, he can't help but just spill his guts about his feelings

"Bärchen, I was so scared for you. I know we signed up for this and we are going to get hurt, but I just have to tell you, just in case. I love you, more than a friend. You can hate me if you want, but I won't stop loving you. I-I'm sorry."

Your face softens, reaching out a hand weakly to grab his face, "Oh, honey, I could never hate you. I love you too, big guy."

His lip trembles and he just can't resist hugging you anymore, but he's careful to avoid you wound

He stays with you until your released from the hospital and then he stays on leave to take care of you

The two of you collect like rocks or other things you find on the ground to give to each other

Imagine having friendship bracelets from before and you two still wear them after getting together

The two of you share an apartment because there's no point in having two if your going to spend your leaves together anyway

You wishing each other good luck before the other goes on a mission

Likes to hold your hand in public spaces because he gets nervous in crowds

Brags about you and vice versa

People get so confused when you two are together because it's just like, soooo many inside jokes

And König is like a whole new person, way less quiet when your around because you help give him confidence

The two of you catalogging each others scars .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·.

You two are just a straight up power couple

[eddiesghxst]

ALL I WANTED

part one | part two | part three

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader

summary: your band, Daughters of Vampira, and Corroded Coffin hate each other and are struggling to keep a clean image in the media; so, in an attempt to solve the issue, your managers try to come up with a solution.

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, smoking, cheating (reader is cheated on by her fiancé), themes of misogyny/sexism, and eddie being a dick <3

word count: 12.9k

| Daughters of Vampira setlist | Corroded Coffin setlist |

-story masterlist- | -main masterlist-

You were a musician. A rockstar. On your way to being one of the greats. Your band, Daughters of Vampira, was a small, feminist rock band out of Hawkins, Indiana. You created this band with your friends, Robin, Nancy, and Max, an outlet the four of you used to sing and write your little hearts out. You hit it big when you all moved to Los Angeles, playing at some lame bar when a producer walked up to you after the show, saying she wanted to see more, handing you a business card. 

Then boom. 

Everything was up from there. You got signed onto a record deal– played shows, signed autographs, walked carpets, and did interviews. Your wallet was a bottomless pit. En route to being wed, you got engaged to your production assistant turned bassist, and all was well— until about five minutes ago.

You came home from a day at the studio with your band, crafting a new song, playing with guitar riffs, and imagining lyrics. This track was going to be big; a song about your love for your fiance, a tale of how magnetic and beautiful every second was and will be.

You unlocked the door to your shared apartment, kicking off your sneakers, when you noticed a pair of red heels, which is weird because you hate heels. Maybe they were your friend Angie’s shoes; she knows where you hide your spare key and sometimes sneaks in when you’re not home. Furrowing a brow, you cautiously set your bag and keys down, looking around you for any more clues— her bag or her keys, anything. Your socked feet softly pad across your cold, wooden floors as you walk into the apartment's threshold, glancing into the kitchen. Nothing. You turned to the living room, unknowingly holding your breath—still nothing. Suspicion itches in your mind as you take in the space around you. You turn the corner to your bedroom and see the door left ajar. 

You almost think nothing of it; you wouldn’t be mad at Angie taking a nap in your room; she’s your childhood best friend, but then you hear it— the two voices. The first voice is your fiance, Scott, and the second is an unknown woman.

They’re laughing. They’re whispering about something you can’t hear either because they’re either speaking too quietly or your sudden rage is filling out the space in your ears; you’re not sure which it is. You quickly glance back towards the door, eyeing the heels for the second time— your heart drops.

It was Angie. Those were her heels; you helped her pick them out, for fucks sake. You storm up to the door and swing it open without a second thought, and your eyes widen at the sight before you. You had so badly wished your mind was playing some sick trick on you, and you were just hearing things. You were wrong.

Your fiance and childhood best friend, Angie, are sprawled out in your white-sheeted bed, heads laid on your pillows tousled, under your roof— and both incredibly naked. 

Despite the anger, your eyes quickly fill with tears, salty pools of resentment and betrayal threatening to spill over. Scott sees you in the doorway and scrambles out of bed, hastily grabbing a pair of boxers to pull over his bare hips. You can hear him sputtering out excuses, apologies, and reasons through the fog— so many words that sound like nothing but white noise to you. 

He stumbles his way over to you, hands reaching out to grasp you and raising in surrender when you yank away from him. You can hardly think; a cloudy moment where you feel as if the floor has been wiped from below you and you’re free-falling in some shitty excuse of a dream. 

“Sweetheart, please just listen–” He didn’t get to finish his sentence; the palm of your hand cracked down against his cheek to stop whatever bullshit excuse was coming. Angie shrieked, jumping out of bed, still with no clothes on, as she hurried to his side, an obvious two-against-one— that’s clarified when she shoots you a pointed look, fire building up in her eyes— and you can’t believe the audacity. 

Scott looks back at you, cheek red with the sting of your rage as he points a finger at you, “Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” he scolds as if you were a child, warning you to leave the cookie jar alone. You scoff, your mouth falling agape as you laugh humorlessly. “Me? Touch her?” You point to the naked girl. Your neck heats in fury as you shake your head, “That is rich, Scott.” 

You step back, eyeing both of them and ignoring the lump in your throat as you speak, “So, how long has this been going on?” They stare at you like they’re fucking clueless, and it ticks you off to no end, “In my own fucking bed? With my best friend?” Your tears are hot as they begin streaming down your cheeks, and the harsh swipe of your wrist to wipe them away stings, but you refuse to let them see you cry. Your mind is cluttered with questions, but they come out like bullets, firing round after round. 

Angie takes to answering you, saying your name to halt your questions, “We– we’re in love, and… and he doesn’t..” She looks to Scott for guidance, her eyes pleading for him to help her. Your fingers shake in anger.

“I want to call the wedding off,” Scott says, looking you in the eyes while he and your best friend link fingers. They look fucking stupid, standing there naked and feigning unity– you almost want to laugh. You scoff again, folding your arms over your chest like that would hide your pain from them, despite the evident ghost of tears still clinging to your skin. 

You glance around the room, around at the life you had planned for yourself, for him. Pictures of your engagement day, the closet you two shared, the fucking bed you shared, the life the two of you shared. More tears fall, and you don’t bother brushing them away this time. You nod, defeated.  “Yeah, that’s– yeah, we can… we can do that.” You wipe at your tears, fingers shaking with agony as you swallow the words. 

Your ex-fiance reaches out for your arm, and you back away, like he’s contagious– like his touch carries the heat of the sun. “Don’t touch me,” you snarled, watery gaze boring into his brown eyes. 

“The wedding’s off, so… Take your shit and,” you look at your childhood best friend— your ex-childhood best friend, and your heart aches. This fucking hurts. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you dismissively wave your hand towards the clothes strewn across the floor, “And take her shit and get the fuck out.” You turn to leave but stop when Scott speaks, “I can’t just do that; I–” He stutters at the stab of your glare, “I need to call a truck so I can carry everything.” 

You laugh, tilting your head, “Nah, don’t worry, I can help you with that.”

You pace to your apartment window, swinging it open and ignoring the confused voices behind you when you start picking up various items. Scott’s eyes widen as he watches you storm over to the window, a heap of his things in your arms. He scrambles to you, yelling as you toss his stuff out the window. He’s looking out the window, watching them fall, “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” You shriek after every item you throw: his computer, acoustic guitar, books on Logistics, and How To Save Money Like A Businessman. 

You flutter about the room, shaking Angie off when she tries to grab you, ignoring her when she falls to the floor in a heap of naked limbs. You pick up a pricey statue that was Scott’s, ignoring his protests, courteously tossing it out the window to join his items. 

You storm out of the room, glancing around for any of Scott’s stuff. Yes, this was your apartment, but you were working on sharing it— sharing it with him. Your fiance. Ex-fiance. You skirt out to the living room, the two lovebirds hot on your tail and begging you to stop. You walk over to the balcony doors, pushing them open and ignoring the sound of the doors cracking against the wall, some picture frames falling to the floor. 

Pictures of you and him. 

You pick them up and toss them over the balcony, looking around for any other fallen pieces. You thoroughly sweep your apartment— as thoroughly as you can through your tears of rage, gathering jackets, shirts, and shoes and carelessly tossing them over the balcony. You ignore them as they hastily put on their clothes, brushing past them to pace to the door.

Your gaze is hot and heavy on Angie’s heels. Those shiny, blood-red, smooth pumps. They oozed sex appeal and smirked at you, asking, daring, challenging you. Angie scrambles to you, yelling for you to put them down, yelling that they were Jimmy Choos, that they were expensive— like you would care. 

You shrug her off as you walk back to the balcony, hanging them over the ledge and turning to gaze at her as she watches with tears brimming. Pathetic. You look into her eyes and drop them— one by one, “Fetch,” you whisper hoarsely.

Angie begins to cry, turning and running to Scott, who points an accusatory finger at you, “You’re a fucking crazy bitch. You couldn’t just end things like a civilized human fucking being?” He exclaims, “You are fucking insane!” He grits out, holding Angie by the waist. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and you better have my shit,” he says scathingly.

When they both have an appropriate amount of clothes on— Angie settling for one of his oversized shirts and panties, him with sweats— Scott hastily searches for his keys. You watch them both, numb and unmoving, and it feels like your body is vibrating in a storm of emotions. Scott finds his keys and wallet, yanking Angie by the hand and hauling her out the door, but not before he shoots you a glare— a look that tells you it’s over. Completely done with no room for redemption— you don’t care either way.

The door slams shut, and silence fills the space. You stand there for what seems like eons, basking in the fizzling heat of your emotions before shuffling towards your bag near the door and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. You search for your lighter, growing irritated when it seems to be missing. You toss your bag to the floor with a curse and walk to the gas stove, turning the knob until a rim of flames arises. You slip the cigarette between your snot-slick lips, ducking your head towards the stove top and watching the cancerous stick catch fire. 

You stand upright, inhaling and puffing out the smoke. You grab your flip phone, shuffling towards the balcony for fresh air while you make a call, but to your dismay, a crowd is gathered below your building, watching and taking pictures. At closer glance, you realize these people are none other than paparazzi— the very bane of your existence. They’re already recording; you can hear them chattering about what they suspect is happening, making up stories for the cameras and soon-to-come tabloids. 

