#i know some of these prompts have been sitting in my inbox a long time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

03jyh23 · 5 months ago

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🌃⌇night, interrupted┆jung wooyoung

neighbor!non-idol!wooyoung x reader ft. non-idol!yeosang

│synopsis: you owe a favor to your annoying neighbor

│genre: enemies to lovers

│trigger warnings: wooyoung and yeosang are bisexual, party-themed, alcohol consumption, mature language, excessive use of ''princess''

│words: 10.4 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

│requested prompts are bold

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! i'm ashamed to confess that this request has been sitting in my inbox since april :( i'm so sorry it took me so long to get to it, but i had so many different ideas about where this story should go. i'm thinking about re-opening my requests soon. as always i hope you will enjoy it!

love, monika ♡

i’d be so grateful for a little love �� a like, reblog or comment would truly make my day!

"What are you even doing here?" you asked, your voice laced with surprise and a hint of annoyance. You had opened the door expecting to see anyone but him. But there he was, Wooyoung, the last person on earth you wanted to see on a Saturday night, or whenever to be honest. He stood there, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned casually against the door frame. His eyes held a playful glint that contrasted with the seriousness of your tone.

"It’s nice to see you too, Y/N" he greeted, his voice light and cheerful. He smiled brightly at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, completely unfazed by your cold tone and unamused expression. His nonchalance in the face of your clear displeasure made the situation all the more irritating for you.

"What on earth are you doing here, Wooyoung?" You demanded, your voice was stern and serious. You crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze never leaving his face.

"Oh, as lovely as ever, aren't you?" Wooyoung quipped, rolling his eyes theatrically. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned against the door frame with a nonchalant air. His gaze, however, held an undeniable intensity. "Get ready, we've got places to be," he added, his tone light but laced with an underlying seriousness.

"Wait, what?" You spluttered, taken aback by his unexpected command. "Wooyoung, you can't just barge in here and..." He pushed past you slightly to enter your apartment, his confident demeanor not wavering in the slightest.

"Oh, but I can, and I just did," he replied, brushing past you with a smirk. His audacity left you momentarily speechless as you watched him stroll into your apartment as if he owned the place.

"Excuse me?" you managed to stutter out, turning around to face him. Wooyoung had already made himself comfortable on your couch, his long legs on your coffee table.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," he finally said, "I just thought it'd be nice to spend some time together." You were left speechless once again, your mind trying to process his words. Spend time together? You weren't sure if he was being serious or just messing with you. Wooyoung looked at you from head to toe, judging your old leggings and oversized hoodie, not to mention your messy hair. You had planned to stay in, enjoy some wine, and watch a cringe-worthy romance movie, but he had interrupted your plans. "Are you planning to get ready or are you intending to leave looking like that?" he asked, his voice ringing with a clear note of dislike for your current attire.

"Don’t you have like, you know… friends?" you blurted out, your voice barely masking the irritation that had been simmering within you. As the words escaped your lips, you could feel a rush of heat flooding your body. You were certain your ears were all red by now, the heat of your annoyance manifesting physically. "Actually, I was enjoying my solitude until you showed up." You snapped, your hands on your hips as you glared at him.

Wooyoung simply responded, "Well, you'll have to put that on hold, we have plans."

"Why in the world, among all the people I could possibly have plans with, would you think that I have any intention to spend my time with you?" You retorted, your voice thick with frustration and disbelief. The absurdity of the situation was growing by the minute and the disbelief in your voice reflected your incredulity.

Wooyoung simply shrugged his shoulders, his eyes twinkling with amusement at your evident irritation. A smirk played on his lips as he casually replied, "Because you owe me one." His nonchalant response left you momentarily speechless.

Your mind momentarily went back to the night two weeks ago. Your classes had ended late in the evening, and the rain was pouring heavily. You couldn't believe how, in the span of a few hours, a lovely summer day had transformed into a raging rainstorm. You were wearing light, summer-appropriate clothing, and, of course, you hadn't brought an umbrella. In fact, you didn't even own one. As you stood at the entrance of the university building, the rain came down in torrents, drenching everything in sight. The prospect of walking home in such weather was daunting, and you sighed in frustration, knowing you'd be soaked to the skin by the time you reached your apartment. Just then, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Turning around, you saw Wooyoung, holding a large umbrella that provided a stark contrast to the stormy night. He approached you with a smirk, his usual playful glint in his eyes.

"Need a ride home?" he asked, raising his voice above the sound of the rain. You wanted to reject his offer, wanted to tell him to go away and leave you alone. But as he turned to leave, a teasing grin on his face, you found yourself chasing after him.

"Wait!" you called out, your voice barely heard over the sound of the rain. He stopped and turned back to look at you, an amused smile on his face. You hesitated for a moment before stepping under the umbrella, your body instinctively moving closer to his for warmth.

Wooyoung chuckled softly as you stepped under the umbrella, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I knew you couldn't resist," he teased, holding the umbrella a little higher to shield both of you from the downpour.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "You're lucky it's raining," you muttered, though your tone lacked any real annoyance. As you walked to his car, the rain continued to fall relentlessly, the streets quickly becoming rivers of water. Wooyoung's presence, however, provided a surprising comfort, the proximity of his body heat a welcome relief from the chill in the air. Once you reached the car, Wooyoung quickly unlocked it and held the umbrella for you as you climbed into the passenger seat. He folded the umbrella and slid into the driver's seat, shaking the water from his hair before starting the engine. The warmth of the car's interior enveloped you, and you sighed in contentment, grateful for the reprieve from the storm outside.

Wooyoung glanced at you as he pulled out of the parking lot. "You look like a drowned rat," he remarked with a grin, his tone lighthearted.

You shot him a mock glare. "Thanks for the compliment," you replied sarcastically, but the corners of your mouth twitched upwards.

The drive home was mostly quiet, save for the sound of rain pattering against the windows. When Wooyoung finally pulled up in front of your apartment building, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

"Thanks for the ride," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As you stepped out of the car and into the rain, you heard Wooyoung call after you. "You owe me one now!" His voice was playful, but there was an underlying note of sincerity.

"Right, I owe you a favor," you muttered, your annoyance momentarily replaced by resignation. Despite your irritation, you couldn't deny that he was correct. "You could at least have the decency to call ahead."

Wooyoung laughed at that, a genuine, hearty laugh that echoed throughout your apartment. "Where's the fun in that, Y/N?" he retorted, his smile never faltering as he met your gaze.

You sighed, realizing that arguing with Wooyoung was akin to talking to a brick wall. "Fine," you said, throwing your hands up in surrender. "But if we're going out, I need to change. And you," you pointed at him, "need to get your feet off my coffee table."

Wooyoung chuckled but complied, swinging his legs off the table with a dramatic flourish. "Take your time, princess," he said, smirking at your annoyed expression. You rolled your eyes at his comment but nonetheless retreated to your bedroom to change into something more suitable for a night out.

Just as you were closing the door behind you, Wooyoung called after you, "And no leggings!" You groaned, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. As you moved towards the mirror, you took a moment to look at your reflection. Your hair was a mess from the day, and you knew it would take some time to style it into something presentable. You sighed, looking at the makeup products scattered across your dressing table. Getting ready for a party that you knew nothing about was indeed a challenge.

"How much time do I have?" you shouted from your bedroom.

Wooyoung glanced at his watch, a smirk playing on his lips. "Let's say twenty minutes. Can you manage that?" he called out, his voice filled with amusement.

"How the fuck am I supposed to get ready for a party in twenty minutes?" you shouted back, a hint of panic creeping into your voice.

"Well, I can make it fifteen just for you, princess," Wooyoung laughed, his amusement clear in his voice. Even though he couldn't see you, you rolled your eyes at his comment. The audacity of this man. Despite the irritation bubbling within you, you knew you had to hurry. You started rummaging through your wardrobe for a suitable outfit, cursing under your breath. Meanwhile, Wooyoung lounged comfortably on your couch, scrolling through his phone while occasionally glancing towards your bedroom door.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally emerged from your bedroom. You had managed to throw together a decent outfit, and even though you had rushed your makeup, it didn't look half bad. Wooyoung looked up from his phone as you entered the room, his eyes raking over your figure. He let out a low whistle, a grin spreading across his face. "Not bad, Y/N. Didn't know you could clean up so well."

You rolled your eyes at his comment but couldn't help the blush that crept up your cheeks. "Whatever, Wooyoung. Let's just get this over with." With a chuckle, Wooyoung rose from the couch, offering you his arm. You looked at him, disbelief and irritation evident in your gaze. His casual demeanor and the playful smirk on his face only added to the absurdity of the situation. You found yourself stuck between wanting to laugh it off and wanting to kick him out. But, swallowing down the lump of frustration in your throat, you pushed his extended arm back. You then reached for the door handle yourself, pulling it open with more force than was necessary. Without a backward glance, you stepped out into the hallway, leaving a rather surprised Wooyoung behind in your apartment.

Wooyoung finally caught up with you, a surprised yet amused expression on his face. "Well, aren't we eager?" he said, chuckling at your obvious irritation. Despite your annoyance, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him, a small smile playing on your lips. With a huff, you began to march towards the parking lot, your steps quick and purposeful with Wooyoung following close behind. The glimmer of satisfaction you felt when you heard him struggling to keep up with your pace was short-lived as he effortlessly caught up, a grin playing on his lips.

"Slow down, Y/N. It's not a race," he called out, his voice filled with amusement. You ignored him, continuing your steady pace towards his car. The parking lot was dimly lit, the only source of light being the faint glow from the streetlights. Wooyoung's car stood out against the mostly empty lot. You stopped abruptly in front of it, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited for him to unlock the doors. Wooyoung, still wearing that annoying smirk, took his time in reaching the driver's side. He pulled out his keys, twirling them around his finger in a show of nonchalance before finally pressing the unlock button. The car beeped in response, the headlights flashing briefly.

"Your chariot awaits, princess," Wooyoung said, his voice filled with laughter as he gestured for you to enter. Despite your annoyance, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at his behavior, shaking your head in disbelief as you got into the car. Wooyoung followed suit, sliding into the driver's seat. His smirk still in place, Wooyoung started the car, the engine purring to life.

"We have places to be!" you mocked him, the sound of your high heel echoing in the car as you tapped your foot impatiently. Wooyoung simply laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he drove off into the night. As he drove, the soft glow from the dashboard illuminated his face, casting a warm light on his features. Your eyes drifted to his hands on the steering wheel, fingers deftly maneuvering the vehicle through the night. The veins on the back of his hands were prominent, adding a sense of raw masculinity that you found yourself inexplicably drawn to. Your gaze then moved up to his chiseled jawline, the faint stubble that lined it giving him a rugged charm. You watched as the muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched, a subtle sign of his concentration on the road ahead. His eyes, though, were what captivated you the most. Looking at them through the rearview mirror, you noticed how they were intensely focused on the road, reflecting the faint glimmer of the streetlights. The seriousness on his face was a stark contrast to his usual playful demeanor. Despite yourself, you felt a pang of appreciation for this side of him. It was a silent moment of admiration that you allowed yourself. You quickly averted your gaze when he caught your reflection in the rearview mirror, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Wooyoung couldn't resist asking, "Like what you see, princess?"

His comment snapped you out of your reverie. "Keep your eyes on the road, Wooyoung," you retorted, your cheeks heating up at his insinuation. His soft chuckle filled the car, but he didn't push it any further.

After a few minutes of a silent ride, you finally broke the silence. "Can you tell me now where we are going?" you asked, your voice filled with curiosity and a hint of annoyance. You could see him smirking from the corner of your eye, clearly finding amusement in your impatience.

Wooyoung glanced at you, his smirk widening. "You'll see when we get there," he replied cryptically. His evasive answer only fueled your curiosity and irritation.

"Wooyoung, I swear if you're taking me to some shady place..." you threatened, but he simply laughed, cutting you off.

"Relax, Y/N. It's nothing like that," he reassured, his tone light but his gaze serious when he looked at you.

After a short ride, Wooyoung finally pulled up at your destination, you were even more confused than before.

"Whose house is this?" you asked, taking a glance around the unfamiliar neighborhood. Wooyoung let out a soft chuckle before unbuckling his seatbelt. He turned to look at you, his usual smirk replaced with a gentle smile.

"Do you remember Mingi?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he watched your reaction closely. "He shared a class with us last year. He's quite tall, with short-cropped blonde hair." He let the words hang in the air, watching as you tried to recall this Mingi he was referring to.

You blinked, trying to recall someone fitting the description Wooyoung gave. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but you struggled to place him among the many faces you encountered during your classes last year. "Um, Mingi?" you repeated uncertainly, furrowing your brows as you searched your memory. "I think I remember someone like that, but I didn't really know him well."

"Then it's high time you get to know him. It's his birthday party," Wooyoung stated with a broad smile as he stepped out of the car. He left you momentarily, walked around to open your door, and offered his hand.

You looked at his outstretched hand and then up at his expectant face. A sigh escaped your lips before you finally gave in, placing your hand in his. "Alright, let's get this over with," you muttered, allowing Wooyoung to lead the way.

As you entered the house, you were immediately hit with the loud music and chatter of what seemed like a hundred people. Wooyoung instinctively wrapped his arm around your waist, presumably to prevent you from getting lost in the crowd. However, you weren't in the mood for his overbearing actions, so you pushed him away with your elbow, giving him a stern look.

"I can handle myself, Wooyoung," you said, pulling away from him. His smirk remained unfazed as he raised his hands in a sign of surrender.

"As you wish, princess," he replied, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes at his nickname for you but didn't comment on it. The party was in full swing, with people dancing and chatting. The atmosphere was electric, the house filled with laughter and the sound of clinking glasses. Wooyoung guided you through the crowd, introducing you to a few people along the way. You greeted them politely, but your mind was elsewhere. "There's Mingi," Wooyoung pointed out, nodding towards a tall guy who was surrounded by a group of people. He had short blonde hair, just like Wooyoung described. When he saw you both, his face lit up and he excused himself from the group to come greet you.

