#i love Glaze. but hes so easy to make angst of

[ratzhatz14]

I didn't feel like finishing this so

Wow guys it's Glaze but as a human!! And he's having a breakdown trying to figure out if he's useless or not!!1! What a lovely situation

[bitchlessdino]

hello! 🤍 can i request a bad boy type wonwoo having a soft spot for also a cold type reader?

like they always acting so cold towards other people and even both of them acting like they hate each other.

and people are like "oh there is no way they can date", but wonwoo is only kind to reader and viceversa even without them noticing

Oh, and they dont even realized their feelings until reader feels jealous when they saw wonwoo with someone else and thats when they realized about it, but are afraid to said something since reader doesnt know how wonwoo will react

Kinda angst maybe, but fluff at the end

take your time btw! 🤍 it is also totally okay if is not possible, hope you are having an excellent day 🌸

Pairing: wonwoox gn!reader Genre: slight angst, fluff, slice of life Word count: 6.3k tags: mentions alcohol, childhood au, biker!wonu, frienemy!wonwoo, possible love triangle, reader called a bitch, presence of violence and imminent danger, analogy using car wrecks, mc and wonwoo stilling living with their parents as adults because that's normal ok, kinda messy, intimates kisses Summary: Hard to maintain a good acquaintanceship if it started off on the wrong foot, but Wonwoo tries to do just that, no matter how much you resent him from childhood. Now reunited as adults, you're questioning whether your negative impression of him has stuck since being away or have you grown up just enough to realize how much between the two you have changed? author note: this was collecting dust but finally she is here. just in time for wonwoo to be in my bias list 🙂

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch

You will never willingly be associated with Jeon Wonwoo. 

His mom had just happened to be someone your mom knew. Someone that she hadn’t talked to or seen in a long time. Long enough to have built their own families and have their kids without realizing it. It was as if they fell back into place. A long-time childhood friendship that quickly rekindled in a grocery store one day. From that day on, your families were inseparable. As long as they were still friends, you’d see each other every day.

“Why would I babysit some weirdo kid? I have better things to do.”

The problem was he wanted nothing to do with you.

When you met him the first time, you were a child barely getting around to a bike without training wheels, and Wonwoo was meeting the first stages of fungal acne. He was a bit older than you were then and his mom had given him the duty to look after you, the neighbor’s kid. The neighbor’s weirdo kid.

His mom bragged to yours about how good of an older brother he was to his younger brother, Seonwoo, but that seemed that seems to be his limit. Having freshly turned a teen, it all made sense. Wonwoo didn’t know you, and all of a sudden in his growing years he’s stuck taking care of a kid he knows by association. Understandably, he’d have that teen angst.

You didn't mean to overhear. You just happened to eavesdrop behind a pillar that day in their obnoxiously nice house when you came across him and his mother talking privately. Admittedly, you hadn’t made the best impression, but you were any kid in their single digits: annoying, talkative, maybe skeptical. But you were a kid. A kid that got their feelings easily hurt.

Despite saying such hurtful words, Wonwoo listened. He treated you with care–consideration almost–following his mother's orders, but you didn't make it easy for him. Every group breakfast, every dinner, every ride to school. You became relentless. You knew how he really felt about your situation after all. Your mind was made up at that point.

If he wanted nothing to do with you, you wanted nothing to do with him. 

“Keep walking.”

Your eyes barely glaze over at the unfamiliar figure before waving off your hand as if dismissing a nuisance, which in this case was accurate. The unsolicited stranger scoffs, getting up from his unwelcome seat, hacking and spitting on the spot on the floor next to your chair. “I don’t fuck with bitches anyway.”

You roll your eyes as you shoo him away with the flick of your wrist again, then feel another unwanted presence join you in your once peaceful solitude. You tightly shut your eyes in frustration before taking a deep exhale, finding silence impossible under your circumstances. “I don’t want to hear it, Jeon.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” you hear Wonwoo arrogantly chuckle, shrugging off the thick leather off his shoulders and setting them on his lap as he takes a seat.

With your back turned to him, you imagine the pristinely lit smile on his face he gives when he’s amused, a rarity in these parts with the exception of you, someone he’s known long enough to recount every blemish that once appeared on your face. He watches you finish the rest of your drink, the bob of your throat shifting before you pull the glass away from your lips. Your resting bitch face is still intact after all these years.

“Good, keep it that way.” 

Wonwoo could have chosen to keep the peace as he said he would, but it was just too easy with you. Even after you’ve left for college and come back, he acts as if nothing has changed. In his eyes, you were still that same angsty kid who always has something snarky to say when he’s around. And man, did he always have just as smart a rebuttal. “It’s just, that was the fifth guy you’ve scared off—course, the guy was a moron—but you like dying alone, Frosty?”

Frosty. The Snowman. Much unlike the jolly creature, however, you were given that name being somewhat of a cold character, particularly to Wonwoo and anything he witnesses face the wrath of your harsh but honest judgment. 

You begin getting up from your seat, scowling at the abhorred nickname, the prediction of this dinner a mistake an accurate calculation. “Should’ve known you’d run your mouth. Tell mom I’m heading to the store across the street.”

Your mother was so proud to have you back home for a period before you’d find a new place again, and she insisted on holding a small intimate gathering at bar type restaurant. That meant sharing the space with other patrons, the Jeons, and unfortunately Wonwoo, who only grew more irritating than you last remember. 

“I’ll tell her, but I’m coming with.”

The caretaker role he was bestowed upon so long ago seems to resonate with him still, insisting on trailing behind you with nonchalance. To which you answer with a brash:

“Fuck off.”

Your eyes go to the back of your skull the nth time tonight before you’re off on your stroll, noticing the annoying scrap of Wonwoo’s heel following behind you after he waves your mom and the rest of the party farewell. You ignore him, darting towards the antique shop that warms your stomach with nostalgia, hearing the wind chimes clang when you enter with a cool musk breeze to follow.

“That all you have to say to me? Even if you hate me, there has to be some…sentiment.” 

You finger through the old hardcovers, eyes scanning over the aged wood of the shelves until they move on to the glossy wood of the cuckoo clocks on the walls. “Not even a little bit, Jeon.”

There’s the breathiness of his scoff that lingers in the musk air. He crosses your arms, the leather rubs loudly against itself. “Well, that’s sad to hear,” he responds, not sounding sad at all.

“Don’t you have an actual sibling to bother? Why are you being a nuisance to me?”

He simply shrugs. “Seonwoo isn’t back from his work-study just yet. Plus he’d be happy to know I kept you company.”

Unlike Wonwoo, Seonwoo was actually tolerable, pleasant even. If you were envious of Wonwoo for anything, it was having a nice little brother like Seonwoo. You weren’t exactly close but he was a nice kid, a lot nicer than Wonwoo anyway, and not at all that annoying kind of nice that chirps every two seconds.

You sigh. “Now that’s actually sad to hear.”

“I knew you’d say that. You always liked him better than me.”

Only because you never liked me in the first place.

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh my god, Wonwoo?”

A shrill voice beckons from the store entrance, an older version of a girl from your adolescence runs towards you both. “I thought I heard your gorgeous voice. Gorgeous face as well as always, how are you?”

Gina also grew up in the same neighborhood you both did and was typically nice, but around Wonwoo, she seemed to lose all train of thought since all her eyes could train on was him. She bats her eyelashes the same flirtatious way several years ago, and instinctively her body is drawn to him like mosquitos to blood, drinking in masculine appearance for all its worth.

If you were anything like her, you’d get it. Wonwoo is an attractive man by society's standards, but the truth of the matter is you can’t stand him. And you know deep down he can’t stand you. His fake politeness isn’t fooling anybody. Okay, that is a lie. His fake politeness doesn’t fool you, but his limitless charm made everyone else weak in the knees.

“Good, good.” He nods cordially, a smile drained from his face only leaving a straight stare, eyes only landing on Gina momentarily before they return to you.

Gina finds his gaze’s target before the light is slightly dimmed from her initially bright eyes. “And you too. Oh gosh, you must’ve got back too. Can you believe we’ve both graduated from college?”

You wonder if she does, considering you did graduate from the same university.

“Yeah, it’s…crazy.” You answer, sounding unintentionally sarcastic.

Gina awkwardly chuckles, eyes back on Wonwoo as if they never left. “All we need is Seonwoo and it’s like the musketeers again, huh?”

Hardly the musketeers when she only ever stalked Wonwoo the entire time. You’re surprised you didn’t find she didn’t follow him all the way to the bathroom too.

Wonwoo’s cold expression is a steel cage that lacks interest. He blindly nods, mumbling “sure,” and not giving any other sign of continuing the conversation.

“Well, you guys should totally make it to my housewarming party. I’m inviting all the other guys from the neighborhood. Invite Seonwoo too! It’ll be a nice way to catch up.”

“We’ll think about it,” Wonwoo answers, giving her another curt nod.

“I’ll be really, really grateful if you did.”

There are stars in her eyes, like a treat is dangling in front of it, that treat being a six-foot body of steel and perfect Wonwoo.

 “Right,” he grunts.

She finally waves you both goodbye before making it past the glass doors with a quirk in her step.

You continue to peruse the rest of the store, picking up that one wooden statue that’s never been sold, or if it has, it keeps getting returned. It makes you wonder if it’s cursed. “Just reject her already and let her move on. Even I feel sorry for her.”

“I’m not ready for the aftermath of all that.”

You really have to unlearn that eye roll of yours. You could tell it’s giving you a headache. “Of course you aren’t.”

“You’re not going, are you? The thing she mentioned?”

“This the first time you met me? Of course, I’m not going. You are?”

He shrugs. “A party never hurt anybody.” 

“Without an address?”

He pulls out his phone with a notification as clear as day, Gina’s Instagram handle ushering him with details of where the party whereabouts. “Who said I didn’t have an address?”

“She really needs to find a hobby.”

Wonwoo chuckles, tucking the phone back in his front pocket. “Ready to head back now? Unless you want to look through the store a second time.”

You groan. “Stop policing me. I’m going home.”

“I’ll take you.” 

You raise your brow. “On your fucking death trap? No thanks.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms, the leather of his jacket speaking out of turn again. “You say that as if people aren’t begging to the back of my Harley.”

“Only people with a death wish.”

That goes on for some time until you make yourself walk the mile before your feet give out. Wonwoo obviously is the first with a smile on his face before he forces you to get the rest of the couple miles on the back of his bike, which was admittedly prettier in person than the photos your mom showed you. 

There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you get on—no doubt regret—questioning the proximity. “Hold on,” he says, to which you answer, “fat fucking chance.”

Your spiteful words are wasted as you find yourself tugging on him as you speed off on the vehicle from hell on the freeway.

“You’re an asshole!” You scream from your lungs.

“And I told you to hold on!” He screams back, a wide smile on his face you have no way of seeing.

You desperately wrap your arms around his torso, your life flashing before your eyes like a movie. All you hear is the wind in your ears while the traffic lights are hardly visible through your tightly shut eyes. You feel your soul leave your body, thinking nothing but the idea of an afterlife. If there was one good thing about the predicament you’re in, it’d be that he can’t see the terror in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much you want to scream bloody murder.

Before you know it, you arrive home safe and sound, the gas stopping at the curb of your house. He abruptly uses the bike break and you crash against broad shoulders, and you exude bumbling idiocy as you cling to him like a baby with separation anxiety. Oxygen finally enters your brain and you recognize your compromised position, forcing your grip off of him. You unbuckle and shove his helmet into his lap as you get off, a permanent scowl on your face. 

“Fuck you.”

“Glad to see you haven’t changed, Frosty.”

You don’t forget that encounter back then and you never get a chance to with your mom finding any excuse to see the Jeons day after day since your arrival. If that perfect apartment with affordable rent were to drop at your feet at a perfect time just when you so desperately needed it, it’d be now.

“Bring that in over next door. The Jeons will be thrilled to see their fridge stocked. And remember I’ll be gone until the morning.”

“We just gave them homemade wine yesterday. Mom, just because they live next door doesn’t mean we always have to plan to meet. We see them anyway.” You grab the cumbersome container of whatever it was anyway and hold it to your side like like a football, a strained expression on your face.

“You need to understand the value of lasting relationships. That’s why you’re still single, honey.”

You roll your eyes, groaning as you trod off, not wanting to start up another one of lectures why you're in your mid-twenties room with hardly any men in your books let alone in your court. Better off facing Jeon Wonwoo again than that, you guess.

You knock on their familiar white door, awaiting an answer from the other side. Soon enough you hear a masculine voice, but a voice that isn’t quite Wonwoo’s. The boy's fresh face on the receiving end piques your interest, an expression telling of a life of light and ease. Seonwoo stares back at you with a smile before politely waving. “It’s good seeing you! Been a minute.”

You find yourself returning a gesture, relaxing your arms. “It has. Mom wanted to send things over. Again.”

“Of course. Come in.”

You leave the box of goods in their fridge, feeling the presence of the younger Jeon follow behind you like a benevolent puppy. “Did you get in yesterday?”

“This morning. Early flight.”

You grin. “Singapore doing you good, I see.”

“Nothing like home though.”

You softly chuckle, “Yeah, there isn’t.”

Your conversation is cut short with another family coming down the stairs, one that looks ready to leave. They meet your eyes in amusement and his steps begin to falter in turn. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Don’t you dare make a joke about me missing you. It wasn’t funny any of the first five times.”

He’s smug as expected, entertained by the fact you’ve kept count. “I won’t, but it won’t make it any less true.”

You scoff. “Live in reality for once in your life, Wonwoo.”

“I will when you do.” He comes to the kitchen—briefly passing by you to do so and grazing your forearm—to fill a glass of water and downs it, his signature jacket thrown over his shoulders. He let out a refreshed sigh in your direction and put it away as soon as he finished. “I’m leaving now. When you change your mind about missing me, I’ll be at Gina’s party. Might actually find some fun there while you’re at it.”

The door closes behind him dramatically and your attention is right back on Seonwoo, the successful bystander. “Your brother is annoying.”

The young man smiles, finding the nostalgia in that small event. “Reminds me of the good old times.”

“Well, I should get going.”

“You’re going to the party too?”

You shake your head. “Not the slightest bit interested. Just trying to keep myself busy while I’m still in town.”

“Plan on leaving already? You just got here.”

“I can’t live on my parents forever. Need to make a living of my own you know.”

He softly laughs, a warm light enveloping his presence. He always seems to emit pure joy. Like there was nothing that could ruin this kid's day. “Nice to see you haven’t changed. Still self-reliant.”

You can’t help but smile back, “… Wouldn't be me if I wasn’t. I'll see you later, kid.”

You walk back home and go on with the rest of your afternoon by carrying on the duties of a college graduate with no job: endless job hunting. You let yourself go on that way for an hour, already bored by rereading your applicant details and sending in copies and copies of cover letters and documents. Your eyes have started to see stars shooting from either corner, warning signs of mental fatigue.

Shaking the numbing feeling, you shut off your laptop and notice the time on the clock. In the back of your mind, you’re remembering that party Wonwoo ended up going to. These parties weren’t by any means rare, but it had been some time since you let yourself give into environments as such. You said you wouldn't go but in dire situations of weary silences, perhaps it would hurt to take a second in a new subsubspace. Something to take off the edge of the weight of your undetermined future.