Then, to make matters worse, Scott and Angie skirt out from the building entrance and start picking some items up, the paparazzi asking various intruding questions. Scott has enough grace and respect for you to deny a comment, opting for catching a taxi with Angie instead. With a roll of your eyes, you walk back into your apartment and busy yourself doing a shitty job clearing the mess you’d made. However, like clockwork, your phone rings.

You know it’s Miss Sinclair; well, Erica, as she always corrects you. Your music manager, a firecracker, that one, but overall a good friend on your side. 

You answer, taking a drag from the cigarette as you step onto your terrace again, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “What?” You ask snappily into the phone, glancing down at the crowd of people taking pictures of you. Assholes.

”What? What do you mean, what?” Erica hisses through the speaker. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Tiger?” A nickname she has for you that originated from God knows where. “Yeah, like… what’s up?” You play dumb, smiling sarcastically and waving innocently to the cameras below you.

“Why the hell do I have people blowing my line asking me why you’re tossing shit onto the streets of Los Angeles like it’s a goddamn Goodwill?” She impatiently asks.

You shrug, even though she can’t see you, “Dunno. See you tomorrow at the studio.” You pull the phone away from your ear, hearing her shriek and yell at you, commanding you not to hang up. You slap the flip phone closed, ending the call; her words cut off. You take another drag of the cigarette before flicking the bud off the balcony at the intruders, watching them back away to glare at you, yelling a few curses. You flip them two middle fingers in response before turning to walk back into your apartment, closing the doors behind you. 

You’re going to write a song. A kickass song.

“And then I threw all his shit out the fucking window,” you chuckle, retelling the story to your drinking companion, Robin Buckley, the drummer of your band. She smirks and downs another shot of vodka, “Yeah.. you uh,” she grimaces and smacks her lips at the bitter drink, “you created quite the stir earlier today,” She points at you and winks, picking up her forgotten glass of whiskey beside her and holding it out to you, in cheers. 

You sigh and smile, and inevitably you clink your whiskey-filled glass against hers as she says, “To shitty men and new beginnings— preferably with women,” she winks again, laughing along with you as you lighten up from her joke. You down the rest of your drink and put your glass down, sucking your teeth before rolling your lips inward as you stare thoughtlessly, the whiskey leaving burning kisses in your throat. 

The loud, underground celebrity-only bar drowns out behind you. What were you going to do? You had so much planned with Scott, an entire fucking wedding, a home, maybe even kids. And as if that’s not enough, you wrote an entire song about him. You were almost finished with it, so close to recording it and putting it out, maybe with tour dates to match. 

Now it's gone. Dead and buried. 

A whole song, written in 4 weeks, about your love, the love of your life, your supposed forever person, and he threw it all away. You knew love wasn’t easy. It never was, especially not after your rise to fame. It was hard to find time for date nights, for sex, for just seeing each other and talking. But you would’ve never imagined this to be how it ended.

You can’t help but feel as though this might have been your fault. Some small, pessimistic, mean part of you nagging that you could’ve prevented this if you had just changed. You tried to make time for Scott, you really did, but you got caught up in the music— the music for him. You worked tirelessly at it. For Scott to hear this song and immediately know it’s about him. You wanted it to be a wedding gift, maybe, to play it at your wedding for everyone to hear your love. You had never been so soft in a song, so open and disgustingly lovesick, and you wasted it all on him. Maybe it was your fault; perhaps it was for the better—

“Hey, you okay?” Robin cuts through your thoughts, “You went a little quiet there,” she smiles softly, playfully nudging her shoulder against yours. “Yeah,” you nod, “I-I’m good. Great.” You nod along with your words, trying fiercely to believe them.

You were not good, nor were you great. You were, to put it nicely, fucking wrecked. You were humiliated. How could anyone be okay after something like this? It was bad enough he cheated in the first place but with your best friend? You lost two of your closest people within the blink of an eye. It hurts more that they got each other while you got nothing but ghosts and memories. Scott was there for everything, your first real concert, the after-parties, the carpets. He was there for all of it. And he won’t be there anymore, and that hurts.

You shrug, laughing nervously and rubbing the bridge of your nose in distress, “I just can’t help but think that— that maybe this–” You motion your hands uselessly. Robin quickly interrupts you before you can finish your thought, “No. Do not go there. Are you insane? This,” she motions lazily over your figure, copying you, “was not your fault.” She shakes her head, sincerity laced within her voice and gaze. “Believe me when I say that— I would tell you if you were a crazy bitch, trust.” She smiles and nudges you again with her shoulder, pulling a laugh from you. 

You sigh, rotating your neck to stretch it out, rolling your shoulders, “So, like, what’s up with you?” You ask to lighten the mood, leaning on the bar counter with your elbows. It works because she laughs and nods, looking down at the glasses of whiskey as the bartender wordlessly fills them back up. She traces her finger around the rim of it, still nodding, “I-I’ve been good, you know,” she glances at you and shyly looks away when you begin to smirk, “Just sorta.. Hangin’ out, I guess. Shootin’ the shit,” she shrugs, and you laugh. “Yeah, so when did you guys hook up?” You say over your glass rim innocently, laughing even harder when the girl turns red in the face and sputters over her drink. 

“We did not hook up!” She exclaims, wiping the drink from her lips. “Me and Nance,” she shakes her head, “we just… We, like, hung out, you know?” She shrugged. You mockingly raise an eyebrow as she keeps talking, “And like smoked a bit and maybe drank and then like, there was a movie involved, and then she kissed me and—” You interrupt her rambling with a wave of your hand, “Alright, no more details. You totally hooked up,” you laugh, and she blushes harder, laughing and shaking her head, “Definitely did not.” she scoffs.

“You definitely did.” You challenge.

“Did not.” She shoots back.

“Did.”

She groans and shakes you, “If I pay for your tab, will you shut up?” she offers. You pretend to think dramatically for a moment before giving in and nodding, laughing when she slams a one hundred dollar bill on the counter and gets up, picking her leather jacket from behind her chair. “God, you are so annoying,” she complains, shucking her coat over her Daughters of Vampira band t-shirt. 

You get up, shrugging your leather jacket on and snickering, “Nah, you love me,” you teasingly say, shoving at her shoulder. She smirks and shakes her head, heading for the exit, “Yeah, you wish,” She pushes the door open and steps outside into the chilly Los Angeles night, immediately shoving her hands into her pockets. 

You opt for taking the damaged, smashed pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and pulling a matching lighter out. The lighter has a siren with long, blonde locks and a green, shimmery mermaid tail. You pull out a cigarette and stick it between your lips, igniting the flame and holding it up to the end of the cigarette. You bask in the warmth emanating from the flame, a soft heat kissing your nose. You pull the lighter away and puff, blowing the tobacco back out.

“Man, all I wanted was a peaceful drink, and I got verbally berated instead,” Robin jokes.  You laugh, blowing smoke in her face before stopping, looking ahead. You freeze, and not because of the air; the cogs in your brain start moving, fired up with the fuel of alcohol and the lightheaded buzz of nicotine. You still your movements, looking at your friend, “What did you say?” you ask slowly, pulling your gaze from the busy car-filled street. 

Her face heats up, eyes widening and hands flying from her pockets to raise in defense, “No, I mean, like— I was kidding. I wasn’t being serious—” you interrupt her by waving your hand hastily that was holding a cigarette, before looking at it and tossing it carelessly to the side. You aimlessly shake your hands at her, “No, what did you just say?” You stare into her eyes, watching as she tries to connect the dots. 

She raises her eyebrows in confusion, shrugging before saying slowly, “All I wanted—” You stop her, snapping and pointing, walking away and walking back, obviously pacing. “Yes! Yes— that. It’s perfect.” You stop pacing for a second, standing with your hands on your hips. Robin laughs nervously, fiddling with her zipper jacket, “Uh, what is happening right now? Am I in trouble?” she jokes anxiously, but you ignore her. 

You were thinking. Thinking hard. 

All I wanted. All you wanted? All I wanted. 

You repeat it to her, mumbling the words, gaze still focused on the ground, “All I wanted.” You say, pulling your eyes back up to hers. “Uh.. yeah– All I wanted…was a drink,” she parrots back, nodding dumbly, placating you like a small child doing a math equation. 

You smile mischievously, “Robin, you’re a fucking genius!” You all but shriek, earning some glances from the sidewalk. You pay no attention to them, but Robin does, grabbing your shoulder and pushing you into a walk, looking around her to not draw attention to the both of you, but it’s difficult when you’re wildly smiling and humming out a guitar tempo. 

“Dude, what are you talking about?” She stresses, “Please tell me what’s happening; I have no idea what is socially acceptable to say right now,” she explains nervously, hand moving to grasp at your elbow, keeping you in motion. “Robin, we have to go to the studio right now,” you beg, looking her in her eyes, your gaze shining in inspiration. “What? No, what? Why?” She steps in front of you and halts your walking, “What is happening?” she pleads, leaning forward and pressing her palms together in a praying motion— silently asking you to please elaborate. You move past her, still walking, still thinking. 

Robin jogs to catch up to you, “Tell me what you’re thinking, please,” she begs. You look at her and smirk, “I have an idea for a song,” you conclude. Upon hearing this, Robin smiles like the fucking Cheshire cat.

“Hit me, Tiger.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh when his friend tells him what happened. He pauses for a moment, staring at Scott and waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he never does, and Eddie nearly dies of laughter, the rest of the band along with him.

“Holy shit,” Eddie gasps between laughter. Gareth snorts, raising his eyebrow in shock as he speaks, “She threw your shit out the window?” 

Scott rolls his eyes, flipping the brown-haired boy off, sipping his beer, and leaning back into the red leather couch. Eddie shakes his head as he swivels around in his chair to mess with the studio soundboard, “That’s what you get when you fuck crazy bitches, man,” Eddie laughs, glancing up to watch Jeff mess around with chords in the sound booth. He listens as he speaks, “I mean, sure, she was hot,” He shrugs, reaching over for his box of cigarettes, “Insane tits or whatever, but at what cost?” He snorts. 

Scott shrugs, downing the rest of his beer and tossing the bottle into the small trash bin near the soundboard. 