"Wooyoung, Y/N, glad you guys could make it," Mingi greeted, his voice loud over the music. He had a warm smile, and his eyes were bright with excitement. You exchanged pleasantries with Mingi and wished him a happy birthday. Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself gradually warming up to the atmosphere. "I'll get you guys some drinks." Before you could protest, he was already up and heading towards the makeshift bar at the far end of the room. This left you with Wooyoung and a bunch of Mingi's friends, all of whom seemed to know each other well. You took a deep breath and introduced yourself, trying your best to engage in the conversation. Despite your initial hesitation, they were all friendly and welcoming, which eased your mind slightly.

Before you knew it, Mingi returned with a tray of drinks. He handed you a glass filled with a brightly colored cocktail, the ice clinking against the glass. "Try this," he suggested, his eyes twinkling with excitement. You took a cautious sip, the taste of the alcohol strong but not unpleasant. The cocktail was fruity and sweet, the alcohol nicely masked by the flavors. It warmed your throat and seemed to seep into your veins, easing your tension and allowing you to relax slightly. You smiled and thanked Mingi, who returned the gesture with a broad grin.

As the night continued, you found yourself engrossed in conversation, drinking more colorful cocktails, laughing, and exchanging stories with Mingi and other of his friends. Mingi was particularly charming, his pleasant demeanor making it easy for you to feel at ease around him. Yet, occasionally, your gaze would shift to Wooyoung, and you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he navigated through the conversation. His laughter, rich and contagious, echoed through the room, drawing people towards him like a magnet. The way he mingled and engaged with everyone, his energy infectious and his charisma undeniable, was truly a sight to behold. Whether it was his quick wit that left people laughing or his intriguing stories that captivated everyone's attention, Wooyoung was undeniably the life of the party. You found yourself watching him, your heart begrudgingly admitting the undeniable truth - Wooyoung was not only charming but also incredibly hard to resist.

At one point, Mingi turned to you with a genuine smile on his face, saying, "You know, I really wish I had gotten to know you better during our class. You're quite interesting." His compliment caught you off guard, but you managed to smile back, just as you were about to respond, you felt a sudden warmth around you. Startled, you turned to find Wooyoung, his arm comfortably resting on your waist. The unexpected contact surprised you, and you found yourself looking at him, an eyebrow raised in question. His eyes met yours, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

"What are you doing, Wooyoung?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual despite the surprise coursing through you. Wooyoung simply shrugged, the smirk on his face not wavering in the slightest. He seemed to be enjoying your reaction, his eyes twinkling with an unspoken amusement. Deciding to ignore him, you turned back to the rest of the group, engaging in conversation about plans for the upcoming summer. Mingi eagerly shared his excitement about an upcoming trip, and you found yourself genuinely interested in hearing more. As you chatted, Wooyoung's grip around your waist tightened slightly, his body language conveying a subtle sense of protectiveness. Despite your initial irritation, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through you at his touch. Mingi was still talking, his voice pleasant against the backdrop of the party music. Just as you were about to chime in with a comment, you felt Wooyoung lean in closer. His breath fanned across your ear as he whispered, "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

His words hit you like a sudden gust of wind, leaving you momentarily speechless. You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with shock. Wooyoung simply looked back at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His bold statement left you feeling flustered. But despite your surprise, you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Wooyoung, are you drunk?" you asked, your voice laced with concern and a hint of annoyance. His behavior tonight had been erratic at best, and you couldn't quite put a finger on what was causing it. Was it the party, the alcohol, or something else entirely? You weren't sure, and it was beginning to frustrate you. Wooyoung simply chuckled at your question, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Not at all, Y/N," he replied, his voice steady and his gaze unwavering. "But you can't deny that you do look beautiful tonight." His words, though unexpected, were sincere and you found yourself blushing under his intense gaze. You stared at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. His usual playful demeanor was still there, but there was something different in his eyes tonight. A depth that you hadn't noticed before.

"Is this another one of your tricks?" you asked, though your tone was more playful than accusatory.

"No tricks, Y/N. Just the truth," Wooyoung said, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that took you by surprise. His confident demeanor and the intensity of his gaze left you speechless.

"You're acting weird," you muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity. "What's gotten into you?"

Wooyoung shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. "Maybe I'm just tired of pretending," he said cryptically, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"Pretending what?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking.

"That I don't care," he replied simply, his gaze unwavering. "That I don't think about you all the damn time. That I don't want to be more than just your annoying neighbor."

"Oh, shut up, won't you?" you found yourself saying, a mix of emotions flooding through you. His words had caught you off guard, causing your heart to race. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you had to fight the urge to look away from his intense gaze.

In response, Wooyoung simply smirked. "Make me," he retorted, his voice low and taunting. He held your gaze, his eyes sparkling with an unreadable emotion. Then, slowly, his gaze drifted down from your eyes to your lips. For a moment, all you could do was stare back at him, your breath hitching as you realized what he was insinuating. The unexpected intensity of the moment left you breathless, your mind racing as you tried to process what was happening. His confession left you stunned. You had always thought Wooyoung's teasing was just part of his playful nature, never imagining that there might be something more behind it. The realization made your heart flutter and your mind race with questions.

"Wooyoung, I..." you started, but your words trailed off as you struggled to find the right thing to say. "I'm going to get myself a drink," you said, excusing yourself before Wooyoung could respond. You needed a moment to process everything he had just said. You quickly moved away, weaving through the crowd. As you navigated through the sea of people, you accidentally bumped into someone. As you prepared to apologize, you looked up. Your heart skipped a beat when you found yourself staring into familiar eyes – Yeosang's eyes. You caught your breath, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. It had been months since you last saw him.

From the moment you first saw Yeosang in your university class, something clicked inside you. He had an effortless grace about him, a quiet confidence that drew you in immediately. His smile was warm, his mannerisms gentle yet assured. You found yourself stealing glances at him during lectures, captivated by the way he listened intently, his eyes occasionally flickering up to meet yours. As the weeks passed, your admiration for Yeosang deepened. You began to look forward to seeing him, cherishing every opportunity to exchange a few words or share a laugh. However, your feelings remained unspoken. You didn't dare to confess your feelings to Yeosang, fearing that it might jeopardize the friendship you had cultivated or worse, make things awkward between you.

And then came Wooyoung, who joined one of your classes midway through the semester. He was charismatic, confident, and effortlessly charming. You didn't pay much attention to him beyond acknowledging his presence in class. But as weeks passed, you noticed a change in Yeosang. He seemed more distracted, often engaging in conversations with Wooyoung during breaks or after class. At first, you tried to brush it off but as weeks turned into months, it became increasingly clear that Yeosang was falling for Wooyoung. You watched from the sidelines as their friendship blossomed into something deeper, and it stung to realize that the person you liked was now enamored with someone else. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever you saw them together. It was the way Yeosang's eyes lit up when Wooyoung walked into the room, the way he laughed a little harder at Wooyoung's jokes, the way he seemed to gravitate towards him. It was these little things that made you realize just how much Yeosang liked Wooyoung. And it's not like you could blame him. Wooyoung was outgoing, charismatic, and undeniably attractive. But for you, it was difficult to see past the fact that he was the one who had swept your crush off his feet. And so, your dislike for Wooyoung was born more out of a sense of hurt and jealousy than anything else. You couldn't help but see him as the one who had taken away your chance with Yeosang. To make matters worse, Wooyoung seemed oblivious to the impact his presence had on your dynamics with Yeosang. Once Wooyoung and Yeosang made their relationship official, your friendship with Yeosang dwindled to non-existence. You were left alone to deal with your heartbreak, the sting of rejection, and the loss of friendship compounding your sorrow.

The sight of Wooyoung and Yeosang together became a bitter pill to swallow, a cruel reminder of your unfulfilled feelings for Yeosang. You missed the comforting presence of Yeosang. But more than anything, you missed the hope, the hope of maybe being something more than just friends with him. After your first year, you decided to switch groups to avoid seeing the boys together, and since then you haven’t seen Yeosang at all.

But as much as you wanted to avoid Wooyoung as well, it was harder than you imagined since he was your neighbor. Living so close to him meant that you often crossed paths, whether in the apartment lobby, the parking lot, or the local grocery store. Despite your best efforts to keep your distance, Wooyoung always seemed to find a way back into your life, you couldn't seem to escape him.

"Y/N?" Yeosang asked, his eyes wide as he scanned your face. "I haven't seen you in forever!" With one swift motion, he pulled you into a hug, leaving you utterly surprised. ''What are you doing here?'' Your mind raced with a mix of emotions – surprise, nostalgia, and a tinge of unresolved feelings. His warm embrace felt both familiar and foreign after months of absence, stirring memories of the friendship you had once shared before Wooyoung came into the picture.

"I could ask you the same thing," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, pulling away from the hug, your heart pounding at the close contact.

Yeosang's smile was warm and genuine as he offered, "Would you mind grabbing a drink with me?" he extended his arm towards you and despite all the confusion swirling in your mind, you found yourself unable to resist the offer.

"Yeah, sure!" you agreed, smiling weakly at him. "But I think you need to know that Wooyoung is here as well." A few months ago, a mutual friend informed you that Yeosang and Wooyoung had broken up that’s why you said the last part with hesitation, watching for Yeosang’s reaction, unsure how he might feel given their history.

He blinked in surprise at your words, his face going slightly pale. "Wooyoung is here?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded, biting your lip nervously. Yeosang took a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the floor. After what felt like an eternity, he finally looked up at you, a small smile on his face. "It's okay, Y/N," he said, his voice steady. "We ended things on good terms. It won't be awkward, I promise." Despite his reassurances, you could see the flash of pain in his eyes, a hint of the heartbreak he must have gone through.

You felt a pang of sympathy for him but didn't know what to say. Instead, you gave him a small smile, "Let's get that drink," you suggested, offering him a comforting smile. He nodded, his smile returning as he led you towards the makeshift bar.

As you navigated through the crowd, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Seeing Yeosang again stirred up old feelings, and Wooyoung's confession left you in a state of shock. Wooyoung's sudden confession surprised you. The two of you hardly spent time together after your feelings of jealousy took over, leading you to switch classes in an attempt to distance yourself. You lived in the same building so you'd sometimes meet him in the lobby, the parking lot, or the grocery store, but that was all. Any talks you had were short and you were often annoyed with him. It was clear you didn't like being around Wooyoung.

As you reached the makeshift bar, Yeosang took two glasses in his hands. "What do you feel like drinking?" he asked, his gaze turning to the drinks lined up on the counter.

"To be honest, a strong cocktail would be nice." you amended, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

"Alright, one strong cocktail coming right up." He said, his voice filled with amusement as he began to mix your drink. You watched him work, feeling a mix of nostalgia and nervousness. It was surreal being here with him after everything that had happened. Yeosang prepared two cocktails, handing one to you with a warm smile. You took a sip, the fruity tang of the drink temporarily distracting you from your thoughts.

"So, how's life treating you?" Yeosang asked, his tone was casual, but there was a genuine interest in his eyes.

"Busy," you replied with a small smile. "Classes are demanding, but I'm managing. How about you? How's everything been?"

"Pretty much the same. Classes, projects, the usual. I've been keeping myself occupied." There was a comfortable silence as you both took a moment to enjoy your drinks. The strong cocktail did wonders to calm your nerves, and you found yourself relaxing into the familiar rhythm of conversation with Yeosang.

"You know," Yeosang began, his voice softer, "I really missed our talks. It's been too long."

You looked at him, surprised by the honesty in his words. "I missed them too," you admitted, feeling a pang of regret for the time lost. "When I first heard that you and Wooyoung had broken up, I was secretly hoping you would reach out," you confessed, your gaze meeting his. There was a moment of silence as your words hung in the air. Yeosang blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your confession. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to struggle to find the right words. You watched as a range of emotions flitted across his face - surprise, confusion, and then, slowly, understanding.

"I...I had no idea," he finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze dropped to his drink, his fingers absently tracing the rim of the glass. "I was so absorbed in my relationship with Wooyoung, that I didn't notice I was neglecting our friendship," Yeosang confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't see you the whole summer, and then I found out you switched classes. I should have reached out, I know. But I was too caught up in my own feelings. I'm sorry, Y/N," Yeosang said, looking up at you with a sincere expression, his eyes filled with regret.

You were taken aback by his sudden apology, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. "It's okay, Yeosang," you reassured him, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. "We were both dealing with our own stuff. But I'm glad we're talking now."

He looked up at you, his gaze soft. "I missed you, Y/N," he admitted, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner." Yeosang smiled, and for a moment, it felt like old times. "I'm glad we ran into each other tonight," he said sincerely.

You returned his smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Me too, Sangie. Me too," you replied.

Little did you both know, a pair of eyes were watching your interaction from across the room.

As you continued to engage in conversation with Yeosang, you finally felt the alcohol hit. Your senses began to blur slightly, the room spinning a little. Yeosang's cheeks and ears had turned a shade of red, the alcohol clearly taking effect on him too. You couldn't help but admire his handsome face, his brown, styled hair adding to his charm. He looked like an angel under the soft glow of the lights, and you found yourself staring at him, losing focus on what he was saying. Your head was getting dizzy from the alcohol, and you found your body swaying slightly. Without thinking, you rested your head on Yeosang's shoulder, your arms linked as you continued talking. The warmth from his body was comforting, easing the spinning sensation in your head. As he spoke, you found yourself staring at his lips. They moved with each word, captivating you completely. You could see the faint stubble on his upper lip, the slight curve of his lower lip, the way they moved when he pronounced certain words. His voice was a soothing hum in your ears, the words gradually losing meaning as you got lost in your thoughts. You couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to close the distance, to taste the sweet alcohol on his lips. Your gaze flickered up to meet his, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade into the background. Yeosang noticed the direction of your gaze and a faint blush colored his cheeks. He paused mid-sentence, his eyes meeting yours. His eyes held a softness that you hadn't seen in a long time, stirring a familiar warmth within you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the alcohol loosening the tight grip of restraint. Slowly, you leaned in closer, your eyes fluttering shut, the anticipation built up, a sweet tension hanging in the air. But just as your lips were about to meet, you were pulled up by your arm.