Against your initial better judgment, you force yourself out of that house to enter that very party you said you wouldn't go to. So like Gina to make an event over a normal thing like this. You don’t put much thought into what you wear and leave the house and when you arrive late as you were, you are unsurprised by the huge turnout. Five seconds in, you’re already regretting the 10 bucks you paid via UBER to get there.

The house was so Gina. As expected of one of the daughters of the wealthiest families in town. As you enter, all you hear is music, loud and rambunctious voices and laughter, and shouts of barely adults chugging whatever concoction in those house party solo cups. It all quickly reminds you of college and high school, times in your life you were relieved to know were over.

Why did you decide to come again if you knew this was going to happen?

You try ignoring the voices that seem to recognize you, evading and walking through the place for a potential drink to buzz you out of self-consciousness. If you were going to be in a place like this, a drink was warranted by all means.

“Wonwoo, come on!”

Gina’s voice, easily distinguishable, resonates from the other end of the room and sees how her presence bounces like a kite in the wind. You look in the direction of her gaze to find the person she seeks, ultimately having Wonwoo being dragged by the wrist, his hair sweeping the swift breeze of her force.  You were a bit relieved to see him, someone who is more similar to you in ways you’d never willingly admit.

You feel the urge to approach, curious how he’ll handle this one, but intentions all change of a brisk move, changing setting immediately. One second Gina looks up at him with doe eyes that speak longing and ache, another second her arms are looped around his neck and she pulls his lips against hers, massaging against them naturally as if rehearsed. Your feet stop, watching the unsightly scene like it’s a car crash as if in slow motion, taking you only a second to realize he hasn't yet let go.

Slowly then quickly, your chest pulls up like a marionette doll before it drops in a lump, repeating until the sound of your heart is rapidly pounding into your skull. You don’t understand it, but you don’t want to either. Swiftly, you duck back and turn your head in the other direction, having seen enough.

Then panic ensues.

People are harder to brush through than you realize. Colliding each one was like speed bumps in your way of a smooth departure. You were bound to have one person take a drunken offense to your rash movement and there it was: a subtle push that led to a spilled drink that stains the shirt of a man big enough to frighten children if he approached.

“Watch the fuckkk ya goin’!”

You don’t bother with the importance of apologizing or even acknowledging him. You realize it too late when he pulls at your collar back towards him, strangling you at the throat.

“S…stupid bitch can’t even see…fucking ruin my—hic—deink”

Your hands come around his grip, attempting to pry him off. “L-let me go. The fuck?”

“The fuck you say to me piece of shi—ah!”

He finally releases you when Wonwoo appears from behind him, tossing him out like an old ragdoll with no weight. The drunkard comes crashing down to the hardwood floor and before he realizes the cause of it, said cause whisks you away with his gril looping around your wrist.

“You’re going home right the fuck now,” Wonwoo grumbles, dragging you out of other guests' way and right out of the door, once again leading you to his motorcycle. “Bike now.”

“Wonwoo, what the fuck—“

“You aren’t an idiot. You knew what was gonna happen if I hadn’t stepped in. Now get on before fee fi fo fum finds out we left.”

“I’m not getting on that death trap again!”

His glare pierces right through you. “I know you'd rather be at home than here. Especially with the probability of becoming a statistic. Get on.”

He is right for the most part and even you’re seeing through your nonsensical defiance. Reluctantly, you follow his lead, knowing he’s left you with no other choice. You endure another near death experience, this time clutching on to him less resistantly unlike last time all the way back home. It is when you’re at the foot of your door you only realize the keys that were supposed to be in your pocket but left on the kitchen counter instead.

“Shit.”

Wonwoo quickly puts the pieces together. “No key?”

You shake your head, embarrassed slightly over your feeble appearance. “No, and mom won’t be back until the morning so I’m screwed.”

“Alright. You’re sleeping over.”

You scoff looking back at him, wondering whether he’s in the right state of mind to make that call. “You’re kidding.”

“Not unless you’re okay slumbering at the footstep of your door.”

Another choice made of your hands. You discouragingly follow after him as he unlocks the door across the street. Seonwoo was evidently still home with his loafers by the foot of the door but dead asleep upstairs in bed. 

“You take my bed. I’ll take the couch,” he offers nodding in the direction of the living room.

“No thanks, I’ll take the couch.”

He groans, giving that irritated look. “Don’t be difficult and just sleep in the damn bed.”

You huff, strutting over towards the couch. “Sleep in your own damn bed, Jeon. Stop treating me like you’re my babysitter.”

He follows after you, crossing his arms like an annoyed mother, “You’re really gonna be like this?”

“I’m not being like anything.”

“You know what?” He grabs the throw pillow off the couch, “Fine. We’ll share the couch.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes narrow back at him.

The smug smile on his face says it all, knowing there was no rebuttal to follow. “Neither of us will take the bed, we’ll both will take the couch.”

Before you can argue, he ascends the stairs for more bedding and comes back to toss you a blanket and pillow. He keeps one of each for himself, sprawling on the other end of the massive couch, gesturing you to do the exact same. Cautiously, you mirrored his image, crawling under your borrowed blanket. Despite your feet not touching, you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the close proximity, forcing you to crunch up your legs and bring your knees close to your chest. 

Wonwoo’s eyes drop in place, nuzzling into his thick blanket. “Good night.”

“Whatever.”

He softly scoffs with a smile, basking in the silence. Meanwhile, there was you, wondering why you listened to his instructions so willingly. You sigh, your eyes glued to the ceiling counting every bump and curve of its textured surface. 

“This is stupid it’s literally 10 pm”

“Sounds like bedtime.”

You peek back at him, his eyes still closed. “You did not go to a party to plan on sleeping at 10 pm.”

“You don’t know what my plans are. Sleep now.”

“I could’ve handled it, you know,” you argue.

“I bet you could’ve,” he responds dryly. “Wasn’t gonna take that risk though.”

“I’m serious…you didn’t have to, especially since…”

“What?” 

“You know,” you take a moment to form the words, “whatever that was with Gina.”

You hear him scoff, shifting on his side of the couch. “Nothing was happening with Gina.”

You let out a parched laugh, in disbelief of the words leaving his lips. “Wow, that lie comes so easy, does it?”

“Believe what you want. It’s not what you think anyway.”

“You’re so…obnoxious,” you sputter.

“Thank you.”

“So when did that happen? You and Gina?”

He huffs hot air out of his nose.“There’s no me and Gina. I don’t know what you saw, but…it’s nothing.”

“You were kissing.”

“You could call it that.”

“For a while,” You add.

“Just enough for her to find closure.”

“And did she?”

“Saved your ass before I could find out.”

You have no response to that and you let the silence take over for a few minutes. After those few minutes, Wonwoo was the one to break the peace.

“You asleep yet.”

“No, it’s not even 11,” you answer exasperatedly. 

“Well, I'm tired.”

“Go to sleep then.”

“You should sleep before I do.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, “I'm supposed to take care of you. It’s what your mom would want.”

“Why? I'm a grown adult.”

“I don’t think an explanation is needed.”

“Ever heard of personal space?”

“Make some smart decisions and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a dick,” you grunt, turning away from view.

“I’m only trying to protect you.”

This shit again. You pushed yourself up from the couch to sit up, fuming in his direction. “Because your mom asked. Okay, I get it, but you’re not obligated to anymore because I’m your mom's friend’s kid. Just stop.”

“That’s not why–”

“Stop lying–”

“I’m not fucking lying,” he says matching your stance. His gaze meets yours in anguish, urging you to drop it. 

You scoff, lying back down in a sleeping position with your back turned towards him. “Whatever.”

“...Despite popular belief, I’m actually concerned about you sometimes.”

“I guess…I don't entirely find that hard to believe.”

“Thank you. It’s not like I hate you.”

“Sure,” you answer, voice basted in sarcasm.

“I don’t.” You hear his body shift back down on the couch, finding comfort between the leather cushions.

“Then why are you such a dick.”

He sighs. “Sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“...Sorry.”

You ponder to yourself, wanting to turn back the clock to the earlier conversation for unknown reasons. You turn your body, seeing how his body mimics your body seconds ago, back turned, eyes closed, and facing the couch. “So if not Gina–”

“There’s no one,” he cuts off, “I mean, I'm not seeing anyone.”

It reassures you. Not that it should’ve. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Okay.”

You’re unsure when you drifted off, you only remember it being mid-conversation that your vision started to blur, followed by darkness and soon the light of the following morning. You wake up in Wonwoo’s house unexpectedly alone, quiet enough to hear the sound of a pin dropping. You enter the kitchen, parched, and you find a plate of food. You approach cautiously, catching a glimpse of the note, immediately catching on to why it was so damn empty. 

Went to get stuff done. Keep yourself entertained for a bit. - Wonwoo and Seonwoo

With an impish grin, you quickly run your fork over and over into the balanced meal and nourish your body, but slow down as your subconscious reminds you of last night's events. It wanders to your impulse to attend a party out of sheer boredom, stumbling upon an unexpected scene, before immediately trying to escape it before you are caught. The kiss becomes a scene stuck on replay, playing the image like a broken record. You did not black out, though you wish you had, considering your uncalled-for badgering of Wonwoo’s relationship status you shouldn’t have cared less about. Yet do.

You try bruising it off if you can help it, quick to leave, and relieved to find your mom home to let you in. Your day begins a new, and with a new day, she already has stuff for you to do. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so grateful to be let back in home, remembering to grab your keys this time as you left the house again following her request for grocery shopping. 

You drink in the town for the first time since being back, questioning yourself why you hadn’t done it earlier. The block isn’t that different since you left, perhaps more greenery and flowers, but otherwise everything looked the same. Same old town, same old stores, the only thing difference was the people. Fine lines got deeper, toddlers now taller, and you now a stranger. Even the grocery store has changed managers, one adolescent bag boy at a time.

Even long finished with grocery shopping, you’re still wandering the center of town, circling in steps of the alternating tiles of the ground. For a moment, you free yourself from your thoughts, your worries, your ambitions, and live in the moment. It had been so long since you felt like this. You expected the feeling to emerge in college but that had been just another thing on your plate and suddenly you’re reminded of Wonwoo. Knowing him, he’d like this sight of you, proud to see you experience another emotion for a change.

Then your eyes flit back to the scene several meters from you. He reappears in your vision just as he has in your thoughts, only now Gina embracing him, squeezing the life out of him just as the life is squeezed out of your chest. He meets your eyes, his pupils expanding, before lightly pushing the poor girl off of him, but not in enough time to stop you from trying to escape again.

“Hey!”

You ignore him, letting your feet take you where it guides you. You’re blind to the incoming obstacles, brushing past pedestrians, shoulder everybody you meet, and you barely register the busy road before your feet make an unexpected halt. You hear the blaring honks until you’re pulled out, face crashing into their shoulder, arms coming around your in strong enclosure.

“Are you stupid? Why are you running into oncoming traffic?”

You shove him off, heart beating louder in your chest than any bike ride he’s taken you on has, and you’re seething in an emotion that you never expected to be in. Never in this lifetime at least. “Wonwoo just stop. Please.”

“I’m not doing anything. I don’t get why you’re trying to push me away.”

“I’m just sick of this. Of you. I can’t do this.”

“Why? Why? What do you think this is?”

“Just, leave me alone, Wonwoo.”

He sees you trying to walk out on him again and he doesn’t let you. Taking you by your arm, he pulls you towards him, leaving only the width of your forearm as his gaze pierces right through you, brimming with a mix of concern and utter anger. Frustration. Impatience.

If there was one thing about Wonwoo, he may have looked like he came from an anger management class, but he did manage it well. When he didn’t, your feet would feel glued to the concrete, frozen in the fire of his eyes, for once fearing what the man had to say.

“You know what? No. I’m not letting you do this? I don’t understand what’s going on or why you hate me so much–”

“God,” you groan, “it would be so easy if I just hated you.”

“Then what is it? You don’t hate me. You don’t like me. What? I’m wracking my brain trying to understand you–”

You don’t let him finish. You aren't sure what was in the breakfast you had today but you find yourself pulling him by the collar to meet his lips only to push him away in that instant, barely a whisper of his presence in your mouth. You clamp your hand over your mouth before finally treading away shocked by your actions, scurrying away.

He doesn’t follow you and you don’t blame him. You retrieve your once-abandoned groceries from the intersection to then find your way home. Rain is close to follow, drenching from head to toe. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

When you get home, you’re alone once again. The door shuts with a clang and you’re left in your self wallow, regret burning the back of your throat. Your back slid against the wood, a deep exhale expelling from your lungs. “So that’s what’s wrong with me.”

Like clockwork, you feel a knock erupt from the same door. Conceding to whatever was on the other side, you brush yourself up from the ground and turn the knob, only to be taken aback. Wonwoo, wet like made from glass with his locks swept over his head, stands before you panting. On either hand is a bundle of flowers barely protected in the cellophane it came with when he bought them and his cell phone he’s death gripping in his hand, no doubt damaged by the rain.

You blink back at him, lips parting in confusion. “Wonwoo…You’re wet.”

“Likewise.” He invites himself in and sets the flowers on a table nearby, not even for a second letting his gaze stray from yours. “You left me hanging there. Kiss a guy and walk away like he means nothing?”

You shake your head in disbelief, processing this, him. “Why are you here…with flowers?”

“I really do have to spell out everything for you, don’t I?” he responds smiling.

The squelch of his shoes trod in your direction, the invisible string connecting you two shortening. Preventing your evasion, you feel the palm of his hand against your back and your lips crash in a lingering reunion. The squeak of his slippery leather doesn't make it past your ears, distracted by the heat of his lips in the clash of the coolness of his rain-stained skin. 

Your hand crawls up his neck to press him closer, feeling the strength of his arms wrap around you tighter before shutting the front door effortlessly with his foot. He lets you pin him against the door, lips tight bound to yours, and relief settles in his stomach as you show no sign of pulling away. He finds himself whispering a word of gratitude in every language, smiling against your lips. “No more excuses…I’m not letting anyone get in the way. Not even you.”

You finally break out in a smile, brushing it against his lips before reclaiming them, not minding the wet leather.

You spend the rest of the day in each other’s company. You put away the groceries before the room temperature worked against their favor and got yourselves changed out of your rain-dampened clothes, throwing them in the dryer. Even if he lived right next door, you allow him to wear your most oversized shirt after he insisted he should, watching the cotton fabric cling to his broad shoulders with the hem just hitting him at his hip bone.

Man, he’s a large man.

“Kinda snug.”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to hold yourself back. “You can get clothes next door. You’re just a few steps away.”

He grins, approaching you. “It’s raining…I could get sick.” His long arms land on either of your shoulders, reminding you of that cat that knew too much in a childhood cartoon. “You don’t want me sick…”

“You wouldn’t get sick taking two long strides to your house, Jeon,” you respond, rolling your eyes, unable to meet his.

“But you’d take care of me if I was, right?” 

You roll your eyes, accepting his advances of a hug and feeling his chin fit in the crook of your neck. “Kiss a guy two times too many and he follows you around like a stray cat.”

He grins. “You like it. Don’t act like you don’t. You probably even like my bike and you’re not telling me.”

“Okay well, no. Those are two separate matters.”

His arms wrap around you tighter before reuniting your lips, such tenderness and sweetness in his gaze as he thumbs over the curve of your cheek. “You don’t deny that other thing.”

