#i am thinking about making this a mini series idk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

humaling · 2 months ago

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Two Victors, One Closet II

pairings: finnick odair x reader

summary: it's the 70th hunger games victor party and somehow, finnick manage to convince you with his stupid deal.

warnings: finnick being a lil shit, usual hunger games, mentions of death and blood

word count: 4.5k

author's note: ask and u shall receive! i'm thinking of making this into a mini series but idk

part one

It’s another Capitol party—loud, garish, and painfully predictable. The air is thick with artificial scents, laughter that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, and the clinking of glasses filled with glittering drinks. The people here are draped in some twisted imitation of District 4 fashion—ocean-inspired, but exaggerated to the point of absurdity. Flowing fabrics mimic the movement of waves, bodices are studded with pearls and seashells, and someone even had the audacity to wear a shimmering shark tail. You caught a glimpse of it earlier, just as you were picking through some poor excuse for District 4 delicacies. The sight was ridiculous enough to make you pause, but you chalked it up to a trick of the light and moved on.

The newest victor is Annie Cresta—you think that’s her name. You didn’t bother to check again after your tributes were slaughtered at the hands of her partner. As soon as the cannon sounded, sealing their fate, you turned off the screen and went home. Their screams had already burrowed deep into your skull, breaking through walls you thought were impenetrable.

You were sure they would make it. You had done everything right this time, every lesson tailored to the arena’s secrets. You got wind of the dam that would break midway through the Games and planned accordingly. You pulled strings, demanded swimming training, and drilled them relentlessly until they could navigate a flood with their eyes closed. How do you know that skill so well? That’s a secret you don’t share.

Finnick caught on quickly. He always does. He didn’t ask outright, just gave you that knowing look before offering his help. On one condition—his tributes got the same training. You agreed, of course. You even went a step further, teaching Marcus, his male tribute, a few hand-to-hand combat tricks.

And then he used those very tricks against your tributes. Killed them with techniques you had burned into their bones. The betrayal of it gnawed at you, but what ate you alive was the way Marcus died. Drowned, unable to swim through the flood. The very skill that should have saved him—would have saved him if he'd actually listened—became his downfall.

You should have felt guilty. You should have mourned him, the way you mourned your own tributes. But when you heard how he died, you felt nothing but relief.

You click your tongue the moment you spot the familiar Capitol couple—Cecilia and Felix, striding toward you with their usual air of forced familiarity. No matter how many times you've brushed them off, ignored their greetings, or given them the coldest of stares, they always come back. Like flies to a corpse.

At this point, you’ve stopped trying. You’re too drained to care, too weighed down by exhaustion to put up a fight. The sleepless nights have piled onto your shoulders, pressing down until even standing upright feels like an effort.

“It’s a shame none of your tributes made it,” Cecilia chirps, voice light as if discussing the weather. She’s smiling. Smiling. You learned her name recently, when your escort wouldn’t shut up about some designer and their latest collection. Two of the featured models were—of course—this couple.

Felix, her husband, nods in agreement. “I heard you went out of your way this time. I am very sorry for your loss,” he says smoothly, reaching out to pat your shoulder. His gloved hand lands gently, but the touch burns. It’s mocking.

Your body tenses instantly, throat tightening. The phantom sounds of your tributes’ screams claw at the back of your mind, but you push them down. Your hands ball into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

You force yourself to swallow, then clear your throat. A small, polite smile stretches across your lips—perfect, practiced, empty. “Thanks.”

The word is flat, dry, hollow. It doesn’t match the sweetness of your expression, but you don’t care. Let them figure it out. Let them stand there, picking apart the mismatch, trying to decide whether or not to pry further. You’re done with this conversation before it even begins.

Everything feels artificial. The lights, the music, the laughter, the meaningless conversations. You just want to go home and hope the sun never shines on you again.

Felix’s hand finally lifts from your shoulder, but his presence lingers like a stain. He and Cecilia don’t move on, don’t take the hint. Instead, they exchange a glance before launching into whatever pressing Capitol affair has them so invested tonight.

“I heard President Snow is hosting a private gathering next week,” Cecilia hums, taking a sip of her glittering drink. The liquid glows under the chandelier light, swirling like molten gold. “Very exclusive. Only the most influential guests are invited.”

Felix nods, feigning casual disinterest, but his chest is puffed slightly. “Naturally, we’ll be attending.”

Their voices blend into the background almost instantly. Muffled, meaningless, unimportant. The words reach your ears, but they don’t stick. They slide off, fading into the constant hum of Capitol chatter, the clinking of glasses, the laughter that isn’t real.

Because suddenly, everywhere you look, they’re there.

At the buffet table, a girl reaches for a platter of oysters, her sleeve sliding up to reveal a delicate wrist. Too thin. Too familiar. Your chest tightens. It’s the same kind of wrist your tribute had, small and bony, barely strong enough to hold a weapon but fast—so, so fast yet not fast enough to evade an attack from behind.

To your left, a young man throws his head back in laughter, his golden curls catching the light. The same golden curls that were matted with blood when the cannon fired.

Your breath hitches. Your grip tightens around your glass.

The marble floor beneath your feet tilts, just slightly, but enough to make you dizzy. It’s like the world is shifting, bending, pulling you somewhere you don’t want to go.

Cecilia keeps talking, oblivious. “And have you seen the latest trend? Surgical gills! The idea is simply revolutionary.”

A woman nearby brushes past, her perfume suffocating. The scent—saltwater and something sharp, metallic—copper?—hits you like a fist to the ribs. It drags you back, plunges you under.

You see your tribute’s face—eyes blown wide, mouth gasping for air that will never come. You remember the way she clawed at her throat, the way her hands, small and trembling, reached for help that wasn’t there.

You blink rapidly, forcing the image away. Your throat is too tight. Your vision is too blurry.

A gentle laugh flutters through the air. A girl passes by, no older than fifteen. The same age your tribute was. She smiles, bright and careless, utterly safe in the Capitol’s embrace. She will go home tonight, climb into bed, and wake up tomorrow alive.

Your tribute did not.

Something inside you cracks.

“—don’t you think?”

You snap back to reality. Cecilia is looking at you expectantly, waiting for a response. Felix raises an eyebrow, like he already knows you weren’t listening.

You swallow. Your drink sloshes in your glass from how hard you’re gripping it. “I… yeah.”

Whatever the question was, the answer doesn’t matter. Nothing does.

Cecilia beams, pleased. Felix chuckles, exchanging another glance with his wife before smoothly shifting the conversation forward. They don’t notice the way your hands tremble. The way your eyes dart around the room, bracing for the next ghost.

The party continues. The music plays. The Capitol sparkles. The world continues to rotate and you’re stuck in the middle of it, drowning.

“I’ve been looking for you, sweetheart.”

The words pull you out of your thoughts like a hook to the ribs. You don’t want to turn around. You already know who it is.

Slowly, you turn your head, and there he is. Finnick Odair.

Finnick stands just behind you, a glittering orange drink in hand, posture relaxed like he has all the time in the world. The party lights catch on his hair, styled in deliberate curls tonight, instead of its usual effortless mess. There’s a faint dusting of blue makeup on his eyelids, making his sea-green eyes stand out even more than they already do. He looks like something out of an old District 4 bedtime story—a prince of the sea, dressed in ocean treasures.

His outfit only adds to it. A white dress shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show his chest. Black sleek pants. Pearls and seashells strung across his wrists, around his throat. Designed to be looked at.

Your jaw tightens, fingers curling slightly at your sides. Out of all times to approach, he chooses now? Right here, in front of everyone?

Felix and Cecilia have already turned their attention to him, entertained by the sudden shift in the conversation. They’re Capitol-bred—meaning they thrive off tension, off the undercurrents of something unsaid. And there’s plenty of it between you and Finnick.

You haven’t spoken to him since that night in the common room. Since the Games ended. Since everything went to hell.

Finnick tried. He had stood there, hands on his hips, voice low and steady, trying to get through to you. He wanted to talk. Wanted to explain. As if there was anything to explain. As if any of it would bring your tributes back.

You didn’t want to hear it. Couldn’t.

So you walked away. And Finnick, for once, let you.

But now he’s here again, standing in front of you like the past few weeks haven’t stretched between you like an open wound. His gaze flickers over your face, searching, reading, picking apart the things you don’t say.

Cecilia lets out a soft laugh, tapping a manicured finger against her chin. “Oh, Finnick, what a sight you are tonight,” she purrs. “I do wonder, though—who exactly were you looking for?”

Finnick doesn’t blink. Doesn’t miss a beat when responding.

His gaze stays locked onto yours as he says, “You.”

“Now,” Finnick shifts his gaze to the couple, effortlessly slipping into the role they expect of him. He flashes a charming smile, the kind that makes Capitol hearts flutter, as his hand slides to the small of your back. His touch is light but firm, a silent warning.

“Mind if I sweep my sweetheart away tonight?”

Cecilia lets out a delighted laugh, waving a hand as if she’s granting permission. “Oh, of course! She's all yours!”

Felix nods beside her, grinning as if he’s in on some great secret. He gestures for you to go, ushering you away with Finnick, who wastes no time guiding you toward the dance floor. His hand stays steady against your back, his usual signature grin stretched across his face like this is all just a game to him.

Behind you, the couple is already whispering—giddy, thrilled, utterly convinced.

“Oh my god, did you see that?”

“They really are together!”

Finnick hears it too. You can tell by the way his grip tightens, just slightly, like he’s holding back a laugh.

“You really are trouble, Odair,” you hiss, tilting your head up to glare at him.

Finnick only grins, entirely unbothered as he spins you onto the dance floor, the motion forcing you closer. His hand stays firm at your waist, the other clasping yours with practiced ease, like he’s done this a thousand times before. And he probably has. The Capitol loves their golden boy. Their charming, untouchable Victor.

But you are not one of them and right now, you do not want to be in his arms.

“Trouble?” Finnick repeats, amused, swaying the both of you in time with the elegant Capitol music. “I just saved you from the worst conversation of the night. I’d say that makes me more of a hero, wouldn’t you?”

You scoff. “You are the last person I’d call a hero.”

He tsks, spinning you smoothly under his arm before pulling you back in, his voice dropping to something softer—something that feels too familiar. “That hurts, sweetheart. Really, I think I deserve at least a little gratitude.”

You want to snap at him. Want to pull away. But the room is watching, eyes glued to the spectacle of Finnick Odair and his supposed lover twirling across the dance floor. You can feel it—the weight of their attention, the whispers, the way the music almost seems to slow as if accommodating for you.

So you stay. You grit your teeth, keeping your steps in sync with Finnick’s, because the alternative—making a scene—is worse.

“Gratitude?” you echo bitterly, gripping his shoulder tighter than necessary. “For what, exactly? For making me the latest Capitol headline? For dragging me into whatever mess you’ve made this time?”

Finnick hums, tilting his head as if considering. His fingers press slightly against your back, guiding your next step. “Mm… no, I was thinking more along the lines of saving you from the couple of the year's horrible attempts at sympathy.”

Your jaw clenches. He’s not wrong, but that’s not the point.

His expression shifts slightly, the usual playfulness in his eyes dimming just enough for you to notice. “You looked like you needed an out,” he says, quieter this time. “So, I gave you one.”

You stiffen, and Finnick must feel it because he exhales softly, like he already knows what’s coming.

“You don’t get to act like you care,” you murmur, barely moving your lips as you step in time with him. “Not after what happened.”

Finnick’s grip tightens—not painfully, but enough to make his frustration clear. “You really think I don’t care?” His voice is still light, still laced with that ever-present charm, but there’s something else beneath it now. Something sharp. “Come on. You know me better than that.”

You shake your head. “Do I?”

Finnick exhales through his nose, a faint smirk ghosting across his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You really are determined to be mad at me forever, huh?”

You glare up at him. “My tributes are dead, Finnick. Killed by yours. And you think this is something I’ll just… get over?”

Something flickers across his face. Guilt, maybe. Regret. You can’t tell. But then he smiles, because of course he does.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” he says, twirling you again, his voice just as smooth as before, “mine didn’t make it either.”

You stumble slightly at his words, and Finnick, ever the performer, corrects it effortlessly, making it seem like nothing more than an intentional dip.

The music swells around you, but all you can hear is the memory of cannon fire. The screams. The sound of rushing water.

Finnick pulls you upright again, his hand still steady at your back. “See?” he murmurs. “Now we both have ghosts.”

Your brows furrow, his words throwing you off balance more than his stupid dance moves ever could. "What do you mean, 'yours didn’t make it either'?" You glance around the room pointedly. "Annie Cresta is right there, alive and… well."

Finnick laughs—not his usual, full-bodied, Capitol-winning laugh, but a quiet, disheartened chuckle, like he finds something deeply amusing and tragic all at once. "Oh, sweetheart," he muses, spinning you again just to keep up the illusion of a perfect dance. "You think Annie made it out of those Games?"

You frown, confused. "She won, didn’t she?"

Another dry chuckle. "Sure. She won." His voice is light, almost teasing, but there's something hollow underneath. "And when they pulled her out of that arena, they got… well. Something that looks like Annie. Something that breathes and blinks and smiles at the cameras when they tell her to. But the girl I mentored? She drowned in that flood just like yours did."

Your stomach twists uncomfortably. You've seen Annie since the Games ended—seen her standing beside Finnick, silent and distant, her expression always unreadable. But you'd assumed… well, you don't even know what you assumed.

Finnick must notice your expression, because he grins, the picture of effortless charm, even as his fingers tighten at your waist. "They really should’ve let her die, you know. Would’ve been a lot kinder."

"Finnick," you warn, heart pounding.

But he doesn’t stop. "Oh, don’t look at me like that," he says, tilting his head. "You think I don’t know what you were thinking when you saw Marcus' cannon? When you found out he couldn’t swim? I bet you were relieved."

You tense, throat tightening, but Finnick only smirks, dragging you effortlessly through another step. "Come on, you can admit it. Just between us."

"You're disgusting."

"I'm right."

You hate him. You hate how he always knows.

"Why are you telling me this?" you murmur, voice tight.