“I mean, the sex was definitely good, but she just— I dunno, man,” he shakes his head and dismissively waves his hand, “She’s too much of a firecracker. Angie is way more docile,” he concludes. He snickers as he thinks it over, “Easier to deal with,” he smirks, reaching down to the floor to pick up another beer. Gareth snickers and Eddie grimaces with a shake of his head; he then smirks as he slides a cigarette between his lips, “Nah, the firecrackers are the fun ones, man.” he speaks around the paper as he lights the cancerous stick, sucking and blowing out the smoke. “So, what now?” Gareth asks, taking a swig of his drink as he looks at Scott. 

Scott shrugs, opening the glass bottle of beer and sipping it, “Yeah, y’know… no wedding, I’m with Angie, whatever,” he says, and Eddie chuckles, glancing over his shoulder for a moment, “Yeah, I get it,” he nods, taking another drag off his cigarette, lost in his thoughts. You’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good… A lightbulb goes off in his head. 

“Wait, guys,” he swivels around in his chair to face Gareth and Scott. The two boys look up at him as Eddie speaks, “We’ve all had crazy girlfriends, right?” His gaze bounces between the boys as he puffs on the cigarette before standing up and pushing the bud of it into Gareth’s bottle, much to his dismay. He ignores Gareth’s complaints, ignoring the boys laughing at him, pacing the room, mind swirling to the sound of Jeff’s guitar. 

Through the fog of chords and lyrics, Eddie continues speaking, “All of our ex-girlfriends— and ex-fiances,” he blindly points to Scott as he paces, ignoring when Scott scoffs, “are crazy bitches,” he points out, looking back at the group. “I mean, I can’t remember the last time I had a normal fucking girlfriend,” he snickers. The boys look at Eddie as if they’re concerned, confusion written across their faces that Eddie could care less to ease, “This is fucking inspiration, boys! Let’s write this shit down,” He leans on the soundboard, “Let’s expose this chick,” He snickers.

He walks into the sound booth and grabs his guitar from the stand, pulling the strap over his neck as he nods toward Jeff, “Keep playing that,” he orders. Despite his masked confusion, Jeff continues to play the riff he’d been tweaking. Eddie steps up to the mic in the middle of the sound booth, reaching for the headphones to slip them over his head, leaving one ear uncovered. He gestures to Gareth through the glass, motioning for him to tag along.

Gareth puts his beer down and walks in, glancing at Eddie in confusion, “You gonna tell us what we’re playing or?” He sits behind his drums as Eddie tweaks the strings on his guitar. “Just follow along, man.” Eddie distractedly mumbles. Gareth and Jeff glance at one another— Eddie often has moments like this, and they have yet to get used to it. Gareth shrugs, picking up his deeply mangled drumsticks and tapping a beat to Jeff’s strings.

Eddie mumbles to himself, fingers ghosting chords over the frets as he nods his head to the beat. He picks up with Gareth and Jeff’s sound, shredding along to create a fuller sound, the images of the music he’d composed in his mind coming to life just below his fingertips. Scott watches from outside the sound booth, standing up to lean over the soundboard. He watches, intrigued, as they play together, wordlessly tweaking until they all compliment each other. Scott reaches over with a smirk and hits the record button just in time for Eddie to chime in on the mic, finally spitting out the lyrics they’d all be waiting to hear.

And it’s fucking good. 

“Alllriiight!”

It’s raunchy, unhinged, and all things dirty. On top of that, it’s a massive fuck you to Scott’s ex, and Scott can’t keep the grin off his face as he adds the bass to the track, snickering at the words Eddie sings. They work on the song all day, throwing in new verses and tweaks until they feel satisfied for the time being. They sit outside the sound booth and nurse a round of beers as they play the song, listening to what they have so far, grinning and nodding along to the beat, laughing at the absurdity of the lyrics.

“Hey, you’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good, I’m on top of it.”

“It’s good… as much as I hate to say it, it’s good.” Scott laughs, rolling his eyes when the boys cheer. Sitting on the swivel chair in front of the soundboard, Eddie reaches out and nudges Scott's foot with his own, “You might get a few slashed tires when she hears this, you know.” He snickers over the rim of his beer bottle.

Scott laughs and shrugs, “Can’t be any worse than what she’s already done.” He jokes. The boys all laugh, watching Jeff as he raises his beer in the gesture of a toast, “To crazy bitches.” The boys all raise their beers in unity, parroting back, “To crazy bitches!” They clink their drinks and laugh, taking sips.

“You’re crazy, but I like the way you fuck me.”

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream,”

Your voice filters through the speakers, thick studio headphones skewed on your head as you fiddle with the soundboard knobs and buttons. You sigh and push the headphones to rest around your neck, rubbing your hands tiredly over your face. You take a glance at the clock— 4:34 AM. Goddamn. You had truly been here all night. After your night out with Robin, drinking your feelings away, and your quick epiphany moment, you guys caught a taxi straight here and got to business. That was at 10:46 PM. 

Poor Robin, you put the girl through the wringer. Making her drum out new beats, forcing her to pluck out a bass riff to the best of her abilities. The rest of your band was, without a doubt, asleep, and you didn’t want to bother them with your antics. And, of course, you all were close, but it was just different with you and Robin. You guys could be together for hours and never tire of one another. You just clicked. 

Maybe it was also the fact that you didn’t want to face whatever awkward encounter was bound to happen between Robin and Nancy, opting to wait until the morning to see them face one another. Robin was fully asleep underneath the sound booth, using both of your jackets as a pillow. Her fingers are wrapped around the beer she’d been drinking; hand cuddled up to her face. You pull out your cigarettes from your pocket, pulling one stick out and sliding it between your lips. You light it up and puff on the cigarette, glancing at Robin beneath the table before reaching down and carefully snagging her beer. You take a quick swig, quietly listening to the song. 

“All I wanted was you,

All I wanted was you.”

The guitar that comes in right after is powerful. It’s beautiful; it showcases your anger, your betrayal, your heart that still aches. This was supposed to be a love song for Scott, but after tweaking a few lyrics, it quickly became a song laced with hatred and resentment— a piece of heartbreak and anguish you’re still clearly sorting through. But that’s all that love is, right? Just two people fighting and slashing at each other until one inevitably gives in and waves a white flag? 

You down the rest of your stolen beer, still taking drags of the cigarette and blowing it back out. It wasn’t unusual for you to be the only one here at ungodly hours of the night, but it was one of the first times you were here with your friend and bandmate. Knowing she was here for you after such a chaotic, hectic day, supporting you even at unreasonable hours, was nice.

You replay the lyrics repeatedly, playing with the weak bass Robin was barely able to play. You should go home; you know you should, given how late it is and the dryness that begins to seep through your eyes, but you hate the feeling that runs through your bones when you think about what used to be your and Scott’s home. You don’t want to go home. Home is where everything ended. Home is no longer home— not after what happened. Home is where you’ll go to relieve the day over and over again until you get tired enough to pass out. 

And then it hits you; lyrics, more heartache hits you. The song was initially titled The Only Exception, but the words changed after playing around for several hours. You stuff the cigarette bud in the beer bottle, letting it fizzle out as you get up from your swivel chair to try and find a notebook— a notepad, napkins, or something, but you only find a pen. Frustrated with your lack of writing materials, you look at your surroundings hungrily before your eyes land on Robin’s bare arm. 

You pace back to the soundboard and reach underneath to yank on Robin’s arm, waking her up for a split second. You ignore Robin’s grumbly and slurred “What the fuck?” and proceed with your task as she inevitably falls back asleep. You yank the pen cap off with your teeth and begin jotting down lyrics on Robin’s pale, freckled, tattooed arm. 

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott and your favorite thing to do was watch old 1950s classic films. You guys watched them so much, watched so many of them, over and over again, that you could quote them to one another. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you write these lyrics down, some falling on Robin’s arm and smudging the ink. You curse and press your palm to the running ink to dry whatever can be salvaged from your sloppy work. You drop her arm to the ground and hear her briefly groan as you pace back into the sound booth, picking up your black guitar from the stand and pulling the strap over your upper body. 

You move your headphones around your neck to sit over your ears, waiting for your next move. You start strumming out a guitar riff, basking in the glory of the echoing sounds and its full, tough ring. You push your lips to the microphone and begin mumbling, playing with more lyrics in your head before you sing.

“I could follow you to the beginning,

Just to relive the start.

And maybe then, we’d remember to slow down.

At all of our favorite parts.”

The tears are freefalling now; the dark eyeliner you’d spent the past hours smudging leaves roads of sorrow against your skin. You and Scott were together for seven magical months. Yeah, it was quick— pathetic in a different light, but you’d been mindlessly in love. And fuck, would it have been a mistake if you did end up marrying him. He was a production assistant and a bassist with no new lines of work coming, opting to freeload off his friend’s band, Corroded Coffin, playing with them at shows whenever they needed him. 

And it’s working for him so far— until it doesn’t. As much as you hate to admit, Scott is talented. He’s good with his instrument and has a good ear for sound, but despite his talent, he has no real drive— no actual want to succeed and be at the top of the music pyramid with you. As you continue to play with the guitar, you stop for a second to wipe your eyes, thoroughly smudging your makeup now and probably making you look insane. 

Scott had good moments, though. When it was good, it was good— spontaneous nights out, making out in alleyways like lovesick teenagers, and every second feeling like a movie until the credits rolled— but when it was bad, it was really fucking bad. Fights, stupid arguments, bickering, breaking expensive items, and threatening to leave each other until he makes it up to you with mediocre sex and breakfast in bed the next day. You loved him, you did, and you believe he loved you too, but you just can’t pinpoint where it all went wrong. 

You stop strumming the guitar and huff waterily, setting the guitar back on the stand and ripping your headphones off your head before tossing them to the ground. You sit on a metal, foldable chair beside you and lean forward to push your head into your hands. 

You really blew the fuck up on him. Did you overreact? Did you honestly act like a crazy bitch? Fuck, maybe you should apologize. 

You can hear Robin in the back of your head, nagging and begging you to stop thinking self-destructive thoughts like this, telling you you’re insane for even thinking of apologizing, but you just can’t help it. You venture down the deep, dark, but welcoming rabbit hole of psycho-analyzing every romantic relationship you’ve ever had. None of your relationships have lasted— the ones in high school, obviously, but you’ve been out of that shit hole for years now, yet you’re still playing the never-ending game of kiss and tell.