“I thought was already point blank. You know, when I didn’t push you away, kicking and screaming.”

“Yeah, but,” he shrugs, his cheekbones only getting higher. “Hard to come by something nice from you. I want to hear it.”

You sigh, giving in. “Fine.”

Your head fit between the divide of his chest, hearing a quickened pulse underneath it. You close your eyes as your hand strokes against his back. “I have… feelings for you. Maybe for once good feelings. Just don’t get cocky about it.”

Overwashed with calm joy, he takes you tighter, inhaling the soap in your hair. “Too late.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part one)

Steve Rogers x f!Reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve is about to walk out of your life, causing you to let go of everything you two have, and everything that could be.

📝 yes, the title is inspired by Taylor Swift's upcoming song The Bolter. In my interpretation and in this story, it is meant to symbolize someone who runs from someone or something. A potential relationship. A loved one. And the choice is not easy, one that may bring a lot of remorse or catharsis? Anyhow - Steve IS a bolter. In the beginning, at least.

themes/warnings : language, angst!!!, pining, unrequited love, Steve is kind of an asshole for leaving (but we love him anyway)

word count : < 1k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist ▪︎ next chapter

This is it.

This must be what true heartbreak feels like.

Steve, your best friend and the unrequited love of your life, has decided to volunteer to return the Infinity Stones to their respective timelines. Very noble of him.

But he also confessed that he plans to stay with Peggy, now that he finally has the chance.

They can have the dance that was stolen from them, decades ago.

Steve can be with his true love it seems. And that person is just not you.

Well, fuck my life.

"Doll," he smiles ruefully, both of your hands encased in his, "say something."

Say something, he says. What is there to say - I'm in love with you, I want you to stay with me? Don't leave me? I want you stay - for Bucky, for Sam, for Nat. For everyone. For me?

What can you fucking say that will ever be enough? In the 7 years that you've known Steve, you've grown to love him. As a friend, as family. Then, almost inevitably, as the only keeper of your heart. And he knows this.

But he's still leaving. Because, at the end of the day, Peggy is the keeper of his heart.

To you, Steve has always been everything good. Golden boy perfection, with a heart that would put a saint's to shame. Sunshine, laughter, companionship, standing tall and unwavering in his ideals. His gleaming red, white, and blue tendrils snaking their way into the very fibres of your being and taking root.

But now, all you feel is empty. You were angry, when he first told you, days ago. You had almost screamed at him, told him how unfair he was being. You made a long, drawn-out case for Bucky. How he doesn't deserve this. But really, you were making a case for yourself.

Stay, you had said.

He simply smiled, without any mirth. Not like his usual on-brand Steve Rogers gesture of sincerity. He smiled and it did not reach his eyes. He was sad, or maybe he pitied you. And that made you even angrier.

Until minutes later, when you finally broke down, and sobbed quietly in his arms.

"I hate you," you muttered against the creases of his shirt.

"I love you," he said back, and you hated him even more for it. He doesn't get to say that to you, in that way. Not in the same way he would say to Peggy.

Now, right before stepping onto the platform that will cause him to vanish from your life, he says it again.

"You do know that I love you, right?" His smile is genuine, if not a little nervous. He hoped you would be as accepting as Bucky, and send him off with just a rueful look. A gentle, final word. A sweet farewell that he can take with him as a reminder of all the times you spent together.

"I know," you breathe, relenting. Steve does not like that your eyes are glazed over, empty. Like you're not taking him in at all. You take notice of the resulting sag in his shoulders, out of character from the dignified stride he sported as he was saying goodbye to the others.

A big part of you wants to remain indignant. So what if he's hurt or uncomfortable due to your coldness? It serves him right.

"Come here," he whispers, and it comes across a silent plea. Come here? Will you, please?

You take just one small step closer, but he is already ahead, wrapping his arms around your frame. Your stony mask breaks as your cheek presses against his chest, away from his view. His chest plate glistens from your tears, but you don't have it in you to wipe them away.

When he pulls away to look down at you, his heart breaks. He cradles your face in his hands as you look up at him through wet eyelashes, and it's almost enough to make him consider staying.

But then you say, "It will all be okay, Steve." You gingerly pry his hands from your cheeks, giving them a comforting squeeze. "We will be okay."

You look behind you, where Bucky stands watching the exchange, and he offers an encouraging nod.

You take a step back, mustering everything that you possibly can, all the love you have for Steve, to give him one last genuine smile.

"Go get your girl."

Read part two here.

The way I was making myself upset while writing this - god I love angst!!! ~~~

I was gonna keep going, make it even more brutal, but I'll save that for the upcoming parts. It will have some Bucky x reader as well 🖤

God Bless America('s ass).

oh, and let me know if you wish to be tagged!

[alwaysmicado]

we shouldn’t

2.9k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | one-shot

Warnings: 18+, no outbreak AU, alcohol, smut (but nothing too graphic), smooching, reader being a menace, fluff & the tiniest bit of angst Summary: Joel holds your hand after a night out. It makes you feel things you don’t want to feel. A/N: This little one-shot was very emotional for me to write, and I hope it’ll make you feel something, too. Can be read alone or as a prequel to part 1 within the fwb!Joel AU. Enjoy and let me know what you think! I love talking to you about these two! 🖤 series masterlist

“If I don’t catch you before the light, I’ll do that little dance you like so much.”

“Naked?” you ask with wide eyes. 

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, na–”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re running—clumsily, but fueled by an eagerness that outshines the haze of your drunkenness.

“–ked.”

– – –

The neon lights of the city blur into a kaleidoscope as Joel and you stroll down the crowded streets, the remnants of laughter and clinking glasses still echoing in your ears from the bar you just left. It’s a beautiful night—alive with a buzz, a mix of the city’s energy and the warmth that comes from a few too many drinks.

You’re giggling uncontrollably at something Joel said, your hands clasped over your belly as your sides hurt from laughing. You don’t even remember what he said that was so funny, but that doesn’t matter.

You’re having fun—as always when you’re with him.

Joel glances over at you with a lopsided grin, his eyes slightly glazed but still sparkling with mischief.

“You’re such a lightweight, darlin’,” he says, his words laced with genuine amusement. He chuckles as you continue to giggle, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “No more Long Island Iced Teas for you.”

You playfully roll your eyes, trying to catch your breath, and delicately wiping away the happy tears spilling over.

“Oh, come on,” you quip, turning to him with an infectious grin. “Could a lightweight do this?”

Determined to prove him wrong, you theatrically hold out your arms and set one foot gracefully in front of the other, your pretend sobriety test turning into a whimsical dance along an invisible line on the floor.

“See?” you say excitedly—and perhaps a tad too loudly—before your own enthusiasm sends you stumbling over your own feet. Lucky for you, Joel’s reflexes kick in, and he effortlessly catches you before you can faceplant and hurt yourself.

“Easy there, baby,” he teases with a grin, his strong arms steadying you before pulling you into a tight embrace. “You’re just having too much fun tonight, huh?”

“S’not fair,” you slur against his chest, giggles bubbling up from deep inside you. “The world is spinning.”

Joel looks at you, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “That’s not–” he begins but stops himself, chuckling. “Well, actually, yes, you’re right. The world is spinning, baby.” He presses a soft kiss against your temple. “I got you though.”

Giggles subside into a contented sigh as you rest against Joel’s broad chest, the fleeting touch of his fingers brushing against your back.

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking in his warmth and his scent. “Mmm, you smell nice. How do you always smell so nice?” 

Lifting your head, you gaze into his eyes with honest bewilderment and curiosity, your brow furrowed, as if this is the most perplexing mystery that needs unraveling.

“Reminds me of when we met. My clothes smelled like you when I got home that night.”

Joel’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you with a genuine sense of adoration, his heart warmed by the sincerity and carefree spirit that your drunken honesty radiates.

He’s obviously not going to tell you that he’s made sure to only ever use the aftershave you complimented him on the first night you spent together, but he’s secretly delighting in the fact that you still like it.

“Well, aren’t you sweet, darlin’,” he coos, an amused smile gracing his lips. “You were such a brat not even twenty minutes ago and now look at you. Tame as a little kitten.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You bite your lip and put your hands on his chest, your pupils so dilated your eyes are black.

You can still feel his fingers inside you.

Joel runs his hands up and down your back, a sensation that makes your knees weak. He bores his eyes into you and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m talking about you acting like a whore in that bar just so I’d make you come on my fingers.” His hands wander down to your ass, groping you, pulling you closer against his body. “You knew I’d fuck you when we got to your place, but you just couldn’t wait, huh?”

“Hmm, you love it,” you chuckle, pressing a soft kiss on his warm lips. “Don’t act like you’re not a total perv yourself. ‘Cause, you know, you are, and that’s why you just fingered me in a crowded bar. And that’s why you almost came in your pants. And that’s also why we get along so well.”

Joel grins at you, savoring the lingering sensation of your lips on his. “Touché, you little smartass.”

Your eyes drop to his mustache, perched proudly on his top lip. He’s shaved off the rest of his facial hair, and tonight’s the first time you’ve seen him like this. It suits him.

“You see something you like, baby?”

“I love your mustache. It’ so fucking hot,” you murmur, mesmerized, gently touching the little hairs above Joel’s lip with your fingertips. “Makes you look like an ‘80s pornstar.”

“You’re into that?” he chuckles, noting the particular fixation your inebriated brain has chosen this time—last time, it was the curve of his nose. You’re adorable.

“Fuck yeah. The only thing missing are assless chaps and a tight mesh shirt.” You wrap your arms around him and look into his beautiful brown eyes.

“Mmm, you never cease to surprise me, darlin’,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear before nibbling on your earlobe. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of my ass.”

You giggle and squeeze his cheeks to make a point, pulling away a bit to lock your lidded eyes on his. “Oh, you have no idea. I’ll tie you to your bed next time and show you if you want. Fair warning, though, I won’t be gentle.”

Joel’s eyes widen, his erection straining against the harsh fabric of his jeans.

“Careful, darlin’,” he growls into your ear, “if you can’t behave yourself, I’ll have to put you in your place. And I promise you, I won’t be gentle either.”

You can’t suppress the little moan that escapes your lips as Joel’s words go straight to your pussy. His scent, his deep voice, his broad body against yours, his dark eyes—it all has you melting in his arms, craving his touch. Badly.

“Can we go, please?” you plead, your tone carrying the unmistakable hint of neediness Joel loves to hear so much.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” he murmurs, his hands finding your waist, pulling you against his groin with a possessive grip.

You playfully roll your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, yeah, and I’m a bad, bad girl that needs to be punished—yada yada yada. Can we go now? Please?”

You pull away from his embrace with a cheeky smile and start tugging on his arm, urging him to move. Joel snorts at your impatience, thoroughly entertained by the frustrated little noises you make when he doesn’t budge.

One eyebrow raised and hands on your hips, you glare at him defiantly. You’re swaying a little now that he’s not holding you anymore.

“I’ll fucking run home and get myself off if you don’t get your ass in gear right now.”

“You still haven’t grasped the concept of asking nicely, huh? And after all this time I’ve tried to teach you,” he chuckles, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood and can’t wait to fill up that pretty little pussy of yours.”

He tilts your chin up with his thumb and index finger to search your eyes. To his satisfaction, he finds pure hunger in them. Your brain has completely shut off any and all functions except for imagining Joel taking you roughly in your bed. Or on your sofa. Or on the floor.

“Tell you what, you brat. You get a ten-second head start, and if I catch you before you reach that traffic light over there, you’re not allowed to touch me once you’re naked.” 

“And if you don’t catch me?”

Joel needs to hold back his laugh at the ridiculous idea that you’d be faster than him. 

“If I don’t catch you before the light, I’ll do that little dance you like so much.”

“Naked?” you ask with wide eyes. 

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, na–”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re running—clumsily, but fueled by a determination that outshines the haze of your drunkenness.

“–ked.”

The night air that envelops you is alive with laughter and the distant hum of the city as you stumble towards the traffic light, your unsteady steps dictated by the alcohol coursing through your veins. Your brain can’t decide between giggling and breathing, so you’re left with a side stitch and gasping for air after a few short seconds.

At least you had enough foresight to choose comfort over sexiness when you put on your sneakers tonight instead of your heels.

Joel’s eyes track you, captivated by the rhythmic sway of your legs beneath the hem of the short dress you’re wearing. Oh, how he can’t wait to feel your naked skin pressed against his. You’re always so soft, so warm, so receptive to his touch…

He snaps out of it, realizing the very real potential for a clumsy misstep, and joins the chase. His steps are more purposeful, not wanting you to trip and hurt yourself, especially not on his watch.

A few meters shy of the traffic light, he catches up, arms wrapping around you from behind. You squeal in surprise, a mixture of laughter and exhilaration bubbling up from deep inside you. Joel joins in, his laughter harmonizing with yours, as he triumphantly murmurs, “Got you” in your ear.

He sets you down gently and pulls you close as your heart is still racing, and presses his lips on yours in a deep, lingering kiss.

“Not fair,” you mumble against his lips with a pout. “And I don’t wanna live in a world where you don’t dance for me.”

Joel sighs deeply, succumbing to the irresistible charm of your big puppy eyes.

“How about this, baby. You’re good and do what I say without talking back, and I’ll dance for you until you’re dizzy. Hm?”

“Okay, sounds fair,” you murmur, wanting nothing more than to get home quickly and rip his clothes off. Riling him up in the bar and coming all over his fingers was nice, but you’ve had far from enough.

“Good girl.”

As the traffic light shifts to green, Joel’s hand instinctively finds yours, not wanting to let you stumble across the street without him holding you. You don’t think too much about it, assuming he’ll let go once you’re on the other side.

Surprisingly, though, his grip persists, and he intertwines his fingers with yours.

It’s a gesture so simple, yet it simultaneously sobers you up and sends a ripple through the carefully constructed walls you’ve built around your emotions. Confusion colors your eyes as you steal a glance at him, and he meets your eyes with a warmth that makes your heart skip a beat.

You don’t like it.

This isn’t the casual arm around the shoulder or the hand on your hip. This feels like…more. Like something you’d only do in a relationship. Joel’s touch is warm and electric, and an unsettling realization dawns—the casual arrangement you’ve shared with him suddenly seems more complicated.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

“What are you doing?” you ask, feigning nonchalance, although your heart is doing somersaults.

“What do you mean?” Joel smirks, giving your hand a playful squeeze. “Just trying to keep you from stumbling into the bushes, baby. I’m a gentleman, you know.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but the butterflies in your stomach tell a different story. The truth is, you’ve been here before—caught in the crossroads of friendship and something more. It’s a delicate balance, and one you don’t want to upset.

Joel’s the best thing that has happened to you in a long time, and you don’t want to lose what you have. But you also care for him enough that you’d let him go if your arrangement didn’t make him happy anymore.

As you finally reach your apartment building, a nervous flutter sets your heart pounding in your chest. You clear your throat and subtly allow your fingers to slip away from Joel’s, feigning the need for both hands as you rummage through your purse in search of your key.

You follow Joel inside, deliberately averting your gaze, your eyes fixed on the glowing buttons as you summon the elevator. As you step inside the confined space, a wave of memories floods your mind, recalling the last time you’ve given in to your desires when the brief elevator ride felt too long to resist.