Finnick exhales, his smile dropping just a fraction. "Because you think I'm the villain here," he says, dipping you slightly, the movement forcing you closer to his face. "And I think it's only fair you know—I'm just another casualty, same as you."

His lips quirk, just slightly. "Only difference is, I make this look good.”

You grimace. "I don’t think of you as a villain, Finnick," you retort, your voice softer around the edges now.

"Then what?"

"I just…" You hesitate, eyes dropping to his exposed neck, the way his pulse flickers beneath his skin. "I welcomed you and your tributes in. My tributes didn’t deserve that."

Finnick lets out a small scoff, the sound barely audible over the music. "Honey, no one deserves any of this," he corrects, his grip firm as he sways you through the rhythm, leading with an effortless grace that makes the whole room believe this is nothing more than a dance. "Not even you. But we don’t really have a choice here, do we?"

The lump in your throat grows tighter. The burn behind your eyes intensifies, and you can feel a sob creeping up, threatening to spill past your quivering lips. You bite down on it, hard, forcing your expression into something blank, something indifferent—but Finnick sees through it.

He always does.

For a second, his mask slips, and there's no teasing smirk, no playful glint in his sea-green eyes. Just quiet understanding.

Without another word, he pulls you in.

Your body stiffens at first, caught off guard, but then your forehead presses against his chest, the warmth of him bleeding into your skin. The steady rise and fall of his breath grounds you, his arms solid around you as the music continues to play.

“Don’t cry. Not in front of everyone,” Finnick whispers, his lips barely moving as his eyes scan the room. A few pairs are watching, their gazes hungry, dissecting your every move. The Capitol lives for this—the spectacle of it all.

You nod against him, focusing on the steady rhythm of his breathing, matching it with your own. No way in hell are you going to let them see the cracks in your wall. The dam threatening to break.

Finnick lets you have that moment, just long enough for you to collect yourself. And then—because he’s Finnick, and he can never let a moment sit without ruining it—he exhales dramatically, as if burdened by the weight of your existence.

"Well," he muses, voice tinged with amusement, "as much as I enjoy holding you like this, sweetheart, I have to admit—you're a terrible dance partner."

Your eyes snap open, brow furrowing as you pull back slightly to glare up at him. "Excuse me?"

Finnick grins, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "Don’t get me wrong," he continues, voice dropping into that signature, lazy drawl. "I love a good dramatic moment. The tragic lovers, the tears, the emotional tension—very poetic. But you’re clinging to me like a barnacle, and it’s kind of killing my vibe."

Your face heats. Oh, you want to slap him.

"You absolute—"

"Ah, ah," Finnick interrupts, smoothly spinning you away before pulling you back in, his hand pressing lightly against the small of your back. "Careful, sweetheart. You wouldn’t want to ruin our perfect little romance in front of our adoring audience, would you?"

Your fingers dig into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "I hate you."

Finnick's smirk deepens. "See, now that’s just hurtful."

You resist the urge to stomp on his foot. Barely.

"Oh, come on," he drawls, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Admit it. I’m making you feel something. Would you rather go back to being sad, or do you want to be mad at me instead? I know which one I’d pick."

You grit your teeth, but you don’t argue, because damn him, he’s right.*

Finnick Odair, with all his ridiculous antics and unbearable smugness, has successfully pissed you off just enough to push the grief aside, if only for now.

You know why Finnick is here. Dancing with you, holding you close, spinning you around like you’re both part of some grand performance. There’s an edge to the way people are watching—something sharper than usual. Their eyes track your every move, lips curving in whispers, anticipation practically humming in the air.

Something’s up. And Finnick knows exactly what it is.

Like he can read your mind, he leans in, voice dropping low enough that only you can hear. “Word got out about the closet.”

You shoot him a sharp look. “No, it didn’t.” The words come out flat, a firm rejection of the very idea. Because there’s no way.

Finnick grins, the picture of smug amusement. “You can keep denying it,” he says, as if he finds your resistance adorable. His arm stretches above him, effortlessly twirling you around before pulling you back in. His lips brush your ear as he speaks again, voice firm this time.

“But the second Snow asks you about it, you tell him it’s true.”

And then, before you can protest, he dips you.

Your breath catches, body tensing as Finnick pauses mid-movement, holding you suspended in the air, his grip steady at your back. Your arms instinctively tighten around his neck, anchoring yourself.

He doesn’t pull you back up. He just waits.

You narrow your eyes. “Absolutely not, Finnick.”

Finnick rolls his eyes like he was expecting that answer, like you’re being difficult on purpose. “Honey, it’s a do-or-die. So, you either date me—” His grin widens. “—or die.”

You deadpan. “Dying sounds better than dating you.”

Finnick sighs dramatically, as if you’ve just wounded him in the most tragic, irreversible way. "You really know how to hurt a man, don’t you, sweetheart?"

His voice is teasing, but you don’t miss the undercurrent beneath it—the way his fingers press just a little tighter against your back, the way his eyes flicker with something unreadable.

You swallow hard. “This is a terrible plan.”

Finnick tilts his head. “Yeah? Well, you got a better one?”

Your fingers tighten around the fabric of his shirt, grip firm against his shoulders as he finally pulls you upright. You barely have time to regain your balance before Finnick is leading you through another slow turn, his hand pressing just a little too smugly against your back.

“You know,” he muses, voice low and smooth, “if you stopped fighting this so hard, we might actually be kind of convincing.”

You scoff, leveling him with a glare. “Convincing? Finnick, the only thing you’re convincing people of is that you have terrible taste.”

Finnick grins, unfazed. “That’s rich coming from the person who got caught in a closet with me. Sounds like you’re the one with terrible taste.”

Your nostrils flare. “That was an accident.”

“Sure it was.”

You swear you could kill him. He’s enjoying this way too much, the smug glint in his eyes practically daring you to lose your temper.

You step in a little closer, just enough to make it look intentional, enough to make it seem like you’re leaning into whatever ridiculous act he’s trying to sell to the Capitol. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he welcomes it, smirk deepening as he raises a brow.

“If we have to sell this, Odair, let’s make one thing clear,” you whisper, voice sharp despite the fake sweetness laced into it. “You’re the one chasing me, not the other way around.”

Finnick chuckles, tilting his head like he finds that adorable. “Sweetheart, if that helps you sleep at night, I’ll let you believe it.”

Your fingers twitch at his hold, itching to punch him, but you force yourself to keep up the act. You roll your shoulders back, composing yourself as you take a slow step back—just enough to put some distance between you.

Finnick watches you, amusement still dancing in his eyes, before leaning in one last time.

“Just remember,” he murmurs, lips dangerously close to your ear, “if Snow asks, you’ve been hopelessly in love with me for months.”

You don’t even hesitate. You stomp on his foot.

Finnick hisses, the grin finally slipping from his face as you yank yourself free from his hold. “I hate you.”

Finnick laughs through the pain, barely even phased as he takes a step back, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve like nothing happened. “Yeah, yeah. Keep saying that, sweetheart. It only makes the act more believable.”

You don’t just storm off. You march across the dance floor, teeth clenched, pulse hammering at your temples. The absolute audacity of Finnick Odair. You can still hear his laugh trailing behind you, light and amused, like he’s delighted that he’s gotten under your skin.

He’s insufferable.

You barely make it three steps before Finnick’s voice chases after you. “Come on, don’t walk away so soon. You didn’t even let me dip you dramatically a second time.”

You whip around so fast he nearly collides into you. “Finnick, I swear to—”

He raises his hands in mock surrender, expression gleaming with pure mischief. “Relax, sweetheart, you’re making this way too easy for them.” He tilts his head ever so slightly toward the crowd.

You don’t want to look. You really don’t, but you know exactly what he’s talking about. The Capitol’s eyes are still on you, their expressions ranging from intrigue to outright glee. Some of them are whispering to each other, exchanging looks like they’ve figured something out.

Finnick sees the realization flicker across your face and smirks.

He leans in, voice dropping to that annoyingly smooth, lazy drawl. “That’s right. We sell this, or we’re both dead.” His grin widens. “So, if you want me to stop annoying you, then act in love.”

You inhale sharply, resisting the urge to wring his neck. Instead, you plaster on the most sickeningly sweet smile you can muster.

“You’re right, Finnick.” Your voice is sugary and poisonous all at once, dripping with an exaggerated affection that makes his eyebrows twitch. “How could I possibly resist you? You’re just so—so—”

You grab his collar, yanking him forward, just enough for your lips to hover dangerously close to his. Finnick’s breath hitches for just half a second.

Then, in the smuggest voice imaginable, he says, “Speechless? Happens all the time.”

Your roll your eyes. “I was going to say infuriating.”

Finnick laughs. Loud, genuine, eyes gleaming with absolute delight. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, placing a hand over yours, effortlessly prying your fingers from his collar, “if you think this is infuriating, just wait until I start courting you properly.”

Your stomach drops. Not because you’re flustered, obviously. Just dread. Absolute dread.

“You wouldn’t,” you whisper, already regretting this entire night.

Finnick grins, the kind that sends a chill up your spine. “Try me.”

You might actually have to kill him.

part three

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair #hunger games finnick #the hunger games

413 notes · View notes

taintedcigs · 2 years ago

Text

˚ 　　　 . ✧ 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄

vol 1; made to break your heart — king!steve harrington x fgirl!reader

summary: in which you see your ex making out with someone else leaving you with no choice but to fall right into the lap of his enemy, steve harrington. (wc: 5.2k+)

warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, or*l sx (receiving and giving oop), some good ol’ bj, drinking, drgs, weed basically, no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, LOTS OF PRAISES, they are both switches but idk if that counts??, nicknames! reader is kinda heartless basically a maneater, steve is an arrogant bastard, and hes got a big BIG di–heart. some lil’ eddie mention that u might miss if u blink!

authors note: i am kinda thinking a pt.2 of this IM open to all ideas, but i kinda am thinking of making it like a mini-series? and maybe introduce eddie in the second part, and then make part 3 steddie? mmmhmm? what do we think? my asks r open for all and any ideass anyways not proofread bc of my lazy ass. ignore any mistakes.

please like + reblog + interact to support me ! thank u ily

read vol 2 here

Booming music filled your ears, sweaty bodies swaying away from you but you couldn't care less.

Whispers from your back, collected gasps, and all you could do was watch.

Fingertips clutched on your dress in fury, gaze unable to tear away from the scene playing out right in front of your eyes.

Tina’s lips were locked onto Billy’s, you thought it was pretty soon to be swapping salivas considering it had been barely two days since he broke up with you.

The red cup in your hand was almost smushed from the hardened impact of your fists, with a quick go, you downed it, ignoring Tommy and Carol’s cackles as they watched you.

With a roll of your eyes, you were quick to turn away from them, ignoring your friends calling out for your name—you didn’t need this, you didn’t need to be pampered. You just needed a generous amount of drinks, and maybe someone to keep yourself busy with.

Tina and her lame-ass party could go fuck themselves.

Billy was an asshole, no real surprise there. And you didn’t care, because the relationship had run its course, again. Tough shit. You were used to it. Another break up with him.

You didn’t care about it, the only thing you cared about was him crossing the line, making out with another girl in front of everyone.

Each break, the two of you fucked whoever you wanted to fuck, just to end up together again, drunkenly. But this time he made it everyone’s problem, and you couldn’t let him get away with that.

The whispers, and the collective giggles every time you passed by were making your blood boil.

You couldn’t let that dipshit ruin your reputation, you weren’t going to pathetically pine over someone who could barely make you cum. And you weren’t going to let any of those gossiping assholes think otherwise.

You stumble onto the porch with a string of curses leaving your pouty lips, quick to fish out a joint courtesy to that Munson kid, always providing you with the best weed, either free or cheap, depending on how much you adjusted your skirt or batted your lashes at him.

Maybe, you should pay him a visit. For fucks sake, you’ve seen him play, and he could roll a joint blindfolded, he knew how to put those fingers to use.

You could just imagine the scorching look on Billy’s face, his velvety lips scrunched together, a sickening feeling sinking into his stomach, knowing that you fucked Eddie Munson, the guy he always went to get his weed from.

The idea of it brings a delicious smirk to your lips. But it wouldn’t be enough, no. You needed something more, something bigger.

“Need a lighter, honey?” A coarse, smooth tone has your head cocking, the joint sitting on your lips rising with the impact.

Steve fucking Harrington.

Falling right into your lap.

Billy would’ve flipped the fuck out if he knew. He always warned you about him, telling you that Harrington was off limits, no matter what. Well, until now.

Your gaze locks with his, dangerous, filthy, and exactly where you want him. Before you can drag out the joint to answer him, he acts quicker, brushing his fingertips on your chin, almost tugging you closer to him, he licks his lips, wetting them with a chuckle.

With a gentle flicker of his lighter, the tip of the joint smolders, casting a warm glow to your face that accentuates the smirk curved on your lips.

Your dress rides up your thighs when you straighten up, taking an inhale from the joint, you blow the smoke in his face without a care. He eyes each of your movements, the stupid grin sitting on his lips growing wider the more his eyes move up and down your body. You almost want to chuckle at how easy this is.

But you also know Steve’s type, you have to make them chase you a little bit, give them a little thrill, before you finally give in. And you had already been doing that, for the longest time.

Always teasing him, but never giving in. Your hands always brushed past his bicep just enough to let him know you were interested, eyelashes always fluttered at him, teeth biting on your bottom lip as you checked him out.

The little game had been fun, but you never plucked up the courage to fully give in to him, Billy would’ve lost his shit. Besides, you knew his type, and you didn’t want to be one of his other trophies. And you didn’t have to be, you just had to use him to get yourself off, and piss Billy off. The second you walked into a room with him, you knew the party would be buzzing with the gossip.

You had the perfect excuse, the perfect excuse to finally divulge your fantasies, all the cheerleaders always blabbered about him, calling him an ass, but an ass who knew how to properly use his fingers and that dangerous mouth.

Exactly what you fucking need.

You had been pent up enough for the months you were with Billy.

This would be a little reward.