Startled, you opened your eyes to find Wooyoung standing beside you, his gaze burning into yours. "I think you've had enough to drink, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. His grip on your arm was firm yet gentle, pulling you away from Yeosang and towards him.

"What the hell, Wooyoung?" you slurred, struggling to maintain your balance. His sudden intrusion left you disoriented, your head spinning from the abrupt movement. His eyes held a strange intensity, an emotion you couldn't quite decipher.

Yeosang looked at the two of you, his expression mixed with confusion and a hint of disappointment. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seemed to think better of it. Wooyoung couldn't help but gaze at Yeosang as well. His eyes held a strange mix of emotions that were hard to decipher. He watched as Yeosang looked back at him, a hint of confusion and disappointment in his gaze. This interaction was one Wooyoung had not anticipated, but he couldn't deny the protective instinct that had surged within him.

Wooyoung’s voice softened as he turned to Yeosang, "Are you alright?" he asked with concern. Yeosang simply nodded, his eyes still locked on Wooyoung and you, a lingering sadness evident in his gaze. Wooyoung tightened his hold around you, his voice barely above a whisper as he scolded Yeosang gently, "You shouldn't drink so much, you know you can't handle your alcohol well."

Yeosang ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that you recognized instantly. "Yeah, I know" he replied, his voice low and slightly shaky, "But I don't think it's your place to remind me, Wooyoung." His words carried a hint of bitterness that you hadn't heard from him before. Wooyoung flinched slightly, clear surprise flashing across his face. He nodded, falling silent as he tightened his hold on you once more.

"Can't I worry about you anymore?" Wooyoung asked, his voice clearly annoyed with the way this conversation was going.

Yeosang looked away, his expression hard to read. "You stopped having that right when we broke up, Wooyoung," he replied, his voice steady but filled with unspoken emotions. Wooyoung was taken aback, his grip on your arm loosening slightly.

His words carried a sting that caused Wooyoung to recoil slightly. "So, I loved you once and now I have to pretend we are strangers?" Wooyoung retorted, his voice tight with frustration. The tension between them was palpable, a stark reminder of the complex web of emotions and history that tied them together.

"No, Wooyoung. We're not strangers, but we're not lovers either. We're just two people who used to know each other very well," Yeosang replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. His gaze was steady, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. Wooyoung fell silent, his grip on your arm slackening as he digested Yeosang's words. "I better get going," Yeosang said, getting up from the couch. He tripped on his feet, momentarily losing his balance. He quickly steadied himself, giving you and Wooyoung one last glance before disappearing into the crowd.

After a while of uncomfortable silence, Wooyoung asked you, "Are you alright?" his voice filled with concern.

You turned to him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I should be asking you this question," you replied, your gaze meeting his.

Wooyoung seemed taken aback by your response, but he quickly regained his composure. "I'm fine Y/N," he said, avoiding your gaze. "But are you?"

"I'm okay," you managed to say, the words coming out as a slur. You swayed slightly, your vision blurring as you tried to focus on Wooyoung's face. He sighed, his grip tightening around your waist.

"Let's get you some water," he suggested, his voice steady despite the concern on his face. He began to lead you away from the crowd, his hold on you firm yet gentle. You didn't protest, too dazed to argue.

Wooyoung led you outside, the cool night air hitting your face. It was a welcome relief from the heat of the party, the sounds of music and chatter fading into the background. He guided you to a nearby bench, helping you sit down before he sat beside you. You leaned back, closing your eyes as you tried to clear your head. The world was spinning around you, the effects of the alcohol more potent than you had anticipated. A moment of silence passed, the only sound being the distant hum of the party and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"You shouldn't have drunk so much," Wooyoung finally broke the silence, his tone soft. You opened your eyes, turning to look at him. He was staring at you, his gaze filled with concern.

"Well, you shouldn't have dragged me to this party," you retorted, your voice coming out stronger than you intended.

"You're right, I shouldn't have," he agreed, his tone suddenly angry. He reached for the water bottle he had brought with him, handing it to you. You took it gratefully, taking small sips as you tried to sober up.

"What was that supposed to mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to comprehend his sudden change in tone. There was a distinct edge to his voice that you had never heard before - a hint of anger, perhaps even frustration.

His words hung in the air, their implications slowly sinking in as you tried to make sense of the situation. "I mean, I pour my heart out, confessing my fucking feelings to you, and then you just disappear. And when I find you, you're kissing my ex?" Wooyoung ruffled his hair in frustration, his words laced with a potent mix of anger and hurt.

"I did not kiss your ex," you managed to slur out, pausing to take a gulp of water in an attempt to clear your head.

Wooyoung's sudden shout startled you, causing you to nearly choke on your drink. "Fuck! Is that really the only thing you caught from everything I just said?" He was clearly frustrated, he took you by your arms, making you face him to make sure you were paying attention. "I'm confessing to you here, for fuck's sake. Do you understand?"

"Confessing?" you echoed, your mind struggling to process his words. "Wait, are you saying..." you trailed off, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. "You...you like me?" His confession left you reeling, a mix of shock and disbelief coursing through you.

Wooyoung simply stared at you for a moment, as if he was trying to read your thoughts. "Yes, Y/N," he finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I like you. I have for a while now." His words hung in the air, a confession that left you stunned "But here you are, chasing after my ex," Wooyoung's words had a bitter edge to them, his frustration evident in his voice. His confession was still ringing in your ears, adding to the surrealness of the situation. You stared at him, your mind racing to process his words. His confession was unexpected, but it started to make sense, explaining his unusual behavior throughout the night. Your heart pounded in your chest as you attempted to articulate a response. "It's funny," he said, a dry smile playing on his lips. "I always thought you hated me, and I could never figure out why." Wooyoung sighed, a soft chuckle escaping his lips despite the sadness clouding his eyes. "Now I know why," he admitted, his voice carrying a weight that was impossible to ignore. The words hung in the air, heavy with regret and understanding. His eyes held yours, a silent plea for understanding shimmering within their depths. "A fucking love triangle, for fuck's sake," Wooyoung chuckled, biting his lower lip in a mix of amusement and frustration. His heart pounded in his chest as the gravity of the situation sank in. Here he was, caught in a twisted love triangle with his ex and the girl he was falling for. The irony was not lost on him.

"Wooyoung, it's not what you think," you finally managed to say, your voice shaky. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I didn't plan on... with Yeosang... I was just... I don't know." You trailed off, your words failing to accurately convey the whirlwind of emotions within you. "I'm sorry, Wooyoung," you added, your voice barely above a whisper. The apology hung heavy in the air, a sincere admittance of your conflicted feelings. This was not how you imagined the night unfolding. The realization that you had been blind to his feelings all this time left you feeling more disoriented than the alcohol ever could. "Wooyoung," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know." The look in his eyes softened a fraction, but the hurt was still there, raw and unfiltered.

He let out a heavy sigh, releasing his grip on your arms and stepping back. "How could you have known?" he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I never had the guts to tell you until now. And when I finally do, it's at the worst possible moment." His words were filled with a raw honesty that took you by surprise, leaving you speechless. There was a heavy silence as you both sat there, his confession still lingering in the air. The cool night breeze rustled through the trees, the only sound in the otherwise quiet night. You looked at Wooyoung, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the nearby streetlights. His eyes were downcast, a stark contrast to his usual lively demeanor. "Let's get us home," Wooyoung finally said, breaking the silence. He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. The contact was unexpected, but it felt comforting He guided you up from the bench, his hand securely wrapped around yours. The world swayed slightly as you stood, the alcohol still coursing through your veins.

"What about the car?" you suddenly asked, remembering you had driven to the party.

"Mingi's going to drive it back tomorrow," after he said that, you walked in silence, the quiet night air a stark contrast to the loud music and chatter you left behind. The soft glow of the streetlights guided your path, casting long shadows on the empty sidewalk. The only sounds were the distant hum of the city and the soft rustle of leaves under your feet. Wooyoung's grip on your hand was firm yet gentle, a silent reassurance that he was there for you.

"Wooyoung, my feet hurt," you finally voiced out, glancing down at your feet which were now visibly swollen from the uncomfortable heels you had been wearing all night. A pained expression crossed your face as you tried to flex your aching feet.

"Your feet hurt?" Wooyoung stopped in his tracks, his gaze dropping to the heels you had been wearing all night. He could see the discomfort on your face and he felt a pang of sympathy.

"Mhm," you whispered softly, your pout deepening. Wooyoung stopped, looking down at your feet in the high heels that had been giving you trouble all evening. His eyes softened upon seeing your discomfort.

"Alright, take them off, princess," Wooyoung said, his voice gentle yet firm. He let go of your hand and crouched down, reaching for the straps of your heels. You watched in surprise as he helped you out of the torturous shoes. His actions were so unexpected, yet they felt so natural, causing a smile to tug at your lips. The nickname he had just used hung in the air between you, igniting a familiar warmth in your chest. You felt a small chuckle escape your lips, the tension from earlier starting to dissipate a bit. This was a side of Wooyoung you hadn't seen before, a softer, caring side that warmed your heart.

Once he had helped you out of your shoes, Wooyoung started to untie his own shoes, "What are you doing?" you chuckled, watching as he removed his own shoes. He looked up at you with a grin, his eyes sparkling in the dim lighting.

"I'm giving you my shoes so you don't have to walk barefoot," he simply replied, handing you his shoes with a gentle smile. You took them from him, a soft laugh escaping your lips at his unexpected gesture.

"Seriously?" you asked, your voice filled with amusement. Wooyoung simply shrugged, a playful grin on his lips. You hesitated for a moment before slipping your feet into his shoes. They were slightly big for you, but significantly more comfortable than your heels.

With a satisfied nod, Wooyoung stood up and offered his arm. "Shall we continue?" he asked, his tone light. You nodded, taking his arm as you both continued walking.

The rest of the walk home was quiet, punctuated only by the occasional sound of passing cars and the soft rustling of leaves under your feet. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, you found comfort in Wooyoung's steady presence beside you. His silence was not oppressive, rather it was comforting, allowing you the space to process the night's events. Your senses gradually began to clear as you walked, the cool night breeze helping to dissipate the effects of the alcohol. The world slowly stopped spinning, and your thoughts were no longer a jumbled mess. The reality of the night's events began to sink in, causing a pang of regret to shoot through your heart. You took a deep breath, resolving to deal with the consequences of your actions once you were completely sober. For now, you were just grateful for Wooyoung's silent support and the comforting familiarity of the route back home.

You barely noticed when you reached your apartment complex, the towering building standing tall against the night sky. Wooyoung guided you to your door, his hand still securely wrapped around yours.

"Thank you, Wooyoung," you said softly, your heart pounding as you turned to face him. His gaze met yours, his eyes holding a gentleness that made your heart flutter. His silence was comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos of your thoughts.

"You're welcome, Y/N," Wooyoung replied, his voice soft. His gaze lingered on your face, drinking in your features. He squeezed your hand gently, offering you a small smile.

"I...I need to go," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded, releasing his hand. He turned to leave, his figure slowly disappearing. You watched him go, a mix of emotions washing over you. You sighed, turning to unlock your door. Once inside, you kicked off Wooyoung's shoes and collapsed onto your bed. The events of the night replayed in your mind, each detail more confusing than the last. You closed your eyes, the image of Wooyoung's hurt expression etched into your memory. A wave of guilt washed over you. Wooyoung's confession had been unexpected, but your reaction had been even more so. You pulled your blanket over your head, the guilt gnawing at your conscience. You took a deep breath, forcing your mind to clear. You needed to sort out your feelings, to figure out what you truly wanted. You decided to take a shower. The warm water cascading down your body provided a momentary relief, but it didn't really help to calm your thoughts. You kept thinking about Wooyoung, his confession kept echoing in your mind. Yeosang, who had been at the forefront of your mind earlier, now seemed like a distant memory. Each time you closed your eyes, you saw Wooyoung's face, his gaze filled with a mix of hurt and hope, his words echoing in your mind. You mindlessly brushed your teeth and changed into a pair of comfortable shorts and a T-shirt. Getting into bed, you couldn't fall asleep. You were feeling too many things, each stronger than the last. You moved around in bed, with the quiet night making your thoughts louder. Suddenly, you felt a strong need to act. You couldn't stand your confusing thoughts anymore, so you decided to face them. You jumped from the bed and ran to your apartment door, your heart beating fast. Forgetting to lock the door, you quickly climbed the stairs to the next floor, your heart beating loudly. You stopped at Wooyoung's door, worried he might be asleep and your late visit would be pointless. But you decided to go ahead. You took a deep breath to calm down and knocked on Wooyoung's door.

After a few moments, the door creaked open. Wooyoung stood there, looking surprised to see you. "Y/N? What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

His surprised expression made your heart race even more, "Can I come in?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung blinked in surprise before stepping aside to let you in. "Of course, come in." He led you to his living room, the space dimly lit by a single standing lamp. You walked in, your heart pounding in your chest. Wooyoung closed the door behind you and turned to face you, his expression one of concern. "Is everything alright, Y/N?"