Joel knelt in front of you, skillfully drawing an orgasm out of you with his tongue while your fingers were tangled in his dark curls. Once he had his fill, he proceeded to throw you over his shoulder and fuck you in front of your living room mirror. You’ll never forget how he forced you to look at yourself with his hand wrapped around your neck.

You’re abruptly pulled back to the present as you feel Joel’s hand finding yours once again, trying to reassure you that he’s here if you need him. You look at him with a conflicted expression, torn between appreciating his caring gesture and the fear of disappointing him.

As you shuffle to your apartment door, Joel finally breaks the silence, his voice low and soothing, “Are you alright, darlin’? Do you feel sick?” His eyes search your face, concern evident in his furrowed brow.

“Nah, just a bit tipsy,” you reply automatically, your tone light as you lean against the wall. 

However, when he starts tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, you’re unable to suppress the growing unease any longer. Tightness settles in your chest, accompanied by a fluttering sensation that dances beneath your ribcage.

“It’s just…I, uh,” you murmur, “I didn’t expect you to hold my hand is all.”

“Oh.” Joel’s gaze softens, and he releases your hand, the connection severed. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, darlin’. I should’ve asked if you were okay with it, I’m sorry.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, no, it’s not that I didn’t like it. It’s just...it felt–” you cut yourself off and sigh deeply, turning around to open your apartment door. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Joel nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I understand, darlin’. Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m sorry,” you switch on the light in your living room and throw your purse onto your sofa. “I know it’s weird, but I really…we–we shouldn’t and I…I can’t–”

“Darlin’, hey,” he steps inside and closes the door behind him. “There’s no need for you to apologize, or explain for that matter.”

You turn around and take him in for a moment. His warm eyes, his soft smile, the cute little movements his hand makes when he’s nervous—he’s just so…sweet. You’re not used to a guy being so considerate of your boundaries, and it’s incredibly hard for you to believe that he actually means it and won’t use them against you once he’s tired of you.

You know it’ll happen at some point, but you’re okay with that. This isn’t meant to last.

“Do you, uh, still wanna stay for a nightcap?” you ask him with a hopeful smile. 

“Of course I do, darlin’,” he says, tilting his head and looking at you curiously.

You open your arms, silently inviting him to draw you into a comforting embrace. You’re relieved when his response is immediate and eager.

“We’re on the same page, right?” he asks, a genuine smile on his lips as his dark eyes search yours. “We have fun, and I like spending time with you, but I want you to feel comfortable, too. If this,” he gestures between the two of you, “ever becomes more than you’re comfortable with, we talk about it. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, enjoying each other’s company.”

He pulls back slightly to gauge your reaction, his hand still gently resting on your waist. 

“Sounds perfect, Joel,” you coo in response, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Now, would you please shut up and kiss me already.”

“Alright, alright, you brat,” Joel chuckles and cups your cheek with his warm hand, before leaning in and sealing the agreement with a lingering kiss to your lips.

“Mmm, I’m so happy I met you, darlin’,” he whispers. “You’re something else, you know?”

You look into his eyes, and there’s a sincerity in them that catches you off guard. You know you shouldn’t have sex with him right now, you know you should tell him to leave. 

And yet, as soon as you feel his lips on yours again, more fervently this time, his hands exploring the contours of your back, drawing you close, the rational part of your mind fades away.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he breathes out before switching to kissing down your neck, the sensation of his soft lips on your sensitive skin making you whimper.

“I want you, Joel. I want you.”

– – –

Thanks for reading, guys!! 🤍

part 1 || series masterlist || main masterlist

tagging: @buckyispunk @koshkaj-blog @paleidiot @pattwtf @runningmom94 @tuquoquebrute @witchofthedeepwoods let me know if you want to be added!

[anakin-skywalker-always]

padawan/atoc era anakin x reader, they're in love with each other (both jedi) but obviously can't come forward. Anakin confides in Padmé, reader becomes convinced/jealous that anakin is with padme

(bonus points if you can make it angsty and fluffy)

As Easy As Breathing

Hi nonnie! Thank you so, so, so much for this rec! It’s my first one on this account and it’s really quite the christening. Hope its okay, I’m not the best at angst! 

Pairing: Padawan!Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!Reader (Star Wars) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none!! Should be all good, let me know if you caught anything I may have missed. Not beta read! 

Words: 1.8k

Author’s Notes: Anakin is canonically 19 in AOTC, reader is the same, maybe a year younger. Clone Wars have not yet started in this fic, I’m just assuming Padmé and Anakin stayed besties after the whole nonsense in Phantom Menace.

The warm sun filtering through the windows fell upon Anakin’s face, in a soft moment of solitude, the sounds of the Coruscant cityscape provided him with a brief reprieve to Padmé’s chastising. He often thought that his ability to talk to Padmé about anything was his strength, but in this moment he couldn’t help to think of it as a weakness. Anakin cringed as Padmé continued to berate him; On a rare afternoon off the nineteen-year-old padawan found himself lounging on the senator’s couch. 

“Seriously Anakin, you should just-” Padmé stilled, her slender hands finding her hips, huffing, she continued, “Are you even listening to me, Ani?” The forceful tone on his nickname got Anakin’s attention once again. 

“I am!” Anakin raised his eyebrows in addition to his hands, in mock surrender. “I swear Padmé!” 

The senator found it easy to roll her eyes at his antics, like always. But she could see the change in Anakin, could see how his emotions for his fellow padawan learner have caused conflict in him. Her friend wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t eating. Padmé knew Anakin was an intense person, a strong personality, everyone knew that about him. But this, this was different. He seemed lost, like he was missing something he needed to operate. Padmé found her way to the couch, sitting beside Anakin, grabbing his tanned, calloused hands in her own. 

“Anakin, if you do truely care this strongly for her, you must tell her.” Anakin’s eyes found Padmé’s own. “It would be cruel, to withhold this love.” There was a time in Anakin’s life where this is all he wanted, being with Padmé and he knew his nine-year-old self would be so excited by innocent hand holding. But his nineteen-year-old self was happier to have such a strong, nonjudgemental friend. 

“How did you know that you loved Sabé?” Anakin asked gently, knowing how the senator safeguarded her relationship with her handmaiden fiercely. 

Anakin noted how Padmé seemed to glow at the mention of her lover. A warm smile graced her pink lips, eyes crinkling at the sides, a faraway glaze coated her sparkling eyes. Her signature in the force felt warm, it wrapped around Anakin’s brain, made him feel safe. Padmé’s love for Sabé was so tangible it extended outside herself, adjusting her force signature. 

“I realised I loved Sabé when being around her became a necessity, an honesty, a truth that I did not know I was constantly seeking out.” Padmé gushed, a light trail of pink lit itself over her high cheekbones and freckled nose. “I felt as if Sabé had breathed new life into me everytime I saw her, it was natural, it was right.” 

Anakin was quiet for a moment, Padmé became worried that she had overstepped somehow, projected to far onto Anakin’s feelings. 

“Loving y/n is as natural as breathing.” He replied. 

Anakin rolled over on his hard, standard issue, Jedi temple bed. A sleepless night was not uncommon for him, but this felt inherently different. Padmé’s words from earlier in the day rattled around his brain, demanding to be dealt with. Anakin never saw love as a weakness, never saw attachment as weakness. How could he? Love was the basis of the light, the well of Jedi power that Anakin drew from was a labour of love, was purity, was peace, was built with empathy and centered by knowing himself. His love for you did not make him a bad person. 

But he knew it would make him seem like a bad Jedi. 

Not knowing your stance on him, on the rule of attachment was slowly eating away at Anakin’s peace. 

Groaning aloud, Anakin ran his hands down his face. 

Your head whipped around, anxiously. You knew it was embarrassing that you always looked for him in a crowded room, but you could not help it, you felt as if the force was electric until he calmed it. His signature singlehandedly smothering anything else it came in contact with. Being around Anakin, to you, felt as natural as breathing. 

“Looking for young Skywalker, are you?” Your master, Mace Windu asks, a small smirk whispers across his face, lightly nudging you in the shoulder. The two of you stood in one of the reception rooms of the Republic building. The Senate was hosting a charity gala with the invite extending to the Jedi temple. So, there you stood, in your best robes, breaking your neck to catch a glimpse of The Chosen One. 

“No Master.” You said, quietly. Turning your head away from the powerful Jedi Master to not embarrass yourself further with the luxury of him catching your furious blush. Your master excused himself, laughing, finding Master Plo Kloon. 

So, you stood there, alone, foolishly searching the room for your fellow padawan, the one that consumed your mind and soul. 

It wasn’t completely unlikely, you reasoned with yourself. You and Anakin were friends, were very well matched, sparring partners. But, Anakin was a good Jedi. A strong Jedi. Following orders wasn’t Anakin’s strongest suit, you’d admit. Pondering whether he would disregard the rules of attachment for you, however, was different. 

Nonetheless, like a junkie craving death sticks, you craved Anakin’s presence, his force signature was all you needed to feel right. The anxiety of the gala was too much. Closing your eyes, tightly, you reached out into the force to find him. Anakin’s signature, golden like it always was flocked to your senses, like always. 

Opening your eyes, you began to weave through the bustling crowd as quickly as one could who was masquerading as casual. 

“I’m not going to say anything to her now, Padmé.” Anakin huffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest, defensively. “Not in front of all these people, you’ve got to be joking.” He scoffed. 

Sabé giggled quietly, the two women joined their arms at the elbow. Padmé just rolled her eyes at Anakin’s supposed insoclence. 

Your frame weaving through the crowd in his direction caught Anakin’s eye. He smiled, quikly raised a hand, and was delighted when your devastating smile echoed back. 

“Anakin.” You greeted him, with a small bow of the head. His name sounded heavenly whenever you deigned to let it fall from your lips. Anakin was convinced he could breathe easier with you around, like he had been purged of something suffocating him. 

“Y/N, this is Sen-” You quickly cut him off, not wanting to hear the name of your rival come from his beautiful mouth. Your jealousy that you held for Padmé reared its ugly head, and you couldn’t help to feel shame burn deep inside the space between ribs. 

“Senator Amidala, a pleasure it is to finally meet you,” You stuck your hand out, awkwardly hoping for a handshake. “Anakin has told me so much.” Cordial. It was a good tactic. You were a good person, a good jedi. You would not succumb to jealousy. Besides, Padmé had other qualities you were far more jealous of than just her nonexistent romantic relationship that you deludedly conjured up in your mind when you tried to sleep at night. 

“All good things I should hope.” She smiled, her soft hand finding your own, a small shake. You could empathise with Anakin for falling in love with someone like her. Someone so intelligent, powerful, beautiful. 

It was not lost on you, the way the senator’s hand quickly found the one of the woman she stood beside. 

“This is Sabé.” Anakin started, introducing Padmé’s guest. “Padmé’s hand-” For the second time tonight, but surely not the last, Anakin was cut off. 

“My partner.” Senitor Amidala said firmly, though her eyes twinkled with pride. Sabé’s own shock manifested itself into a wide smile. The two looked eachother in the eyes and you couldn’t help but feel silly. Of course. Of course. 

For whatever reason, the words you thought you had died swiftly in your mouth,  “Oh.” was all you managed to get out. “A pleasure to meet you too, Sabé.” You tried quickly to save the situation, to save embarrassment. But Padmé’s slight smile, Sabé’s coy smirk. You felt like the two Naboo women knew you, saw you. They somehow, in this embarrassing blunder of a meeting had already clocked that you harboured feelings for Anakin Skywalker. It made you feel foolish, moreso than what you already did. 

“If you’d excuse us, Jedi, we have futher business to attend to.” Sabé quipped strongly, leading her senator lover to the next group of politicians. The art of smalltalk was something else you could add to the list of Padmé’s items you were jealous of. 

Anakin turned to you, chuckling. His standard-issue Jedi robes moving effortlessly with his chest. Running a hand through his cropped hair, you felt his eyes scanning your face. You knew your blood would betray you, like it so often did around your friend, rising to the surface of your cheeks, splattering down your neck and chest. Embarrassment clung to you like a rash. 

“Don’t mind them, they like setting me up.” Anakin scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Setting you up for what?” You asked, eyeing him micheviously. Chatting with Anakin felt natural; He was quick witted and liked challenging you, he was a tease. 

And, more often than not, a flirt. 

This was different though, Anakin had an air of nervousness about him. You noticed as your fellow padawan’s large, veiny hands found the way to the back of his neck, rubbing sheepishly. 

“Oh you know…” He trailed off, looking everywhere except for your eyes, his own blue ones scanning the ornate ceiling of the reception room. “Setting us up to be alone together.” He admitted, squinting as if the words bought him some kind of physical pain. 

You quirked a brow, your arms quickly crossing your chest - a defensive stance. “Would that be so bad? Being alone together?” The words meant to be teasing, non-serious. But it was too late, the seed was planted in Anakin’s brain. 

To him, that felt like an admission of sorts, an admission that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. Well, if he squinted it seemed like that. 

In a tender moment, something rare for Anakin, he reached out. Tucking stray hairs behind your ear, gently following your padawan braid around the cusp of it. 

“You know, y/n, that I want nothing more,” He smiled. It was pure, and real. You felt the sincerity in the force, the truth within him. Moreso, you felt your ear burn from the brief contact, felt your heart swell in your chest at the mere thought of being alone in close quarters with him. “I want nothing more than to be alone with you.” 

He retracted his hand, but you still felt alight with his closeness. His force signature felt palpable, you were enraptured in his warmth. He was golden. Your golden boy. 

“Why don’t we go get lost then?” You whispered, scared anything too loud would betray your eagerness. Anakin’s smile split across his face, eyes crinkling and dimples showing. Smirking he placed a strategic hand at the low of your back. He was so incredibly tall, bending over you to whisper back, 

“After you, my lady.”

—--

AN: Hehe all done! Left it open for more if you wanted, but teasing enough to be left as it is! Hope it’s alright and I hope you could enjoy at least some of it <3 

P.S This is a side account, my main is @mayhemories, so I will be answering any comments with that account but rest assured it is still me :) <3

Much love, El. 

[abyssruler]

if you don’t love me (lie to my face)

dan heng x gn!reader (past dan feng x reader)

he wants you to see him beyond the shadow that his previous incarnation cast. he wants to push you away, wants to hold you close, wants to hear his name spill from your lips without the taint of another man’s name. he wants you, but you cannot bring yourself to let go of the past.

angst

“Stop looking at me like that.”

You tilt your head, feigning obliviousness. “Like what?”

“Like that,” he huffs, averting his eyes uncomfortably to the horizon, if only so he may escape the longing, almost melancholic sheen that glazes over your eyes whenever you look at him.

“Sorry,” you sigh, but you make no move to tear your gaze away from the sight of him, drinking in every detail, cataloguing which ones are the same and which ones leave you mournful for the differences that shatter the illusion of a time gone by. “It’s just hard, sometimes, to look at you and not imagine someone else.”

He frowns at your words. “I’m not him.”

You smile, something brittle at the edges of it. “I know.”

“He’s gone,” he grits out.

“I know.”

“I won’t—”

“Dan Heng.”

He pauses at the sound of his name, turning his head and meeting your eyes again. You’re smiling, but there’s a fragility to it, like broken glass pieced together haphazardly, threatening to shatter at the slightest touch. It’s maddening to look at you and feel the acute sense of his heart twisting within his chest whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of you.