“All alone?” He was smug, he absolutely knew about the break-up and possibly saw Tina and Billy’s show, so he knew this was the perfect opportunity to have you in his palm. In a fucked up way, that made you want him more, the unspoken game grew more intense with that gaze of his, he had the same idea you did. The fucker was smooth.

You nod curtly, not wanting to just fall into his lap. No matter how good he looked in those Levi’s jeans that cupped his ass perfectly. Why was he so fucking interesting to you? Arms all toned, face adorned with tiny moles, he almost seemed mystical.

And oh god, his hair. That soft, perfectly layered chestnut brown locks, so effortlessly cool that you just wanted to run your hair through it, tugging at it the more his lips sucked on your clit.

God, the thought had your thighs pressing together uncomfortably.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be all alone at a party,” he pouted mockingly. “Where’s that boy toy of yours?” He tutted, hand dangerously planted on your back, ghosting over your hips.

That elicited a giggle out of you, “Didn’t you hear all the rumors, pretty boy?” You leaned further, hand extending to offer him a huff. His attention was somewhere else though, eyes widening the more he admired you in that dress, showing off your curves in all the right way, tits almost busting out of your chest.

God, he had been waiting for this moment, an opportunity to have you, the second he fucking met you. But Billy got to you first.

“We broke up.” That brought his attention back to you, a smirk played on his lips when he leaned into your hand, lips wrapping around the tip of the joint, he sucked on it but his dark amber eyes remained on you.

With an inhale, “Good.” He mumbled, “knew that dipshit couldn’t handle someone like you.”

“You need someone better take care of you…” he hummed, nose dipping closer to your features, “someone who knows how to handle all of this.” His hands were placed on your waist, traveling all over your body.

Your breath was quick to get caught in your throat, a whine leaving your lips with how forward he was being.

And shit, you understood the appeal, you always did, but this time, you were sure your hunger for him grew faster than you intended to. You were in his palm, and you were more than okay with it.

“Yeah?” You teased with a giggle, head falling on his shoulder, brain getting fuzzier.

“I can make you forget him.” He’s bold, and it has your thighs rubbing together.

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name, or how to walk.” He’s so close to your ear, breath fanning against your breath as you almost shudder, but you play it off.

“You’re all talk, Harrington.” You licked your glossy lips, head slightly tilted to the side, teasing him just enough.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you’ve heard the rumors, and I know you want this as much as you do.” The cocky bastard licks his lips, and you want nothing more than to bite them.

“Oh, yeah?”

“The way you press your thighs together, that little whine you just did when I barely touched you… Tells me all I need to fuckin’ know.” He whispers, and you almost whine out when a sloppy kiss is planted on your neck, harsh and needy.

“You’ll be screamin’ and beggin’ for me, angel.”

Your brows raise in interest. “That a promise?”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you a boyish grin.

“You’re on, King Steve.”

It didn’t take the two of you long enough to find an empty bedroom, lips, and teeth clashing as soon as the door closed.

The wandering eyes of the party had followed you up until that point, so you knew as soon as the two of you left the room with your sexed-up looks, everyone would know.

And you would finally have a sweet release after months of Billy’s selfishness.

A win-win.

You let his curious hands wander around your body, quick to almost rip off your dress, he wants to savor this moment, wants the image of your body engraved in his mind, stuck into the back of it just so he can fish it out whenever he can.

But he’s impatient, he’s waited for this. Wanted you longer than ever, and finally, you’re putty at his hands, ready to take whatever he’s going to give—or at least that’s what he thinks— And he’s feeling greedy. His mouth is pressed onto yours, sucking on your tongue before he lowers you down on the bed, you giggle softly when you sink into it, and Steve has never felt like this before, the hunger in his eyes ignites a spark of pleasure within you, quick to dampen your thighs with need.

A shocked gasp escapes your lips once he unhooks your bra with his left hand. Oh, he’s good. “Pretty baby,” he murmurs before his mouth is latched onto your nipples. “Perfect fuckin’ tits,” He groans into your chest, hand toying with your lace panties, shaky breaths escape his lips as he earns more whines from you.

You look ethereal, with your mouth hung open, teeth biting on your glossed-up lips, head thrown back. Just like he knew you’d be.

The more he circles around your panties the more you feel that pent-up desire burning inside of you, all those orgasmless months with Billy, and Steve was going to elicit more with just a flick of his fingers than you ever had through the entire relationship.

Maybe that’s why he always called you a bitch.

“Steve,” your whines come out pathetically as he looks up at you, layered hair already disheveled and that goddamn smirk sitting on his pretty lips.

“Already beggin’, honey?” He mocks with a grin, tugging on your nipple, all teeth and no mercy. His tongue is making its way further down, soft, wet strokes tickle your body.

“Fuck off,” You spit at him, barely, words dying down your throat when he’s quick to rip away your lacy panties. His light honey eyes are so much darker now, head thrown back when he visually drinks in your glistening pussy.

You look so fucking perfect, thighs spread apart, him between them, mouth hung open and ready to take all of him. He makes a mental image of it, burning it to the back of his mind.

“C’mon sweetheart, let King Steve know what you want, what you really need.” His voice is smooth and coarse, fingertips circling around your clit harder the more you whine for him.

“Do you need my fingers, baby? My mouth?” You moan at that, audibly. It has him chuckling darkly once he realizes how depraved you really are, one touch from him and you’re already soaking his fingers, whining like a pretty little slut.

If he knew how much you’d be such a good girl for him, he would’ve done this much sooner. Would’ve ruined your pretty little pussy for anyone else, Billy would’ve had no chance over him.

“Has that asshole not been makin’ you cum?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but the way you shook your head with a pout, had him melting. He really had you and didn’t know how to take good care of you? What a fucking loser.

“Holy fuckin’ shit… not even with his mouth?” His eyes widened, he really didn’t think Billy would be that bad, everything was working to his advantage.

“He- uh- he never…” You stammered, getting uncharacteristically embarrassed because it was, truly embarrassing. All those months with him, and half the time you faked it. Selfish prick.

“Never? Oh, baby…” He coos with a dangerous smirk, lip all pouty and mocking, “No wonder you were so desperate for me. You really needed this, huh?” He almost gave a chuckle, caressing your pussy with his middle finger, getting you all ready.

“Jerk-” You want to curse out his cockiness, tell him you don’t need him. Keep him grounded, but the whines he’s pulling out of you are enough to make him grin like a Cheshire cat.

Your breath gets shakier when his finger easies into your walls. “Sshh, relax, baby.” He coos.

“I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good, doll.” His fingers are slickly working their way in and out of you, filthy sounds mingling with your moans as his nose brushes over your clit, causing your hips to start rocking up to him.

“Had this pretty little thing, and didn’t even know how to take care of it, hmm? What a waste,” He hummed sweetly, index finger thrusting in and out of your sloppy walls.

“If I had known you’d be this fuckin’ soaked, I would’ve done this much sooner,” he taunts, fingers curling inside of you, enjoying the way you gasp out and buck your hips for more.

He dives in, pressing the flat of his tongue against your swollen lips, enjoying, fully tasting you. With a satisfied hum, he brings his eyes to meet yours, all fucked out, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, had this sweet pussy but never even tasted it… What a fuckin’ dumbass… I’ll give you what you deserve, baby…”

He’s going to explode soon, if he doesn’t make you cum and then fuck you senseless. He can feel his balls draw up more and more, each time you whine, each time you plead for his name as a whisper.

He flicks the tip meticulously, giving you attention everywhere and anywhere, just like he knew you’d like it. “You know, I usually would never do this on a first date,” He mocks, grinning all mouthy and you attempt to dive his mouth further into you, to shut his arrogant ass up, and that fucker resists, “But god, you’re an exception… just begging to be fucked, you deserve this honey, can’t be selfish with you.”

His licks are heavenly, sucking on your clit like a man possessed, and his name falls from your lips in such a filthy way that you don’t even care how pathetic you look anymore. You accept it, you let him take full control, trashing beneath him.

“You like that, angel?” His words are muffled into your cunt, the pad of his thumb still circling around your entrance while he sucks on your clit. Your head sinks further into the softness of the bed, eyes squeezed shut, breaking apart with just his tongue. He moans into your soppy walls, sending a shock wave of pleasure to ripple through you.

He doesn’t even need your words, the visual of you squirming underneath him is enough to have him all bricked up, you taste like the sweetest sin. Velvety walls so tight that it has him bucking his hips into the bed, desperate for some friction, he needs you. And he’s sure he never wanted someone this badly before.

“So fuckin’ special, aren’t you? Such a desperate baby…” You can feel his bulge against your thigh, sitting prettily and throbbing against his boxers. You always heard how big he was, but fuck, you finally get to feel it, and it’s glorious.

And he twitched in his boxers just from eating you out? God, he was fucking perfect.

He dips his head just enough to muffle out a few more words, “I wanna taste you fully, angel. Want you to soak my tongue.” He dives in before you can reply, eliciting dirtier moans from you, alternating between his fingers and his tongue.

He doesn’t care about anything else but you, he wants you panting for him, cumming all over his tongue while you scream his name.

Your thighs start to shake once he pushes two fingers inside of you, gentle but rough enough to have you squirming and bucking your hips more into him, you’re at his mercy, and he loves how tight you are. Just the thought of your tight cunt milking his cock dry has his eyes rolling.

“S-steve,” you breathe out roughly, enjoying how his tongue is licking up that sweet spot. “I know baby,” he taunts all cockily, admiring the way your thighs shake with need. You’re going to cum soon and that prick can feel it.

“N-need to cum, please,” your pleading is unintentional, you just need a desperate release, and he’s so fucking good.

“Cum for me, angel, be a good girl for me, yeah?” Your eyes squeeze shut at the praise, and he takes note of that, admiring the way you tighten around his tongue and fingers at the praise.

His fingers are quick, making you scream out his name louder and louder. “That’s it pretty girl… cum for me.” Arrogant fuck, you wish to say, but the way he laps up your juices has you whining like a little slut. And his smirk grows wider, a wet patch forming on his boxers with how hard he’s straining them, pathetically needing to be inside of you.

You tremble, trash, squirm beneath him, his touches and stripes of licks finally enough to have your stomach twisting, with final screams of “Steve!” and “F-fuck!” the coil inside of you snaps, orgasm overtaking you with such force that your eyes are glued shut.

A gush of sweetness trickles along Steve’s tastebuds, you taste so fucking good that it drives him even crazier, lapping up at your juices and not stopping until he’s sure you’ve collapsed under him.

He’s grinning like crazy, lips all glossy with your juices, and he looks so fucking pretty like this. It makes you want to return the favor.

So badly. And the need to know if the title Big Daddy Steve really suits him or not stirs your stomach, your core pooling with need. If it’s true, your mouth waters with the desire to have him, he looks delicious, and you know he’ll look much more yummy while he’s fucking your mouth, pretty praises leaving his pale rosy lips.

The avoidant part of you screams at you to not do this, but your core is begging for more.

Maybe, just maybe, you could return the favor but still toy with him, take control, and mess with his mind.

Enough to have him begging, pleading for more from you.

As if he can hear your dilemma, he drags you back in, wrapping his fist around your hair as he pulls you toward him and draws your bottom lip into his mouth, all teeth, sucking with an exaggerated hum, “Do you like the way you taste on my tongue?” He mutters against your ear, licking a stripe of your neck.

Jesus, fuck. Now, you had to return the favor.

“Tastes so sweet,” you giggle, you are going to suck him off, but you are going to lead the way now. A smirk gleams on your lips. Teasingly, your hands trace the edge of his boxers, enough to earn a rude whine from him as you squeeze him through the harsh fabric.

You’re quick to yank his shirt off of him without a warning, and he’s quick to flaunt his well-muscled, heaving chest.

Asshole.

With a strong flip, you manage to straddle him, taking him by surprise while you grin at him, and to say Steve is intrigued would be an understatement, his cock twitches at your brow raise. “What are you doing, baby?” He still manages to be so cool that your thighs ache.

“Returning the favor,” you shrug with a smirk, eliciting low grumbles from him when you lower yourself on his chest, leaving sloppy kisses, mouth tracing a trail that leads to his delicious v-line.

You lift the elastic away from his waist, freeing his throbbing tip, the red tip slaps against his abdomen, and your brows pinch together in astonishment admiring it.

Jesus fucking Christ, he was not all talk.

King Steve, indeed.

You had to hand it down to those gossipy cheerleaders, they had described him to a t, perfect girth, slightly bent to the left, and big, really fucking big, you probably needed to use your hands along with your glossed lips to take all of him in.

He chuckled at your expression, basking in the glory of your widened eyes, “Like what you see, angel?” Another taunt, but you ignore it with a smirk this time. Pooling saliva in your mouth, you spit on the angry tip, Steve hisses at the impact and watches with a low grumble once you wrap your palm around his shaft.

He reveled in how perfectly your soft manicured fingers looked around his delicate bubblegum pink tip, attending to his every need.

Your warm fingers are working their way around his cock, coating his length with your spit as you tugged at it gently, causing his eyes to nearly roll back in his head.

He tries his best to swallow his groans, but his hips desperately jerk up at your hand, desperately fucking it, rendering you speechless.

“You like that, baby?” Your tone was teasing, and if he didn’t feel like he was about to explode he would’ve gripped your hair and fucked your mouth with such roughness that all that you would be thinking about would be his huge cock, punishing you for being such a tease, but he was the one wrapped around your finger now, literally.

“S’big, Stevie,” you coyly batted your lashes at him, and a shuddered breath left your parted lips as you looked up at him between his thighs.

He almost wept at the sight, shit shit shit, you were all of his dreams wrapped into one, and he could barely speak. Your palm easily glided down his length, saliva working as a lubricant as you teased him further.

Your other palm was quick to cup his balls, massaging them and giving them a gentle tug, while your other hand still glided down his length, enjoying the way he struggled not to let out loud groans in your hold.

Without any other word, your head tilted down, quick to mouth the tip of his intense tip, it was almost hot to touch, waiting to be attended to, so needy. Just like him.

You swipe his tip, collecting his pearl of pre-cum gently. “Jesus f-fuck!” Pathetic coarse whines leave his parted lips, he lets you take control, eyes clenched tightly.