Life in Hawkins was a weird, dull one. All the boys you brought home never shared the same interests as you and certainly did not like that you had a mind of your own. They didn’t like the clothes you wore, or the makeup you did, or the music you listened to. They thought you and the rest of the band were stupid and wasting your lives trying to be something big with the weird sound you carried. Nothing about you or the people you hung out with fit the cookie-cutter shape of Hawkins, and you learned that the hard way. 

You were more of a dirty secret for boys in your school. Nobody wanted to express their love or attraction to you openly, but they sure as hell did so behind closed doors. Your first boyfriend, Brady, was a star on the wrestling team; he didn’t mind showing you off much because nobody had the guts to talk shit about him— too scared to get sucker punched. Brady lasted a few months before you eventually cut ties with each other. 

There were a few others after Brady, all meeting the same dead end you’re so familiar with. Although there was one guy— Eddie Munson— people believed you would be perfect for each other. You liked the same music, dressed relatively the same, and had shitty high school bands nobody wanted to listen to. Logistically, it was a perfect match; the only problem was Eddie Munson is an asshole. 

Scum of the earth, piece of shit, grade-A asshole.

Scott was friends with him, and on occasion, you would sometimes cross paths at parties or hangouts with mutual friends; and every single run-in you’ve had with the man left you with a splitting migraine and an itching impulse to smash his head through a window. He’s awful; he doesn’t respect you or any woman for that matter, he acts like he’s a living god, and he and his shitty band won (stole) that fucking music contest in Hawkins back in ‘87, and you’ll never forget it. That’s how you met him, and your guys’ race to the top hasn’t let up since.

And now that you think of it, it’s not surprising that Eddie and Scott get along so well— they’re both sexist assholes. 

You’re milling in your thoughts for what seems like hours, tears dried and itching against your skin. You’re not sure how long you sit in the sound booth, but before you know it, Robin’s hoarse voice is cracking through the speakers of the sound booth, “As much as I think you’re a musical genius and love the way you work in mysterious ways, it’s extremely late, and we both need to catch some sleep before tomorrow.”

Your face twists in confusion, “Tomorrow? What’s special about tomorrow?” You ask, your voice cracking. Robin shifts on her feet, brows furrowing at your confusion, “We’re meeting with the record label. Remember we’re playing them our new album?”

Fuck. You completely forgot about that, and all of those songs, except for maybe three, are based around your stupid ex-fiance that just dumped you for your best friend. You sigh, dropping your head in your hands and running your palms over your face. You let out a long groan into your hands, not even hearing Robin opening the door to the sound booth and walking up to you. Her chilled fingers wrap around your wrists to pull your hands away from your face. Her blue eyes are tired and full of love and warmth as she squats before you to gaze at you, “Talk to me.”

Tears brim your eyes at her soft voice, and you wince— you really wish you could stop fucking crying. You rub at your teary eyes and shake your head, “It’s just—” you sigh and blearily blink down at Robin, “they’re all about him, Rob.” You frown.

Robin patiently waits for you to find the words, comfortingly squeezing your tear-dampened fingers. “Every song on the album is about him and I… I really don’t wanna spend an entire tour singing about him.” You softly speak, avoiding her gaze.

The brown-haired girl shuffles closer to you, ducking into your gaze and shrugging, “That’s okay,” she shakes her head, “We can scrap it. I mean, the label might be a little pissed, but just… play them what we did tonight, and I guarantee you they’ll extend our time.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head, “What? No. Robin, the song’s not finished—” “We don’t get another chance with this, Tiger. We either play them what we did tonight or give them the album.”

And you know Robin is right; she does not want to give you an ultimatum, but it’s the inevitable truth. You can either play the song and hope it’s the best thing the label has ever heard, or you suck it up and play them the album full of bittersweet words that leave a sticky residue clogging your throat.

You look at Robin, her patient and tired gaze locked on your face. You chew on the inside of your cheek, thinking it over for a moment— and it could work. The new song you’d just recorded is insane— nothing you’ve ever done before and, without a doubt, has a groundbreaking sound. It could work.

Max and Nancy are going to kill you tomorrow.

You nod your head, “Okay,” you breathe. Robin’s lips slowly stretch into a smile, “I’m gonna play it for them.” You nod. Robin shoots up to her feet with a cheer.

“Perfect! Now wipe those tears, and let's get the fuck out of here.”

You and Robin look like hell. You’re sporting heavy undereye bags with dark circles, while Robin opted to cover her evident lack of sleep with a pair of dark shades. Nancy and Max look concerned when they see you both sitting in the lobby of your label’s building. Nancy, of course, chastised you for your lateness while Max just snickered in the corner. Max suddenly makes a face as she speaks, “Why do you guys look like you’ve been hit by a bus?”

Robin tiredly groans, shifting in her seat with a yawn, “Stayed at the studio late.” She mumbles. Nancy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Why? I thought we had everything ready for today.” She points out, obviously concerned. Nothing would ever get done if you didn’t have Nancy in the band. Now that you look at her, she has a manila folder in her hands, most likely stuffed with questions, comments, concerns, budgets, and more. She was more like Erica’s assistant than your bass player. But fuck, could her skilled fingers pluck out a riff.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, glancing over at Robin, who seems to be now passed out behind her glasses, offering you no help. You scoff. Of course. You mentally punch Robin in the face. You fidget with the rings on your fingers as you begin to explain. “So, basically,” you start, “I came home yesterday and found Scott and Angie fucking in my bed, so I threw their shit out the window and then called Robin,” you barely pay attention to Nancy and Max’s widening eyes as you spew out the events of yesterday. You knew they already knew, probably from Erica or the fucking tabloids. Hell, the whole fucking world knew, but they acted like this was their first time hearing about it. 

You ramble on about the events, telling them about you finding inspiration and dragging Robin to the studio, drunk, only to decide to scrap the album you’d all been working on for the past few months. 

That last bit of information didn’t go so well, however. 

“You what?”

You wince at Max’s sneering tone, glancing at Nancy to try and get a read on her expressionless face. “Please tell me you’re joking,” Max says, voice teetering on the precipice of panic. You wish Robin would wake the fuck up. “I… I know I’m really taking a leap of faith here, but I need you guys to trust me on this,” you plead, gaze hopefully bouncing between the two women, “Please.”

Max folds her arms across her chest, tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek before she shakes her head, “I swear if this fucks us over, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” She breaks, and you’re just thankful she agrees to follow your and Robin’s plan. She turns around and walks over to plop into the seat on the other side of the lobby, glancing at you before speaking, “Sorry about Scott, by the way…” she mumbles. “Maybe it’s a good thing; I never liked all those love songs anyways…” She smiles apologetically, and you huff out a chuckle.

Nancy nudges her foot against your leather boot, “You were out of his league anyway. He was dumber than a rock.” She adds to Max’s apology. You snicker and thank them for their condolences. Nancy sits on the chair next to Max and sighs heavily, “Did you tell Erica about the change?” she asks, already flipping through her folder. You pretended you didn’t hear the question, which was not a good idea. 

The two girls begin to panic at your eerie silence. Nancy’s face falls, and Robin fucking snores, “You did tell Erica, right?” She presses. Your silence says enough.

Max groans, leaning forward to sink her head into the palm of her hands, “We’re so fucked.”

And when the time comes, you’re not exactly sure what the label is thinking. All the board members wear the same unwavering expression as they listen to All I Wanted. You glance at Nancy and Max, who are both visibly shaken with nerves; Max’s leg bouncing at an ungodly rate beneath the table, and Nancy’s poor fingers picked to shreds. Robin, who’s now awake, is busying herself with doodling random sketches on the napkin in front of her, and you’re— well, you’re hardly breathing. 

Erica looks thoroughly pissed; you don’t doubt she’d thought about strangling you the second you announced you were scraping the album. You could tell she was itching to make some phone calls as her stone-hard gaze stayed on you throughout the whole listening session. You pretended you didn’t notice her.

When the demo ends, a thick silence settles over the room, and you lean forward, pressing pause on the track to prevent the CD from repeating. You awkwardly scratch the side of your neck, “I-It’s not done; I’m still working on it, but um—” You glance at the table of faces and gulp. You haven’t been this nervous in longer than you can remember. “I know it can be something. Something big.”

James, the CEO of the record label, clears his throat and leans forward, pressing his elbows onto the thick wooden table. A burning cigarette hangs between his fingers as he points to the middle of the table where the CD player sits, “This is about Scott, yes?”

All eyes are on you, and you have no choice but to nod yes. James takes a drag of his cigarette, eyebrows furrowing as he silently thinks. You glance at your friends, a wave of nerves washing through your body at the anticipation. “What happened yesterday can never happen again. You almost ruined your image. Almost.” He finally speaks, his stern gaze locked in on you. You almost want to shrink in your seat, feeling like a child being scolded in the principal's office as he continues to speak. “You're a good talent, but if you don't know how to act like a grown woman, you won’t have a place here.” 

You scoff and open your mouth, a smart response on the tip of your tongue, until Robin harshly kicks the heel of her leather boot into your ankle. You hiss in pain, sucking on your teeth to poorly conceal it. You relent and nod your head, “I understand.”

James nods and flicks the ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray beside him, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh, “Now,” his lips split into a smug grin, a grin that tells you that you won, “Get this track finished by the end of the week. I want it on air by Monday morning.”

Monday morning, Eddie is hauling ass down I-405, without a doubt breaking many traffic laws he could care less about, given he’s late to his studio session with the band. When is he not late? He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips and the smell of last night's alcohol on his clothes. As he meticulously swerves and weaves in and out of LA traffic, he jams his finger to turn his radio on, flipping through static, noise, ads, shitty pop music, and landing on a seemingly decent Rock station. 

He takes his cigarette out of his mouth and puffs the rest before tossing it out of the open window. His hair tousles from the wind, and he bats the curly strands away whenever they fly into his view. His ringed fingers grip the steering wheel, swerving out of the way of a truck before honking and throwing up a middle finger. What he misses during that exchange is the introduction of the song.