But instead of answering, you slowly reached out, placing your hand on his. He looked at you, surprise flickering across his eyes. "Wooyoung...," you started, unsure of what to say. You squeezed his hand gently, ''Kiss me," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Wooyoung's eyes widened at your words, a mix of surprise and disbelief flashing across his face. For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if trying to determine if he had heard you correctly. "I just need to check something, so kiss me, please?" you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. The request hung heavy in the air, a question that held the potential to change everything. Wooyoung's eyes widened in shock, and he searched your face for any hint of hesitation or insincerity. His gaze softened as he saw the earnest plea in your eyes. "I brushed my teeth," you told him, a small smile playing on your lips. This caused him to chuckle, his laugh broke the tension, a small ray of light in an otherwise heavy situation.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Wooyoung responded, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Wouldn't want to kiss a mouth full of party snacks and alcohol, now would we?" At that, your smile widened a bit, the humor in his comment easing some of your nervousness. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his eyes locked on yours. His gaze was intense, filled with a mix of emotions that set your heart racing. It was as if he was silently pleading for you to understand, to accept his feelings. In that moment, you felt a connection, a spark that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Are you going to just keep looking at me like that, or are you actually going to kiss me?" you teased, an amused quirk of his lips was his initial response, the corners of his mouth curling into a small, but warm, smile. Your playful tone seemed to have done the trick, Wooyoung’s gaze softened, his gaze flickering momentarily to your lips before returning to meet your eyes. The playful challenge in your words hung in the air, a silent invitation awaiting his response. For a moment, all you could hear was your own heart pounding in anticipation. You found yourself holding your breath, eagerly waiting for his next move. "What are you afraid of?" you whispered, his eyes reflecting a hint of surprise at your question.

"Afraid?" he echoed, a playful spark in his eyes as he leaned in closer. "Not even a bit." Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seemed to pause as his lips met yours, the soft pressure sending a jolt of surprise through you. It was a gentle kiss, yet filled with a raw intensity that took your breath away. His lips moved against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the intoxicating taste of him making your head spin even more. His hand found its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and deepening the kiss. You responded instinctively, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back. The world around you seemed to fade into insignificance, the only thing that mattered was the feel of his lips against yours, the warmth of his body against yours. It was a while before you both pulled away, the need for air becoming too great. You looked at him, his eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed. His lips were slightly swollen from the kiss and for a moment, you wondered if yours looked the same.

"Well..." he started, his voice slightly hoarse. "Did you...check what you needed to check?" His words were light, but his eyes held a seriousness that suggested he was waiting for your answer with bated breath.

You nodded, your mind still reeling from the kiss. "Yeah..." you said, your voice barely a whisper. "I did." You weren't quite sure what you had expected to feel but whatever it was, it felt right. His confession, his kiss, it was unexpected, but it felt...right. Your heart raced as you looked into Wooyoung's eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand still on the back of your neck. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss. Slowly, a smile spread across your face, mirroring his own playful demeanor. "I think I got my answer," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "But just to be sure..." You leaned in again, closing the distance between you, capturing his lips with yours in another kiss. This time, the kiss was deeper, more passionate, as if confirming what both of you had been silently longing for. His response was immediate, his lips moving with a renewed fervor against yours. The gentle pressure, the taste of him, the way his fingers lightly traced your jawline sent shivers down your spine. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, staring into each other's eyes with a mixture of disbelief and desire.

Wooyoung chuckled softly, his forehead resting on yours, as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "So, did that clear things up for you?" he asked, his voice husky with emotion.

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah," you murmured, "It definitely did."

"Good," he said, his eyes lighting up at your smile. "Because I...I really like you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I hope that...maybe...you might feel the same way."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a warmth spreading through you. You looked at him, your eyes meeting his in a silent understanding. "I...I think I might," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

His eyes widened in surprise, a hopeful smile spreading across his face. "Really?" he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and hope.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Really," you confirmed, your heart pounding in your chest. His smile widened, his eyes lighting up with a joy that made your heart flutter. You felt a warmth spread through you, a sense of rightness that you hadn't felt in a long time. You felt a surge of embarrassment rush through you as Wooyoung’s gaze continued to rake over your attire. A flush crept up your neck and you instinctively brought a hand up to hide your reddening face. Wooyoung let out a hearty laugh at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Go away, Wooyoung," you muttered from behind your hand, your voice muffled yet audibly flustered.

Wooyoung, however, seemed to find your blush endearing. He raised an eyebrow at your retort, a smirk playing on his lips. "Go away? Where am I supposed to go, princess?" he replied, his tone teasing. His words only served to deepen your blush, but you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped your lips at his ridiculousness. Without a word, you pushed him playfully, trying to hide the smile that tugged at your lips. Wooyoung only laughed, his eyes twinkling as he caught your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

You rolled your eyes, yet the warmth in your chest didn’t dissipate. "You're insufferable, Wooyoung," you said, but your fond tone contradicted your words.

He simply grinned in response, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "And you wouldn't have it any other way," he retorted, his voice full of affection.

"Maybe I wouldn't," you admitted, a soft smile on your lips.

#ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez oneshot #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung oneshot

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botboots · 1 year ago

Note

Saw that your requests were open so what about TFP cons with an adorkable teen human reader? A really close friend (the emotional support bundle of joy™) that is really artistic, kind, understanding and just a pure cinnamon roll, what would be the bots reaction to the lil' human? Optimus, Ratchet,Bulkhead, Arcee, BB, and if you do the kids then the kids. If not the other bots, stay safe!

im back!! so sorry for the long ass wait, had so much going on in my life recently (graduating, going back home, etc.) but hopefully i'll be back to posting somewhat regularly! tysm for the continuous support :] love seeing the notifs pop up every day this is one of the first asks in my inbox (and i completely forgot that the prompt said reader was part of the cons... whoops) and i've wanted to get it done for a while now! have so many more to get through but will get them done eventually - this isn't the best but its cute <3 and you can 100% tell who my favs are lmao warnings: none word count: 939 (GN reader)

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Optimus:

he finds your outlook on things is a nice change of pace compared to the more pessimistic views that some members of the team can have at times

values your compassion greatly, often turning to you as a confidant over the time you’ve gotten to know each other. a mission went wrong and he’s putting all the blame on himself? you’re there to reassure him in a heartbeat, reminding him that he did his best and there’s always another chance; you keep him grounded

has an innate interest in art and writing - he used to be an archivist, after all

so he enjoys watching you indulge in your hobby, your excitement about it reminds him of his younger years of being a clerk at iacon when he would become giddy over a newfound archaic text

he’s very fond of you and makes sure you know it, taking note of the small things you like and getting you whatever little gift he can manage to find - genuinely thinks you’re cute and likes seeing you happy :]

Ratchet:

while it may have taken him a little longer than the others to warm up to you fully, he grew to start looking forward to your company (despite his his best efforts to hide it)

he appreciates your quiet company; you’re much less rambunctious than both the other humans and his own team - you complain a lot less too, probably one of his favorite qualities about you

like optimus, your bubbly attitude gives him a much needed break from the dreary duties that come with being the autobot medic

you often find yourselves working in tandem, with you sitting on the couch working on your newest project while he stands at his terminal typing away. occasionally you’ll walk over with a nervous smile, and with a roll of his optics he’ll lower a servo for you to climb into and lift you up onto the corner of the console, huffing when you chirp a thank you before the both of you quietly return to your tasks (he enjoys it, really)

while he’s not one to vent his frustrations to you, he’ll always be open to listen to you vent about yours. even if he doesn’t respond with much, he’ll offer logical solutions and observations for whatever issue you’re having

Bulkhead:

the big guy loves art, having been exposed to his fair share of it by miko, and is very encouraging when it comes to your projects

he might not get some of the nuances or meanings of the things you make, but he tries - oftentimes making you laugh a bit at the sheer amount he misses. it’s endearing though, and you appreciate the effort

too fidgety to sit and watch you do anything for too long, but he’ll offer to drive you to a vista for some inspiration while he does his usual scouting routes, miko tagging along of course. she’ll probably bring her sketchbook with her and sit next to you and draw, chattering the entire time while blasting some music from her ipod, offering you one of her earbuds

Arcee:

similar to ratchet she takes a while to get used to you, a little cold at first to your attempts at friendliness

she notices how happy you seem to make everyone else and eventually makes a legitimate pass at being friendly despite how awkward it feels

but with how eagerly you accept it she doesn’t feel as bad, sighing in relief as you immediately start filling her in on how much you’ve enjoyed your time with the autobots

she’s not much of a conversationalist (especially when it comes to humans) so your chattiness is almost a relief - not having to keep up fake interest and energy with someone puts her in a more comfortable position; especially since you’re not one to comment on it like others tend to

will sit and watch you work on whatever your newest project is, a comfortable silence shared between the two of you

rambles about random stuff from her past sometimes - you turn out to be one of the few people she trusts enough to mindlessly dump her thoughts to, both good and bad

Bumblebee:

one of the first to get to know you, overly excited about having a fresh face around

super curious when he sees you working on something, a barrage of questions translated from mechanical chirps and whirrs with the help (and annoyance) of ratchet

he’ll actually try and mimic some of your art on the walls of hidden ditches where he and rafael hang out, excitedly bringing you along to show off his latest work and buzzing happily when you praise it

will eventually, with your encouragement, try and make something original - he ends up finding it pretty soothing and an easier way to feel understood; communicating his feelings without words can be unsurprisingly helpful for someone who can’t use any of his own

you’ll spend hours hanging out and working on your stuff - he likes when you help him with his own art, adding your own brushstrokes to the concrete wall

he’ll let you sit up on his shoulder just to watch him make whatever he feels like making, or even just taking you on joyrides in the desert where he doesnt need to worry about anything going wrong

while it’s usually you, him and raf hanging out he does enjoy spending solo time with you - usually in silence or one-sided conversations, but you understand each other well enough without words

will also figure out what your favorite songs are and surprise you with them; he loves when you get all giddy about literally anything

#NO LONGER DEAD!!#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers fanfiction #tf x reader #optimus prime x reader #ratchet x reader #bulkhead x reader #bumblebee x reader #arcee x reader #tfp x reader #transformers x human reader #tfp ratchet x reader #tfp optimus x reader

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writingquestionsanswered · 6 months ago

Note

I used to love writing when I was in high school, but stopped after I graduated because of life. Now, after almost a decade, I want to get back into it but I don't know how. I have so many ideas but I tend to bounce around the same variations and don't know how to stick to one thing, or how to just get back into the rhythm of writing actively. Or even reading actively.

Any advice?

Getting Back to Reading and Writing

What you're experiencing is what I like to think of as "the creative zoomies."

After so long away from actively reading and writing, there's now this flood of ideas, plans, books you want to read, and stories you want to write. You can't settle and focus on a single thing because your brain wants to do ALL THE THINGS, so you keep bouncing back and forth between things hoping something will stick.

First things first... DEEP BREATH.

As I said in an earlier post, remember: there is no ticking clock. It may feel like there is, sometimes, but we're just little ants on a planet doing our things. There are no deadlines unless you sign up for any, and you don't have to worry about that right now.

So... start by taking an honest look at your schedule and your life, and see if you can figure out a realistic estimate of how much time you have in a given week. Where are there slots of time you can dedicate to writing? How about reading?

Next, it can be immensely helpful if you have a comfortable, relaxing space, free from distraction and interruption, where you can go to write. Some people like to go write at a coffee shop or library to get away from family shenanigans or bothersome housemates. If it's not a billion degrees where you are, you might also try your patio, yard, or a nearby park. Listening to soft music or "ambience rooms" (tons on YouTube) through headphones can also help you focus. There are also still some different apps and programs for distraction free writing. Just make sure to save often and keep a master document on your computer to prevent losing all your work in case the app or program gets glitchy. Also: put your phone on silent, turn off your internet if you must, and let people know not to bother you. This is your writing time... don't be afraid to guard it fiercely.

As for choosing ideas, I'm a big fan of the old-fashioned methods... random number pickers, drawing out of a hat, rolling dice... But you can also do a process of elimination based on what appeals to you the most. If you get it down to two, and then you're disappointed with the one you're left with, you know the one you just eliminated is the right idea to go with.

If you're not sure what to write, try doing some writing prompts. There are lots available online and there are some great books with writing prompts. Doing one a day can be a great way to get yourself back in the habit of writing again.

As for reading, start by reading during moments of spare time, such as if you're taking a bath, riding your stationary bike, sitting in a waiting room, or riding public transportation. You can even read during your morning coffee or your lunch break. Also, embrace the world of audio books. This is one of my favorite ways to read, because I can do it while I'm exercising, showering, cleaning, cooking, driving, doing projects... I get through so many more books by listening to audio books. More than anything, just remember that once again, there's no ticking clock. You don't have to finish a certain number of books before the end of the year. Read what you want, at the pace that works for you, and don't be afraid to DNF if a book isn't working for you.

I hope this helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

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daytaker · 11 months ago

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greetings from clown anon, adored the fic very silly <33

i apologise if i’m filling up your inbox but may i ask for an mc that’s a mortician? that or is just desensitised to death and knows a lot about it, like i imagine whenever the brothers in early season 1 used to do like very specific threats mc would be like “uh actually that’s not how that works” essentially acting like a bit of a smart ass completely glossing over the actual threat

thanksies in advance (´∀｀*)

Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]

(I'll be real I have no memory of the specific threats and I was too lazy to go look for them but I will follow along the lines of the prompt anyway.)

I'm going to do this one in bullet point form. Hope that's okay.

(CW: a bit gross at times. not quite gore.)

Now I Am Become MC, Destroyer of Worlds: A Death-Fixated Main Character in Obey Me!

Read below the cut.

They're extremely curious about demon anatomy. And not in a kinky way. They want to see how similar the structure and layout of demon organs are to human organs. They want to get full body X-rays when those wings and tails pop up. They want to get it on video when they appear and disappear. Because what the fuck. Yeah, yeah, they get it, magic exists, but still, what the fuck?!