You give his tip more kitten licks, trying to get your throat ready for his lengthy cock. “Just like that, honey,” He praises with his head thrown back, he avoids looking into your eyes, knowing that the fucked out look on your face as your pouty lips wrapped around his cock would be enough to have him spill down your throat in seconds.

And it would be a bit embarrassing for Steve, to lose his reputation to you in a matter of seconds.

“More…” He demands, but you ignore it while you continue your teasing sweet flicks on his tip, feeling him twitch around your tongue. “Pretty girl,” He whines and jolts his pelvis for more, desperate and needy. Just where you want him.

“Mhmm?” You whine with your mouth full, it sends a rush of pleasure through him, “Suck it, baby,” he whines again, this time pained with need. Your greedy eyes smile up at him and he’s sure you have done something to him.

Because he never wanted to cum this bad before. He wants to wipe that smirk off your face while you gag on his cum, struggling to swallow all of it as it spills down your cheeks, glistening your breasts, ruining that gloss forever, and instead, you walk around with his semen all over your face and lips.

It pulls a twisted groan out of him, you make him feel so perverted and he can’t fucking help himself. You finally accept his pleas, and with one glorious tug, you finally wrap your lips around his cock, fully, getting teary-eyed each time you try to take more of his flesh.

Steve can’t help himself, his head is dipped down, and he immediately feels his balls ache at the visual of you, crystal tears staining your cheeks, and even then, that lewd look did not leave your eyes.

“F-fucking slut, just like that,” His groans are uncontrollable, hips bucking further into your mouth. You don’t let him yank you by your hair, just yet. You let your mouth adjust to him, sucking him deep and tight.

“Such a good girl, suckin’ my cock with all she has, mmpf.” His praise has your core clenching, damn him.

He admires your pouty lips fully wrapped around his flesh, sucking and hollowing your cheeks as you wail for him, “Shit, shit, baby, l-look so pretty with my cock down your throat, mmhmm…” He coos, words incoherent.

“Will look even prettier with my cum shooting down that throat, isn’t that right, angel?” You hummed in agreement, looking up at him with your dark, hooded gaze, an unintentional grin playing on your lips.

He mumbled a string of curses, praising you, worshipping you. You continued your stroke on his base harshly, working the head with your tongue, a new angle that had him go absolutely insane.

“Mmmhmm, need your cum, Stevie.” You mumbled, momentarily letting your hand do all the work before you dove back in, taking his stiff cock deep in your throat, he had been struggling before, but your words were his last straw.

Because it was exactly what he fucking wanted, owning your mouth, and fucking it with ease.

His palm turned into a fist the second he held your hair, yanking it down as he pushed you further down on his cock, enjoying the way it hit the back of your throat, you gagged around it, all teary and Steve’s head fell back in pure ecstasy. “Y-yes, yes, fuck!”

“Gonna cum, baby, mmmpf, god-” He panted, his cock twitching more and more you sucked on him.

“Gonna fuckin’ s-shit-” He shuddered, thighs shaking while your throat continued to squeeze the tip of his cock, and once you gave his balls some more attention, he knew he was a goner.

“Fuckin’ give i-it to you,” He barely let out when his eyes glued shut together, almost rolling to the back of his head when you gagged around his cock, with a glorious groan of “Fuuuuuck!” Steve came in your mouth, hips still bucking into your throat as a spurt of his warm load spilled down your throat, coating it nicely.

You only let go of his softened cock with a ‘pop!’ sound once you made sure you sucked him dry, swallowing all of it while Steve watched you with such a dazzled look that it almost made you want to do more with him. But, no. This had been enough.

You enjoyed his salty taste in your mouth and the way his fingers and mouth worked inside of you. And that was enough for you. For now.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He grumbled a chuckle that had you grinning and winking at him. God, men really were easy. One blowjob and Steve was already looking at you like you were the most precious thing in his life.

You had to go easy on him, tell him that you weren’t going to let him fuck you.

Because you got what you wanted, an orgasm, and the reputation of fucking “King Steve”, everyone would be gossiping about the two of you by now, it was a matter of time before that douchebag found out.

He tried to pull you in for a kiss, but you were quick to dodge it, getting up from the softness of the bed with a groan while Steve curiously eyed you.

His brows were quick to pinch together, watching the way you easily slipped your tight dress on your body while you admired yourself in the mirror. Rubbing your lips together to fix your gloss, fingertips cleaning over the smeared mascara running down your cheeks.

“W-what are you doing?” He inquired, his face quick to fall down.

You shrugged nonchalantly, “I want to go dance,” brows then raised in excitement “Ooohh! Maybe I could get some more weed, have you seen Munson around?” You questioned, that lustful look still dancing in your eyes.

“Uhhh…” he stammered, still confused on what the fuck just happened. “Y-yeah I think-”

“Thank fuckin’ god!” You hummed with a giggle, rushing over to his side, sloppily planting a kiss on his cheek, all shiny and smeared with his juices.

You were halfway through the door when Steve’s protests stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait!” He straightened up, softened cock and all, his glistening chest was begging to be touched, but as you decided, not today.

“What the fuck? I thought-”

“What?” You asked cluelessly, brows raised.

“We were just getting started, angel,” He tried, but his voice wasn’t as arrogant or confident as it was before, and it took you so much to not let your lips twitch into a smirk.

One orgasm and he was already broken? Steve was fun to play with it.

Your giggle at him would’ve felt mocking if you didn’t do it so prettily, Steve just watched in awe.

The poor boy.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, would you?” You tilted your head with a pout. Oh, you were good, he had to give you that.

Because once he literally got a taste of you, he wasn’t going to stop.

His lips kissed his teeth, it was surely hypocritical of him to think this was unfair since that’s what he always did to other girls.

“But–”

“See you around, pretty boy,” you cooed, throwing a wink toward his way, and shutting the door with that. Leaving Steve all alone.

He had never felt this way before. The way his cock twitched just the thought of you again had his mind flooding, you used him, gave him the best fucking head of his life, and then left.

Maybe this game would’ve pissed him off if someone else did it to him, if it was any other girl he would’ve lost interest, thinking she was trying too fucking hard, but it was you.

And all it did was drive Steve crazier, and make the chase all the more fun, and Steve was nothing, if not persuasive.

#steve harrington x reader #king!steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #king!steve harrington

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boltonbritreads · 9 months ago

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🗣️Eddie Munson Fic Recs

This is gonna have a sappy start before I get into the fic rec portion: but I just wanted to say that at the end of May 2022, I was finishing up my first year of law school. It was rough, challenging, lonely, and basically everything you’d expect and I was in a bad place and the fandom I’d been in was slowing down just naturally. I truly wish I could remember how I even became aware of Eddie Munson because stranger things wasn’t really on my radar anymore and whoever I followed at the time that started to veer off into Eddie-mania, thank you. In the two years since then, I’ve graduated and become the worlds babiest lawyer and I genuinely owe a lot to this fandom and community on here for giving me a fun, usually safe, creative place to escape to when it got rough.

I’m just hoping to maybe remind people that there are already an incredible, incredible amount of existing stories to read and talk about that deserve your attention and love if you’re looking to read some Eddie stories. Some of these will be fics I’ve recommended before but I’m going to try my best to pull together writers and fics that I love and think everyone should read in the hopes that someone like me who still scrolls through eddie tags looking for my nightly bedtime story can find something new to them to read! ✨

Previous Fic Rec list here!! some overlap but there’s no such thing as too much hype for these writers

@munson-blurbs I hope it’s ok but I’m linking Bug’s full masterlist here because I have genuinely loved everything she has written. There are blurbs, series, and special events which are all incredible and worth a read! Bug is currently still writing the “Living after Midnight” series which is my current obsession and features rockstar!eddie x motelheiress!reader and it’s angst and lust galore

@corroded-hellfire also sharing the Eddie Masterlist here because there’s so many fics to read!! As You Wish, Big Brown Eyes, Where the Heart Is are all incredible but truly there’s so much here to enjoy

@upsidedownwithsteve SIMMER!! jk I’m actually linking the Eddie Masterlist here too because I love them all but “I Want You To Want Me” and “Simmer” are out of this world

@pinkrelish The Yes Policy I love it, you love it, we all love it and if you haven’t caught up yet oh my god I wish I was you and could read these chapters for the first time again

@ghost-proofbaby I’ve previously told people to go read 24 Hours, and you should, that’s an order; but Maroon is ongoing! and it’s actually infiltrating my every thought so go on over and get caught up bc I think it’s safe to say things are getting amped up

@trashmouth-richie I have also previously recommended Honey, I’m Home because it’s a work of art but Ziggy has a new mini series “Crash + Fall” that I’m completely obsessed with the concept for and I’ve loved every piece so far!

@tiannasfanfic I just reblogged Conviction again but I genuinely am not exaggerating when I say I think about this story and these two monthly and try and find this story all the time to re-read it endlessly. It’s a really lovely story of unplanned pregnancy and two characters not realizing they’ve been smitten for each other the whole time and I love it

@carolmunson I’m sharing another Eddie Masterlist here because I’d be making this post far too long but Carol’s stories are all incredible, complex, and honest. “Let’s go, don’t wait” just got updated and I had to read it like 3 times last night because it was too good to just read one and done

@rebelfell I just discovered Sarah’s blog after reading the most recent “Frenemy” fic and idk what I was doing wrong to not already follow her and not have already read her whole Masterlist but I’m linking the whole thing bc she’s so good!!

@the-au-thor I also only just discovered Elle’s blog and that’s criminal but thank god I found Babysitting Mun because I am a sucker for rockstar!eddie and this series has me on the edge of my seat rn

@storiesbyrhi I’m sharing the Masterlist folks because I have genuinely loved every single story and series and I have read them all now (some several times). So many of Rhi’s stories have a wonderful warm witchy vibe that I crave and I’ve read Siouxsie and the Soulmates, The Cabin in the Woods, Our Patron Saint of the Arts, Vintage Reeboks, and Burning Yarrow (insert screaming fan gif) multiple times now

@heart-eyed-love this fic is the epitome of a soft, cozy, domestic night with Eddie and if you need a hug read this 🥹

@eddieandbird I JUST got caught up on Eddie/Tour Manager series and I’m fully obsessed and desperate to know how they’re gonna navigate this - for folks new to the story, Eddie and his tour manager accidentally drunkenly get married- what could go wrong??

@eiightysixbaby the scream I scrumped when I finished reading Princess Leia, and Other Wishes - look bffs to lovers is already my absolute weakness on this earth but then you had to make it witty and funny and FLUFFY I just can do nothing but re-read and pine

@superblysubpar I’m still obsessed with this addition to The Boy is Mine writing challenge and oh god it’s so good 😩

…and while we’re talking about it - here’s the entire The Boy is Mine masterlist with an INSANE amount of incredible stories to read

@the-unforgivenn !!! tumblr hates me and deleted this bullet (so if you already saw this post, no you didn’t) but And I Need You to Know is a proper novel! I can’t imagine how much time, love, effort, planning, and work went into creating this insane and absolutely incredible world but everyone needs to read this!! and then follow up with She’s So Cold bc I love it and I am so reader

~~ this is not the end nor an exhaustive list! I just wanted to put something out there now that I plan to build on because I know I’m always scrolling and searching for new things to read or old things to revisit ♥️ ~~

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson au #eddie x reader

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bytemee · 4 months ago

Text

chapter four. | WHERE DO YOU SLEEP? — YU JIMIN.

𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 — y/n, a rising music producer, has built her dream career while keeping her personal life under wraps. karina, aespa’s leader, is preparing for a huge comeback with a mini album produced and written by the one and only y/n.

karina knows this is the opportunity of a lifetime, and she has to nail it. the only problem is, she may be a bit distracted by her producer.

something about their connection feels different—like maybe it's worth the risk of prying eyes. but how much will they give up to chase after what they want?

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — includes texts, kissy kissy, more suggestive jokes aha, tad angst idk?? and i think that's all.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 — 3k

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲— i would update this more often but i second guess my writing so much

taglist (open) — @sunshinez4 @gtfoiydlyj @yuyuy90 @liaponderstings @rinapomu

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

"ah, shit!" you mumble at your phone screen, a deep frown on your lips. it was already the afternoon; you had spent the morning rotting in your hotel bed since you were free of schedules for the day, but now you were in the car with your manager coming back from a quick shopping trip because you didn't have anything better to do.

"what happened?" your manager asks, leaning over to see what the problem was. he lets out a small chuckle, and you shoot him a look. "oh, no, that's not good," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

you stare at him.

"it's not funny! i was so close to beating my high score!" subway surfers wasn't just a game to you; it was your life. your whole world revolves around getting that high score and having your name at the top of the global leaderboard. you were so close, too, but that train came out of nowhere and ended your run.

you let out a frustrated sigh, flopping back against the seat and crossing your arms over your chest. "i was so close," you mumble again, a pout on your lips. looking out the window, you watch the city pass by in a blur, the weather of seoul matching your mood—gloomy and overcast.

it was supposed to start raining soon.

your phone buzzes suddenly, and you look at the screen, your mood brightening a bit when you see the message.

a smile pulls at the corners of your lips.

tucking your phone away just as your manager glances over at you. you thin out your lips and stare the older man directly in the eyes, and he raises an eyebrow, but you quickly look away, whistling a tune to act nonchalant.

"you and karina are getting close, huh?" he says. you feel a blush creeping up your neck as you nod in response, trying to hide your smile. "she's just a friend," you say, hoping he doesn't notice the way your voice cracks slightly.

"just a friend, hm?"

"yeah," you lie, nodding once more.

there was a small pause of silence.

"i'm happy for you. i really am," he starts. here we go. the speech you've been dreading.

"but," he continues, because of course there's a but, "you've got to be careful. both of you are high-profile. you know how this industry is—fans, tabloids, all of it. the last thing you need is a dating rumor with karina."

you shift uncomfortably in your seat. "i know," you mumble.

"i mean it. her fans are..." he hesitates, searching for the right word. "passionate. and yours aren't exactly laid-back, either."