“Next up is a new hit single named All I Wanted by Daughters of Vampira! Daughters of Vampira will be going on tour soon; stay tuned for details!”

Then, the music starts when he finally starts to slow down after narrowly missing the truck.

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream.”

Your voice filters through his car stereo, unbeknownst to Eddie, and he glances down at his music console. He slowly turns the volume dial up, intrigued by the sound and wanting to know where it’s leading. When the ferocious guitar shred comes in, his face twists in approval, turning the volume even louder as he bobs his head to the tune. Whoever’s band this was, is fucking good. It’s not every day you hear a good Rock song sung by a woman, he thinks.

“All I wanted was you, oh,

All I wanted was you, oh!”

Eddie’s not sure why it takes him so long to realize the voice playing through his speakers is none other than the lead singer of that stupid fucking feminazi band Daughters of Vampira. He nearly chokes when he realizes it’s your voice, turning the volume up to max and listening to the words.

It’s… sad. The lyrics are like the gut-wrenching heartbreak you see in movies, aching and drenched with the grief of a love that was supposed to be great. And your voice is so fucking raw, so angry, and filled with pain that it brings Eddie to a stand-still, the skin on his arms raising in tiny bumps at the sheer emotion. Eddie almost forgets he’s in his car until he hears the car behind him honking, the man behind the wheel yelling at him to go now that the traffic light has turned green. He doesn’t move an inch, afraid he’ll miss a beat of this slice of heartache.

The song ends, and Eddie turns off his radio, choosing to spend the rest of his ride in silence as the gnawing feeling of guilt settles in his gut. By the sound of it, Scott really did a fucking number on you— tore your heart out, chewed it up, spit it out, and stepped on it like a spider on a sidewalk— and Eddie knows what that feels like; he’s had his heart broken before so he knows what it feels like to be so angry at the love you had for a person. It’s a shitty feeling.

So, Eddie’s not sure why he decides to be an asshole and tell the boys about your new song, but he does. The second he enters the studio, he tells Gareth to turn on the radio.

“...Why?” Gareth questions with a tone of suspicion. Eddie brushes his question off and walks to lean over the desk, turning the radio on and beginning to switch through the stations. “Uh, Eddie… we’ve got some work to do, man, we don’t have time for—” “Shh, just give me a second,” Eddie snaps. 

“It’s gotta be playing somewhere.” Eddie mumbles, eyebrows furrowed, ringed finger going overtime on the dial, abruptly stopping when he finally hears it. “This is it! This is it; just listen.” Eddie turns the volume up and stands up to his full height, hands on his hips, and chews on his lip as they silently listen to the song.

Jeff is the first to speak through the sound of drums and intense chords, “Why are we listening to this?” Eddie waves him off, telling him just to wait— just wait until the verse.

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott’s eyes widen, striding over to Eddie’s side and gazing at the boombox in shock, “No fuckin’ way.” He breathes. Eddie looks at Scott as he reaches over to increase the volume. Gareth twirls his drumstick between his knuckles and deeply sighs as he leans back in his chair and kicks his feet up onto the soundboard, “Dude, no offense, but why are we listening to this shit?” He asks. Scott turns to the boys and points back to the radio, “That’s my fucking bitch ex singing about me.”

Jeff and Gareth’s eyes widen, both boys leaning forward in their seats to listen to the lyrics. Scott curses and reaches over to shut the radio off, letting a thick silence fall over the room. Jeff is the first to break and nervously laugh, and Eddie grins, Gareth falling into a fit of laughter behind Jeff’s. “Why the fuck are you guys laughing?” Scott sneers.

Eddie chuckles, reaching out to rest his hands on Scott’s shoulders and turn him to face each other, “You don’t get it, man,” Eddie begins. Scott’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and Eddie smiles mischievously, “This is the perfect time to drop Crazy Bitch.”

You nearly blow a gasket when you first hear Corroded Coffin’s new song. Nancy did quite a good job of bringing you down to somewhat of a levelheaded state and getting you to understand that killing Scott or slashing his tires wouldn’t be the wisest of decisions to make. You still aren’t convinced.

You try your best to ignore the song, switching the radio to a different station whenever it plays, but it seems like that fucking track follows you wherever you go. A week after the song's release, you’re walking down the street with Robin, browsing the stores that catch your eye and chatting about whatever comes to mind.

You hardly notice the crowd gathered outside the store you are in until Robin points it out, nudging your side and nodding towards the window, “Looks like we’ve got company today.” she mumbles. You curse, shelving the shirt you’d been looking at as you grumble to Robin, “Seriously, how the fuck did they find us?”

You suppose the rest of your day out won’t last much longer, so you and Robin decide to make your way home, stepping out into the crowd and shoving through a sea of flashing bulbs. 

Over time, you’ve mustered up the strength to ignore the questions paparazzi throw at you; questions about who you’re dating, your sexuality, your political beliefs— questions of generally no substance or anything to do with your music. You’ve become numb to the reality of your life being plastered on tabloids and riddled with lies; it doesn’t really hurt you anymore. 

However, you’re still a human being, and you have moments where you crack, and today seems to be one of those moments when a man yells out, “You were seen dumping your ex-fiance Scott's items into the street! So is the song true? Did you and Eddie Munson have an affair? Is that why you and Scott broke up?” 

Robin tenses, glancing at you and silently pleading for you to just keep walking. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

You glare but smile at the man, flashing your white, shark-like teeth, “If you wanna know so bad, why don’t you ask Scott and Angie yourself?” You sneer. 

A few of the men snicker, one whistling and commenting about you being feisty, but you ignore it and continue as you and Robin finally reach your car, “And for the record, I wouldn’t touch that asshole with a ten-inch pole. His dick is small.” You grin sarcastically, opening your car door and getting in without another word. You hear the crowd erupt in more questions outside your car, some scribbling stuff down on their notepads and some laughing.

You groan in annoyance, buckling yourself in and starting the car as Robin settles in the passenger seat. You don’t miss the chance to flip the mob of men off when you drive off, leaving them behind with screeching tires. It’s silent until Robin chuckles, and you glance at her, “What’s so funny?”

Robin shrugs and shakes her head, “Nothing,” she says, “Just that Erica’s gonna murder you.” You roll your eyes and slide a pair of shades on. “When is she not wanting to murder me?” 

The media erupted after your comment about womanizer and rockstar Eddie Munson. Many fans came to your aid, voicing the truth of the breakup and defending you and your band. In contrast, many other fans— Corroded Coffin’s cult of assholes— came to Eddie’s defense, stating that he was only doing charity work to get your name in the papers. That you were fucking your way to the top of the music industry and much, much more deeply misogynistic statements. 

You didn’t care for any of it. You, your friends, your family, and your band knew what actually happened. The best part is that Scott knew the truth, and he was a shit fucking liar. He couldn’t cover up what happened if his life depended on it. It made you think of how he could lie about the affair for as long as he did. You don’t dwell on that thought for too long, growing tired of digging deeper into the pit of despair Scott had so happily tossed you into.

At the end of the day, your image is in shambles, and if your image is fucked, then so is the bands. Daughters of Vampira wasn’t booking anything; shows, meet-and-greets, autograph signings— nothing. Even though All I Wanted was an enormous hit and ended up in the charts, people couldn’t get over the fact that you, the lead singer, tend to be explosive. You would’ve felt bad about this if Eddie’s image hadn’t suffered the same fate. 

Eddie and his band immediately stopped booking shows after their song Crazy Bitch. Of course, it was a big success, but only because the drama fueled it. Young women stopped throwing themselves at the band and instead opted for screaming, “Woman haters!” and “Sexist pigs!” at them whenever they were out. It had been fucking rough, and it only got worse after Eddie commented to the paparazzi while he was out on a coffee run in the streets of Los Angeles.

“How the fuck do they always find me?” Eddie grumbles to himself, putting on a fake smile for the group.

Eddie was rocking a pair of shades, thinking of ways to quickly escape the mob, when a young boy approached him from the crowd. He had a Corroded Coffin shirt on with a photograph of Eddie clenched to his chest as he kindly asked for an autograph. 

“Sure, kid,” Eddie crouches down to the boy’s height and gently takes the photograph and Sharpie, "who am I signing it for?” He smiles softly at the boy, “For Thomas, sir!” The boy politely says, his eyes shining in excitement. “Thomas, sick name, man.” Eddie compliments, yanking the cap off with his teeth. He signs his name with a Let’s fuckin’ ROCK! in the corner, putting the lid back and handing the photo back to the boy. 

He smiles when the boy squeals in excitement and offers him a fist bump before standing up to his full height. “Thank you, Mr. Munson!” Eddie snickers and nods, “‘Course, but hey, don’t call me Munson; call me Ed,” He smirks, and the kid laughs. “Mr. Muns– Ed, I have a question for you,” the kid shyly asks. 

Eddie’s heart implodes at the cuteness of this little shithead and chuckles as he responds, “Shoot, kid, I’m all ears,” Eddie ignores the flashes from the cameras, taking photos of this pure and innocent moment. He ignores the coos from the women, from the kid’s parents, all of it, just zoned in on this small child meeting his hero. Him.

“Ed, is it true that you hate girls?”

And just like that, the moment is over.

Eddie turns red in the face and forces a harsh but nervous laugh. The crowd closes in upon hearing the exchange and begins asking a multitude of questions. The parents snag their son away and start expressing profuse apologies that Eddie waves off. “Nah, nah, the kid’s fine. But uh, to answer your question, no, that isn’t true, Tommy boy,” he says, looking at the child standing beside his mother’s legs. He takes out a pack of smokes and opens it, sliding a cigarette between his lips as he adds, “I am a really big fan of girls,” he flashes a dazzling smile around the stick and does finger guns at the small kid before he turns and begins to walk away. 

He’s forgotten all about his coffee, and now all he wants is to get the fuck outta there. 

He lights the cigarette up and ignores the crowd of paparazzi following him, cameras still in motion. He rolls his eyes, body buzzing in annoyance from the kid's question and the crowd. He continues walking the street as more questions and fans approach him. As Eddie signs a woman’s photograph, a cigarette hanging from his lips, an interviewer comments with a camera already zoned in and recording Eddie’s face. No doubt this will be on MTV tonight. No doubt he won’t hear the end of it from Dustin and Steve.