They fully expect Beel to keel over and die one day from overeating. There is no way any single individual can consume the way he does and survive. They're actually hoping that if he does, they'll be able to carry out the post-mortem and see what exactly was going on with that stomach of his. I mean, yes, they'll be very sad he's gone, but at least he'll have died as a martyr to science!

Dead shadow hog? Taxidermied. Dead fire newt? Taxidermied. Dead devil zebra? Brought home, dissected, taxidermied. The brothers don't really like to go to their room because of the constant dizzying stench of formaldehyde that comes from it.

Sometimes they'll just sit and stare at one of the brothers. If asked what they're doing, they'll simply say, "Observing." Reactions to this range from Beel's "Oh, okay," to Levi's "I'M GOING TO MY ROOM AND NEVER LEAVING FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE."

So Solomon's immortal, is he? How immortal, exactly? Is it just that he'll never die from old age? Could he die of a disease? Surely he could die from injuries, right? Has he tested this? Can they test it? Please?

....Please?

Wait, wait, wait. Satan came from where? How? Why? What the hell? Lucifer, take your shirt off, they need to do some investigating. Satan, you too. Lucifer, show them your back. No scars? Not even from ripping your own wings off? Hm. Satan, do you have a bellybutton? ...That's weird, you definitely didn't need an umbilical cord. And you're saying he came out full-sized? Stop telling them it's magic! Magic is just science that people don't understand yet.

Actually, all of you get in here and strip, this has been a long time coming. MC needs to figure out what the hell is happening here.

Why not?

Pleeeease?

Satan, let's talk about one of your murder mysteries! They do this exactly one time, and never again because MC kept interrupting to point out plot holes and inconsistencies. It was so annoying. It kind of ruined the genre for him for a little while.

Leviathan, MC wants to ask you about how you survive underwater. Levi--- Hey, where are you going? Levi?

They write their paper on comparative anatomy of demons, angels, and humans. Diavolo gets a little queasy after the first page and gives them an A. He doesn't want to read the rest, he trusts they did a thorough job.

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yuri-is-online · 1 year ago

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Hello, hello! Congrats on making the 500 follower milestone!🥳🎉🎆 For the masquerade event, may I request prompt no. 12 with Leona, Riddle and Azul, please? Thank you!

12. You had a wonderful time dancing and flirting with someone at the ball, only to find out from your friends the next day that was your crush. And you have no idea if they knew it was you they were dancing with.

Hi hi friend!!! I am very happy to see you, in both my inbox and my notifications. I really hope you like what I came up with here, and look forward to any future requests you may have.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, SUGGESTIVE WARNING FOR LEONA (he gives Yuu a hickey) Leona? Self-destructing? It's more likely than you think, Riddle is a fragile Victorian maiden, and Azul is himself, a reference is made to his chat with Jade. This got a bit angsty but everything is ok in the end. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist here.

Leona

Just one night. That's what Leona told himself, one night with you in his arms, all your attention focused on him; your smiles, your laughter, the heat of your breath against his lips as he steals all of your air and pockets the sound of your gasps in the back of your mind right by all those times he got the last word in an argument with Kifaji. You were going to be his for one night and one night only, with a mask, hat, and cape to shield him from all your typical banter and sweep you up in the allure of the Masquerade. And it had worked, like the predictable herbivore you were you let him sweep you off your feet and monopolize all of your time for the entire night.

Your eyes had been drawn away by a particularly loud shout from the lizard's annoying retainer, that pointless concern drawing you away from him once again. He touches just under your chin and moves your head back towards him, trying not to let his smirk grow any further when you melt into his touch and completely ignore the commotion.

"Sorry," you do sound like it "where were we?"

"You were about to stop telling me how nice my costume is and do something more productive." The hears the heart rate increase before he feels it, tastes Yuu before he kisses them, and knows long before he pulls away that this was a mistake. He was supposed to tie off his feelings by proving to himself that attending one of these shitty formal events with you would suck.

And it sort of had, but only because he had to hear your strangled disappointment when he left you alone instead of ditching the soirée to come home with him.

Home. As if either of you would be welcome there. ~~~~ "So you wanted me to be sitting down for this conversation?" You have a feeling you know why Ruggie is here. It has something to do with the extremely inhuman teeth marks that would have been your death warrant if looks could kill.

"You already know you were sucking Leona's face last night right?" You aren't quite sure who Ruggie is trying to be polite to with keeping his descriptions to that already vivid medium.

"Yes," you look off just past Ruggie as if it will save you any embarrassment "I found out when Vil started slapping foundation on my neck and demanding I call my therapist."

"You should still do that." So it's you Ruggie is trying to be polite to, sweet that makes eye contact a little bit easier. "But- no after you do that would you mind talking to Leona? I'd say call him but he's just going to ignore you and I am sick of it."

"Oh come on," you try to lighten the mood with a laugh "it's only been one day right?"

"Try since you met." Ruggie mutters and your mood falls back to the stressful buzz of nonsensical energy that you had been stitched in all day. He probably didn't mean for you to hear that, just like Leona didn't mean for you to see him as vulnerable in anyway at all.

"Did he send you to pick something up?" It's not a question Ruggie jumps to answer, but he doesn't have to. "Mind letting me deliver it?" ~~~~ "You've got some nerve showing your face here." Leona knows it's you, and you wish you could say you're surprised he is able to tell with his eyes closed, you wish you could say the deep breath he takes before he opens his eyes is ugly or terrifying in some way so you have an excuse to run.

But for some ungodly reason you don't want to. Seeing him makes things less embarrassing, in a complete defiance of logic and good sense you feel nothing but confidence as you stride across the room and set the skewers Ruggie made on his room's coffee table. "Figured you wouldn't answer your phone so I just let myself in." You don't move any closer to his bed, not because you are afraid of him, something you know he knows as he makes a show of opening his mouth to taste the air and show off his teeth. No if Leona wants you-

"Here to say you regret it?" He means it as a taunt, but like so many of those it's a bit too truthful for you to really be insulted. "I just wanted a taste, you had to have known a herbivore like you would never be able to keep up with me."

"And you have to know that acting like a coward is unbecoming for anyone," the strength of your voice only surprises him, you know damn well Leona isn't the only one who is capable of being petty "let alone you." He closes the distance between for you, eyes narrow and a growl shaking you to your core but he doesn't dare lay a hand on you.

"You-"

"Are completely right and will not take any criticism." And now you are interrupting him, oooh you can piratically see the fire in his eyes. "Look, if you don't want me that's fine. I'm a big herbivore, not a little cub trying to cling to your warmth. But if you do-" You really wish Leona had a tie, it would make this nicer but he doesn't so you satisfy yourself with yanking him down to you with a fistful of his hair "then I want to hear it. And I won't yield until I do."

For a brief second, you wonder if any of what you've just done is smart. If you should have told Vil, Ace, Trey, anyone other than just Ruggie and Grim where it was you were going so they knew who to blame for your mangled corpse. But that would just complicate the excited flicker in Leona's eyes when he fully understands that you are serious. When he breaks free of your grasp with a simple shake of his head and-

Laughs. Freely and purely in a way you don't think you've ever heard before as he reaches out to that specific spot on your neck and wipes away the makeup with a simple, self satisfied spell.

"Beg."

"Excuse-"

"Oh I want to tell you," Leona is back in all his annoying smug glory, you should have expected this from someone who refused to apologize for overblotting "you have no idea just how much I want to say, but I wanna hear you beg just as bad, so indulge me a little yeah?"

I know you want to.

Riddle

"Hey congrats!" Cater almost knocks you off your couch with how hard he claps you on the back. "I was staring to think you and Riddle would never-"

"Wait, wait, wait, slow down." You make sure to put your mug down on a coaster and out of either of your reach so your precious morning brew didn't get knocked over by anyone's antics. "How did you get into my dorm and what's this about me and Riddle?" Cater gives you his best peeved look and you give him your best infuriated stare. Both of you know the answer to both of those questions; he let himself in, and you are in love with Riddle. But you do fail to see what that last bit has to do with anythi-

"Didn't you kiss him last night?" Cater is really glad you set that mug down because the wheezing cough you hack up would have been truly dangerous if any liquids involved. "He's been totally out of it all day, it's super cute you want to see some pics?"

"NO!" You manage an impressive volume for someone so low on air. "I just- ididntknowitwashimand-"

"You what?" Cater is only half paying attention, already moving to show you some admittedly extremely cute pictures of Riddle sitting in the Heartslabyul lounge with a cup of tea staring out the bay window, an unusual shade of pink decorating his cheeks with a strangely serene look on his face. You want to touch his chubby cheeks but Cater keeps his phone just out of your reach.

"I didn't know it was him." You say, quietly almost to yourself and though Cater does suck in a pretty deep breath he doesn't overwhelm you with his reaction. "I mean it was just on the cheek! I thought..."

Sweet. Your dance partner was so sleepy, and trying so very hard to stay awake. But it was clearly unbelievably far past his bed time, he can't stop yawning.

"I'm sorry, I'm being extremely impolite." He falls onto your shoulder anyway, and you feel compelled to protect him from the crowd, gently guiding him away from the lights and wrapping your cloak around his shoulders.

"It's ok, you shouldn't be sorry for feeling sleepy." He hums happily as you look around for one of the professors to take him back to his dorm. "I had a really fun time dancing with you already, I didn't know anything about formal dances before I came here so it was really nice to have such a helpful partner. You don't need to keep yourself awake for me."

"But I want to." He murmurs. "I want you to see me as reliable." Poor kid, he must really be out of it to be relying on a stranger for validation. Thankfully you finally manage to find Crewel and give your new friend a quick thank you kiss on the cheek before you pass him off.

"You're plenty useful, you don't need my approval." And you are gone before he can shout again about just how badly he wants it.

"I thought he was just some guy." You say. "And it wasn't like a kiss kiss, it was just a peck on the cheek." Something you never would have done if you knew it was Riddle, something he had seethed with jealousy over you giving out to everyone else and conveniently neglected to disclose to Cater as the type of kiss he had gotten. Cater had been under the impression it was a bit more... dramatic but then he supposes as he looks at you and then the picture of a pining Riddle on his phone, that this scenario does make a bit more sense.

Maybe the little teapot had an inappropriate dream where you held hands in the rose garden on the way back to Heartslabyul and gotten that mixed up with reality. A sharp knock at Ramshackle's door snaps you both away from your thoughts as Cater quickly excuses himself though one of the lounge's windows and you move to answer it, little doubt about who it could be. ~~~~ Riddle's entry to Ramshackle is much more formal than Cater's. He says nothing as you walk back to the lounge, you say nothing as you sit down on your couch, and he politely coughs when he settles into a recliner but still offers nothing in the way of an explanation.

"Thank you for letting me in." He does say that, because to do otherwise would be rude.

"You're always welcome over." And you can't exactly help but say that because anything else would be a lie. The silence stretches out as you stare at your poor mug in distress.

"Your tea's cold." Not the line you expected from Riddle, less so the genuine distress. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you."

"Oh it's ok, I wasn't really making much progress on it anyway." You had just made it when Cater showed up, and you had quite forgotten about it until you needed a distraction. "Did you have a good night's slee-"

"I love you." Riddle doesn't blurt anything ever, the words are as blunt and firm as a deceleration of the Queen's rules. Once again, you are very glad that no liquids are involved in the breath you are required to take. "I love you and would very much like to know if you love me too. It's alright if you don't, I'm content with our friendship, treasure it even, but I need to say something to avoid further miscommunications on my part like last night's." He moves, not quite to his knees, but deferring to you all the same. "Please." Riddle doesn't know what he is asking for, and you barely know how you answer. "What do you have to say?"

"I think." You gently take his hands in yours. "That I would like to make two cups of tea. And I would like you to sit a little closer to me."

Azul

He knew. There was no way in the deep blue sea that conniving, scheming, bastard hadn't known it was you for one second. So what was it that Azul wanted from you so badly that he pretended to be attracted to you for an entire night? You shuffle around under your blankets and flip the pillow you had been sobbing into just a few moments prior trying to convince yourself to go back to sleep, that this revelation (even if it felt more like a train wreck with how loud Ace and Deuce had yelled at you this morning) would be better digested after a night's sleep.

Closed eyes take you back to the dim lights of the ballroom, the perfect way the supposed stranger holds himself, poised yet somehow relaxed. Like he was always meant to be held in your arms, the way he removes his glove before he takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers as you dance doesn't even strike you as slightly performative.

"Your hands seem cold." He says, plush lips curving into a smile as his thumb runs over your knuckles in time with the shiver his words send through your spine. "May I hold you closer? It might help with that chill you seem to be suffering." And though you say nothing you still move further into his embrace, overwhelmed with the beauty of his affection.

You take a deep, shuddering breath and scream again into your pillow as Grim rolls over next to you mumbling something inaudible to your foggy mind.

This is pure torture. ~~~~ You knew it was him. That was the conclusion Azul had drawn because there was no way, with how deep your affections ran for him, you would have ever allowed someone else to sweep you up into their arms when you had his gift tied so delicately around your throat.

"I was right," he remembers saying that with such loaded intent he almost cringed at the sound of his own voice "it does look quite attractive on you." The spiral conch was a bit out of place in your costume, but you had still thought to wear it. The delicate silver string he had spent so much time agonizing over glittered in the magical lights of the ball. There was no reason in his mind, no reason until approximately 8:45 AM this morning anyway, to consider last night as anything other than a complete success. Now though...

Roses are too Heartslabyul, it's a bit too late to go looking for coral or seashells even if that was something he knew he needed to give to you at some point. Courtship traditions were ingrained in cultures for a reason, and he knew- well until he saw Ace shaking you in Ramshackle's courtyard he thought he had noticed that you were receptive to merfolk ones.

"Looking to make an apology little imp?" He does not startle to Sam's question, though he does make a disgruntled sigh.