"yeah, i know," you repeat, this time a little more forcefully.

your manager lets out a long sigh. "look, i just don't want to see you get hurt again."

that makes you pause. you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. he's right—your fans and jimin's aren't exactly laid-back. you'd heard about the backlash from her last dating relationship, and you definitely don't want to go through that again with someone you've just begun seeing. it's a lot of pressure, but you know you have to be careful with how public you make your relationship. the last thing you want is for things to blow up in your face like they did with your last girlfriend.

you were 19, and it was the biggest mistake you've ever made. you were too young and naïve, and the relationship had crashed and burned within a few weeks. your fans didn't handle it well. it was all over the news, and even though the two of you tried to keep the relationship private, everyone had their eyes on you, and it was the most uncomfortable situation you'd ever been in.

comments like, "you deserve better," and, "she's not worthy of your time," filled the comment section of your social media, and it took awhile for the negative reactions to calm down. your fans are passionate, and while it can be overwhelming at times, you're so grateful for them. they've been by your side through thick and thin. you love them so much, and they care about you so much that it can sometimes be overbearing.

regardless of all that, you and your ex are still friends to this day, and you've managed to keep things cordial despite everything that happened. she understood the pressure you were under, and there was no bad blood when you decided to end things. it was a mutual decision—one made out of necessity rather than a lack of feelings. but the aftermath was something you never wanted to experience again.

"yeah, i get it," you murmur, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. "i'll be careful. i promise."

your manager gives you a knowing look, his expression softening. "i know you will. i just... i see how happy you look these days. i don't want anything to ruin that for you."

you nod, appreciating his concern. he's been with you since the start of your career and knows you better than most people. he's seen the highs and lows, and he's always been there to guide you through it.

things with jimin already feel so different—easier, more natural. but with her being who she is and you being who you are, there's no denying that the stakes are high. it would be foolish not to acknowledge that, and you're not one to jump into things headfirst without thinking about the consequences.

you're not 19 anymore.

your phone buzzes again, pulling you out of your thoughts. it's another message from her.

"do you mind picking me up from my dorm?"

"not at all. i can be there in an hour or so."

"sounds good. can't wait."

"hurry, hurry!" you usher at jimin, holding your hands above her head in an attempt to shield her from the pouring rain. she laughs, ducking underneath your makeshift umbrella of hands, and the two of you sprint towards your driver's parked car just a few feet away.

"you know this isn't really helping, right?" she teases, but she's still smiling, her eyes shining with amusement as the rain pelts her hair and clothes.

"it's the thought that counts!" you fire back, grinning as you reach the car. the door swings open, and the two of you clamber inside, panting. your driver glances at you through the rearview mirror before turning on the heat full blast, trying to help the two of you dry off.

"you're a terrible umbrella," she quips, pushing a few wet strands of hair out of her face.

"you're so cruel, jimin." you feign hurt, leaning your head against her shoulder as the car begins to move, the sound of the windshield wipers providing a comfortable background noise. with no hesitation, jimin's head rests on top of yours, her cheek pressing against the dampness of your hair.

"i'm joking," she reassures, gently resting her hand on top of yours, which was lying against her thigh, your pinkie drawing small circles on her leg. "do you think your grandma will like me?"

you smile at her question, taking in a deep breath before responding, "yeah, she's excited to meet you."

"really?"

"of course. i told them you're the one behind all my sleepless nights lately," you joke, earning a slap on the arm from the older woman.

"ouch," you say, rubbing your arm, but you're laughing.

jimin scoffs, shaking her head.

your grandma greeted the two of you with a warm smile and open arms, along with kimchi-jjigae, banchan, and freshly steamed rice already laid out on the table. the smell wafted through the house, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

"ah, you're here!" she exclaimed, hugging you and then moving on to hug a shy and timid-looking jimin. "and this must be your friend. so beautiful!"

jimin bowed respectfully, a warm smile on her lips. "thank you for having me." your grandma chuckled, patting jimin's hands. "such a polite girl. come, come. sit down before the food gets cold."

the two of you settled down at the table, and your grandma sat across from the two of you, watching you with a fond smile. you began eating, chatting, and laughing as the three of you ate together. your grandma was a great cook, and the meal was delicious, and it wasn't long before a big book was set in front of the both of you, photos sticking out of every page.

your grandma began flipping through the album, showing off old photos of you as a kid. the first few were okay—embarrassing, yes, but tolerable.

then she landed on a particular photo, and you froze.

it was a picture of you when you were about eight years old. you were dressed up in a little yellow dress, your hair in two braids, and a pair of bunny ears sitting atop your head.

you had forgotten about the bunny ears.

"oh, my god," you mumbled, burying your face in your hands, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

"is... that you?" jimin asked, pointing at the photo, her eyes wide with amusement as her jaw dropped. "yes, that's me," you grumbled, your voice muffled through your hands. you dared to peek through your fingers and immediately regretted it. jimin was practically bouncing in her seat, a grin plastered across her face as she leaned closer to the photo.

"what a cute girl! i remember this outfit." your grandma said, a huge grin on her face. "it was from the school festival. she wanted to dress up like a bunny—" jimin eagerly nodded, her gaze moving back and forth between the book and your grandmother.

"that's so cute," she said, laughing, and your grandma nodded.

your grandma turned the page in the album, her laugh bubbling up again as another photo caught her attention. "oh, look at this one," she said, pointing to a picture of you as a toddler, sitting in a high chair with your face completely smeared with what looked like chocolate cake.

jimin leaned forward, a wide smile on her face.

"look at her little cheeks," she gushed, pointing to your puffed-out baby cheeks in the photo.

"please, please, please. no more. i'm begging you."

neither of them looked up.

"wait, wait," jimin said, pointing at another photo. "is that flour? oh my, she's covered head to toe!"

your grandma burst out laughing, tapping the photo with her finger. "yes! she wanted to help me bake cookies, but she ended up making more of a mess than anything else. look at her face—completely indignant."

a small pout formed on your face as you crossed your arms. they seemed to be in their own little world, completely forgetting about your presence in the room. the pout leaves your face, replaced by a smile when you realize how happy she was making your grandmother—how happy they were making each other.

watching the two of them bonding warmed your heart. they seemed to hit it off immediately, and it was obvious that they were getting along. you clasped your hands together, resting your chin on top as you watched them. in this moment, you didn't mind being forgotten. seeing jimin this comfortable, sharing laughter and memories with one of the most important people in your life, felt like its own kind of magic.

it felt so domestic, and you found yourself wanting more moments like this, wanting to see her smiling and laughing with your family, to hear stories of your childhood, to watch her bond with those closest to you.

you wanted more, and the realization sent a wave of emotion washing over you.

but it also brought with it a feeling of fear.

after all, you're human. you've tasted what happens when you give too much of yourself, when you let someone in and the world takes notice. you didn't know how far this thing with her would go, but if history was any indication, the odds weren't exactly in your favor. you cared for her deeply, and you knew that if that time came, ending things wouldn't be easy, not by a long shot.

this wasn't just about you anymore. jimin had her own career, which involved other people you also care about, and if the two of you were caught, if the relationship was discovered, the repercussions would be massive.

could you handle being responsible for that? could she?

jimin glanced up at you, catching your gaze. a slow smile crept onto her lips, and her eyes crinkled at the corners. just for a moment, just for now, you pushed the worries out of your mind.

and instead, you just smiled back.

the photo album neared its end; your grandma let out a satisfied sigh, gently closing the book. "ah, so many memories. i'm glad i got to share them with such a lovely guest." she patted jimin's hand, who blushed at the praise.

your grandma stood from the table, collecting the photo album and placing it back on the shelf. "you two should take some time to relax. y/n, why don't you show her your old room?"

you nodded, pushing back your chair as jimin followed your lead. you led her down the hallway, pointing out old family photos along the way. opening the door to your childhood room, you watched as jimin's eyes lit up, a wide smile spreading across her face.

the walls were a pale blue color, with white trim and a small window that looked out onto the garden. there was a twin-size bed, covered with a floral-patterned quilt, and a dresser topped with a few knickknacks.

jimin walked around the room, examining the shelves lined with trophies, ribbons, and other awards from various music competitions you'd won when you were a kid. there were also pictures of you with various teachers, a few framed magazine clippings, and some old concert tickets displayed proudly on the walls.

you watched her from your bed, leaning back on your elbows as she explored. "your room is so nice," she said, running her fingers along the spines of some books on a shelf.

"yeah?" you replied, and she nodded, glancing over her shoulder at you.

"it's cute. like you."

you turned away muttering something under your breath, and she laughed, plopping down next to you on the bed. her hand reached behind you, grabbing a stuffed animal off the shelf and holding it up to your face.

"what's this?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

in an instant, you lunged for it, but she was too fast, pulling it out of your reach with a laugh. you narrowed your eyes at her, trying again, and again, you failed.

"what's his name?" she asked, her voice playful as she held the stuffed animal behind her back of her stretched body, just out of your grasp.

"mr. flopsy, okay? now give him back!" you exclaimed, making a third attempt to grab the stuffed animal, which she once again moved out of your reach.

"fine," you muttered, a sly grin creeping onto your face. you feigned giving up, and as soon as her hand fell, you struck. grabbing mr. flopsy and putting him behind your back before laying down on top of the brown stuffed bear, letting out a victorious laugh.

"you're suffocating him!" jimin yelled, crawling on the bed toward you, trying to save mr. flopsy from his untimely demise.

"he's fine," you retorted, rolling your eyes at jimin's dramatics. "i raised him to be tough and resilient, just like me."

"no, he's not," she said, climbing on top of you, her legs on either side of your body, reaching for mr. flopsy. she couldn't even reach him. her fingers barely scraped the fabric; instead, it felt like she was trying to tickle you, and that only made you lean deeper against the bed, laughing even harder.

noticing your giggles, she gave up on reaching for mr. flopsy and started tickling you relentlessly, her fingers digging into your sides. you squirmed, kicking your legs in the air, trying to escape her playful assault.

"stop, stop!" you managed to gasp between laughs, but she only laughed along with you, not stopping. "what?" she teased, and you squealed, grabbing her hands and intertwining your fingers with hers to stop the tickling.

both of you were gasping for air, and you stared at each other, eyes watering and chests heaving. the laughter slowly died down, and then it was just the two of you, alone in the quiet.

a beat passed.

her gaze softened as she looked down at you, her smile fading into something more tender. you blinked up at her, not sure what to say, not sure what to do, feeling like your brain had short-circuited.

then, she leaned closer, the space between you disappearing inch by inch. her nose brushed yours, and your breath hitched, sharp and unsteady. you caught the flicker of her tongue as she wet her lips, her eyes never leaving yours.

and then, her lips met yours. at first, it was gentle, almost hesitant. her hands stayed tangled with yours, her grip tightening slightly, and you pressed back, your head tilting slightly to the right, your mouth opening wider, the kiss becoming less innocent.

her soft sigh mingled with yours as the kiss deepened, her tongue sliding against yours, warm and wet. you let go of her hands, moving an arm to wrap around her frame as she leaned into you, arms circling your neck and her body molding against yours.

it was intoxicating, and you found yourself wanting more.

you were dragging yourself into a hole you might not be able to dig out of, and yet, you didn't care. the risks, the potential consequences, the worry—the worry—you were telling yourself that none of it mattered because you were willing to take the risk. you were willing to put your heart on the line, your career, your reputation, everything.

you were willing to do it all for her.

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

a/n: no they did not get freaky.

168 notes · View notes

lnfours · 1 year ago

Text

paradise on earth | l.n

summary: summer in love.

warnings: smau, actress!reader, obx cast, fluff, language, lando is 100% whipped, might make this a mini series idk yet

face claim: steph bohrer

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

obx

liked by y/ny/l/n, hichasestokes, madisonbaileybabe and 3,383,817 others

another summer with our favorite pogues ☀️ season 3 coming to netflix soon

200,922 comments

y/ny/l/n

poguelandiaaaaa 🫶🏻

obx

we love u 🩷

netflix

looking forward to this one! 🤩

madisonbaileybabe

P4L 🤍

obx

our queen kie 🥹🥹🫶🏻

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, madisonbaileybabe, hichasestokes and 2,093,872 others

another summer with my favorite humans 🌊 season 3 is coming to u super soon 🩷

302,827 comments

madisonbaileybabe

my heart ❤️ i love love love you

not pictured: y/n watching f1 between takes

y/ny/l/n

i love you most 😚

and don’t expose me 😔

danielricciardo

is it too late to get a cameo in season 3?

y/ny/l/n

netflix can we get a drive to survive x obx collab??

netflix

on it 🫡

landonorris

can i partake?? i’m the one who showed you this show 😔

y/ny/l/n

no loser

madisonbaileybabe

i can’t do this anymore

landonorizz04

LANDO???????

obxxf1stan

she’s one of us 🫶🏻

landonorris

liked by y/ny/l/n, lnfour, maxfewtrell and 3,098,883 others

beep beep 🚙

203,882 comments

mclaren

landoooooo

quadrant

boss whippin it in the jolly 😮‍💨

y/ny/l/n

how much for a ride, mr. uber driver? 🤔

landonorris

free if you get me a cameo 😌

landonorizz

LANDO FLIRTING????

madisonbaileybabe

y/ny/l/n i support

liked by landonorris

y/ny/l/n

ihy stfu

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, madisonbaileybabe, oscarpiastri and 2,452,004 others

filming is wrapped which means i get to stay in bed all day

390,432 comments

madisonbaileybabe

hottie

y/ny/l/n

let’s get married

madisonbaileybabe

say less.

landonorris

😴 <- you

y/ny/l/n

🤓 <- you

landonorris

lies

lnfourupdates

liked by y/ny/l/n and 1,083 others

lando in charleston today!