“Eddie, did you hear what the frontwoman of Daughters of Vampira has said about you? Can we get a response?” He shoves the mic into Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s lips break into a grin, but he doesn’t look up from the autograph he’s signing. “Yeah… yeah, I heard, and y’know what? She can come find out herself if it’s small or not,” He looks up and smirks right at the camera, “Have a nice day.” He smiles tightly at the interviewer and hastily flags down a taxi, hopping in and yelling at the driver to step on it. He watches as the crowd grows smaller and smaller with distance, his heart thundering in his chest. He takes deep breaths to slow his pulse down, to stop thinking of you. 

It never seems to slow as his mind can’t move on from you or that damn song.

Both the managers of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira are pushed to the limit with you and Eddie. Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington are co-managers of Corroded Coffin, mainly because Steve has the money and Dustin has the brains to man the operation. All Steve really does is cut the checks and warn the team when to cut back on the extracurriculars. 

Erica, Steve, and Dustin are all from Hawkins and are quite familiar with each other due to living in a small town where everyone knows everybody. They, along with all members of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira, all sort of grew up with one another in the 80s and have always been on this whimsical journey together. As the years went by, you all drifted, more so because of the competition, but aside from the band, the managers stayed relatively civil with one another. Erica, Steve, and Dustin stayed in touch because sometimes they couldn’t handle the two bands, which is why Erica summoned the two boys to a bar in downtown LA.

Erica Sinclair is seemingly always tested by you and has no idea where to go or what her next move should be. She has times when she feels like a single mother dealing with an angsty teen, and when those moments teeter on disastrous, she makes calls— the call.

“I mean, I have just had it up to here,” Erica moves her hand up in the air to emphasize her annoyance, “with these girls, I mean, my god!” She shakes her head as she sips her red wine, the two boys nodding from across from her. “Trust me,” Steve scoffs, “we get it.” 

Dustin nods, taking a sip of his Shirley Temple and smacking his lips before adding, “We’re in the same boat too— with Eddie,” Dustin starts, drinking his Shirley Temple out of a bendy straw. 

“Yeah, he’s always been a pain in the ass, ever since high school,” Steve continues, sharing a look with Dustin, who tiredly nods, “But it has never been this bad. Normally we can get a hold on him running his mouth, but it’s just been…” Steve falters and trails off, struggling to grasp the words to explain Eddie’s childlike behavior. Erica nods, “I know what you mean,” She makes a face and holds her wine glass out to cheer with them. Dustin clinks his Shirley Temple, and Steve clinks his beer, them all taking a sip.

“Both band’s images are terrible. It won’t be long till we’re losing more money,” Steve grumbles, taking another swig of his beer. “I think we should just lock them all in a room together till they get along,” Erica jokes, earning a chortle from Steve and a cackle from Dustin. They all sigh in unison, a comfortable silence falling over them. 

Suddenly, Dustin sits up straight, aggressively snapping his fingers before pointing to Erica.

Steve jumps and makes a face at Dustin, grumbling about how annoying Dustin’s theatrics are. Erica rolls her eyes, already used to the boy’s antics. “Well? Are you gonna tell us about your nerdy little lightbulb moment or keep making a scene?” She sneers over her wine glass rim, taking a sip. Dustin looks back from Steve’s annoyed face to Erica’s tired one, basking in the dramatics.

“Why don’t we do just that?” He finally says.

Steve and Erica share a look. Typically, Dustin has these moments, and Steve and Erica have to entertain them, but Erica thinks Henderson might be onto something. Steve scoffs and leans back in his chair, “I doubt they’d last a week locked in a house before one kills the other.” Steve mumbles, clearly missing Dustin’s case in point.

Erica, however, knows just where Dustin’s mind has gone— to the motherland of brilliant-fucking-idea. Erica puts her glass down and leans her elbows on the table, resting her chin on the backs of her folded hands. “When you say just that, you mean…?” She looks at the boy quizzically, praying he means what she thinks he means. Steve puts his hand on the back of Dustin’s chair and leans forward, “I’m not really picking up on this guys,” He uses his other hand to lazily gesture. Dustin ignores Steve and nods slowly, “Oh hell yeah, I mean that.” He says, smirking mischievously. Erica and Dustin share a grin, a playful gleam in their eyes. Steve groans on the side in annoyance.

“Let’s book a fuckin’ tour bus, boys,” Erica concludes, and Dustin erupts in cheers, the two of them clinking their drinks. Steve finally understands, and his eyes widen, “Oh! Holy shit, that’s fucking genius.”

Erica laughs and finishes off the last of her wine. “Tiger is gonna kill me.” She smirks and shakes her head, sighing. Dustin and Steve share a look and chuckle a little bit, “Her reaction won’t be as bad as Munson’s. He’s gonna fuckin’ lose it.” Dustin says, slurping on his straw.

A few weeks pass before Erica, Steve, and Dustin manage to rally both bands in a conference room. The tension in the room is almost unbearable. For the most part, the band members seem more interested in knowing why they’ve been summoned together— the real tension is at the end of the table, where you and Eddie sit across from each other. Eddie wears a snickering grin to go along with his darkened shades, and you— well, if looks could kill, everybody in this room would be six feet under and crossing into the afterlife. 

You’re pissed. Annoyed that you’re being forced to breathe the same air as that fuckface Eddie Munson, and Eddie could not be more pleased with himself. Eddie gazes at each of the girls across from him; Max, who’s glaring at your managers and bouncing her knee in evident impatience, Nancy, who couldn’t look more uninterested if she tried; and Robin, who seems more intrigued with the wood paneling of the wall to look at anything else. He makes the mistake of looking at you, earning him a nicely silver-wrapped middle finger which he winks at.

“If you two are done acting like children down there, we’d like to get this meeting started,” Erica announces from her seat at the head of the table. All eyes turn to her, and she sarcastically smiles, opening her mouth to begin speaking until you cut her off, “Whatever fucking bullshit you three have planned, I won’t be a part of it. Not with this asshole.” You gesture to the curly-haired boy across from you.

Gareth and Jeff snicker, and you glare at them, ignoring Robin’s elbow jabbing into your side. “It’s funny that you think you have a choice, Tiger,” Erica says, tilting her head with a grin. You begin to bounce your leg impatiently, jaw clenching as the ticking time bomb in your mind begins to speed up. 

Dustin clears his throat and stands up, gathering everyone's attention as he clasps his hands. “Let’s cut straight to the chase,” he begins, “Your music careers are fucked.”

Jeff breathily laughs to the side, and Erica glares at him, quickly diminishing his obvious amusement. “Somehow, the seven of you have managed to obliterate your band's image in less than a month,” Dustin points out, picking up a stack of magazines before him and walking calmly about the room. He tosses a magazine out into the middle of the table, “Misogynists,” another magazine, “Anti-feminist,” another magazine, “Chauvinists,” another magazine— the final one, “Woman-haters.”

You all look at the magazines silently until you mumble, “Sounds about right,” causing Eddie to scoff and roll his eyes beneath his shades. “What? You’re mad the media is finally realizing how full of shit you all are?” You prod with a tilt of your head. “At least nobody’s saying I should be sent to a fucking ward.”

Your eyes narrow, and you begin to form a response, but Erica rises from her seat loudly, startling the room as her loud voice booms through the space, “The media is tearing both of you to shreds,” she leans forward to press her palms against the cool wooden table, heated gaze darting between you and Eddie.

“Both of your bands aren’t booking gigs, and you're losing money faster than you earn it,” she points out, watching as you all cower from the truth. She waves a manicured finger between both sides of the table, “This stupid little fucking back and forth you’ve created either ends here or on the road.”

Robin’s face twists in confusion, a raspy voice speaking up for the first time, “On the road?”

Steve turns to her and grins, “Yes. On the road. Together.”

Gareth leans forward in his chair, confused as he speaks, “What, like a retreat type deal?” He questions. Dustin slaps a paper down in front of him, “No. Tour. Nine months, ninety-two shows.”

Gareth doesn’t get much time to take in the information on the paper before Eddie snatches it out of his hands, shades pushed up into his hair as he leans in to gape at it. A list of tour dates, an ongoing and never-ending fucking list.

“You’re not serious.” He says. Steve chuckles at the end of the table, nodding his head, “As serious as a heart attack.”

You’re next to snatch the paper away for a gander, ignoring the rest of the room as everyone erupts in a fit of protest. You stand with your back to the table as you gaze through each date, your neck heating up with anger as your fingers crease the paper. You turn around, face twisted in rage, wrinkling the paper in your shaking fist as you storm up to where Erica stands, waiting for you to say your piece with an unwavering impression.

You hold the crinkled paper up as you stand before her, “You’ve lost your fucking mind if you think I’m doing shows with these pieces of shits.” You sneer, tossing the paper onto the table. Erica raises an eyebrow, looking at you as if you’ve gone off the deep end. The room enters a thick silence at your outburst, all eyes on the standoff between you and Erica. “Call the tour off, or I’m out.”

“What?” Robin leans forward to gaze at you, eyes widened in shock at your words, “You’re not leaving the band, Y/N, you— you can’t.”

You ignore Robin and step closer to Erica, eyes burning into her gaze as you speak, and Erica has never seen you this angry in all her years of knowing you. “Call it off.”

Erica will let you believe you have the upper hand for your peace of mind, but when it comes down to reality, you both know you don’t stand a chance against her force of nature. Erica is calm and uncannily patient as she speaks to you, “You’re at a dead-end street, Tiger,” she starts, “You either make a way, or you go back to Hawkins with your tail between your legs like everyone expected.” 

Erica sits back in her chair, not even bothering to look at you as she busies herself with the paperwork before her when she adds, “You make the call.”

You glare down at her, throat closing in anger and betrayal. You don’t say another word as you storm out, leaving the room with a booming echo of the heavy glass door slamming shut. Erica sighs, settling back in her chair and gazing at the rest of the band members, who are all silently fuming in anger. “Now, does anyone else have something to say or something of substance to add, or are we done here?” Eddie rises from his seat with clear annoyance, “This is bullshit,” the force of his movement sends his chair back to the wall as he walks out of the room, just as angrily as you had previously done.