"It appears I need to." Because no one on this campus likes to admit they have ever done anything wrong, and Azul does not think he was wrong to approach you but he knows you're mad. He had been waiting for your usual weekend visit to the lounge, anxious but excited, already having worked his way through the misunderstanding in his own mind. To be jealous of himself had never crossed his mind. You had never once asked to leave him as soon as he had asked for your hand, mask or no that was all Azul really wanted, out of that night anyway. But he had been making plans for this one he still wishes to see fulfilled, ones precious enough to swallow a little pride and say the words. And with that in mind... "Do you have peonies? Light pink, almost white." He doesn't really have to ask, the flowers are bought and paid for as almost an afterthought as Azul tries to plan something, even though he knows with each step he takes towards Ramshackle that the instant he sees you it will all fall apart. But he knocks on the door anyway, and tries not to half cry himself when he sees the stressed face that greets him.

"I am told," Azul says carefully, purposefully not forcing himself into your space no matter how much he wants to reacquaint himself with the warmth of your embrace "that this is the way land dwellers apologize for romantic indiscretions." Between partners goes unsaid as you, against the advice of all your friend group and the monster asleep in your bed, let him into your lounge and excuse yourself to find a vase. It's not strange to see him so relaxed, Azul's self confidence was one of the many things that attracted you to him, but it feels strangely homey to see him settled into your couch not even remotely phased by the flowers he holds. And when he looks up to see you, you can watch the breath catch in his chest before his smile shines through. It's almost enough to make you drop the vase, but not even that is enough to shatter his reverie.

"Thank you." The whisper is hoarse from your previous tears, Azul settles the flowers in the vase before pulling the glove free from his hand to allow you to seek reassurance from the coolness of his touch. There are no tears now, but the gentle curl of his hand around your cheek still has a slight tremble.

"I am sorry." He means that, even if he did nothing wrong he can still regret hurting you he decides. "Would you allow me to show you something?" Something he says, like the embrace you share and the kiss he finally gets to savor is a thing he is giving you and not a treasure he has longed to take.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #500 followers celebration #help i am gaslighting myself into liking leona #also i did get the very lovely little message you sent months ago now i think? i've been saving it to look at because it made me very happ #i hope that's ok #i went down a rabbit hole trying to decide what flowers to pick for azul #there is a reason but i need to sleep so maybe i will say later

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sailorshadzter · 6 months ago

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Can you write a fic where Cat survived the Red Wedding and has to accept that Sansa has to marry Jon to keep the Stark line and the North united? She knows Jon is now the heir but the prospect of marriage still haunts her because of what happened to Robb. And now, Cat wouldn't want to wish what happened to Robb to Jon Snow regardless of his heritage.

HIIII ANON

once again, this has been sitting in my inbox for a long time!!!

hopefully you see this!!!

send me prompts

When the gates open, a wagon rolls in, pulled by a white mare that has seen better days.

She happens to be standing in the courtyard, talking with a few of the lords when the call comes, so her attention shifts away, blue eyes watching as the wagon comes all the way through. They aren’t expecting anyone, not that it matters, so she excuses herself, wandering away from the center yard and closer to the horse drawn wagon that has now come to a stop.

As the single passenger rises from the bench, her heart skips a beat, her stomach turning over like the wild waves of the sea. Somehow, her heart is telling her all she needs to know about this hooded stranger.

Coming closer now, she waves away the guards barking questions- who are you, why have you come, and the like, because she doesn’t need to hear the answer the woman will give. As she comes around to the back, the figure is stepping down off the back, her feet crunching in the freshly fallen snow. For a moment, it is as if time is suspended, as if there is not a single other person in the world but the two of them- her lips curve around the syllables of the word she hasn’t used in years… “Mother…”

Catelyn Stark smiles, drawing back the hood of her cloak to reveal a somewhat scarred face, one older than she recalls, but it was her mother all the same. “Sansa,” she breathes, tears overflowing as she forces a smile. “My daughter…” A girl grown into a woman, a sight she thought she might never get to see… But here she was, standing just in front of her. It takes but a moment more for the young woman to fling herself at her, to fall into her arms as if she were that child she’d lost so many years before. “I’m here, Sansa, I’m here,” she whispers, running her hand through the red hair that has grown so long it falls to her waist, twisted back in braids like her own. Catelyn holds her tightly, wishing away her tears and murmuring the softest of words, until only the sound of footsteps draws her away.

When she looks up, over her daughter’s head, it is to look into the eyes of the man she knows has saved Winterfell, has saved Sansa. The boy she once detested, the boy she once neglected, now stands there now, grown into a man, staring at her with wide, gray eyes. Eyes that remind her of Ned, of Arya, eyes that bring pain to her already aching heart. But, she returns to her daughter, the last piece of her, and knows that this was where life was meant to bring her.

[ x x x ]

“King in the North?”

Catelyn questions without hesitation, looking from one face to the other, once again feeling that ache in her heart. Once, Robb had been called such a thing. The truth was, she imagined to hear Queen in the North upon her arrival, but it was true, Robb had indeed named Jon as his heir, and it seemed as if the North agreed. Truth was, after hearing about all that had happened since the days of Robb, she supposes Jon deserves the title.

Besides…

“Have you met with Samwell Tarly?” She asks next, thinking of the man she met some weeks ago, traveling from King’s Landing to Winterfell, saying how once he was comrades with Jon Snow, no, friends even. “Is he not here?”

Jon shakes his head, surprised to hear his old friend’s name spoken by his step mother. “I have not heard from Sam since before…” He trails off , shaking his head. Since before his death, he means. “Have you met with him, Lady Stark?” Lady Stark… She’s not been referred to by that name in so long now, it feels somewhat foreign. In truth, she’s heard Sansa called by that title all day, her inheritance certain. And now that she looks, there is a closeness between the two of them that she never saw before- perhaps it was one she prevented, in truth.

“I have,” she admits, wondering if it was her place to tell him what Samwell Tarly had told her. She has but a split second to decide, for they are both staring back at her, Sansa with her wide-eyed gaze, Jon with his somber one. Perhaps this was the will of the gods, whichever ones were still listening…

So she speaks and she doesn’t stop until the story is fully told.

[ x x x ]

It is the fourth morning of Catelyn’s return and she finds herself in Sansa’s rooms, brushing out her long red hair as she once did so long ago.

Much has changed in the days since her arrival, the truth of Jon’s birth being an outright shock for all of Winterfell. But, the lords have taken it in stride and it would not be long before they would openly claim him as the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.

In due time, of course.

Catelyn has been thinking this moment over, again and again, trying to decide the best of the situation. The North deserved to be free, independent, just as Robb had intended…. But they still needed to back Jon, in order to win the war that was to come. Targaryen’s were not well loved here in the North, but lucky for Jon, he’d amassed love and respect from the Northerners that could not be stolen away simply because of his father’s blood. He was a Stark, many lords would say, shaking their heads. He was as much of a Targaryen as any one of them.

“Mother?”

Sansa’s voice draws her out of her own thoughts and she smiles at her over her shoulder, their eyes meeting in the reflection of the looking glass. “I got lost in my own thoughts,” she apologizes as she places the last pin into place. For a single moment, she cannot help but to imagine her as she once was in this place; a hostage, a victim. Sansa hasn’t come out with all of the details of her two unlucky marriages, though she swears Tyrion never touched her, Catelyn knows Ramsay Bolton did the most unspeakable things to her. And these thoughts lead back to Robb, who married out of young, stupid love, that unwavering feeling many don’t get to feel in a world like theirs. Robb had died for love, Sansa nearly died from the violence of a loveless marriage. In the end, her children had found suffering in marriage, whether it be true love or political gain… There was no happy ending, not for Robb and not for Sansa.

But then there comes a knock on her door and when it opens, Jon is there, the sight of him bringing a smile to her face she’s never seen before. She watches as Sansa lights up from within, as she rises up from the chair she occupies to sweep across the room to stand before him. He spares her but one single nod before his eyes are all for Sansa, eyes that she swears she’s seen before… Eyes that she swore Ned once looked upon her with.

Sansa offers a quick curtsy- sloppy, though she had it perfected at three- and with her arm slipped through his, she allows him to steer her from the room.

Left alone in silence, Catelyn sinks back in the chair, laughter bubbling on her lips.

[ x x x ]

Several weeks later, their betrothal is announced.

Catelyn watches as the loyal Northern lords raise their glasses to the marriage, chanting their pleasure before they drink to it. At the head table, Sansa is blushing, but not in the innocent sort of way, while Jon pours her a second goblet of wine. They would be the finest of couples and the most powerful of monarchs- already Dorne had written of their support and she supposes the rest of the world would not be far behind. They had far more power than Robb ever had, which she supposes should bring her comfort, should hold her heart steady.

The boy she once wished would die, she now wishes a lifetime of happiness, of health, of love.

The boy she once wished never existed, she raises her own glass to toast, hoping for happiness, wishing for a lifetime of love.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #anon asks #writing prompts #send me prompts #i wrote this #my writing

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drivelikeiido · 1 year ago

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25 with matty who’s very drunk or very high and he’s forgotten that the reader is already his gf so he’s trying to (really badly) flirt with her

a poor attempt at flirting (a drabble)

25: “Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?”

matty healy x f! reader word count: 1.1k warnings: mentions of alcohol and weed consumption and poor writing due to many months off :/ notes: kay is back and attending to her inbox! thank you for this prompt my dear and ever so sorry it's taken me 6 months to complete it! anyways i'm not really a fan of this but it was sitting in my drafts and i wanna get back to posting so this is a start ! i promise the writing will get better from here on out mwah so accept this as a peace offering for now <3

You had awoken at 1:06am to a phone call from a very exasperated sounding Hann who had politely begged you to come and take your rather high boyfriend off of the boys’ hands as they couldn’t handle his intoxicated rambling much longer and they all know your patience for Matty far exceeds any of theirs.

This is how you’ve landed in some random party in the city filled with musicians and producers and many other peoples’ faces you half recognise while trying to collect your boyfriend. Thankfully all the boys are easily spotted due to their height (and Ross’ unmistakable mane of hair, which he thankfully lets go wild when he’s drunk). George unabashedly hollers over to you when he sees you, raising his ring-clad hands and waving you over, his smile lopsided and his eyes betraying his lack of sobriety as you make your way over to them. He says nothing but points a painted nail to a mop of curls resting on the table, head leaning on his hand while the other nurses a glass of some dark and clearly long forgotten liquid, his face hidden by the length of deep brown ringlets that fall from the top of his head. You’d recognise your boyfriend anywhere but his hair and it’s current messy state you could clock him from miles away, the stray curls resemblant of his unkempt morning bedhead that you love so much. Your heart momentarily warms at the sight until you remember the reason you’re there. You slowly make your way to sit at the table next to him, your movements slow and your eyes never leaving his form.

Once you’re seated you reach your hand slowly out to his, ghosting your fingers over his tattooed arm in an attempt to grab your boyfriend’s attention. He begrudgingly lifts his head up from where it was rested and you can barely just make out his dark hooded eyes from behind the loose curls that fall in front of his face, reaching down and tickling his nose. He releases the drink from his other hand and pushes the unruly strands backwards onto his head, remaining silent and blinking at you multiple times before he speaks.

“You’re really pretty”. His voice is light and airy and even if you didn't know him as well as you did you’d still be able to sense his inebriated state, however the smell of weed and alcohol makes it overtly clear.

This causes you to laugh, “Thank you. So are you Matty.” you utter with a grin, gaining a surprised intake of breath from the singer, a rush of colour taking to his already flushed cheeks.

His surprise continues as he lets out a whispered “You know me? What the hell”, his dark eyes now wide with wonder. You ignore the chorus of laughs in the background that you can only assume comes from the rest of the band at their frontman’s embarrassing display of forgetfulness. Being well acquainted with Matty’s intoxicated states you’ve experienced similar situations to this before, all of which have been incredibly entertaining.

Your giggle at his clueless response seems to spur his joy farther, his face breaking out into a lopsided smile. Your boyfriend is a pretty sight when he’s intoxicated, with his dark eyes and messy curls and the intoxicating scent of his expensive aftershave and the sweet weed smoke; if you didn't have to worry about getting him home you’d maybe indulge his flirting fantasy for just a little longer.

You grab onto his lithe fingers and move to slowly guide him up, “Let’s get you outside Darling”. His tiredness seems to have dissipated into excitement at this point as he quickly moves to follow you outside, letting out a hushed “Yes!” and doing what you can only imagine is some victorious movement of celebration out of your line of vision, encouraging even more laughs and hollers from the rest of the band, the phrase “What a twat” seeming to be a shared sentiment amongst the group as they laugh in agreement .

Thankfully, leading your rather drunk and high boyfriend outside is an easier feat than you expected; he eagerly holds onto your hand as you guide him and he too joins you in a large intake of the crisp night air once you make it outside. You stop and situate you both carefully against the wall in an attempt to gather yourself and your boyfriend. Matty however takes this as an opportunity to look up and down between you and the night sky and if you looked closely at him you’re sure you’d be able to see the moon’s ring of light reflecting perfectly in his chestnut eyes, giving them a further element of sparkle than what they normally have.

He soon surprises you as he takes both of your hands in earnest and holds them delicately between his infinitely larger, but cold fingers.

“Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?” . The suddenness of this adorable (yet uncharacteristically cheesy) pickup line startles you, the innocence of his state and how he still compliments you works to warm your body against the harsh cold. You find it funny how a man who normally displays such an astounding example of romanticism is reduced to something so simple in this state.

You simply shake your head in amusement and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, “Come on, Healy let’s get you home”. To this he grows juvenile and argues “No. I want to stay here and stare at you longer”. As sweet as the sentiment is you realise you’re going to have to play into his delusions even more, only a little bit offended that your boyfriend still seems to have forgotten you but you make sure to keep it in your arsenal to tease him with in the morning.