He doesn’t want to feel this way, hates feeling this way. Any connection to that man, any ties and bonds and whatever emotions you once made Dan Feng feel—he doesn’t want it. He wants none of the headiness and the weightlessness and the warmth that spreads through his body that it feels as though it could encompass the entirety of his soul.

But you make him want to want so fiercely it leaves him breathless and little frightened.

He wishes you never approached him, wishes you never got close to him, wishes you never directed such looks his way.

But mostly, he wishes you weren’t so easy to like (easy to love).

“I know, okay? I know you’re not him, but—” You close your eyes, fighting for composure, and when you open them again, he is met with a gaze full of hope and regret. “But just this once, just for a few seconds, could you let me pretend?”

Dan Heng feels his throat tighten, his heart falling with no one to catch it, because you’re not truly seeing him, no. You’ve never seen him for who he is, only the man who continues to haunt his every waking moment. Even now, he feels the weight of Dan Feng’s past mistakes and regrets heavy on his shoulders with the way you’re looking at him, pleading with him for a chance to relive a time long gone.

He knows he shouldn’t, if only so he may spare his heart, and yet—and yet, he is a fool.

However much he wants to deny this—deny you—he has always been weak when it comes to matters regarding you and the emotions you’ve managed to instill within him.

So Dan Heng nods, unable to look you in the eye, but he doesn’t need to see you to feel the way you slump against him in relief, arms winding around his shoulders in a mockery of a lover’s embrace.

This is madness. A foolish endeavor. He should have said no. Should have vehemently denied any sort of connection with that man. Should have turned you away the moment you began reminiscing your time with that man whenever you became lost in old memories and grief.

And yet, he does none of this, because he is weak, because he has gone soft, because—

Because he loves you.

He loves you, so he lets you hold him the way you must have held that man.

He loves you, so he lets you imagine him as someone else.

He loves you, so he lets you bury your face in his shoulder and murmur a name that isn’t his.

“Dan Feng…”

Dan Heng closes his eyes and dreams of a day where you will finally look at him without seeing another man’s face.

[dark-and-kawaii]

You’re stuff is amazing, it’s pulling me into the Zevlor orbit. Seriously though. Just wanna straddle that man’s lap. Insecurities about his past and old age? Just lick up his ear to the point and whisper in the sluttiest voice I can. “Should I call you Commander?” Nip at the point. “Or Daddy?”

( •̀ω •́ ) hehehehe~ it’s what I aim to do!!! Please fall into this Zevlor pit with the rest of us!!! Join us!!! :3 we have fresh baked cookies and Zevlor, what more could you ask for??? *bites my lip and swallows* ughhhhh babes yes!!! This is making me pant!!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Daddy or Commander ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Pairings: Zevlor x F!Tav/Reader

Content: NSFW - Lap Riding - Creampie - Tiny Angst??

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying teasing the man between your legs. You knew it had been a while for him, knew it’s been so long since someone straddled his lap and grinded themselves against his cock. It was easy to tell by the way he became so stiff and tense, like he wasn't sure where to put his hands. Or how to look into your eyes.

“You-“ his voice hitched- cut off when you began to move your hips a little faster, a little harder against him. You were driving him mad and he wasn’t even inside you yet…

“I~?”

The look in his eye could have killed you- had it not made you want him more. He looked so confused, so pained, yet in love all at the same time. Instead, a soft, pleased moan slipped out as he bucked his hips up against yours. His past began to haunt him, outcasted and tossed aside. Ridiculed and shunned. All the hurtful memories that would never leave him no matter how hard he tried to bury them deep, “You don’t need to take pity o-on me. Nor do you-“

You leaned down, kissing him deeply- silencing him, swallowing his words with your tongue. His lips tasted like the sweet, honey-glazed pastry you shared not too long ago.

The kiss left him dazed and panting, but his words never ceased. He couldn't let you do this, couldn't allow himself to be used and toyed with- not again, “The gap between us is also wide… I fear you are doing this for-“

You pulled back from his lips, staring him down, “Why does it have to be out of pity, commander~?”

The use of his title had his brows knit, and a low growl slipping passed his throat. He wanted nothing more than to flip the two of you over, and show you exactly who was in charge… But instead, his cock just twitched.

With a soft giggle, you continued on, leaning in closer, brushing your lips against his ear- nipping at it, “or would you prefer to be called daddy~”

His body shuddered- his control slipping, fingers gripping into your thighs.

He was going to break.

And you wanted it.

Needed it.

He needed it.

It didn’t take much to get him to give in. Lifting your hips just enough, he lined himself up- the tip of his cock smearing his precum against your damp folds.

He wanted to believe you- wanted to believe that your intentions weren't just out of pity or some sick joke. He wanted to believe that your feelings were real- that someone, did indeed love him.

And without warning him, with one single thrust- one single bounce, you were able to prove to him that it was the truth.

Your walls were so warm and wet, the feeling of his cock slipping into your depths was enough to make his head swim.

Stretching you out, you felt every inch as he pushed inside, filling you up. Every ridge, every vein. Hells he was large…

Zevlor tried to bite his lip to keep himself from cumming, but he could feel his ridges swell within you, your walls gripping him like a vice, and he had no choice. With a soft groan, his cum filled you.

You could feel his cock twitching, pulsating as he came. He was so deep, and you swore you could feel your tummy extend from how much there was. Gods, and those ridges on his cock were swelled so nicely massaging your insides. Your vision grew hazy, and with a breathless gasp, you came- clenching tightly around him.

His head fell against your shoulder, your own head falling back as you both groaned and moaned, lips parted,

“Tav-“

“Commander~”

Calling out for each other- you both came together, bodies tense and shaking, his arms wrapped around you… Your arms wrapped around his neck.

After a moment, the two of you began to laugh.

You weren't sure why, but you did.

It was just too good. Too perfect.

And as he lifted his head, pressing his lips against yours, you felt him grow hard once again.

[koishua]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 — cyj.

━━━━━━ 𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗜 𝗬𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗝𝗨𝗡 | 0.962k words. heavy angst, semi fluff ending. fear of abandonment. themes of lacking self worth.

━━━━━━ burned and hurt before, yeonjun had decided to break up with you and save himself from the pain he believed would inevitably come (as it always does), only to be welcomed again in a feat of unconditional love. (heavily inspire by the smile has left your eyes!)

! © 𝗞𝗢𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗨𝗔 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰, 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗩𝗘𝗗. reblog/feedback <3

when the birds cease their serenade, time begins to slow down. seconds trickle down the glass in individual grains of sand, one by one when he locks eyes with the painting of heartbreak he'd left behind. when the subject of his dreams (when you—) look at him through the curtain of your lashes, darkened and damp, yeonjun wishes he dies a slow and agonizing death.

the light in his eyes had vanished into the depths of his sinking stomach, far too out of reach to ever return. not now, not after succumbing into his own fears and letting your hand go. an unnerving moment of silence floats by, the clouds casting a dark grey over the world as far as your eyes can perceive. yeonjun dares not weep in your presence, shame returning in folds when he remembers the words he'd left you with days ago in an attempt to save himself from what he believed would have been an impending pain anyway somewhere down the line. if not soon, then later (and in larger, monstrous waves).

"you told me to never return."

was that the murderous clap of a thunder or the sound of his crushed heart echoing in his ears? choi yeonjun is a man in sorrow. regret seeps out of him in almost visible rivers, down onto the floor and reaching the tips of your shoes. a beat goes by and he sighs, defeated.

"i did."

you take a tentative step forward and he catches the hesitation through the mess of strands over his eyes, blocking you once again. his knees almost crumble underneath him. he doesn't deserve another chance, and yet you're at his broken doorstep offering him one.

through the blur in your vision, your trembling hands reach for his slender and beautiful fingers (a memory resurges of him lulling you to sleep on the piano, his bed a safe haven despite the empty grey walls in shambles and the apparent lack of anything making a space liveable other than where you lay on and the miscellaneous small objects not belonging to a place someone calls a home).

the rain had stopped pouring just minutes ago, his clothes soaked through and skin ice cold. the warmth of your skin feels ugly to yeonjun. it's too inviting (too familiar, too kind, too easy to melt back into, too good to be true after every mistake he's ever made—) and he feels his lungs constrict inside their cage, refusing to breathe enough air as if to punish himself for ever believing he'd be loved.

but he is.

unconditionally.

"don't leave me," the words clumsily part from his purple lips. yeonjun feels a tender hand against the back of his head pulling him into an embrace he'd prayed he'd be able to forget after running away from the life of peace that had terrified him.

you don't see his glazed, wide open eyes from your position, an arm around his neck and a hand running through his hair still dripping water on the nape of his neck, nevermind the shiver that runs down your spine from the cold sleeping through your shirt. a fist harshly squeezes your heart thinking about the man at your mercy.

there is no rain to blame the tears you feel collecting under your chin. a haggard breath of air inhaled, shoulders tense and trembling, a tug on the fabric of your shirt is enough to let you know that choi yeonjun is a man destroyed.

he's a man broken in more ways than one and one who is terrified of being held so compassionately, so fondly. petrified of being hurt again and yet so desperate for a semblance of affection. the weight of feeling unloved and fearing it at the same time weighed him down and chained him to the ground.

"i'll stay," your reassuring words reach his ears like a prayer answered, allowing him to collapse safely into your embrace like never before. once strong arms wrap around your waist as though he is bound to you for eternity, never to let go.

you sway together to the sound of the cars passing down below, unable to see them, standing so far away from the rooftop's railings and in a corner tucked away under the light above his doorway. your bodies mould into one synchronous being, complete like pieces of a puzzle.

yeonjun tightens his hold on you when you reach for the handle bar, pushing the creaky metal door open and into the safety of his small hideaway. finding it difficult to maneuver safely, he lifts you up and lets you wrap your legs around his torso to move you towards his bed, gently placing you down on the edge, letting you regain your bearings.

"please don't leave."

finally able to look into his eyes, yeonjun studies the expression on your face and the way your lips quiver. you bring your palm to cup his face, not needing to reach far as he crouches in front of you, his own hand wrapping over yours to bring you closer and lean further into your touch. his eyes flutter shut, feeling your soft lips press against his forehead, strands of hair brushed away.

"i love you."

"don't ever leave me, please."

"i love you."

"stay."

"i love you, yeonjun."

"i never meant to hurt you."

"i love you."

"i was just scared. i never meant any of it."

"i know, i love you."

"please believe me."

"i do, i love you."

"i love you, too."

"i know."

"how?"

"you always protect me even when i'm not looking."

"but i hurt you. i left."

"but you loved me then too."

"i did— i do. please forgive me. i'm so sorry."

"i love you, yeonjun."

[steviewashere]

Deserving

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Unspecified Eating Disorder, Food Insecurity Tags: Post-Season 2, Pre-Season 3, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Different First Meeting AU, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Worried Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Has Self Esteem Issues, Insecure Steve Harrington, Lonely Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Strangers to Friends, Sharing Food, Food as a Metaphor For Love, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Has Rich Parents, He is Not Rich, Dialogue Heavy Originally, this was going to be 5+1 where Eddie shares his food five times and once where Steve shares his food, but I just couldn't finish the original plot.

🥪——————🥪 There’s a boy in Eddie’s lunch period that doesn’t have anything to eat. It’s weird because he knows who this kid is; Steve Harrington—cocky and rich and bitch with no bite—the kid who’s fallen from grace thanks to a few punches to the face. And the same kid who doesn’t really talk to anybody.

As it is, Steve is sitting by himself at one of the lunchroom tables. Arms crossed on the surface, head down on his forearms, hair limp at the crown of his head. Unusual and unseen. His shoulders are hitched, shaking like he’s crying unsubtly, yet quietly—unseen and unheard. It’s weird, he thinks, because Steve had just been looking out one of the windows, eyes a little hazy, glazed like he’d been gearing up to cry. Eddie had caught Steve pushing his hands into his hair, tugging like he was trying to rip it all out. But then he’d gone ahead and collapsed into this sad, huffing little heap onto the table.

Eddie maybe keeps his eye on Steve for too long, too often. To know the multitudes. The little fractures in his mask—spider webs, that’s what they were, spreading and sprawling. He supposed that, at some point, the web would be completed and be easy enough to knock down. Leaving in its wake a sad, mole-dotted, half-bruised, white-scarred face.

A face with a hungry maw, if the way Steve clutched his stomach said anything.

He makes a last minute decision today. Eddie curves his path away from the Hellfire Club’s table. Lunchbox dangling in his hand—a measly bologna and mustard sandwich, a baggie of salted pretzel sticks, and a Yoo-hoo he didn’t need to refrigerate all clinking against the metal interior. And then he plops himself down in front of Steve without a peep, just the hard clink of his wallet chain on the bench and his too big rings on the table.

All at once, slow, yet purposeful—Steve’s head springs up. He looks worse up close. Mottled purple. Swollen and shiny. There’s one of those terrible scars on the edge of his hairline, though this one’s different: pink, long, jagged, and fresh.

Steve squints at him. Covers the side of his face by the window, hand cupped around his one good eye, and swallows hard enough Eddie almost recoils. “Munson?” Steve croaks—literally, Eddie notes, like a strangled, old frog—“what’re you doing?”

“Mm, having lunch with my pal,” Eddie answers, prying open his lunchpail, food pulled out one thing at a time. He catches his thumbs in the Ziplock fasten, and from it produces that sad, drooping sandwich his uncle made last night. It’s a little soggy in his hands, too much mustard. And the bologna is sort of…lukewarm, but not inedible. Eddie digs around in one of his vest pockets, pulls out a small Swiss Army knife, and cuts the sandwich in half. Licks the blade, mustard just a little left of what’s meant to be tastefully sour. Then, he pushes a portion of the sandwich across the table to sit right in front of Steve. “Usually, I’d bring a lunch of your preference, but this is all I’ve got right now. So, hope you don’t mind some bologna.”

“I don’t wanna take your food away from you, man. I’ll be fine until I get home.”

Selfless is a trait he didn’t think Steve could really have. Well, from the assumed version he has in his head anyway. But it’s a trait he’s learning he probably won’t like. Not all the way, at least.

“Right,” Eddie murmurs, “and you clutching your stomach out of hunger seems like something to be fine about.” He picks up his half and takes a large bite, licks the bit of mustard from the corner of his mouth. With his mouth full, “It’s weird, y’know, I never see you in here with food. Not even lunch lady Donna’s mashed potatoes and gravy. If you wanna know my opinion, that’s one of the better lunches she makes, and it’s something anybody should try at least once.” He wrestles around in his lunchbox again, a glass bottle of Yoo-hoo now in his grip. The cap pops off satisfyingly and he takes a small swig, swallows the incredible glob in his mouth, and then offers the drink across the table. “Or, y’know, I thought maybe a rich kid would have their own lunch. With all of the good brand stuff. Like uh…Pringles? Yeah, Pringles and Coke? That seems like your game.”

Steve sniffs, looks down at his sandwich, and picks it up gingerly. He keeps staring at it, though. Not out of thought, like maybe he’s wondering if he should give it back. Something more…somber. “Correction,” he mutters, “I have rich parents. I’m just the kid they let live in their house.” Finally, he takes a bite with a gentle, low hum. As if it’s the greatest thing he’s ever put in his mouth. Which can’t possibly be true because, even though Eddie knows this meal is one of Wayne’s specialties, it’s honestly one of the shittier ones. If anything, this sandwich is just placeholder food—something that’ll get them by until Wayne gets paid next, if he gets paid on time.