89 comments

fan1

charleston???

fan2

his obx cameo dream might be coming true

dannyricscowgirl

i don’t think he wants the cameo as much as he wants y/n

boxboxcl6

ur so right.

username004

did i miss something? 🤨

maxsrichbabydaddy

he 100% has a crush on y/n

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, madisonbaileybabe, rudeth and 3,932,005 others

breakfast and dinner

1,003,444 comments

landonorris

no pic creds? 😔

y/ny/l/n

sorry 😬

madisonbaileybabe

get away from my wife landonorris 🤺

landonorris

can you fight???

madisonbaileybabe

yes i can 😤

georgerussell63

how romantic, almost like you two are a couple or something 🤨

landonorris

???!??

lewishamilton

that nighttime sky tho 🤩

landonorris

i’m not lookin at the sky tho 😅

y/ny/l/n

😳 errrrr

mclarenfan0481

LANDO?

georgerussellsmerc

oh i fear he just exposed himself

lando.jpg

liked by y/ny/l/n, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 3,092,665 others

summer on film 📷☀️

tagged: y/ny/l/n

1,004,772 comments

y/ny/l/n

my personal photographer 🫶🏻

landonorris

oh so that’s what i am to u 😔

danielricciardo

HAHAHAHA

oscarpiastri

is that baguette good tho? y/ny/l/n

y/ny/l/n

‘twas exquisite 😮‍💨

madisonbaileybabe

🥺 stop

y/ny/l/n

🥹 crying.

charles_leclerc

glad ur having a good holiday!! ❤️

landonorris

you too, mate 🥺❤️

georgerussell63

so, like, was i right or..?

landonorris

cannot confirm or deny 😌

maxfewtrell

confirmed: he’s down bad.

georgerussell63

KNEW IT.

landonorris

??!?!?!?

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, rudeth, madisonbaileybabe and 3,654,886 others

1989 tv - track 17 - verse 2

456,987 comments

madisonbaileybabe

🥺 i’ll cry

y/ny/l/n

🥺🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻

landonorris

my book worm 🧡

danielricciardo

WAIT YOU FINALLY ASKED HER?????

oscarpiastri

finally after all that yappin 😩

y/ny/l/n

#4 on the track but #1 in my heart, baby!! 😤

georgerussell63

WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE TOLD ME??????

landonorris

bc u would’ve blabbed 😬

georgerussell63

fair, actually

hichasestokes

FINALLY!! now i fear she won’t stop talking about you even more now landonorris

rudeth

i second that, she was actually insufferable

y/ny/l/n

stfu???? 😐

landonorris

sorry. but, i’m also not 😅

carlos_sainz55

she’s also all he would talk about if it makes you feel any better hichasestokes rudeth

landonorris

liked by y/ny/l/n, madisonbaileybabe, lewishamilton and 2,982,224 others

what’s that song from grease? something about summer loving? idk..

393,440 comments

lewishamilton

ok fine this is adorable

landonorris

thank u lew lew 🥺🫶🏻

lewishamilton

i told u not to call me that

y/ny/l/n

MET A BOY! CUTE AS CAN BE!!!

landonorris

she thinks i’m cute 🥹🥹

maxfewtrell

so does like.. half the population, mate

landonorris

yea but she’s the only one that matters 😌

y/ny/l/n

🥺🥺🥺🥺

madisonbaileybabe

🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺

BACK! AWAY!

landonorris

NO 😤

fan1

i love how they’re both fighting for her love

oscarpiastri

didn’t think you were a grease kinda guy

y/ny/l/n

he wasn’t until i made him sit down and watch it 😌

danielricciardo

you have taste. i like you.

landonorris

hey, i have taste !

oscarpiastri

.. no

y/ny/l/n

hey! you’re so pretty! it 100% makes up for ur lack of taste! 🥰

danielricciardo

uuuuuhhhhhhh 😅

pierregasly

crickets …

alex_albon

LMFAO that’s actually funny

charles_leclerc

sorry, mate..

landonorris

OH COME ON.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris smau #lando norris social media au #lando norris fluff #smau #social media au #formula one smau #f1 smau #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 x you #ln4 x y/n #ln4 smau

716 notes · View notes

maryleclerc · 1 year ago

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧

pairing: charles leclerc x reader ; carlos sainz x reader

face-claim: gigi hadid

summary: in which after knowing about reader pregnancy, charles decided to make everything right.

warning: mention of pregnancy, exes!, paparazzi. use google translate,swearing. english is not my native language! does not have any pregnancy experience!

so i’ll made this mini series with 2 ending, one will be reader end with charles and other one will end with carlos (ofc if reader end up with carlos which mean the reason why reader and charles broke up will change too)

more importantly: reader you can suggest any baby girl name too!! or baby boy idk 😩🙏 also suggest some drama and stuff ideas!!

if you wanted to add into taglist please reply or dm me

read part 01

yourusername

Liked by carlossainz55 and others

yourusername With my bestie! @/carlossainz55

View all comments

carlossainz55 Bestieeee

yewenmitle Love their friendship already!!!

roseross How can they be so cute not even trying

⤷ yourusername Born natural 🥸

dailypaparazzi

2,799,678 likes

dailymail Y/n Y/l/n and Carlos Sainz spotted having a cozy dinner in Monaco

View all comments

friendsaddictedd Oooh sound ✨ROMANTIC✨

kiearre She looks serious tho, her face

livinginthedprm Everybody saying Carlos has a crush on Y/n. HE DESERVE TO BE LOVE TOO!! they would be so cute together

f1lovelifeupdates

58,510 likes

f1lovelifeupdates Charles Leclerc has confirmed that he and Megan have broken up a months ago, after 2 months of dating. And he also confirmed that his ex-girlfriend, Y/n, is pregnant with their first child.

View comments

haileylee Ok, I don’t really care about them… all I need to know is Charles know about the baby?

charlessbaby I missed them so much!!!

ppeeeepss Megan, she’s wonderful, pretty and talent how can this happen. I just hope he’s not get back with Y/n

⤷ lovensfw Honey, we know but he’s a grown man so I think it is very important to know what’s ‘responsibility’ mean 😀 also Y/n’s PERFECTLY FINE!!!

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc,carlossainz55 and 8,610,350 others

yourusername 👶👩‍🍼💞

Hello everyone!

Recently, there have been photos of me and of course, photos of me pregnant that were unintentionally leaked. And that's also the reason why I spoke up about this, (why do I sound so serious, haha) anyway, it's been a while and it's time to share with you guys.

Since you love me, you deserve me to share your joys with you. Yes, I'm pregnant and my baby is 8 months old!! time flies, since the day I announced that I would take a temporary break for a while because I felt OVERWHELM, that actually was the time I wanted to devote all my time to taking care of myself as well as my baby, prepare to be a mommy. And I am truly grateful to all of you who have sent me kind words and wishes, I truly appreciate it!!

Love you all so much! Also, I still don't know what to name our baby, so I need your suggestions

IT’S A GIRL!! (reader also can suggest a name too!!)

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lolamckaylee Congrat to you Y/n

_josephinee Who’s the baby daddy?

⤷ ynsqueen It’s Charles Leclerc

⤷ _josephinee Wait I thought he dating someone else, and knock her up?

⤷ johnsongreen HIM AND MEGAN BROKE UP!!

carlossainzstuff_

1,681 likes

carlossainzstuff_ Carlos has mention Y/n on today “We asked Carlos Sainz what F1 fan really want to know” by P1 with Matt & Tommy.

Tommy asked Carlos if he knew that F1 fans were very curious about the relationship between Carlos and Y/n after the photos taken by paparazzi when they spend sometime at Monaco.

TOMMY: Did you know that every F1 fan here wanted to know if you and Y/n are a thing?

CARLOS: We’re bestfriend, bff

TOMMY: But there are also had that one question that has been ask alot that’s “Are having a crush on Y/n?”

CARLOS: It’s really hard to not fall for her, she’s so kind and everything. Everybody love her, how can I not

TOMMY: Yea, It’s true. And you also know that she’s pregnant right?

CARLOS: She look espléndida

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carloswifee He’s madly in love with her, NOT crushes, just LOVE

yncarlossainzs The way his eyes look at them when they mention of Y/n is wholesome, he talk about her like a proud boyfriend

ferarrilovrs__ Thinking of when they’re really dating, ahh I can’t stop kicking my feet!!

carlossainzsidechick SOMEONE KISS HIM ON THE FOREHEAD RIGHT NOW!!!!!

[ to be continue ]

( taglist ) @janeholt3 @formulas-bitch @celestialams @aundercover

#charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc one shot

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cowgurrrl · 1 year ago

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Something in the Orange

Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader

Author's note: this might become a mini series idk idk

Summary: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]

Warnings: no outbreak! au, teacher things, Ellie being a little loner, Joel the Menace making a return, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because it's what he deserves, flirty flirt, i think that's it???

You feel like you've been running a million miles a minute since you got in this morning. The second you could unlock the door, at least three students spilled into your room and chaotically ran to the kiln to collect their most recent pottery projects. One of them ended up shattering (the exact one you warned Colin about, but he didn't listen), and, as per high school custom, they were all screaming about it. You consoled the students just in time for your principal to walk by and ask about lesson plans which made you scramble through your backpack for your notebook even though you knew damn well there wasn't a single lesson plan in there. "Do you always have those lights on?" Principal Martinez asked, gesturing to the room's fairy lights and orange lamps. Leave it to administration to want to avoid art classrooms so much that they don't even know about the Big Light Philosophy.

Since then, it's been class after class. You only have one more period before your planning period and then, finally, the end of the day. There are a hundred things to do, but you can't focus on any of them. You got so caught up in managing your classroom and helping students with the hardest parts of their portfolio work that you almost forgot you had a parent meeting scheduled during your planning period.

Calling in parents for meetings about their children may be your least favorite part of your job. It makes you feel like a bad teacher, and parents usually don't feel great about getting called in on a workday to talk about their kid. Luckily, Ellie's dad, Joel, seemed more than happy to take time to talk about her. You rack your mind for his occupation as you add some detail to a canvas you've been hiding in your office and working on when you can. Was he a blue-collar worker? Or was he another stuck-up Austin transplant parent who's gonna accuse you of lying? He'd make the fifth parent who's made you cry this semester.

A knock on your locked door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly put away your painting before answering the door. "I told you she was in here!" One of your students, Dina, announces as she and a posse of three other kids you don't recognize push their way into the room. "Miss, you've gotta take that thing off your door; otherwise, people are gonna think you went home!"

"You mean the sign that says, 'planning period. Do not enter?'" You ask, and she snaps her fingers.

"That's the one." She says as she and her friends start putting their backpacks down at one of your high tables. You sigh and kick the door stopper into the threshold.

"You guys can't stay here. I have a meeting in five minutes."

"With who?"

"None of your business."

"Miss!" Dina acts wounded, and you cross your arms over your chest, your keys jingling around your neck in the process.

"I am an adult with a college degree and the debt to show for it. You are a teenager with a still-developing brain. You have to listen to me," you say. "Wait, whose class are you supposed to be in right now?"

"Mr. Flynn's."

"Guys!" You groan before walking over to your desk and quickly writing up a hall pass for them. "I know you don't like math-"

"No, we don't like Mr. Flynn." Dina cuts you off.

"Or math!" One of her friends adds, and you shoot them a (loving) disapproving look.

"Whatever you don't like, you can't keep hiding out here. Mr. Flynn is two seconds away from trying to get me fired for how often I let his kids in here during class, and I actually like this job, so," you rip the hall pass off the pad and hand it to Dina. As they pack their stuff up, a tall, bearded man steps into your classroom and makes eye contact with you. "Out, out, out! I love you. You're gonna change the world one day, but please get out." You blow them kisses as you usher them out of the room.

"Are you Ellie's art teacher?" He asks, a confused look on his face, and you nod.

"Yes, I am. Sorry about that. They're still figuring out that I have work to get done even when I don't have a class," you explain, a little breathless from running all over the place and getting caught off-guard. You really do try to act a little more professional with parents, but the kids threw you off. The kettle whistling behind your desk doesn't make it any better. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?" You pick up a random mug off your desk but find it full of murky water. "Paint water?"

"Are you allowed to have an electric kettle in here?" He asks, and you laugh nervously as you find a clean mug and your tea box.

"I won't tell if you won't." You say. He stands there awkwardly as you pour yourself some tea, and you realize you didn't pull a chair up for him. "Um, we can sit..." you glance around your messy classroom until you find a clear table and gesture toward it. "Here." He follows your lead, and you take a deep breath as you sit down.

"You gonna be okay?" He asks, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His curly hair looks golden brown in the low light, and his round eyes have a little knowing twinkle. You take another breath to compose yourself and nod.

"Yes. Sorry. It's been a long day."

"Don't worry bout it. I'm sure they run you ragged."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you do have paint in your hair." He says, and panic seizes in your chest. You're never more aware of how crazy your job can be until you meet Real Adults. Even if you can't remember what he does for a living, you still have to admit that you look a little silly next to each other: you, with your paint-stained sunflower dress and markered hands, and him, with his black shirt and jeans. He doesn't have any apparent stains or splatters on his clothes, but he's broad with thick biceps. He must work with his hands or something within that capacity. You clear your throat and try to get back on track with the meeting.

"Uh, so Mr. Miller, the reason I called you here today was to talk to you about Ellie," you start. "First, I just wanna say that she is an amazing student. She always does her work and engages thoughtfully with the material. I really do enjoy having her in class."

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. She talks a whole lot bout this class and you, so... it's nice to place a face to the name," he says, adjusting his position on the stool. "But I have a feelin' you didn't call me down here just to tell me how great my kid is."

"She is great. She's extremely talented, smart, and funny, but she spends more time in my classroom during lunch than anything else. I'm worried about her making friends and finding a community here at school. I've tried convincing her to join the art club, but she's hesitant. During class, she just sits with her headphones in and draws. She really doesn't like talking to anybody but me." You wait for blame to be assigned to you or get lectured, but it never comes. He just sighs, and he deflates a little in his chair.

"She's been through a lot this year. Well, her whole life, really, but 'specially recently," he says dejectedly. "What can I do for her?"

"There's an art show this Friday night here at the school. It'll all be student work from across the district. I thought if maybe you or... whatever adults she has at home came with her to this, she might feel more comfortable talking to her peers or even want to submit some of her own stuff."