Your only attempt at reasoning with him works as you gradually win him over by offering to let him stare at you as long as he wants in the car and when you do eventually get home. Although this works on the stubborn man he still puts up some of a fight as he lowers his head and mumbles “You’re too pretty to be bossy” and although you can’t see it you’re sure a cartoon-like frown make its way across his features as he says this. You ignore him and slowly lead him into the passenger seat of the car, buckling him in despite his insistence he can do it - he’s passenger princess this evening and you’re making the most of it. After reaching the second set of traffic lights you realise that his plans to overtly stare at you are unfulfilled as he had at some point fallen asleep, his heavy head resting haphazardly against the window. You simply smile and lower the radio, already planning just how you’re going to torment him with tonight’s events in the morning.

#it's done!#another fic only like half a year later!#sorry again besties #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fic #i haven't missed putting all these tags in jesus #k!'s fics

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lucygxybaird · 22 days ago

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time-traveler billy preview

author's note: i have a feeling this one is gonna be super long -- potentially multiple parts? - so i thought i would share what i have since that prompt has been sitting in my inbox since the dawn of time (sorry!!)

Everything happens so quickly that you don’t have time — at first — to realize how odd the situation is. The man’s clothes make him look like a refugee from a Western, and everything about him, from the curl of his hair to the way he stands marks him out as someone…different, somehow. Not to mention, of course, that he’s standing in the middle of the street, looking about as out of place and freaked out as a squirrel dropped into the middle of the ocean.

But even if you could put your finger on it, you don’t have the time to consider what makes him so strange.

First, you’ll have to get him out of the path of the oncoming car.

You have, in point of fact, never actually tackled someone before. But you take your best shot, leaning in and diving at his waist, hoping to make him fold like a lawn chair. Maybe it’s just the shock, or maybe you actually find the right angle — you have no idea, but it doesn’t really matter. You manage to knock the guy sideways, both of you stumbling toward the safety of the sidewalk as the car screeches past, the driver laying on his horn.

You watch as the guy flinches at the noise, actually clapping his hands over his ears as he squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s praying with all his might that the noise will just stop. Fortunately for him, the car turns the corner up ahead, and the sound of the horn fades as it goes. You watch it go, wondering absently how long Speed Racer is going to keep honking, and then you look back at the guy whose life you’ve saved.

“Are you okay?” It’s probably a stupid question, considering what little information you already have, but you don’t know what else to say. The guy lowers his hands and squints at you, staring as if you’re the one dressed like an extra from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. “Hey — are you alright?”

He shakes his head, more like he’s trying to chase away a bothersome gnat than answering you.

You’re starting to worry that he’s hit his head, although you can’t see a cut or a bruise on his temple. Now that you’re looking at him properly, it’s really rather difficult to keep from noticing how…well, how hot he is. It’s probably — definitely — inappropriate to even think about it, you’re well aware, considering he’s either injured, intoxicated in some way, or just going through it, but you can’t ignore the fact now that it’s quite literally staring you in the face.

His eyes are large and blue, framed by thick, dark lashes as long as your pinky finger, set above a strong, straight nose that reminds you of a Greek statue, as perfectly sculpted as if it’s been made from marble. His lips are astonishingly full, his jawline and cheekbones each as defined as the dictionary, and you think there just might be the shadow of a dimple in his chin. And he’s tall, too, topping you by nearly a foot, his broad shoulders tapering to an angular waist. You realize, belatedly, that you’re staring, but then again, so is he.

“Are you okay?” you say again. “Is there something I can do for you? Someone I can call?”

He swallows, giving another shake of his head. “I don’t…I dunno where I am.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak, and his voice brings to mind sage brush and sunsets, the smoke that swirls over a campfire as it crackles with life, warm and husky, with a twang that makes you think of the bite of whiskey.

“Okay,” you say, and without thinking about it, you take his hand. It feels natural, like trying to guide a lost child, or trying to make sure you don’t lose him in a crowd. As soon as his palm touches yours, you feel a shock race up your arm, and you have the strangest sensation of a door closing, separating one moment from the next as definitively as an axe splitting wood.

His fingers curl around yours, his expression almost pleading.

“Okay,” you repeat. “Okay. Just…come with me. I’ll help you.”

You can tell, if not just by the expression on his face — half-hopeful, half-bracing, as if he’s expecting a blow to fall any second — that he’s not used to asking for help, especially not from strangers. It makes your heart hurt just a little bit. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, and you’re softened — or maybe melted — by the way he smiles at you, shy but appearing more heartened than he did just a moment ago.

Then another car whizzes by, and he winces like someone has taken a shot at him. He ducks down, his eyes so wide that they look like a pair of full moons, their cornflower centers the only source of color in his face. “The hell is that?”

You stare at him. If he didn’t look so terrified, you’d think he was joking. But if he’s not joking, then he’s either on an incredible cocktail of drugs, or he’s from that weird isolated cult town in The Village. “It’s…it’s a car,” you say.

“A car,” he repeats, as if you’ve just told him the secret to life in Mandarin.

“Yeah,” you say. “You know…a horseless carriage.”

For some reason, this seems to impart some understanding to him, but you can tell he’s still plenty freaked out. “Carriages don’t go that fuckin’ fast!”

You try very, very hard not to laugh, but god, it’s hard. You’re having to draw on nearly every ounce of compassion you have. It helps that, really, he’s not wrong. Not that you’ve ever ridden in a carriage, because you’re not Keira Knightley in a period film, but you don’t think they’re capable of speeds like that.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you say, “you don’t have to worry about getting into a horseless carriage with me. I hate driving.”

Now that it’s just the two of you standing on the sidewalk again, the road mercifully free of cars, he seems to relax a little, at least enough to consider your words. “Well,” he says. “That’s something.”

Not entirely sure where to go, you decide the police station is as good a place as any. It might be a little Hallmark movie of the week, but maybe someone has already filed a missing persons report on him. With that thought, it occurs to you that you need some information first.

“Do you remember your name?” you ask.

The look he gives you indicates he has never been quite so offended in his life. You can’t help but laugh this time. “Well, I don’t know!” you say. “You don’t know where you are, you’re walking around here looking like a puppy at the start of an ASPCA ad — maybe you’re suffering from some kind of amnesia.”

He doesn’t look any less nonplussed, but something about your laughter has loosened the muscles in his face. He smiles at you. You try to ignore the way your stomach flips to focus on his answer. “Billy,” he says.

You fight the urge to repeat his name, rolling it around in your mouth like candy. “Come on,” you say, his hand still in yours. “We’re not gonna get anywhere just standing here. Do you trust me?”

He smiles again, though this time with a bit of a razor’s edge to it. “Not like I got much choice, honey,” he says, and then pauses, softens. “Yeah. You’ve been nicer to me than most people would’ve, findin’ a stranger in the middle of nowhere, actin’ like he’s been dropped on his head. I wouldn’t have blamed ya if you’d run the other direction.”

You have no idea why, but what springs from your mouth before you can help yourself is: “I couldn’t do that to you.”

He studies you for a minute. His gaze feels as physical as a caress, and just as intimate. If not more so. You both do and don’t want it to stop.

“Come on,” you say again, at least in part to break the silence. “Follow me.”

The two of you start walking, following the weathered gray slabs of cracked, uneven concrete that your small town calls a sidewalk as it winds its way into town.

After a few moments of quiet, he says, “You never told me your name.”

When you introduce yourself, he smiles again. “That’s nice,” he says. “Pretty.”

Your stomach flips again, and you have to remind yourself that you don’t know anything about this guy, except — only just now — his name. The fact that he’s tall, gorgeous, and really does give off a hurt puppy sort of vibe doesn’t matter. And it definitely doesn’t matter that his smile spreads across his face like a sunrise coloring the sky with ribbons of pastels. He could be a serial killer, or if not that extreme, some kind of —

The two of you are still, for reasons not entirely clear to you and probably not much clearer to him, holding hands, so you’re jerked out of your thoughts by the fact that he’s gone stock still.

“You’re takin’ me to the sheriff?”

If the dread clinging to his voice like a weed choking out a weaker plant wasn’t bad enough, he’s frozen still on the sidewalk, looking at you as if you’ve…well, as if you’ve betrayed him somehow. The pit of your stomach turns to ice.

“The sheriff?” you repeat. You feel oddly, stupidly, disappointed. A guy with nothing to hide doesn’t act like this when someone brings him to the authorities. The disillusionment washing over you makes your tongue sharp. “Who the hell are you, Barney Fife?”

He frowns. “I told you my name.”

“Yeah, I — never mind.” You shake your head and let go of his hand. The bare skin of your palm feels oddly cold. “What’s the matter? I thought someone might be looking for you. Maybe someone filed a missing persons report.”

“I don’t think so, darlin’.” He glances at the police station again, his throat bobbing. A pause, and then, softly, like he’s making a confession: “Nobody left that cares about me that much. Unless they wanna cause me some hurt.”

#billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #william h bonney fanfiction #tom blyth

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estrellami-1 · 10 months ago

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Writer prompt: TW (you don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable) sleepy Steve telling the older teens (Jon, Nancy, Robin, Argyle, & Eddie) about being touched without consent while drunk during his King Steve days & they realize that that's why he doesn't really drink anymore.

Okay this sat in my inbox for SO FUCKING LONG (I’m so sorry babe) before I finally felt like I could do this justice. Here goes nothing! Content warning for discussions of past rape. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Okay? (Okay)

After everything—a small, unassuming word that means so much, especially to this ragtag group—most Friday nights can find the six of them in Steve’s house, a few beers and a few more sodas on the coffee table, slow, quiet conversations with a few long, comfortable breaks.

It’s during one such break that Steve nods off.

He hadn’t been sleeping—not that any of them had been—so the general consensus was to let him sleep. Robin covers him with a blanket, and the conversation moves on.

Eventually the night comes to a close, and Robin looks at Steve’s sleeping form before turning her gaze to the rest of them. “I can’t lift him,” she says. “But I don’t want him stay on the couch all night.”

Eddie smiles softly at her. “Want me to take him upstairs?” She nods, and his smile grows as he stands and ruffles her hair, snorting at the glare she sends his way.

He gets an arm around his shoulders, but as soon as his other hand touches Steve’s knee, he’s awake and across the couch. “No, don’t!” He pleads, eyes wide and unseeing. “I don’t- I don’t want-”

“Steve,” Robin says quietly, putting a hand on his arm.

Steve goes still, eyes squeezed shut, only his ragged breathing marking and trembling limbs marking the panic he’s feeling.

“Robin,” Eddie murmurs, “hands off. Now.”

She lifts her hand like she’s been burned, looking at Eddie with wide eyes, turning back to Steve when he gasps.

“Steve,” she murmurs. “You’re okay. You gotta take a breath, babe, all the way in and all the way out. Slow and deep, just like swimming.”

“Don’t- don’ wanna-” he manages, shaking his head.

Eddie puts a hand on Robin’s shoulder to keep her quiet. “Steve,” he says, “can you look at me? Follow the sound of my voice, I’ll keep talking until you can look at me. Just a little bit more, you’re doing good, there you go. Hey, recognize me? Eddie? I need you to take a deep breath, okay? It’s gonna be okay. Breathe with me, ready? In… and out. Good, one more. In… and out. You comin’ back a little?”

“Ed- Eddie?”

“That’s me,” Eddie nods. “Take a couple more deep breaths, Steve, come back a little more, ‘kay? Want me to breathe with you?”

Steve nods jerkily, and Eddie smiles. “I can do that. Just a couple more deep breaths, and we’re gonna hold our breath in between, okay? Just like smoking, remember how you hold the smoke in?” He waits for Steve’s nod. “Good. Breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold. Think you can do that?” Steve doesn’t respond, so Eddie says, “Let’s try together, alright? In… hold… out… hold. Two more times, okay?”

By the end of the second time, Steve’s breathing comes easier, and he drops his forehead onto his knees with a groan. “Sorry,” he mumbles, muffled by denim.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Robin says quietly, practically vibrating from her position on the floor next to him. “But we’d like to know what happened. If you wanna tell us.”

He glances at her and extends a hand, smiling at her eagerness when she all but trips over herself—still sitting—to hold it.

He shakes his head, squeezes her fingers, looks away. “Just… stupid, y’know? I was… it was during a party, and I was drunk ‘cause I was an idiot back then, even more so than I am now, and this girl, uh. Well. I thought we were just making out, y’know? Just like… having some fun? But then she started kinda… pushing? And I didn’t really want to, and I said so, but.” He shrugs and huffs a hollow laugh. “And it’s not like she was ugly or anything, so I didn’t really know why I didn’t want to, but. Didn’t matter, in the end, I kinda just… let her lead.” The room is silent until he clears his throat. “And, well. I was King Steve for a reason, right?”

“Steve,” Robin whispers, a heartbroken sob of a thing. “Babe. That’s-”

“Rape,” Argyle finishes, nodding. “Very not-cool.”

“No,” Steve says immediately, shaking his head. “Guys can’t be raped.”

Eddie takes a deep, steadying breath. “Steve.” His voice is controlled, even. “Who told you men can’t be raped?”

Steve blinks a few times, then looks down. “Oh,” he says, his voice so small he’s not sure any sound actually came out. “My dad. I… I was raped?”

Robin sniffles. “Think so, babe.”

He blinks heavily at the couch. Curls his toes. Thinks the fabric is oddly rough. “Oh.”

“Steve,” Nancy whispers. “Is that why you don’t drink?”

He gives her a tight, tired smile. “That, and Tina’s Halloween party.”

Nancy swallows a sob, eyes glassy.

“Steve,” Jonathan says, not continuing until Steve looks at him. “How can we help?”

Steve huffs out a broken almost-laugh. It’s too tearful to be anything close. “I don’t know.”