Eddie hums, taking in the information. “They can’t even bother to send you on with at least a little something? Dude, tell me you at least get some breakfast. You’re breakin’ my heart over here.”

Again, Steve looks at his sandwich. Somber and small. He won’t look at Eddie, though. But Eddie can see him. His flushed cheeks—blotchy and tear track stained. Red rimmed eyes. Shaky fingers. He’s pale underneath the ruddiness. Lips chapped, eyes sunken, dark circles.

He looks like shit.

“Sometimes,” Steve murmurs, “I used to have a bagel in the morning, but my mom said the carbs were bad. I stopped buying them. So…I dunno. It’s not like she even”—He stops. Shakes his head. Takes another bite.

“She even…?”

Steve catches his eyes for all of a second. Places his sandwich on the baggie it came in. Wipes his cheeks, just barely missing some of the bruising. “She’s not even home most of the time anyway. It doesn’t really matter,” he states quiet and bitter. He clears his throat, the sound strained. Shrugs. Rests his face in one hand, looking out the window again. Face going pinched and pained. “You ever had a fend for yourself kind of day?”

“Eh…I’ve had fend for yourself nights. But that’s because my uncle works late, sometimes it’s just up to me to figure something out. Those are cereal nights, man.” He watches Steve again. At the way he doesn’t go back for the sandwich. Not even disgusted. Just…blank. “Was today one of those, Steve?” he asks quietly.

No verbal answer. Just one, small, shaky nod. Eddie won’t stand for that.

“What food do you like? Maybe I can help you come up with like a…a meal plan calendar or something. So that you know what you have at all times and you can, like, make sure you’re eating good.” Steve still doesn’t say anything. Lips rolled tight to his teeth. Eddie tries again, “Or at least just eating, Stevie. I know we don’t really know each other at all, but I see you in here everyday. No lunch. Not even one of those stupid boxes of raisins. You gotta eat, man. Or else, y’know, that shit catches up to you.”

Across from him, Steve sniffles again and wipes the back of his hand on his nose. “I don’t know what I like,” he says, “sandwiches are fine, I guess. It’s fine”—

“Good, great actually. Steve Harrington is getting a tour of the Munson sandwich recipes. Passed down from my uncle, the master of sandwich art. Y’like black forest ham? Maybe a bit of grilled chicken? Tomatoes?” Steve’s finally staring at him now. Wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Mouth dropped ajar with slight disbelief. “What?” Eddie says, “don’t look at me like that. We don’t have to be friends or anything, but you gotta eat. It’s equity, dude. I already got what I need in terms of food and eating, but you don’t. So, I getcha what you need. I help you out.”

Steve droops, breathes out a little sigh. Digs his thumbnail into the stale crust of the sandwich, picking at it, crumbling it onto the table. “You don’t have to do that, Eddie,” he speaks quietly, “I…uh…I don’t want to assume anything, but I don’t think it’s fair that somebody who makes less money than my whole family has to make up for my parents’ stupidity. It’s not your job to look out for somebody like me anyway, right? Just another screw up who can’t get his shit together, can’t even figure out how he’s going to pay for worthwhile groceries for the month.” He finally stops picking at the sandwich. Wipes his nose again. “Thanks for trying, though. I’m sorry that you have to care at all.”

Eddie eyes Steve for a silent beat. And then, with careful, languid movements, he lays his hand palm up on the table. Steve looks to it, but pretends to pay it no mind. Even if his face crumbles a bit more. “Steve,” Eddie speaks, keeping his voice measured and low, “I want to help. I—I know that my uncle and I don’t make a lot. And, sure, maybe figuring out a way to get you some good homecooked meals is a little out of my budget. But I don’t care. You deserve to eat, man. No matter how much money your parents make.

“If I can make your day a little easier—because, I gotta be honest, it seems like you’re just having…the toughest time a person can ever possibly have—then great. If it means me giving you a dollar for the school lunch or just coming here with an extra sandwich in my lunchbox, whatever.

“Nobody deserves to go without eating because their bullshit parents prioritize work and social lives over their own children—and no child deserves to believe they’re the problem. Let me help, okay? Even if we have to start out small, so be it.” Eddie takes a moment to pause, to breathe, to let the cafeteria background noise mingle around them. He crinkles the edge of the Ziplock baggie, pushes it further into Steve’s space, and does the same with the bag of pretzel sticks. “I want to take care of you. Even if we’re just strangers in the hallway, I want to make sure that you’re doing okay.”

He does his best to lean across the way, to block off the rest of the cafeteria from their table. As Steve lays his shaky hands flat on the surface and his face turns bright red, tears steadily streaming down his face. Eddie digs the bandana out of his back pocket and slides it across the table, too, offering it up in silence.

Steve takes it with a shaky hand and pats the tired fabric on his tacky skin. He blows a sharp, wheezing, snotty breath from his nose. “If you’re sure, then I like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches a lot. But I…I wanna make sure I can pay you back, okay? Don’t wanna—I don’t wanna like abuse your generosity or something.”

“You wouldn’t be,” he quickly amends. “I’m offering, man, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, but I…I don’t think you understand,” Steve adamantly presses, “I know it’s gonna make me sound all whiny and like uptight or whatever, but I don’t earn an allowance from my parents anymore. Not since…well, I’m sure you know how stupid I am.”

“Hey,” Eddie gently scolds. “You’re not stupid, Steve. You know what you’re talking about, I’ve heard you.”

Steve snorts like Eddie said something funny. “Try telling that to all my college rejection letters and my dad’s crumbling expectations of his only son. I’m sure they could find a million ways to explain just how…how worthless I am. That I’m a burden or…or a stain.”—those last sentences sound like echoes, if Eddie cares to explore it enough. Like they come from a different, more expectant mouth. Steve continues, “How am I even supposed to get a mediocre job? Just feels like I’m too nothing for anything out there. I don’t even know how I’m gonna pay you back, Eddie. Shit, I just shouldn’t accept. I have no idea how I’m supposed to get back up from all this garbage—I—I’m such a fucking loser now. I don’t even have anything going on anymore.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, not sure which part of any of that to unpack. Instead, he goes with, “You’ve got sports, Stevie. Surely you can figure something out with that. I’ve seen you perform, man, you’re fucking phenomenal.”

“My brain’s too fucked up now to play,” Steve quietly admits, “too many concussions. Coaches say I’m too befuddled to make heads or tails of where my targets are. Sports are over for me. I literally have nothing.” He blows out another wet, shaky breath. “So, I’m just saying, I’m sorry if I can’t make this up to you.”

“Steve,” Eddie says firmly, “look at me.”

At the demand, he’s met with Steve’s sad, hazel eyes. Clogged with discontent and miserableness he never thought he’d see out of a guy like Steve. Every part of him wants to reach out, cradle Steve’s face in his hands, wipe away his tears, caress his injuries with a tenderness he’s sure Steve has long forgotten. A part of him wants to hold Steve forever, no sign of letting go. 

Heart in his stomach, shattered yet beating, he speaks as softly as he possibly can manage. “You owe me nothing, Steve. You don’t owe me your best. You don’t owe me your money. You don’t owe me payback or…or a job on your back. There’s nothing that I want from you, I promise. But if you want to give me something…how about just being my friend, huh? Just sit down with me at lunch, share the food I brought, give me as much of a conversation as you want, and just…just let yourself be cared about.

“That’s what I’ll ask of you. If you feel the need to give me something, give me friendship. That’s it. Nothing more than that. Anything else that arises in the future, we worry about then. Bridges waiting to be crossed later, y’know? That’s doable, right? Just being a friend.”

Steve nods in slow understanding. “You wanna be friends with me?” He asks in a whisper. “You know that I’m not the best company, right? I’m…I’m stubborn and I’m bitchy and I—I know sometimes that I don’t use my brain half the time and I just say shit before I really think about it. And I…I’ve been a jerk and I’m—I’m sort of bullshit, Eddie. Is that really something you want in your life?”

Eddie merely shrugs. “You think I don’t have my own flaws? Everybody’s got shit. All of us have baggage. You’re just a teenager, as am I, and we’re still figuring shit out. At least you’re aware, right? Means you can try and…and be more thoughtful about what you do, how you act. And, besides, stop giving me reasons to leave you alone. I want to be your friend. I’ll say it from here to fucking Mars, man.” He raps his fingers against the table, darts his eyes to that sandwich. There’s not really a good way to keep drilling the want of it all into Steve’s head. So, finally, he relents. Gives Steve the step away that he wants. “Go ahead and eat, Steve. I’ll bring you a PB&J tomorrow, yeah? You like grape or strawberry jelly?”

A lapse of silence. Wherein they stare at each other. Two things work their way onto Steve’s face. Adamant protests that, in turn, are squashed and cornered into becoming stubborn acceptance. Jeez, Eddie can’t help but think, what’s it gonna take to get this guy to realize that people can care about him?

“Mm…strawberry, please,” Steve finally decides.

He simply nods. Looks out the window to the courtyard. Cafeteria white noise and Steve’s soft chewing surrounding him. The light hits him just as a cloud begins to move, yellow sunlight, warm and new. It marks the beginning of something unexpected, good, Eddie believes. “I think you’re a good guy, by the way,” he murmurs, “you probably don’t believe me now, but you will one day. Swear on it.”

🥪——————🥪

[sillygoosealert]

UUUUUH SAD ANGST SAD ANGST IDEA

Terminally Ill reader who doesn’t treat it and hides it from Bi-Han because he’ll think it’s weakness, and he’s super hard on them for being ‘lazy’ until one day he wakes up to them cold beside him in bed (Bi-Han pov for extra angst)

STOP THIS INES GETTING TO ME

Are you ignoring me? Answer me..

Bi-han angst, no comfort

It’s 4:00 in the morning, it’s time to get up

However, you have trouble even processing that

It's like you’re in rim sleep- 24/7

This upsets Bi-Han greatly, as his spouse, you should be better than this

And he lets you know this

Every day

And every time he sees you

After his habit of nit-picking started, you looked even more exhausted 

He would feel pity and let you take a break- if you hadn't started to slack off

Maybe you thought he didn't notice when you stopped to go dry heave for a minute and then continue

Or when you sat down for a minute after only an hour or two of work

He did.

And he wasn't thrilled about the whispers and looks not only you, but he got after you started

Most of them were indifferent- or pitiful

And he hated that

People were pitting you for no reason, not one good enough at least

When you got to your room that night, he snapped

‘Do you know what I saw today?’ he hisses, furrowing his eyebrows

‘No, what did you see hun?’ you are whispering, not sure what he's mad at- or who he’s mad at

‘You sitting down, while on duty’ now he’s fuming, he can’t help when he gets mad. He has his fathers rage

‘I had to take a moment to rest, it isn’t easy working for hours at a time’ You look tired, you’re pale, skin sunken in around your eyes

He noticed, but he noticed other people just like doing their work too

‘Are you pregnant?’

‘What? No, I would tell you if I was pregnant.’ you look..upset? If anyone should be upset it should be him

‘Then you have no excuse. Nothing is stopping you from doing your work.’

You don't say anything as you reach for the door

‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m not sleeping with you tonight.’

He says nothing as you leave

The next day he sees you, yet says nothing

He's too busy anyways

You come back to your room that night, you're actually there before he arrives

Pathetic

He says nothing as you shiver and cough and wheeze

‘I love you’

He hears you whisper not long after he gets into bed

‘Get some rest, I know you need it’

That was his way of saying it back, you knew it

He was far from pleased with your recent performance- but he would never let you think he didn't love you

‘Can you say it back?’

‘Why? We've talked about this before..’

He has told you he isn't fond of saying it

It isn't him

‘Goodnight Bi-Han.’

You're ignoring his question

He doesn't know why, and it upsets him

So he turns away from you as he closes his eyes and eventually falls asleep

When he wakes up and turns to you, your back is facing him

He shakes you gently

But no response

So he shakes you a little harder

No response

‘You have to get up today, I'll give you a few more minutes but that's it.’

After he dresses he goes back for you

‘I know you're awake, and I know you're upset..’

He cares about you, he really does. He wants to pour his heart out every time he has the pleasure of holding you in his arms

He wants to say ‘i love you’ every night and every morning, to make sure you remembered

He wants to start a family with you, and hold you close when you are with child- with his child

And he wants to tell you that

But he won't, or maybe he just can't

‘And we can talk about it later, however we have to get up’

You don't even move to look at him

‘Are you ignoring me?’

Maybe he should understand- give you space and time

But he doesn't understand, he didn't do anything in his eyes

‘Answer me. Are you ignoring me?’

The silence is loud and he stomps over to the bed, forcefully turning you over

Tears stain your cheeks as your eyes are glazed over

An empty look for a once-radiant person

Then he lets go of your cold, lifeless body

There is nothing left in you

It's gone- everything is gone and the world isn't spinning anymore

He isn't breathing

Or blinking

He's just staring

He didn't even realize he was backing up until he backed into a wall

Then he goes to the bed a checks for a pulse

Nothing

He picks up your body and cradles it

His own tears now staining your face

He knows he couldn't have changed you dying

Well, maybe he could have

But he really wishes you knew he at least cared about you

But you didn't

And you never would

🎀

[notenoughncise]

Why Don’t You Talk to Matty About it?

word count: 2.5K

f!reader x matty

tags: angst, happy ending

warnings: alcohol, mentions of smut but no actual smut

after pining after matty since they became friends 15 years ago, it all comes to a head for y/n on a drunken night out

——————————————————————————

You’re nearly two bottles of wine deep when she comes up to the table.

“Hiiiiii… I just wanted to say that I’m a massive fan of yours. I loooove the new album!”

She’s drunk as fuck; stumbling over her words, gripping his shoulder to keep herself steady. You feel the jealousy burning through your entire body. It’s a chore not to show it; to smile instead of scowl at her, to drink from your glass at a normal pace instead of throwing it down your throat.

He turns his head to look up at her, smiling so genuinely that you want to claw your eyes out. He’s drunk too, you can see it in the way he clumsily puts his hands over the one she has on his shoulder, eyes glazed over.

“Aw, thank you, Darlin’. We’re glad you like it.”

You feel sick. He’s looking at her so gently, like he might spook her if he doesn’t. She’s just a fan saying hello, you scream at yourself internally, stop being a fucking melt. And it almost works, you almost calm down, and then she giggles and plops herself down next to him. You breathe in sharply, tightening your grip on your glass.

George puts his hand on your thigh, and in leans in to whisper to you.

“Y/N, you need to chill out.”

George is right. You know he is. He’s always fucking right. You need to get a grip. 32 years old and so hung up on your teenage crush that you’re seriously considering squaring up to a teenager. And for what? A man who maybe looks your way twice on a good day? That’s not true. You aren’t being fair. Sometimes you think you see it in his eyes, but it disappears so fast. You can’t ever tell if it was really there. And he smiles, he smiles so softly just for you; so softly it makes you weak in the knees, makes you smile back a shit eating grin every time.