"We can do that. I'll get off work early and ask her uncle if he wants to come," he's quick with his solution, and you're a little shocked. You rarely get parents, let alone fathers, who act this swiftly when something is going on with their kids. "Is there anythin' else goin' on that I should know bout?"

"Uh, no. Like I said, she's a great kid. You should be really proud." You say, and the concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears with a proud smile.

"Thank you," he mumbles, suddenly shy. "And thanks for carin' so much bout her. It's nice to know she's got someone lookin' out for her here." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and stare at him. You know, like an idiot. It takes a chuckle from him to snap you out of your thoughts, and blood rushes to your cheeks.

"Yes, of course. She's a good kid." You say.

"You said that already."

"I bet you'd be a little scatterbrained if you were at the mercy of two hundred teenagers all day."

"You're absolutely right. I would be," he says, smirking devastatingly. "Someone ought to get you a coffee or somethin' if you're dealing with all that."

"People like you should go argue with the school board. I'm sure you'd be popular with all the teachers."

"That'd be a first. I think I might've been the least favorite parent for all of my girls' teachers."

"Well, I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little, and you nod, smiling. Your brain struggles to come up with something to say, and you're a little embarrassed at your silence, but luckily, your projector saves the day by buzzing loudly and making the picture on the board cut in and out. You mumble a quick apology before getting up and climbing up on a desk to jiggle a piece back into place. You hear Joel curse behind you, and when you turn to see what the problem is, you see him holding his arms out behind you. "Do you stand on desks often?"

"Only every day. I haven't fallen yet this year." You laugh at his exasperated expression and turn back to the projector. It's still making a weird noise, so you move it around a little more, moving the desk under your feet, and Joel stabilizes it with a sigh.

"How long has it been doin' that?"

"Couple months. I keep putting in maintenance requests, but nobody ever comes to fix it."

"I can fix it for ya," he says simply, and you look down at him. "I've got tools in my truck. It wouldn't take long at all."

"Really?" You ask, and he nods.

"It'd make me feel better knowin' you're not almost breakin' your neck every day."

"You mean, standing on a decades-old desk to mess with an ancient piece of equipment isn't OSHA compliant?"

"Please," he says, grabbing your ankle when the desk wobbles under you, and you laugh at his worry. "Let me fix it for you before you give me a heart attack." You think about declining and just putting in another work order, but the likelihood that anyone would actually come and fix it is slim to none. Plus, you really shouldn't be climbing on top of desks every day. You pretend to think it over for a few more seconds just to watch the worry play across his features as his grip on your ankle gets tighter.

"Only if you really mean it."

"I really mean it," he says, offering you his other hand. "Now, would you please get down?"

"Fine." You say and take his hand. You bend to safely get yourself down, but Joel moves his other hand from your ankle to your waist and basically hoists you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he doesn't let you go immediately like he's trying to figure out if you somehow got hurt when he wasn't looking. There's a part of your brain that's aware of how inappropriate this would look to any passersby, but you're also highly aware of how warm his big hand is on your hip.

"Ya alright?" He asks softly, and you nod, taking a conscious step back from his arms.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good," he says, also taking a step back. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll get that fixed for you."

"Perfect. I'll be here." You stand there, staring at each other awkwardly, for another moment before he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom. The second he's out of your line of sight, you bury your head in your hands and start silently freaking out.

What the fuck are you doing? How did a parent-teacher meeting turn into him hauling you off a desk and offering to fix your projector? Technically, nothing incriminating has happened, and it needs to stay that way. It doesn't matter if you think he's attractive or like how he worries about everything. He's Ellie's dad. Teachers have gotten fired for much less than this, and you're not willing to risk your career because of one guy.

When he gets back with his toolbox, you're sitting at your desk and sorting through assignments like a reasonable adult. He doesn't say anything as he climbs up on the same desk you were standing on and begins messing with the mechanics of the equipment. You each work in silence for a few minutes before a screw clatters to the ground, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Do you mind..." he starts, pointing toward the lost piece.

"Not at all." You cover your anxiety with your chipper teacher voice and search for the screw with your phone flashlight. You find it tucked between canvases, carefully pick it up, and walk over to where he's standing, waiting for him to be ready for it.

"It looks like it's just an old piece in here. I'm sure you can order a new one, and I can come back and install it if ya want," he explains, looking down at you. You probably look stupid just standing there with a tiny screw in your hand, but he doesn't laugh. "D'you mind handing me that tool to your right?" He asks, and you blindly reach for the tool you think he's talking about. "Your other right." He corrects, and you flush in embarrassment.

"Sorry. I never was a very good woodshop student." You say, and he laughs once he has the tool in hand.

"My girls are the same way. Just askin' ‘em to hold a flashlight while I work on their car is like pullin' teeth," he says fondly. "Speaking of which, is there a reason the lights aren't on in here?"

"The lamp light is less harsh, and it helps students focus. Plus, nobody likes coming into a bright classroom first thing in the morning." You explain, and he hums.

"If I'd had a teacher like you growing up, I would've been at school much more than I was."

"You didn't like school?"

"Hated it," he says, opening his hand for the screw. Once you drop the tiny thing into his large palm, he straightens up, and you can barely hear it going back into its rightful place. "'S a miracle I graduated."

"That was me in college."

"Now, I don't believe that for a second."

"Really?" You laugh, and he nods.

"Someone like you, with your pretty dresses and all that empathy, was meant to be a teacher."

"I wasn't always like this," you evade the compliment despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Being a teacher was never on my radar until I graduated. A lot of my life was never on my radar until then." He puts the hood of the projector back on and climbs down from the desk until he's standing in front of you again, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief from his toolbox.

"Well, with the way you carry yourself, I never woulda guessed." He says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the sharp tone of the bell ringing cuts him off. You jump at the sound and look at the clock as if it were wrong.

"I'm so sorry. Time must've gotten away from me. Thank you so much again, Mr. Miller, for coming in to talk with me and looking at the projector. I hope to see you and Ellie on Friday." You say quickly as the sound of rowdy kids fills the hallway, and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and squeezes it firmly.

"You can call me Joel. Mr. Miller makes me feel old." He says, and you smile. He doesn't look old, unlike the other dads you've encountered. Sure, he's got some gray at his temples and in his beard, but it suits him.

"Joel, it is then." You resolve. His hand lingers in yours for a little too long before finally pulling away. "Well, Joel, unless you want to elbow through teenagers, I'd suggest you hide out here for a few more minutes." He does happily, even helping you carry supplies to your car once the hallways have cleared out enough. He's a proper gentleman, slinging your backpack over his shoulder and opening doors for you. You part only once everything is in your trunk, and he bids you goodnight with a charming smile that fills your thoughts on your drive home.

Ellie surprises you the next day as you're setting up the classroom. Normally, she isn't in until right before the bell rings, so seeing her this early is a little bit of a shock. The ink staining her hands is not. "Hey, dude. What's going on?" You ask. "Did you get breakfast from the cafeteria today? I heard Mrs. Hodges has those French toast sticks that everyone loves. You can probably get two servings if you run."

"No, I already ate. My dad and uncle had to leave early this morning, so we got breakfast. Speaking of which," she says as she takes off her backpack and pulls a cup of iced coffee out of her water bottle pocket. "This is for you. We didn't know what you liked, so we got a vanilla latte or something."

"Oh, El! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey." You say, and she sets it on your desk for you to enjoy once you don't have paintbrushes in hand. "If this is your way of getting a good grade on your piece, I already told you that you have nothing to worry about."

"It wasn't my idea. It was my dad's." She says nonchalantly before moving to the back of the classroom to get her sketch book. You, however, are confused and secretly pleased that Joel thought of you when he didn't have to. You find a message scribbled on the side when you reach for the cup to take a sip.

Thanks again. See you Friday. -J

You turn to hide your smile from Ellie, but she's so deep in her work that you doubt she would've noticed anyway. You put some music on, and you and Ellie work silently on your projects until the bell rings and the day starts.

The rest of the week goes by without a hitch, meaning that nobody accidentally ingested paint, and you only had to have one Come to Jesus talk with your Art 1 class. When Friday night rolls around, you're excited to see all the students work and treat yourself by wearing a new shirt with black scribbles all over it and black dress pants. You figure you should look as art teachery as possible for an art teacher event.

By the time you get to the school, the hallways are buzzing with students dragging their parents from one piece to another and administrators praising their art programs even though you know not one of them has seen the inside of an art classroom in months. You make small talk with some of your students and their parents before finding a way out of the conversation and letting yourself wander through the makeshift gallery. You love your kids, but you really don't want them breathing down your neck as you look at all the art. You're almost at the end when you hear a familiar voice calling your name, and you turn to find Ellie walking toward you with Joel and, who you assume to be her uncle, next to her.

"Hey, kid! I'm so happy to see you here!" You say sincerely, and she smiles shyly. You turn to her uncle and hold your hand out to introduce yourself.

"Tommy. We sure have heard a whole lot bout you at home." He says with a smirk, and you laugh.

"All good things, I hope."

"Of course. Ellie just bout worships the ground you walk on," he says. "Joel was singin' your praises, too."

"Alright, I think that's enough. Why don't y'all go walk around, and I'll catch up with ya?" He suggests, and Tommy chuckles. Another teacher calls Ellie's name from down the hallway, and she's quick to drag Tommy off to meet him, leaving you and Joel alone. He's replaced his black shirt with a light blue dress shirt, and it looks like he's recently trimmed his beard. He looks nice.

"Singing praises, huh?" You raise your eyebrows at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "Thank you for the coffee the other morning, by the way. It was a really nice surprise."

"Figured it was the least I could do to thank you for takin' such good care of my girl."

"Well, thank you. I owe you."

"You don't owe me a thing," he says. "Although, Tommy was a little upset that I didn't bill you for lookin' at the projector."

"Was he?" You ask, and he nods.

"Oh, yeah," he laughs. "Said next time I should, at least, ask you on a date."

"Mr. Miller-"

"I thought you agreed to call me Joel." He raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and you shake your head, fighting a smile.

"Joel, while I'm flattered by the offer from someone so handsome-"

"You think I'm handsome?"

"I can't date my students' parents." You say, ignoring his question, but even then, the playful look on his face doesn't fade. "Well, I can leave you to it. I know Ellie will probably want to show you around."

"Right. Of course," he says. "It's really nice to see you."

"You, too. I'm just glad I didn't have paint in my hair this time."

"I don't know. I thought it was kinda cute." You feel yourself blush at his words, but you have to shut it down before it can become anything more than flattery. You take a deep breath and try not to let that stupid smirk weaken your knees as he watches you.

"Goodnight, Joel."

"Goodnight, ma'am." He says, tipping his head politely before sauntering down the hallway like he owns the place. Trouble, you think to yourself. But you can handle trouble. It's in your job description, for Christ's sake.

So, you brush off the flirting and try to ignore how his kindness and sweet words made you feel. You absolutely cannot flirt with the parent of one of your students. Dating is completely off the table. You can handle this like an adult. You have to.

After a cold shower and a leftover dinner, you check your email once more before going to bed that night. Sitting in your inbox with alarming clarity is an email from Ellie with the subject line: Art Club. Her email is somehow just as short as her subject line.

Simply, "When can I start -E."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

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dearjoons · 20 days ago

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📚NERD!JIMIN HEADCANNONS

warnings: literally none lol. fluff, yearning, pining, slight jealousy. he has a fat freaking crush on reader 😇 he’s really cute idk what else there is to say

lulu speaks: y’all it’s not funny i ❤️ nerds. also i’ve had this bot on my page forever and i FINALLY decided to formally present him to y’all. i am VERY much considering making this into a mini series/oneshot collection. lmk if ur interested!!

✎ nerd!jimin who aggressively color-codes his notes for “practicality”, when it actually helps him calm his anxiety.

✎ nerd!jimin who talks to himself when he’s doing his math homework—muttering to himself while rubbing his temples. “come on, jimin, you know this. you’re not stupid.”

✎ nerd!jimin who collects vintage marvel comics and prides himself in bragging about them when he’s in the shop to browse for more—it’s the only time he’s not humble. “yeah, that’s a first edition. wanna touch it?”

✎ nerd!jimin who takes forever to fall asleep because his mind is a constantly-running think machine. 24/7. does he fix his mom’s laptop or the wi-fi router first? did the bidding go up for that original fantastic four comic?

✎ nerd!jimin who is a true momma’s boy at heart. not in a creepy way, but in the way where he’ll lean into her warm hugs and let her fix his ruffled hair—but also shy away from her cheek kisses in front of his classmates.

✎ nerd!jimin who subconsciously memorized your schedule. he wasn’t even trying to be creepy—he actually hated he did. he just happened to see you walk in and out of your classes, and it stuck with him.

✎ nerd!jimin who changes his route on campus to walk past you. he’s missed his bus on multiple occasions because of this.

✎ nerd!jimin who gets nervous when someone mentions your name in passing. cheeks all pink and warm, heart racing, knee bouncing up and down.

✎ nerd!jimin who owns every type of rubix cube under the sun. his favorite? his first 3x3 cube. the paint’s all chipped, but he loves it just the same.

✎ nerd!jimin who bought a copy of a book he overheard you talking about. he has yet to read it, only because he’s scared he’ll get too attached to it if he loves it. (spoiler alert: he would love anything you love).

✎ nerd!jimin who gets jealous of your male friends. he gets in his own head. like, “who even is that guy? why’s she laughing? is he funny? i’m funny. i think.”

✎ nerd!jimin who likes your posts within the first two minutes, never commenting. just lurking.

✎ nerd!jimin who wears cologne because someone said you liked guys who smelled nice. hyperfixates on it, his search history filled with things like “how much cologne is too much?”

✎ nerd!jimin who has practiced what he’d say if you ever found out he likes you. has never gotten past “so… uh.”

✎ nerd!jimin who wonders if you’d ever like him back. decides probably not. gets sad. listens to sad violin lo-fi.

✎ nerd!jimin who absolutely yaps his friends’ ears off about you. they’re sick of it, but will always be around for his one-sided girl problems.