Robin’s vibrating so much Steve’s almost surprised she hasn’t exploded due to pure kinetic energy yet. He briefly wonders if that’s how it works, and makes an even briefer mental note to ask Dustin about it later. “Robin,” he says instead, and inclines his head, inviting her up.

She’s on his lap practically before he can blink. “I’m so sorry,” she’s saying, face tucked into his neck. “I didn’t know- I asked someone to help get you upstairs, I didn’t think-”

“Robin,” he says, then pauses. “Well. I was gonna say it’s okay, but it’s not. It’ll be okay, maybe. I’ll be okay.” He tugs her closer, hooks his chin over her shoulder. Shifts a little. “How the fuck is your ass bony?”

She giggles, which really is what he’d been going for, and pulls back enough to look at him. “I’m really sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“But I asked-”

“Still not your fault.” He tugs her closer until their foreheads are touching. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Go home. Get some sleep. Go to the library tomorrow and do some research. Let me know what you find.”

“Okay.” She burrows back into his neck for a quick hug, and his eyes find Nancy’s over her head.

“Can you take her home?”

Because Nancy is Nancy—that is to say, brilliant—she glances at Eddie for half a second before nodding. “C’mon,” she murmurs, nudging Jonathan, because she came with him and Argyle.

“I’ll head out too,” Eddie says softly, but Steve pins him with a look. After a second, he nods ever-so-slightly and begins slowly cleaning up.

Steve sees them out. “Thanks for coming,” he says. “Sorry about that.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, brochacho,” Argyle says. Steve idly wonders if he’s always half-baked, and how often he smokes to stay that way.

Steve nods in thanks and shuts the door, and then it’s just him and Eddie, who’s given up on pretending to clean and is sitting on the couch.

“Thanks,” Steve murmurs. He collapses onto the other end of the couch, tucks a leg up so he can loop his arms around it and rest his chin on his knee. Eddie copies his position. “And I’m sorry for freaking out on you.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Argyle’s right. You don’t need to be sorry. That- what you went through was trauma, same as anything else this shitshow of a town’s thrown at you in the past four years. You don’t need to- you shouldn’t apologize for any of it.”

“Okay,” Steve says, hoping to get a laugh out of Eddie, “I’m not sorry, then.” He gets a barely-there chuckle and resolves to try harder next time.

“Nothing you can think of that’ll help?”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Nah. Already know I’mma have nightmares tonight. ‘S long as I can call someone-”

“You can.”

“Then that’s pretty much it.”

“Pretty much?” Eddie asks, fidgeting after a second. He’s looking Steve’s direction, but won’t quite meet his eye. But he’s smart, so it only takes a second before- “Would it help if I stayed the night?”

Steve’s stomach twists. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Eddie promises. “If it’ll help. I want to.”

Steve takes a breath. Another. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats, and it feels like the first step to healing.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #eventual steddie #robin buckley #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #argyle #does argyle have a last name?#this one’s heavy folks #tw rape #tw: rape #cw: rape #cw rape #covering all my bases here #or trying to #asks #my asks

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sequinsmile-x · 4 months ago

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I Knew You'd Linger Like a Tattoo Kiss - Chapter 1 - Wake-up Kisses

A series of unrelated one-shots and mini fics about the many types of kisses Aaron and Emily share.

-x-

Hi friends!

I hope you are all okay <3

This is for my dear friend @sometimesitswho who inspired this new little series!

The prompt list for this series can be found here! Feel free to send me some via my inbox/leave some in the comments if you don't have tumblr <3

This...got sadder/has more feelings than I intended...but it's also kind of soft.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Nightmares, pregnancy (tomorrow I will create a master list for this fic after i've had some sleep haha)

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

The first time it happens, they haven’t been together long.

It isn’t the first time he’s slept over at hers, but it’s still new enough he has to think about the layout of her bedroom if he gets up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, his shins bruised from walking into her dresser more than once. At first, he isn’t sure what has woken him up. He groans when he checks the time, blinking to clear his vision in the darkness of the room.

That’s when he hears it, a pained whimper from the woman pressed up against him, her grip on his shirt tightening, her nails digging into his skin through the thin material.

“Em?” He asks, switching on the lamp on the nightstand, “Are you…” He trails off when he realises she’s sleeping, her face screwed up in distress as she mutters something he doesn’t quite hear, whatever monster she’s fighting in her dream making her fold in on herself as she twists in his arms. His heart feels like it’s in a vice, wound tighter together with guilt and sorrow as she whimpers again, “Oh, sweetheart.”

He was no stranger to nightmares himself. He’d wake up sometimes, his breath caught in his chest as he felt the blade of Foyet’s knife, or the warmth of Haley’s blood against his skin, his knuckles aching, scars that had long since healed about to burst open. At first, he’d barely slept when he got back from the hospital. His apartment quiet even though it had never been the home he’d shared with Haley and Jack, and every sound he heard was Foyet coming back to finish the job. Sleep only found him when he was away on cases. Cheap, lumpy mattresses more of a safe space than the place he lived. He’d still wake up from nightmares though, unsure if he’d actually screamed or if he’d imagined it. The echo of his dream following him into consciousness, his past only ever one step behind him - its hand stretched out to pull him back in.

When Jack came back home, the house Aaron had bought with Haley now a wretched tomb instead of the place he’d once found sanctuary, he had nightmares too. His brain filling in the gaps of all he’d heard when he was lying in the chest in his father’s office, his monsters real and tangible when he would wake up screaming for the mother he’d never get to truly know.

Aaron gathers Emily closer, easily sitting up with her in his arms. Despite his instinct to do so, he doesn’t hold her any tighter, doesn’t want to restrict her movement as he holds her lightly to his chest. The last thing he wants to do is make her nightmare worse, to add to it, so he sits there and rubs his hand up and down her back, repeatedly pressing kisses to any part of her face that he can reach, murmuring against her skin the entire time as he slowly draws her back to him.

“You’re okay.”

“You’re safe.”

“You survived.”

She wakes suddenly, tense and stiff in his arms as she pulls herself out of his embrace, her eyes wide as he willingly lets her go, “Em, sweetheart, it’s just me.”

She looks at him, her eyes wild and shining, her chest heaving as she looks around, her gaze finally locking on him, “Aaron?”

She sounds so ragged, so unlike her, that it takes everything in him to not reach out and touch her, well aware from experience that it needed to be her who initiated any physical contact.

“Yes, baby,” he says, painting on a soft smile he does feel connected to, the expression misplaced in the heaviness of her bedroom but hopefully reassuring, “It’s me. It’s Aaron.”

She sinks into him, her forehead against his neck as she breathes him in, her chest shuddering so hard he feels it, the stutter of her ribcage against his palms as he pulls her closer.

“Fuck…I…” she trails off, her words stuck in her throat, her grip on him tightening as he tucks her against his chest, feels the shiver of her shoulders even though her skin is warm to the touch.

“I’ve got you,” he says, kissing her forehead, her temple, anywhere he could reach again, “I’ve got you.”

She shifts, curled up in a way he’s sure must be uncomfortable, her cheek pressed against his chest so she can feel his heartbeat, “Can you…can you talk?”

“About what, sweetheart?” He asks, desperate to help her in any way he can.

“Anything,” she breathes out, “Please just…anything. I need to…”

She doesn’t have to say anything else, doesn’t have to tell him that she just needs to think of something other than the cold warehouse floor where she’d almost died. Where she had died. He says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did I tell you that Jack’s teacher pulled me aside today?”

She huffs out a shaky breath and shakes her head, “No.”

“Well,” he says, resting his cheek on top of her head, his hand still moving in soothing circles on her back, “Apparently, a new kid called Caleb was being bullied by someone else in their class, and after Caleb was pushed in a puddle by this kid, Jack jumped in after him.”

She chuckles breathlessly and pulls back to look at him, her eyes still shining, sticky tracks smudged down her cheeks, “He jumped in?”

Aaron hums and nods, wiping her cheeks, “The teacher had to tell me because he had to change into his spare clothes. She wanted to explain why the clothes he went to school in were covered in mud.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, “He’s a sweet kid,” she says, pressing her forehead against his.

“He told me he wanted to make sure Caleb was okay, and that he knew he had a friend.”

She smiles and kisses him, her lips against his for just long enough to press the taste of her tears against his, “Like father, like son.”

He kisses her, his hand around the back of her neck as he holds her in place, his nails scratching at her scalp when he feels her now even breath skip across his face, “Want to talk about it?”

She shrugs, her lips pressed together as she swallows thickly, “Not really.”

He nods, understanding more than most, and he encourages her to sit against him, her side against his chest as she snuggles back into him, “Want to hear more about what Jack got up to today?”

He feels her smile against his neck, a silent answer before she whispers her response, “Yes please.”

___

At first, she thinks the baby has woken her up.

She groans, her hands automatically drifting to her stomach, the curve beneath her palm making her smile just like it always did. She was enjoying the changes to her body, loved that she actually looked pregnant now and not just like she’d had a big meal, but she could do without the frequent trips to the bathroom. She’s about to quietly chastise the baby, whisper her usual half-hearted annoyance to her son about being woken up because he’d kicked her bladder, when she realises he hasn’t woken her up at all.

Aaron tightens his grip on her even in sleep, his arm heavy over where her waist used to be, his hand in a fist around the covers lying over her. He’s murmuring something she can’t quite catch under his breath, his body tense as he pulls her closer, protecting her from whatever it was he could see in his dream.

The first time she’d had a nightmare in front of him, she’d been embarrassed. She’d pressed her face against his chest as he told her all about his son, now their son, and apologised, cutting him off halfway through his story about Jack’s obsession with the sharks at the aquarium. Aaron had kissed her, his lips still just about touching hers when he told her she had nothing to apologise for, that he knew all too well how it felt to be haunted by a dead man.

She knew he was telling the truth, but it was confirmed just a few days later after she woke up to him knocking on her hotel room door in the middle of the night, breaking their rule of never on cases less than six weeks after they’d set it. His eyes had been wild and shining when she’d opened the door wearing one of his shirts, something she’d stolen to try and settle herself that night, already too used to sleeping next to him. She’d known what had happened without him saying anything, the look on his face, the half-crescent indents in his palms gave him away immediately. She’d pulled him into her room and locked the door behind them and led him over to her bed. He’d curled up against her, his head against her chest in a way that made him seem like a little boy, an image distorted by his large hand grasping at her waist, his thumb and little finger skimming her ribcage and her hipbone.

In some ways, she hated that they had this in common, that they each knew what it was like to stare into the abyss and have it stare back, but in another way, one that felt entirely selfish, she was glad he understood. Sure that she would never have been able to let herself fall apart in front of someone who didn’t understand as he did, the knowledge that he knew what it was like was enough to let her let him pick up all the pieces of her and slot them back into place.

He was, after all, the only one who knew where all the pieces went.

She rests her hand over his and eases it away from the comforter, sandwiching it between the two of hers as she lifts their hands to her face, first pressing her cheek against his knuckles before she starts to kiss them one by one. Focusing on the scars she doesn’t need to see to know where they are, evidence of when he’d torn himself apart for vengeance for the last woman he’d loved.

She draws him back to her, feels his grip briefly tighten before he tenses behind her, his breath harsh and fast against the back of her neck.

“You’re okay,” she says quietly, unwrapping one of her hands from around his to switch on the lamp on the nightstand, still squeezing his hand tightly with the other, “It was just a dream.”

“Em?”

She hums and sits up, scratching her nails across his scalp as she encourages him to look up at her, “It’s me, sweetheart,” she assures him, “It’s your Em.”

She usually called him honey. It was the first nickname she’d tried on him, the taste of it as sweet as the nectar it was named after, as sweet as the smile on his face when she called him it. She only ever called him sweetheart in moments like this, when he looked afraid as if he’d somehow lost everything again, because it always made her feel better when that’s what he called her.

He slides towards her, only sitting up enough to rest his head on her chest, his cheek against her breast as he places his arm over her bump, his palm resting where he knew their little boy kicked the most. They lay in silence for a little while, her nails scratching idle patterns on his scalp as his breathing slowly returned to normal, the warmth of it fanning out against her skin.

“You know,” she says eventually, resting her cheek on top of his head as she wraps her arms around him, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was just an excuse to press your face against my breasts.”

He laughs, a broken sound that cheers her up nonetheless. He turns his head just enough to kiss the closest bit of skin he can, his lips catching the edge of the brand left behind by a man who had once killed her.

“You’ve got me,” he says wryly, his voice cracking still, “I can’t believe you saw through my plan.”

She smiles and kisses the top of his before she rests her cheek against it again, wanting him as close as possible. They turn serious again, as they always did on nights like these, and she whispers, “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” he replies, and she knows it’s because she’s heard it all before, that it was nothing new, so she seeks out his hand, linking their fingers over where their son rolled beneath her skin.

“Jack told me he had some ideas for how we could decorate the nursery today.”

She feels his smile against her skin, feels the way he clears his throat, their tradition something they both held fondly. It had started that first night when she’d been torn from sleep, unfocused and panicking as she asked him to talk about anything and he’d spoken about Jack. It was something they carried on doing, idly talking about the little boy, even if it was something the other knew, until they felt better or fell asleep. She knew that soon enough their son would be in the mix too, that they’d talk about him as well as his older brother. A much needed reminder of what they’d survived everything for, what they had now they’d fought their way here.

“Oh yeah?”

She hums, “Apparently,” she says, smiling as the baby kicks, “He thinks the baby will like dinosaurs.”

He chuckles, his laugh already sounding more like his own, and he tilts his head to look up at her, his smile soft and his eyes looking like nothing short of the future, “I guess I’d better find some dinosaur stencils for the walls then.”

She leans down to kiss him, ignoring the crick in her neck, and smiles as she pulls back, “Yes, I think you should.”

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