But what does it matter - he isn’t yours. You’re just ‘the friend’, the one woman he can count on to not try it on with him. He told you as much one time, sat huddled together in the freezing cold on someone’s back door step when you were 17. And what were you supposed to say to that? ‘Uhh, actually Matty…’, Yeah right. You smiled and took the fag that was dangling between his fingers, taking the longest drag you could manage so you didn’t have to reply. And here you are, over 15 years later, smiling sweetly and keeping your mouth occupied so you don’t ruin your life.

You’ve got a face like thunder, you can feel it. But you can’t stop it. You can’t stop looking at him, can’t stop the jealousy ripping through you. A jealousy you don’t really have a right to have. He’s got you all wound up. He’s not even looking at you and you’re on the edge of your seat.

But who are you kidding? He’s always got you wound up. Always got your knees on the verge of buckling, always got you hanging onto every word he says. You feel your whole body pulse every time he looks your way. You always have. It’s a curse you can’t escape. Not to be dramatic but sisyphus had it easy compared to you.

You all watch as he runs his hands up and down her waist, keeping his eyes on her. She giggles, bites her lip, clearly living out her rockstar fantasy. You want to strangle her. You wish this wine glass was her and you could just squeeze and squeeze and squeeze and-

“You need another drink, Y/N?” George asks, sensing that you need to be taken away from the table immediately.

“I would love another drink.”

-

George holds open the door to the smoking area for you.

You fumble with the packet, can’t find your lighter, realise that Matty bumped it earlier and never put it back.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

It’s too much. It’s the last straw. Here you are crouched down in a dingy smoking area on the verge of bawling your eyes out. All because some stupid child is holding Matty’s attention. She’s not a child, you think to yourself. She’s obviously old enough to be in here but oh what does it matter. You can’t think straight anymore.

You can’t stop thinking about his hands on her, how you wish they were on you. You’re so jealous. So jealous that she just sat down right next to him and melted onto his body. She did something in 10 seconds that you haven’t done in 10 years. And is it really that easy? Do you just need to hike your dress up, drag out your vowels, and bat your eyelashes? Will you he fuck you senseless then? Take you into the bathrooms and show you what next week looks like?

But that’s not really want you want, is it? It’s just easier to think about him if you convince yourself you only want to fuck him. That all you want is his hands in your hair and your lips on his neck. That you don’t want him in a nice, normal way at all. You don’t think about being the girl in his Instagram stories, or waking up in his arms every morning, or… or…

“This is getting pathetic, Y/N.” George’s hand is gently resting on your shoulder. He doesn’t look angry, he just looks at you with that sort of sad face you have when you can’t hide that you think someone’s being a massive twat.

“Yeah, I know. Believe me I fucking know.” You don’t mean it to sound as sad as it does. George crouches down next to you, running his hand up and down your arm.

You couldn’t count the amount of times you and George have sat like this; cuddled together as you cried about Matty. It never gets old, it’s almost a monthly event now. He joked once that you need to start marking it on the calendar for him so he can wear something he doesn’t mind you covering with makeup. You’ve become unexpectedly close. You never knew him well until that same fateful night you were put in your place by Matty. That was the first time - you sat cross legged on the kitchen counter with your lip quivering and your chest heaving, and George just held your hand until you calmed down.

“You can’t just keep crying about him. If he doesn’t feel the same way it won’t change anything; you’ll be embarrassed for a couple weeks and then it’ll all fall back into place. He’s a dick but he loves you more than anything, Y/N. You know he wouldn’t be mean about it. You know that.”

You choke back a sob. You know he’s right, it wouldn’t change anything really. You’re both adults, no one’s 16 anymore. It can be mature, you can both be sensible. But it’s always the same; gone are your inhibitions and in their place is Matty, clouding up your senses.

“I can’t do it George,” you whisper softly, wiping underneath your eyes with the sleeve of your dress, “I can’t risk losing him. I’d rather never have him the way I want and still have him here than never have him the way I want and not have him here.”

It’s too quiet. It’s quite sudden, it’s uncomfortable. It’s just a girl crying over a crush, except the girl’s in her 30’s and the crush is her best friend.

George pulls himself up off the ground, holding out his hands to help you. You take them gently and you both giggle when you fall flat on your arse. You dust yourself off and stand up properly. George takes a lighter from his pocket and lights the slightly crumpled fag you forgot you’ve been gripping onto.

“Sorry for being a massive gimp.” You laugh gently.

“S’alright, Y/L/N. My favourite thing about you.” He tries to keep his face straight but breaks into a massive grin, laughing along with you.

“I’m fine. I promise, I’m just… I don’t know, I don’t really have the words for it, to be honest with you.”

“Look, we’re gonna go back in there, get another drink, request whatever ridiculous song it takes to cheer you up, and we’re gonna have a fucking great time. Okay?”

“Okay.” You smile at him. You don’t know how anyone survives in this world without George Daniel.

He pulls you into a hug, and you can’t help but start crying again. You wipe at the tears but it does nothing other than ruin your makeup even more.

“I’m gonna look a fucking state when I go back in there.”

“Eh, it’s dark. No one will be able to tell.”

“Wow,” you laugh out, “thanks George, very reassuring.”

“Always welcome, love. Now come on, it’s fucking freezing. You can cry about being in love inside.”

As George starts to lead you back inside, you hear Matty’s voice echoing out towards you.

“Y/N? George? You guys out here? You’ve been gone for ages.” Panic pulses through you as Matty’s voice fills the smoking area.

You’re still glued to George when Matty stumbles onto you both. He looks so worried, distressed. And then he looks confused. Confused why you’re crying, why you’re clinging to George like your life depends on it.

“Yeah, yeah we’re out here. Jus’ having a chat.” George says, rubbing your back with one hand and wiping away your smudged mascara with the other.

You smile gently at Matty, not quite able to meet his eyes. You’re embarrassed, there’s really no other words for it. No excuses, no nothing, the man you’re crying your eyes out about has just wandered in on you doing it. And where do you go from there?

“Y/N? What’s going on, sweetheart? Why you crying so hard?”

He placed a hand on your check, wiping at the bottom of your eyes with his thumb. Fuck sake, your eyes begin watering again (not that they ever stopped). You don’t want to have this conversation. No one wants to have this conversation. George especially doesn’t want to be in the middle of said conversation.

“I’m Okay, Matty.”

He looks sceptical - he knows you too well for this.

“Honestly, Matty, really, I’m okay.”

Lying straight through your teeth to Matty is a fully developed talent at this stage in your life, but you just don’t have the conviction tonight. He tries to meet your eyes again. but you can’t get them off your shoes. You hear him sigh. Shame burns in you - since when couldn’t you spew shit at Matty to keep him on the wrong track?

“Darlin’… Come on, you think I don’t know you well enough to know that’s not true?”

“Matty… Please, just leave it.”

“Okay, I can’t be arsed anymore. You two are getting left to sort this out.” George makes a move towards the door, and before you can process what just happened he’s back inside.

“Fuck.” You try and run after him, but Matty grips your wrist.

“Y/N, what the fuck is going on? Why are you crying and why are you lying to me about it, Darlin’?”

His face is so gentle. His grip on your wrist has loosened but he hasn’t let go. Curls falling in his eyes, fingers on your pulse. It’s too much. It’s too much. And then his other arm snakes around your waist and you can’t do it anymore. Your chest is so tight it might combust. And your face is so hot in the cold London weather that it burns. After an eternity, you meet his eyes.

“I… I can’t… I can’t, Matty. I can’t.”

The grip tightens, he pulls you closer.

“Come on, darlin’, use your words.”

“Oh fuck off, Matthew.” You half sigh, half giggle.

“Use ‘em, come on, use ‘em. Why don’t you talk to Matty about it?”

You laugh gently, watching as his face breaks out in a smile. God he’s so pretty. His hand is still cradling your check, thumb gently gliding over your skin. You don’t want to use your words. You don’t want to talk about this at all.

“Y/N?”

“I’m fine, really. You can go back to flirting with the borderline high schooler.”

It comes out meaner than you wanted it to, and you watch as Matty’s face falls. Fuck. So much for not having this conversation.

“Her? That’s what this is about? A fan I spoke to for less than five minutes?”

You try to move away from him, your cheeks burning red from the embarrassment - like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar. But his grip on your wrist and waist tightens and he pulls you back in.

“Don’t make me do this Matty. I mean it. Please.” Tears well in your eyes, this could be it. This could be the last time Matty ever holds you like this, ever winds you up to stop you from crying. You don’t want it to end. How could you ever want this to end.

“Y/N, are you seriously jealous of a fucking 18 year old? Do you think I’d do that to you? Really? Come on, Darlin’ use that pretty head of yours.”

You’re too busy trying not to let the tears drop that you almost don’t catch the look of sheer panic in his eyes. It stops you in your tracks. Why does he look panicked? Why would he look panicked? Your heart races.

“Matty?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

You’re so close to each other you’re basically breathing the same air. His hand around your waist has been holding yours, your other hand has just been dangling at your side since you didn’t know what to do with it. You know what to do with it now; you bring it up to the hand he has on your cheek, closing your fingers over the top of his.

“What exactly would I need to use my pretty head to figure out?”

“Fuck sake…”

“Come on, darlin’, use your words.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah - fucking c’mere.”

You would’ve laughed at him if you had time (and if you hadn’t been so shocked), but his lips latch onto yours before you can think about anything else. He’s so gentle with you, the hand that was on your waist comes up into your hair. He grips it softly, smiling to himself as you moan quietly.

Before you know it, it’s over. He pulls away from you, but he’s still so close you can hardly look at his face properly.

“I fucking hate you.” You sigh.

“Think that kiss would say otherwise, sweetheart.”

“Matthew, mate, honestly get fucked.”

“Waited 15 years but can’t wait another couple hours? My, my, my.”

“Will you fuck off?” You laugh, not meaning a single syllable of it.

“Never, darlin’. Stuck with me now.”

He kisses you softly again, smiling sweetly at you as he pulls away.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[losing-it-lately]

I''ll give you a song rec and character! I've had "Please, Please, Please" by Sabrina Carpenter in my head for forever and it's basically about two people from different social circles and loving someone who doesn't always make good decisions, so I can really see an Eddie x Reader based on that!

Please Please Please!

wc: 0.6k

heist!eddie munson x reader

angst? more like a whump/fun heist au, but this is very inspired by the mv being about sabrina carpenter not wanting barry keoghan to go to jail

Your friends all have normal boyfriends- normal, law abiding boyfriends. And it's sweet having an intelligent and beautiful man, one who's both cunning and strategic, but kind and empathetic. Eddie is so many wonderful things, but legal isn't one of them.

You met him at the Louvre, a beautiful month-long trip to Paris that ended with finding the man of your dreams. And it was perfect, especially when he invited you to a quick trip to Rome, all expenses paid. Yes, you had just met the man, but you clicked- you had never clicked with anyone before.

“What good timing,” you remarked in the private jet to Italy, “the Louvre just had a set of expensive artifacts stolen. And the Cupid and Psyche statue!”

Of course he took it, it was the statue where you both met! He’s a man of business and love, Eddie can't help himself. And he nearly cries when a few months after your trips, you find the statue when exploring the lovely home you share. “Oh my God. This is why you don't trust men who you’ve only known for a month.” His eyes glaze over as he begins to ramble about it being a replica and him being an “engineer” like he told you.

You calm him down and he swears to tell you the truth, of every heist, of every plan, of every scam. And it's fine, until the first heist that you know is a heist. It was meant to be easy, you would get constant updates from Dustin while you would spend time with your friends at a bar downtown. A lovely alibi. And it was fine, until the updates paused and all of your friends’ questions circled back to your “mysterious European dreamboat”.

It’s difficult to balance “he’s not like that” with humble brags of the jewellery he buys you and quick lies about his job.

It's hours later than expected and you're tensed, the nerves in your stomach are jumbled, and then Eddie jogs in. He’s loud and hyper and the adrenaline is taking over, and suddenly another fear washes over you: the post heist high.

You motion for him to follow you before he can even get a word in with any of your friends. Immediately, in the dingy bar bathroom, he has you pushed up against the mirror, his nose pressed into the junction of your neck, smelling the bitter alcohols and sweet perfumes of the night (and the sweat from dancing, but he would never admit to enjoying it). His lips began pressing into your jaw, the adrenaline threatening to pass onto you, but you resist and push him off. A small pout forms on his lips. “My friends are outside!” You hastily whisper, “We can't do this here, and worse, you cannot give away that you’re a criminal! Please, don't do this to me, Eddie.”

His hands come to your jaw, rubbing and cradling, “I promise. I’ll keep my cool, baby.” Pent up tears threaten to release after all the stress of the night. “Shhhh,” he coos, “I’ll be so cool, don't ruin your makeup over me, pretty girl.”

“You scared me so much Eddie.” You hold onto his hands and soothe yourself. If your friends see tear streaks, they won't assume good and pure things. He stretches his arms around you, he's hot like a furnace from the running, but he's calm somehow, it's like he's calming for you.

You leave the bathroom and join your friends, before ditching early to eat a deserved diner dinner- something greasy and American to replenish the soul. Eddie holds your hand the entire drive there, he draws circles onto your knuckles and laughs as you recount stories of your friends. Next time, his introduction will be better, a brunch or something nice and grown up. But now, he just wants to think about you and your night together, nothing else.

[klausinamarink]

You Said I Would Live, So I Did

rating: M | cw: temporary character death, minor gore, blood and injury | wc: 3k | tags: angst with happy ending, canon divergence, disabled Eddie, hurt Steve, injury recovery | prompt: Love is healing each other’s wounds

sequel to this

written for @steddielovemonth

-

If Steve had nearly lost his voice from that nervewrecking day when Eddie had floated in the trailer park, then Steve was shredding the column of his throat into nonexistence as the exact thing was happening in the Creel House attic.

Eddie’s right arm was broken thrice. His left leg followed soon after. Then his left eye burst with a horrid pop, splurts of blood already staining the side of his face.

All Steve had to do was keep watch of Eddie while the others went to the Upside Down to distract the bats and kill Vecna. All he had to do was to wait for the right moment to return the headphones over Eddie’s ears.

But then the Cunninghams had come over with Jason Carver and a few of their friends.

It wasn’t easy to fight them off, especially when Carver held him at gunpoint while the adults instantly believed Eddie was currently listening to Satan’s messages to destroy their perfect town. But Max had come in swinging. Literally. She had held onto Steve’s trusty nailbat and showed them another reason why she liked the moniker Mad Max.

Steve had his back turned on Eddie for too long.

After the last adult finally scuttled and Carver went unconscious on the ground, Steve couldn’t use the music in time.

Eddie suddenly dropped. Steve just barely caught him in time before his body hit the ground.

“I got you, Eds. I got you right here. You’re gonna be okay. We’re taking you to the hospital-” Steve was rambling, trying to keep his composure as he held onto Eddie. Because he can’t take Eddie to the hospital without making his boyfriend cry out in pain whenever he moved an inch.

“I wa- I want-” Eddie was gasping for air, choking on nothing and everything. His chest was frantically raising up and down, each round making his breath more winded. Steve swore he had heard a few of his ribs breaking right before Eddie had fallen.

“What is it?” Steve asked as calmly as he could despite the wet tremor in his voice. He wanted to look away from Eddie’s face, half of it streaming out thick blood and viscera from the socket. His surviving eye was still glazed over with a few specks of brown with a red tear stain dropping down his cheek.