✎ nerd!jimin who told his mom about you. that precious, cardigan-wearing, kimchi-jjigae-making lady always giving him the same piece of advice; “just go talk to her, jimin.”

✎ nerd!jimin who once got so flustered he said “I love y—you’re… you’re welcome.” then didn’t sleep for three nights.

✎ nerd!jimin who fantasizes about holding your hand. just your hand. and then he has to physically pull himself back into reality, eyes back on his chem textbook.

lulu speaks pt2: focus on school kicking my ass ❌ write another jimin au ✅

cai bot. masterlist. navigation.

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quixotical-lymbo · 10 months ago

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Pairing: Wukong & gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Coming back from a training expedition by your mentor was ruined when your reunion led you to meeting his true successor. Warnings/Tags: Post s5 (i don't think this counts as spoilers since i haven't mentioned anything significant about s5 in the post, but spoilers I guess??), Hurt/No comfort, MK cameo but not really idk he's there being nosy, angst, might make into a mini-series, idk, Wukong being Wukong always withholding important info till the last second. Word Count: 1000+ words

"What the heck is that?"

Wukong's face paled as he turned to look over his shoulder where MK pointed in the sky. There, looking akin to a shooting star with (f/c) trail of sparks, a ball of light came shooting toward the mountain the pair were training at.

"OMIGOSH, MONKEY KING, MOVE! IT'S ABOUT TO-" MK tried pulling on Wukong's sleeve to move him out of the way of the meteoroid, but the simian simply stood his ground as the ball of light finally landed. MK dropped to the ground as dust and dirt sprayed from the crash, but as he cracked open an eye the only thing he found was an non-destroyed mountain, his mentor frowning, and a person standing in the middle of a crater where the meteorite was supposed to be at.

MK shot up from the ground and leaned close to his mentor to whisper, "...uh….who is that?"

"...uh, crap, kid, they're..um, they were my-"

"Heyyyyy, monkey king! Did ya miss me?" Your voice carried a lot of weight as it echoed. You grinned widely while stepping out of the crater you formed, clenched hands trembling at your sides as your eyes sharply switched to the rando standing beside your teacher. "I sure as hell missed you…but, I didn't know that this duo became a trio…strange, right?"

Wukong rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "[Y/n], what a pleasant surprise! I didn't think you'd be-"

"Back so soon? Yeah, well, I'm just that good, aren't I?" You cut in as you stalked closer to the two. Wukong's loop-sided smile fell into a tight line as he took a step forward and kept himself between MK and the mysterious '[Y/n].'

Your smirk nearly faltered seeing the arm held out to keep whoever was beside him from harm's way. At least your mentor knew damn well how much of a threat you could be.

"It's just…finding the little tears and cracks in the sky made me think that I should pay my ol' pal a visit and see if he might need my help!" You crossed your arms over your chest before gesturing to the sky. "Though, it took me a while to get back since I was sent across the world for my training…it seems like everything is fixed up! I. Wonder. Why."

"Am I interrupting something…or…?" MK clutched the staff in his hands nervously as the '[Y/n]' person's gaze on him darkened. MK's eyes widened as he snapped his head to look at the monkey king while fuming, "Please don't tell me this is another one of your enemies coming back to bite you-"

"-Woah, woah, kiddo! It's nothing like that but…I dunno, why don't you ask our mentor, hm?" You watched in pleasure as the rando's scowl morphed into shock as he gazed at Wukong—who flinched at the sudden attention from both of his students. "I'm sure he has all the answers you're looking for."

"Give me two minutes," Wukong held out his hand toward you in an attempt for a merciful interlude to your much needed conversation. You blew air from your flared nostrils, but nodded at him and looked away while Wukong turned to MK.

"Who, what, where, and why?!"

"I'll give you the long version later, but right now all you need to know is that before I met you there was another person I was considering giving my staff to…and yeah," Wukong scratched the back of his head.

"Wuh-huh-what?! You were messing with another student when you were getting all up in my ass for having Macaque as my mentor?" MK exclaimed angrily.

"Let's not dwell on the past right now, just head home and we'll pick this up tomorrow alright?" Wukong chuckled nervously as he patted MK's shoulder and shoved his reluctant successor away. MK puffed his cheeks out as he prepared the staff to launch him into the sky, when he disappeared Wukong sighed and turned around slowly to face you.

As the air whizzed past and filled his ears with their whistles, MK's mind was filled with the image of you. Why did you come back now of all times? Were you just another enemy he would eventually have to defeat all over again?

MK's frown deepened as he glanced over his shoulder for a moment, conflict crossing his features. Maybe if he intervened this time…he won't have to go through with another saving the world fiasco if he could convince you to forgive the monkey king for whatever he did.

MK shook his head at the ridiculous thought, but the terror of not trying to prevent another disaster was eating away at him. MK groaned in frustration and ricocheted himself back toward the mountain he just left.

Honestly, he was sick and tired of the same routine. Peaceful, things go wrong, an old enemy of his mentor appears, the world is somehow ending, repeat, repeat repeat. Perhaps it was time he actually tried to prevent the bad things instead of being the cause of it--directly or indirectly.

MK landed on the side of the mountain, the staff stabbed into the earth as he stood on it to peek over the edge. Luckily enough, MK could clearly see Wukong and '[Y/n]' talking given by their exaggerated arm movements. MK leaned closer and strained his ear to listen in on the conversation.

"...didn't mean for this…"

"...why…n…enough?"

"No, no, your…jus…important…"

"What.....he ha... that I...don...ave..?"

“It's nothing that you don't have it's just…he's different and I made a m-” Wukong's voice rose just enough for MK to clearly hear him.

“Mistake? Ha…hahaha! So, so I'm a mistake now?”

“Shit, I worded that wrong, but you know what I mean!”

“I know what you meant! When were you even going to tell me that I was being replaced?”

“You're not…you're not being ‘replaced’ you're just…I-hey, who even told you this?”

“Does it really matter who told me?!”

MK winced as he reeled back at the shout that ripped from the stranger's throat, his brow creased with worry as Wukong approached them only for his hand to be slapped away. [Y/n]'s muffled sobs could be heard even from where MK was spying on them, but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was when MK's eyes met with the teary-eyed gaze of the monkey king's first student.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, but in that moment MK could see so many things that were left unsaid swirling and burning in their eyes. MK didn't realize that he wasn't breathing until the ex-classmate of his turned away and left the same way they came from that ball of light.

Wukong stood there with his outstretched hand hanging in the air before it fell to his side.

"I am sooo going to get my ass kicked for this later."

Wukong looked down for a moment before tilting his head.

"You can come out now, kid."

MK climbed up and took a seat on the ground. Wukong, silently crossing his legs as he joined his successor, pinched the space between his eyes.

"I guess I should start at the beginning."

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight !!

#lego monkie kid #lmk x reader #gn reader #Wukong & reader #hurt/no comfort #post s5 #spoilers I guess #??#??? i think

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staybabblingbaby · 1 year ago

Text

Fan Experience with SKZ a2 d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Reader wins a contest to have dinner with SKZ and they become friends :D (and maybe more? 0w0)

Word Count: 1,399

Notes: I kind of went for a sillier sort of vibe for this (bc I am a silly person) but I wonder if it makes Reader seem too childish? This one is shaping up to be a one-shot, or maybe one-shot series, idk. I sort of feel like I need more lead up or environment descriptions, it just seems like it's moving pretty fast. I do have a car scene sort of outlined in my head as well as part of the dinner scene, but it'll probably be a bit before I write it lol I have once more accidentally avoided pronouns, unsure how I've done so. Might try to keep it up.

Warnings: None that I know of? It's just silly fluff idk what u want from me.

Masterlist Link :D

"I can't do this." you whine pathetically. Ha-Yun, your best friend and the sacrifice you'd dragged to this fan opportunity, wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder.

"You're doing it." she says firmly. Maybe the arm wasn't a comfort after all, maybe you were her captive now. Turnabout is fair play you suppose.

"We're already here, and the guard has already left to get someone. It's too late to back out now." She finishes reasonably. She’s made several good points, but the day you admit that is the day you marry her. Unfortunately, Ha-Yun happened to be very straight.

"You don't know that!" You insist, "We could run right back out the doors, just poof! Gone." You speak like some sort of madness had taken over you. Quite honestly, it probably had.

Ha-Yun turns to face you properly now. She knows you well enough to know that you were genuinely freaking out, no matter how silly you were about it. She gives you a sympathetic smile, and tugs you closer. Presumably to keep you from running off (and maybe to actually comfort you, just a bit).

"It'll be fine. You adore those boys, just be chill and respectful and it'll all go well." Once again, Ha-Yun appeals to your reason. Too bad you weren't feeling very reasonable at the moment.

You turn yourself to hide your face in her neck and make a sound not dissimilar to a boiling kettle.

"What if they hate me?" You desperately question, "What if they think I'm weird, or ugly, or annoying, or, or, or!" You trail off breathlessly, on the verge of hyperventilating, and feel Ha-Yun gently pat your head.

She makes soft seal noises to mock you and then says, "Well if they do its not like you'll ever know."

Another keening whine leaves you as you slide down to crouch on the floor, arms sliding down with you to wrap around Ha-Yun's knees. She stumbles a bit, but regains her balance by using your head as a cane. She lets you stay there, blessed saint that she is, and continues to speak, wretched devil that she is.

"I mean, really, they're not gonna tell you to your face, and you're not gonna see them again after today." She points out. You'd like to argue, but it's not like she's wrong.

You'd ended up couched on the floor of the JYP building, clutching your best friend's pant leg, on a random Tuesday, about to meet Stray Kids AND eat dinner with them, by pure dumb luck. Actual, literal, luck. Like, won-a-raffle sort of luck. You may as well have won the lottery for everything this opportunity means to you.

Once-in-a-lifetime was an understatement.

"Just have fun with it," Ha-Yun finishes her mini-speech, heedless of your internal (and external) freak-out.

"I think I'll die, actually." You mutter petulantly into her thigh.

She snorts at you, ruffling your hair aggressively and disregarding your half-hearted attempts to swipe at her for it.

"C'mon, what happened to the person who was bouncing off the walls excited about this?" She cajoles, shaking you around but not dislodging you.

"They're dead and buried." You deadpan. It wasn’t like you weren't excited, really! You were just going to perish from sheer anxiety, that was all. Could anyone really blame you? You were about to meet your idols. It was kind of a big deal!

Ha-Yun does nothing but pat your head twice. "Well unbury them," She commands, "the guard is coming back."

Your head snaps up to see, not only the beefy security guard who'd checked both of your I.Ds and passes with great suspicion a few minutes ago, but also the Bang Christopher Chan.

Your brain stalls for a second seeing him dressed head-to-toe in casual black, barefaced and smiling beautifully at you. And then you realize the position you're in and scramble to stand properly, far too late for either of them to have missed your bout of insanity.

You attempt to slide yourself behind Ha-Yun in your humiliation, but the cruel woman snags your elbow with one hand, and your opposite shoulder with the other, and holds you in place in front of her. You take back anything nice you've ever said about Ha-Yun, she's pure evil and out to get you.

Before you can panic too hard, Bangchan and the security guard are in front of you. Though Bangchan is all warm eyes and kind smiles, you can't help but feel small in front of him. You shrink back into Ha-Yun, but she doesn't allow you to retreat. You promise to yourself to only make foods she doesn't like for a whole month when this is over.

"Hi, good to meet you!" Bangchan greets cheerfully. You do your best to match his smile despite your fear and return his greeting, introducing yourself before motioning to Ha-Yun, who was still holding you hostage.

"And this is Ha-Yun, she's my emotional support human today." You're not sure how she's as functional as she is as she both bows respectfully and shakes Bangchan's hand, prompting you to do the same. This was one of the many reasons you'd chosen to bring her over any of your friends who were actually Stray Kids fans. Functional emotional support summed her up nicely.

As greetings wrap up, Ha-Yun turns to you with mischief to dramatically interrogate you.

"Is Emotional support all I am to you?" She demands, "I thought we were more than that! I thought we had something special!" She places a hand over her heart as you'd shot her, dipping back way too far in her dramatics because she knows your hand will catch her whether you want it to or not.

Supporting most of her weight with your fist dug into her upper back, you retort, "You thought wrong."

Bangchan's snicker reminds you of your audience and you tuck your hands behind your back with an embarrassed flush. Ha-Yun is treated to a heated glare when all she does is laugh at you, but you may as well have been air for all it affects her. Two months. No yummy home cooked meals for Ha-Yun. You swore it.

Bangchan begins to speak and your attention is immediately back on him instead of your comedy act of a best friend.

"So, the company actually picked out the place for dinner, so we don't get to choose, sorry." And he really does seem apologetic, despite this seeming like a very reasonable thing to you. "It's this barbecue place down the road, we'll be meeting the others there, if that's alright?" Again he asks like he genuinely values your opinion in this, and the prospect of being in even one (1) of this man's thoughts as an individual causes you a bit of a crisis.

Luckily this is exactly what you'd bright Ha-Yun along for, and she easily agrees for the two of you, guiding you along with the experience of having born witness to more than one blue-screen brain moment in your life.

She strikes up an easy conversation with Bangchan as he leads the three of you deeper into the building towards a different door, leaving the security guard behind. You're a bit jealous of her comfort, since you sort of feel like you're simultaneously walking on air and suffocating on that same air, but she keeps her hand on your back to keep you walking and rubs little comforting circles there. So. She's forgiven. A little bit. Back down to one month of no yummies.

Bangchan leads the three of you back, explaining that there was a company car waiting for you all outside, but that it was closer to a more private entrance for security reasons. He catches you looking around curiously as you walk, and generously explains the types of rooms and offices you walk past like some sort of tour guide. In fact, he apologizes for not being able to give you a more thorough tour and you frantically assure him that this was more than you'd ever expected in the first place.

You don't catch the pleased look he has as you crawl out of your shell a bit to ask him more questions, but Ha‐Yun shoots him a grateful look over your head. If you see the tiny nod they exchange, you just assume they're using their listening skills as you speak.

#w.i.p #w.i.p fic #skz fic #skz fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #Baby Writes #Fan Day AU

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