The remaining band members sit in silence, avoiding each other's gaze, and Steve breathily laughs, “Well, Dustin, you were wrong,” he teases, smirking when Dustin and Erica turn to him. “Eddie took that pretty well.”

The band members glance at the managers, and Dustin sighs as he leans back in his chair, twisting his mouth in thought and tapping his pen against the table.

“This is gonna be more work than I thought.”

————

a/n: AHHH, YOU'VE MADE IT TO THE END!!! WE HOPE YOU LIKED THIS AND LOVE THEM SO FAR; more to come sooonnnn <3

————

teeny taglist: @tommyvelvet @oeuryale

[theagstd]

One Night stand ; 04

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter Four ; wc | 3.1 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Working couldn't have been any better, it keeps you occupied and it feels amazing to be doing something you love and spent years learning for. it's been a little over 2 weeks now and you will be lying if you say you don't miss working at the cafe. that has to be one of the loveliest times of being an adult, trying new coffee arts for different customers, being recognised but your favourite everyday coffee lovers, serving pastries and cakes to students who come to the cafe to study or do their homework. 

you also miss the aroma of the coffee beans, it always makes you feel like home and whenever the weekend comes by, you don't forget to pass by the little shop to collect your daily order, honey almond milk with extra cream and caramel. working with Hoseok comes with new stories every day. that man has got a lot of stuff to talk about and that has made the two of you really good friends.

he's always ready to lend a hand when you need any help or are in doubt with certain areas of work, the man makes sure to have lunch together and it's become a routine now. which you've adjusted in no time, shows how badly you wanted this job. you've managed to keep up with going to the gym too, instead of the week days you chose to go during the weekends so it's stress free and you've got the time to relax after too. 

Kayla and a few other girls called you a couple of times over the weeks to hangout at the club but you declined to join them because you've got enough on your plate to handle besides you can't suffer from hangovers when there's already a pile of work load.

"I won't be flying anytime soon mom. Don't be ridiculous!"

You laughed at her words sitting upright and crossing your feet on the couch, your darling mother has been missing you so much that she wants you to fly back to Canada.

"Am I being ridiculous for wanting to see my one and only daughter. It's been 2 years! " She huffed earning a giggle from you, as she did the same. "How's the Job? Is your boss treating you right?" She questioned curiously, that caused you to roll your eyes, with a deep exhale leaving your lips, there's only so much you could tell your mom about him. "he's fine, can be annoying." "Y/n don't say that-" "mom, you have no idea. Anyway I'll hang up now, I'll call you over the weekend bye." "Y/n-" "bye mom, love you-"

you declined the call, aware that she's gonna give you a little speech and then throw questions at you. There's no time to answer all that. You've now got a Clothes brand to advertise for and that's so exciting!

you've been working on this for days, it's tiring but you're enjoying this new experience. However you do feel lonely in your apartment, the sounds of the TV only keeps the room from being silent. Playing your 'work' Spotify playlist, you sing along while typing in your laptop. you wish you'd made more friends or got a pet.

The song that played next was a slowed reverb of 'Streets' by Doja cat, you glanced at the TV and then sighed, leaving a scowled look on your face. 'Streets' has always been a sensual song but this slowed down version only reminded you of that one night.

"No- no no stop right there y/n." When those visions were about to conduct your mind, you immediately change the song.

-

During lunch break, you were engrossed in a lively conversation with Hoseok. Both of you burst out laughing as you recounted the time you slipped in the bathtub and hit your knee so hard it looked like you were kneeling to a ghost.

Just as you were enjoying the chat, your CEO, Jeon Jungkook, rudely interrupted. "Ms. Lee! Did you forget there's a meeting today?" You stood up respectfully, puzzled. As far as you knew, there was no meeting scheduled. "Sorry, Mr. Jeon, but I don't have any meetings scheduled for today-" "Well, are you busy right now?" he asked sharply, his chest puffed out and hands in his pockets. Feeling uneasy, you shifted from foot to foot under his scrutiny. The eyes of the staff and Hoseok flicked between Jungkook and you. Jungkook rarely came to the café on the ground floor, preferring meals in his office.

"Uh- I'm not exactly bus-"

"You could use this time more productively with the creative team rather than having," he glanced disapprovingly at Hoseok and then back at you, "a little chit chat here. Get to work, Ms. Lee. Right. Now." He turned and walked away, leaving the surrounding staff in shocked silence.

You swallowed hard, clearing your throat as you packed away your uneaten croissant. you found this whole situation to be embarrassing and humiliating. he didn't have to create a scene in front of the staff. Would he lose a piece of himself if he had called you over personally for a few minutes instead of snapping at you in a public area.

"I- I'll catch up with you later, Hoseok. Enjoy your meal," you muttered, forcing a tight smile. Ignoring Hoseok's concerned response, you hurried away, you didn't want to spend any more time at the place where you were shamed. Jungkook's public reprimand made your blood boil. You wished you could confront him and wipe that smug look off his face, if he thinks he can do this stunt again then he's wrong. he does not know who Lee Y/n is. 

As you entered the boardroom with your iPad and laptop that was of the company, you found it empty. Puzzled, you approached the manager in the section. You clearly had an irritated look on your face and now seeing the boardroom empty only made the frown on your face deeper.

"Where's the meeting?" you questioned the man and he looked at you, confused. "There's no meeting scheduled today." Feeling a surge of frustration, you stormed back to your desk, only to receive a call on the office phone. "Hell-" "At my office," Jungkook interrupted.

His abruptness left you fuming, you could feel the heat pass out your ears and nose. Gathering your belongings hastily, you made your way to the 32nd floor, knocked on his door, and poked your head in. Jungkook was in the middle of a conversation with another man.

"Excuse me, Mr. Jeon, may I come in?" you murmured. Upon his nod, you entered and noticed Park Jimin seated there, which only made you inwardly groan. Jungkook gestured for you to sit beside Jimin. "you've both been called here to test your skills. Park Jimin has been with us for a little over-"

"Four years, Mr. Jeon," Jimin interjected smugly, no one has the right to interrupt the CEO but Jimin gave no fucks, even though the interruption left Jungkook annoyed he didn't let it show on his features.

"A little over four years," Jungkook continued, "and Ms. Lee," he gave you a nearly mocking smile, "has been here for a little over two weeks." You nodded in determination, unsure where this was heading. "I've heard about the incident in the basement. Does that ring a bell?" Jungkook's fingers tightened around his ring.

Jimin gave you a sideways glance. "Ms. Lee holds a higher position than you, Mr. Park, but now I'm beginning to doubt that." Your eyes widened in shock, while Jimin seemed to internally celebrate. "I've been observing your work, Mr. Park, and I find your ideas unique. Therefore, I have a challenge for Ms. Lee and Mr. Park. I need your ideas for a new makeup brand project. Can you handle it along with your other responsibilities?"

Both of you nodded obediently. "Details will be sent by email," Jungkook said, casting a glance at you before focusing on his fingers. "I want detailed ideas, no personal opinions. Understand, Ms. Lee?"

You felt the sting of his words when he pulled up one of the worst nightmares of working here, but you managed to reply with confidence, "Yes, Mr. Jeon." "Good." He smirked as you stood up, exiting the room. Jimin's smug expression only added to your irritation.

"No one cares about your opinions, Ms. Lee. Be ready to switch to a lower position soon," Jimin taunted with his smile and tone, but you weren't one to let go easily.  "Did you just admit you're in a lower position, Park Jimin?" you voice out your thoughts, stopping the man's feet from walking away. he turned to face you, he had his frustration shown in his lips and eyebrows.

"Not for long. I'll be taking yours soon enough," he chuckled in a mocking tone, leaving you fuming. Park knows how to handle people, he's fully aware of how he's gonna respond to each word thrown at him and he gladly takes it and slaps it back.

Back at your desk, you bit the inside of your cheek in frustration, you need to calm down. Working with anger issues is difficult especially when you've got a stupid arrogant boss and co-workers that test your patience at each step and breath you take. Rosé approached with some files, sensing something was wrong.

"Everything okay?" she asked curiously as she gives you a soft concerning look, leaving the files on your desk, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Yeah, just got more work from Mr. Jeon," you replied with a smile, not showing any signs of worry or anger on your face. you really appreciated her support and care. 

The day dragged on, and by the time you were ready to leave, you still hadn't received the email with project details, which only added to your frustration.

Kayla

Wanna hang out at least today?

Please girl!

It's been a while :(

It's true, it's been awhile since you last met her. Maybe hanging out today will be fun. Besides, the details weren't sent either so work can wait.

Y/n

Alright where?

Kayla

Club, down the street of Popeyes

Y/n

No, no clubbing

Café?

Kayla

what?! So boring god

Fine

You can unmistakably detect her irritation. Yet, the idea of heading out clubbing with all the accumulated stress and responsibilities feels daunting. Tomorrow being Wednesday, a workday, waking up at 7 a.m. with a hangover is the last thing you desire. Everyone has vacated your floor, leaving you in solitude except for two employees who share laughter at the far end of the corridor. Making your way to the elevator, weariness weighs on you, though there's a flicker of anticipation to reunite with your friend. You're well aware she has plenty to share, judging by her eagerness to meet. 

As the elevator doors shut, you lean against the corner, shutting your eyes. The prolonged hours staring at the screen have left your eyes burning, and the need to rest them is evident. you know that it's just about a month since you joined. you can't afford to strain your eyes too much. However, you've been experiencing fatigue lately, the cause of which remains unknown. you feel different, unlike you. like the insides of your system have changed their settings. The elevator halts and opens a couple of times, weary staff members stepping in and out.

A robust waft of black vanilla scent greets you as the elevator stops on the 12th floor. Inhaling deeply, you recognize the unmistakable scent. Your eyes remain shut, a departure from your usual acknowledgment. Jungkook takes a passing glance at you, rolling his eyes as he mutters 'cheesecake' mockingly under his breath, shooting a sidelong glance. His thoughts about you are unclear. You bear no resemblance to the girl he encountered at the club. The realization of the influence he holds surprises him. Shooting you a frosty stare, he observes you exhale audibly before the elevator reaches the basement.

You open your eyes, exiting alongside Jungkook, offering a respectful bow to avoid leaving a negative impression on him. You head left while he veers right towards your respective cars. No words are exchanged. No eye contact is made.

-

"Gurl, work has turned you into such a bore, but I've missed you!" Kayla envelops you in a tight hug, instantly easing your tension. The exhaustion from work compounded with being single feels draining.You settle beside her, opting for hot chocolate and a simple chicken sandwich for dinner, the aroma of the sandwich is unpleasant and it's weird because you usually love the food in this cafe. but all you want is to retreat to the comfort of your soft bed at home and sleep.

"What's up with your boss? Has he been hitting on you or-" "Ew, no," you cringe at the suggestion, repulsed by the idea. There's no way you could view him in that light anymore. Kayla regards you suspiciously. "Why? he was your one-night fling, correct?"

Her words catch you off guard, why bring this up now? Kayla awaits your reaction, sipping on her iced latte while fixing her gaze on you. "He's just my boss now, Kay, that's it." Sensing your reluctance to delve further, she nods and shifts the conversation. She spends the next 30 minutes venting about a male colleague who seems overly interested in her conversations. Despite the intriguing topic, exhaustion gradually pulls you away from the present, causing you to close your eyes intermittently. 

Kayla instructs the café waiter to pack your sandwich to go since you haven't had dinner. She calls out your name a few times, eventually having to shake you awake as you're about to drive home. It's only 11 p.m., and you had planned to work until at least 1 a.m. Lately, however, you've been mentally drained, perhaps due to lack of sleep. After forcing yourself to shower, you collapse onto your bed, sleep enveloping you instantly.

Hoseok [ 12: 02 am]

Y/n, I'm so sorry for the late notice but could you give Kim Miniso's file to Mr Jeon tomorrow,

Like as soon as you get to the office. I know it's short notice, I trust you so please do, i've got an emergency and it's too late to inform Mr Jeon.

-

"Good morning Y/n, did you sleep well?" Rosè greeted you as you emerged from the elevator. You appeared refreshed, sporting a morning glow, a rarity due to your typically poor sleep quality. "Morning Rosè, I did. Very well." You chuckled in agreement as she walked alongside you, giving your shoulder a friendly pat upon reaching your desk. She proceeded to retrieve the keys for her drawers while you reflected on the benefits of getting more than three hours of sleep—it certainly made a difference. 

Today, you felt lighter, confident that work would go smoothly. You approached the day with determination, eager to outshine Park Jimin in the upcoming presentation. If he had an ego, so did you, and you refused to let him undermine your efforts, especially when it came to your hard-earned position. With the meeting scheduled for 2 p.m., you had ample time to prepare. Assisting your colleagues with their tasks and projects, you found satisfaction in their cooperation. The hours passed swiftly as you coordinated and organized items for upcoming shoots, ensuring timely completion of all projects.

"Yeah, I'll get my iPad, just a se—" The office phone's shrill ring interrupted you abruptly. Only the CEO himself would call you. "Lee Y/n speaking���" "To the office now!" His abrupt demand left you gasping, your expression tight-lipped and tense. 'What did he want now? Jerk.'You muttered curses under your breath as you dragged yourself to his office, dreading the encounter. Knocking on his door, you cautiously poked your head in. "May I come i—" "Walk in!"

His tone was unusually harsh, leaving you puzzled and annoyed. 'Why was he behaving this way?' You entered, taking slow steps until you stood before his desk, hands clasped behind your back. "Yes, Mr. Jeon?" "Where the hell is my file? Why have I not received it yet?" Panic surged through you as you realized you had forgotten about the file completely. Your hands trembled, and you met his glare with concern. "I-it's at my—"

"Bring it to me, right fuc- right now." His anger was palpable, evident in his reddened ears and clenched fists. "Right now, I said." His command prompted you to bolt out of his cabin in a frantic search for the file that should have been on his desk by 9 a.m. 'How could you forget?' Anxiety gnawed at you, knowing that Hoseok would also face consequences for this oversight. You bit your lip nervously, feeling the weight of his anger. He seemed too furious, almost scary. Hurriedly grabbing the file from Hoseok's drawer, you dashed to the CEO's office, hesitating outside his door. Hoping to avoid his wrath, you knocked and entered when he bid you to.

Placing the file on his desk, you bowed and apologized for your mistake. "This won't be repeated. Please excuse my mistake, Mr. Jeon." He remained silent, not even acknowledging your apology. Gesturing for you to leave, you exited quietly.

As you pondered, it dawned on you that the meeting was fast approaching—the task Mr. Jeon had mentioned. You didn't quite understand the purpose of it, but you had no choice but to comply. With Hoseok absent, the thought of facing Park Jimin alone for the rest of the day filled you with dread. As the creative team assembled for the meeting, you avoided making eye contact with anyone, especially Mr. Jeon. When he and Park finally entered, you kept your gaze fixed on the table, unwilling to meet their eyes. "Good afternoon, creative team. We may proceed with the meeting," Mr. Jeon announced, settling into his chair with a calm tone.

"Alright, let's hear out Park Jimin first." Jimin confidently presented his idea, and despite his arrogance, you couldn't deny his talent as a graphic designer. His proposal received applause, and you stole a glance at Mr. Jeon, who surprisingly appeared pleased. Suddenly, you felt insecure about your own idea. 'What if Mr. Jeon reacted unfavorably?'

"Great work, Mr. Park," Mr. Jeon commended, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of insecurity. You loved your idea, but self-doubt crept in, fueled by the day's earlier mistake. "Ms. Lee, please," Mr. Jeon spoke with a hint of annoyance in his voice as he gestured for you to proceed, and you rose from your seat, feeling a sudden wave of sweat despite your usual composure.

As you stood before the group, you felt the tension in the room escalate. However, you couldn't deny feeling proud of your work and determined to prove yourself. Taking a deep breath, you began your presentation, but suddenly, dizziness overcame you. Struggling to maintain your composure, you tried to push through, but before you could finish your sentence, darkness enveloped you, and you collapsed onto the floor.

"Ms. Lee—" "Ms—" "Ms. Lee—"

Muffled voices echoed around you as you slipped into unconsciousness, feeling nothing but coldness enveloping you.

next chapter ⇢

[klarolinexluv]

less mean Regulus and golden retriever James and more Shy but sweet nerd Regulus and Bully(with a soft side only for what's his) James. I actually like bully James because it means character growth.

I would actually love to see this. Like actually so badly.

James being an asshole. James being condescending and rude. Loud and annoying. I’d love to see James tease and mock Regulus just because he can.

I’d love to see a Regulus who takes it because he thinks that’s how things are. Take a Regulus who eventually finds the courage to stand up to his brothers best friend. The guy that bullies every Slytherin who so much as breathes in this direction.

Give me a James who is taken aback when Regulus doesn’t take his shit anymore. Give me a Regulus who can be just as cruel but only when he thinks it’s deserved.

Give me a James who starts falling in love with Regulus because of how much fun he is having arguing with him.

Give me a James who starts showing up in the library just to see Regulus, just to argue with him. A Regulus who doesn’t take his shit, ignores him, ridicules him, puts him in his place.

I want to see sweet with the sharpest tongue when provocted, nerd Regulus Black and arrogant piece of shit James Potter slowly fall in love through arguments and long debates. (Because James is smart too he just doesn’t look it).

I want to see Regulus have the confidence to stand up for himself, starting with his bully, starting with James Potter because it has very little consequences when he does so.

I want to see them grow together and apart. I want James to realise that he IS a bully. That most of the younger years in Slytherin are scared of him. That the older Slytherins hate him because of how he treats them. I want to see James actually think about his actions for once. Think before he speaks. I want to see a James, who stops Sirius from also bullying Slytherins.

That’s the kind of growth I want to see. James changing because he realises that maybe he isn’t as good of a person as he thinks he is, as his friends and parents and teachers tell him he is.

The growth I want to see in Regulus is from this shy, sweet nerd to someone who stands up for himself and others when something is wrong. I want to see Regulus become confident with himself, grow to be someone who doesn’t take shit from anyone, even the adults in his life.

I want to see Regulus run away and make a life for himself. (And because I love Lucretia and Regulus) I want to see Regulus run to his Aunt. Idk just something about Regulus finally having the confidence to live the life he wants to live. Standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.

I want to see a James who is the scary boyfriend. But also, he is kind and loveable and protects what’s his (and those he loves).

Bully James x Nerd Regulus.

Enemies (ACTUAL ENEMIES) to Lovers.

Not just this one sided hatred but mutual. Regulus hates him because he is a bully and stole his brother etc etc. James hates him because he is a Slytherin, because he is Sirius brother, because he doesn’t look out for Sirius how James thinks he should.

I actually have so many ideas that can fit around this trope lol. Never thought I would be this passionate about this haha

[erisweekofficial]

Today, we're thrilled to highlight the incredible @lucienarcheron! Not only is she an og acotar fan here on tumblr, but she also was a previous organizer for Eris Week! 🎉 (You can check out all the amazing content here)

Gigi has been a such a kind and supportive member of the Eris community - always one of the first people to celebrate others - and today we're so excited to celebrate her. Thank you so much for being a part of this fandom. 🧡 🧡 🧡

Please go check out her Eris x OC (Iris) fic, Spirit Meets the Bones. It's truly a masterpiece!

Read on to hear from Gigi herself!

What inspired you to start writing Eris x Iris?

I really love Eris's character and the chaos he offers. He is the perfect character for an enemies/dislike to love/lovers trope. He needs someone who sees him, all that he is, and accepts him anyway while also keeping it real with him. He wants to be loved so badly and Iris was the one to do it! I wanted to write him a story that gave him love and healing and a better family than what he has now. When I started writing what became the first chapter, I couldn’t look back!

How have you seen the Eris community change over time?

Definitely a lot more Eris love than when I started SMTB in 2021. We were a much smaller number but now there’s so much more! It’s nice to see more Eris x OC love because when it’s your own OC, you’re really putting your whole heart into a new character hoping people will love them too. I’ve seen a lot more Eris x Reader as well!

What's something you want to see eris say or do in future books?

I really, truly, want Eris to be the one who kills Beron. Him and LOA deserve that kill.

Do you have any advice for other creators wanting to make eris content?

The people who will enjoy your content will find you so make sure YOU enjoy what you’re putting out. He’s a complex character who is super fun to write so let yourself have fun doing it.