“W-Wayne,” Eddie gasped out painfully, “I want Wayne!”

“He’s on his way right now.” Steve lied. He had no idea if Wayne and Nancy and Robin were okay and actually coming back. He twisted his head over to Max, whose terrified gaze hadn’t left Eddie since he started floating. “Max! Call an ambulance!” He couldn’t believe how much of his voice still held.

Then Max was staring at Steve, her blue eyes welling up as she started shaking. Steve looked back to see Eddie had gone limp. His heartbeat, frantic and jackhammering against Steve’s palm just seconds ago, was no longer there.

“No. No, no, no-” Steve’s voice stopped working then, even when a sob worked its way out of his ruined throat. He pulled Eddie closer, his hand cupping the back of his head when glowing red cracks started splintering the wood right underneath them.

—

There was still blood under his fingernails.

Steve stared at them dully. It was a better distraction than the mechanical beeping and the faint throbbing on his sides. The demobat bites were long stitched-up during those early chaotic hours of waiting. His throat had already been looked at, but nothing but a pack of ice, water, and an easy rest was prescribed.

Steve had almost laughed. He hadn’t gotten an easy rest since he saw a monster burst out of Jonathan Byers’ ceiling.

He couldn’t lift his eyes up. Not because he was tired, no matter how his brain felt it had turned into jelly and dripping out of his ears, but if he brought his gaze up, then he would still see Eddie.

Eddie, who laid in bed with half of his body in thick casts and bandages around the left side of his face and an oxygen tube down his throat, comatose even after two and half days. Eddie, whom Steve had promised over and over to protect him even before Vecna laid his nasty claws on him.

But Steve failed to do exactly that and had let Eddie die.

Because of him, Vecna’s plan succeeded and tore Hawkins in half.

Even though it was a fucking miracle that Eddie’s heart started pulsing again, Steve couldn’t forget it. He could scrub the blood and grime off himself and the high-pressure of his shower wouldn’t do shit to erase the sudden lightweightness of Eddie’s body in his arms. Steve’s stomach swooped with nausea at the recollection. He had always complained of Eddie being so heavy despite his flat ass whenever Eddie had taken the opportunities to randomly launch himself at Steve, who had always caught him even if he was already holding something.

He never wanted to know how light Eddie had felt after dying, but now he does and it was going to forever haunt him.

The doors opened. Without looking, Steve greeted tiredly, “Hey, Wayne.”

Big mistake. He heard the man pause before his boots strode over to him. Neither of them hadn’t talked in between the chaos of the ‘earthquake’, the brief volunteering at the high school, and Robin’s attempts to distract him out of the hospital. Now, they were in the same room and Steve braced himself for a punch. Actually, Wayne wasn’t that physical. So Steve braced himself for a cold warning to leave and never show his face again.

Instead, Wayne gently clamps a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

It makes him look up then. Wayne’s wrinkles had deepened and his eyes were slightly red. He looked more exhausted than Steve had ever seen.

“You need to rest up,” Wayne said gently. Why was he still nice? He shouldn’t be. Not after Eddie-

Before Steve could protest, Wayne led him to a small couch at the corner. It was horribly uncomfortable and itchy but once he laid down, Steve immediately fell asleep.

—

Steve hated dreams.

Most times, he lost the fight. He was manhandled, forced to watch as Carver shot a bullet into Eddie, splattering brains across the ground and walls. Sometimes it was Max who was shot. Whenever the floor broke apart, Steve let himself fall and burn in the gate instead of dragging Eddie away. Eddie’s bones broke, all four limbs like the others. Sometimes his eyes melted first. Sometimes his ribs burst out of his chest. Sometimes his neck snapped as well. Sometimes his skin peeled itself from his hands and turned into claws. Sometimes he came back fine and unharmed but then he dropped with wide unmoving eyes. Sometimes it was one of their dates that never went that way it had actually happened because Eddie would float up and then they were in the attic again.

Every time, Eddie’s mouth twisted into a snarl, “You’re a shitty liar, Steve Harrington.”

Steve started to lose count how many times he’d woken up with a scream caught in his throat.

—

Three weeks later after Vecna shattered half of his body, Eddie woke up.

Steve wasn’t there when it happened. Robin and Dustin had pushed him to shower and change so he went to his house, sat under the shower as it turned cold for probably an hour, and came back to the hospital just in time for Dustin to suddenly shove his face against Steve’s chest and blubbered out-

“He’s awake.”

In another universe, Steve would have sprinted immediately towards Eddie’s room with nothing but immense joy.

Instead, he felt utter cold numbness as Dustin took his hand and dragged him there.

There were doctors fretting around Eddie. Wayne was holding Eddie’s uninjured hand like a lifeline with teary eyes. The other kids were clamoring at the foot of the bed.

During the commotion, Eddie’s eye had flickered over and met Steve’s. There was a crinkle of hope and relief behind them.

Steve was back in the attic, split between the before and after of Eddie’s eye losing life behind them, mere seconds before the ground split.

For the first time, Steve ran away.

—

To his credit, it had taken a week before anyone found him. And by anyone, it was Robin of course.

“What are you doing here?” Robin wrinkled her nose as she looked down at him, hands in overall pockets. She was upside down from where Steve was laying down.

“Enjoying the view.” Steve gestured up with the can he was drinking from.

Robin looked at the sky and glared back down at him, “It’s cloudy and about to rain, smartass.”

Steve giggled, chasing the tipsiness while it lasted. He never stayed high or drunk long enough after the Russians injected their truth serum in his veins. “You called me a smartass.”

“Jesus, Steve,” Robin groaned as she squatted down and pulled him up to a sitting position. Steve tried to swat her away but she refused to let go.

“Where the hell are you?” Robin asked. Steve raised an eyebrow at her and gestured to the wide wheat field they were in. Couldn’t be Indiana without them.

“No, where-” Robin snatched the beer can out of his hand despite Steve’s protests, “-the hell are you?”

Steve glared back at her. “Don’t speak riddles- ow!”

Robin hit him square on the cheek with the can, which was better than another hit on the head. Then her fists curled into the stained collar of his shirt and Steve was treated to the up-close view of her snarling teeth.

“Why the fuck aren’t you at Eddie’s side? Why aren’t you with everyone else giving him support to start physical therapy? Where were you?”

Steve swallowed. The tippiness was already gone. He had been holding it for about.. two hours? That had to be a new record.

Robin shook him violently, “Where-?”

“Nowhere!” Steve yelled. His voice carried across the fields for a few seconds before the echo died. He continued before Robin opened her mouth again, “I just want to be nowhere in Hawkins because I let that town fall apart! So what if El is fixing the fissures, none of it changes that everyone knows it’s my fault they were even there!”

Robin had loosened her grip but Steve kept going, the pieces of himself that died with Eddie he had tried to bury under the broken floorboards at that attic resurfacing. It all came out watery and salty in his mouth.

“I told everyone - you, Wayne, Dustin, Nancy - that Eddie will be fine! Nothing would happen because I would stay with him. But something happened and he died! He died in my arms, Robs, and now he’s awake and I can’t just let myself pretend that I looked away for one second and let Vecna kill him while I could have done something.” Steve sucked in a shaky breath. He looked into Robin’s eyes and tried to smile like used to.

“Steve…” Robin was no longer angry. She looked like she was about to cry.

“His heart stopped.” Steve whispered. It was a well-known fact among the party. Dumb Steve was distracted and Eddie got his bones broken and was medically dead for a minute. “I felt his heart… it just stopped.”

He had spent the rest of that week listening and feeling Eddie’s heartbeat. It had become his own song, the lifeline between them. It had both assured Steve and nearly drove him mad. It was a sacred prayer made between their devoted lips on that blissful night when Eddie had survived.

“You will live. You will live.”

Steve should have known better than to pray. No one listened to his prayers since he was seventeen.

His teeth started chattering, a habit from clenching his jaw so hard whenever he was about to cry.

“His heart stopped and I had to hold him while the gates opened.” The tears finally slipped. “Now ask me again where I was.”

Robin doesn’t. She hugged him tight, making no comment even as the rain broke out or when Steve wiped his snot over the shoulder of her shirt.

—

Steve lingered at the door for another minute before he took in a deep breath and finally stepped inside.

To his surprise, Eddie was alone. Steve briefly wondered if this was Robin’s work but he shook that away. He approached the bed quietly, not willing to announce himself yet.

“I know it’s you.”

Steve froze. Eddie made a quiet chuckling sound before he turned his head towards Steve’s direction. His sole eye had cleared slightly, more brown than white. Most of the thick bandages were removed in lieu of a simple eyepatch. There was a thin tube running out under it.

“Like my new look?” Eddie tilted his head up slowly, probably not to jostle the tube. “It’s modeled after my ancestor Edward Blackbeard. Can’t grow the beard though, something about hygiene.”

It was almost a shock how Eddie retained his humor despite the worst week of their lives. Yet it was so Eddie that Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

“If you can’t grow a beard, then your hair genetics are terrible.” Steve joked back, letting himself sit on one of the chairs.

Eddie opened his mouth to mock-retort back, but winced soon after. He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again, slowly this time, “Apparently I have so much leftover brain juice that the docs need to drain it out before I get approved for physical.”

“Ah,” was all Steve said.

“Yeah.”

They fell into silence again, less comfortable than Steve was used to. He glanced at the casts around Eddie’s arm and leg, all covered with doodles from the kids. It clenched at his heart.

“You know what was one of the things he showed me?”

Steve snapped his gaze back up. Eddie wasn’t looking at him.

It was the first time that either of them dared to breach the topic of Vecna’s visions.

“W-What?”

“He showed how you were an asshole at school, but mega-worse. Made you into someone who was with me just for the sex and weed.” Eddie shrugged like it was no big deal. “Then you ran away even when I called for you to come back.”

Nausea hit Steve like a freight train. He just stared at Eddie because that was what Steve had done.

He had run away because when he saw Eddie looking at him after being comatose, Steve had seen the exact opposite of that moment’s future. Steve had been convinced that Eddie would never forgive him for not saving him and Steve would rather flee like the goddamn Cowardly Lion than face another spit of anger.

“Eds-” Steve started but Eddie was looking back at him and he wasn’t done.

“You know I never believed that last part? Because I knew what kind of person you were and you would never leave.” Eddie’s eye flashed with anger. “So why, on the day I finally woke up, you looked at me in the eye and ran?”

Steve came apart. There had to be something wrong with him, that maybe Vecna secretly targeted him before his ass got fried up, because he was good at shoving the worst of his emotions down. But he had been making more waterworks in the past month than the Niagara Falls.

Steve clenched his nails into his thighs as he blubbered out, “I’m sorry, Eds, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Eddie made some kind of dying animal noise at the back of his throat. Steve felt sick again. He was back at the stupid attic, Eddie on his lap as he breathed too fast and Steve wanted him to slow down before he choked on his own blood-

“-eve, Steve, come here, c’mon.”

He felt his upper body moving. Then he was pressed against another below him. A hand on the side of his head.

“Listen, listen, Stevie.”

Steve bit his lip and stayed quiet, waiting for what Eddie to say next.

But he only heard an ongoing rhythm of babump-babump-babump-babump against his ear.

“You hear that, sweetheart?”

Steve shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears racing down his face.

“Remember what you said that night? That no matter how we defeat Vecna, that I will live.”

“You died.” Steve blurted, “You died and I got Hawkins destroyed.”

Eddie was silent for an awfully long time. Steve felt him swallow a few times before he replied firmly, “Don’t say it like that.”

“Huh?” Steve finally lifted his head up. Eddie still looked angry but it seemed directed elsewhere entirely.

“I took that risk to be the bait. I knew that there was a fifty-fifty chance I would make it out unscathed. I knew what I had to do, but no matter what-” Eddie paused for a moment, clear drops of tears falling from his eye. “I will live.”

With a shaky breath, he smiled wearily at Steve, “And look at me, sweetheart. I kept that promise.”

Steve cried again. He desperately wanted to kiss Eddie but his boyfriend was clearly still in pain, so he carefully cupped his hands under Eddie’s jaw, mindful of the bandages and tube. “I’m so sorry I ran away. I was scared you would hate me, well you kinda did now-”

Eddie shushed him, “Please stop doing that. I never hated you, I was just mad and now I’m not anymore.”

“Still-” Steve was cut off by Eddie leaning forward, bopping his nose against Steve’s. Eddie made another wince and the two of them waited for whatever pain to subside before Eddie spoke again.

“If you promise to be there every day of my physical therapy and don’t be a dick about my missing eye and whatever of me needs extra care, then your sins will be forgiven.”

Steve gave out a watery laugh, “Easy promise.”

[welcometololaland]

wip wednesday

y'all - i feel like i've been so fucking annoying lately but i'm here to request one thing of you - give me some juicy snippets to read because i'm finally on top of my shit. and i've always wanted to start wip wednesday (for all i know someone has already started it but don't rain on my parade! let me live in denial) and now i maybe can. This is from ALTA which is (omg) so close to being posted. 10 days. fuck. i'm not ready (i am).

“She’s really gone, isn’t she?” TK asks, his voice breaking as his head remains burrowed into Carlos’ shoulder. He’s stopped shaking now, which Carlos takes to be a good sign, but he’s cried so persistently that the whole front of Carlos’ jacket is wet. 

He pauses, leans back and cups TK’s face in his hands, using his thumbs to brush away a few errant tears. He briefly considers making a passionate speech about TK’s mother being dead but not gone – living on in his heart – but then he decides for pragmatism. He thinks TK will appreciate that more, anyway.

“Yes,” he says simply. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to accept.”

TK sniffs, his glazed eyes staring helplessly into Carlos’ own. “What do I do now, Carlos?”

Carlos sighs, brushing away another of TK's tears. “I’m not really sure, TK,” he admits. “But right now, I can take you home. It might be nice to cry somewhere that isn’t your high school computer lab.”

A tiny, hesitant smile appears at the corners of TK’s mouth. “I think my dad will be relieved,” he says. “He keeps asking why I haven’t cried yet, like it's some kind of crime.”

“Well, he’s definitely going to be pleased to see you,” Carlos points out, as TK nods tearfully. 

“Could you— Do you mind coming with me?” TK asks as Carlos steps back and drops his hands. “I don’t really want to be alone and my dad is driving me nuts. My other friends…they wouldn’t understand.”

“I hope they do understand, TK,” Carlos replies solemnly, collecting his books and following TK out of the darkened classroom. “I think everyone will do their best to support you.”

TK makes a non-committal sound as they walk down the empty hall – devoid of students – amplifying the sound of their sneakers on the linoleum. “Not like you,” he says, after a pause. “I know we’ve only been friends for a little bit, but you’re different.”

“Oh yeah?” Carlos asks, pushing open the front doors and following TK down the steps. “In what way?”

TK pauses, looking back up at Carlos as he descends the stairs, a pensive look on his face. “You’re good, Carlos,” he replies simply. “You’re good for me.”

Open tag for anyone to share but also some targeted attacks under the cut (with insane requests, feel free to ignore me)!!!

@theghostofashton (need some exes to lovers PLEASE), @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut (boxing AU boxing AU!), @goodways (got a tasty treat shannon?) @reyesstrand (food fic???) @strandnreyes (please don't hurt me but you can if you want) @rmd-writes (just because i love you) @heartstringsduet (FIRST AID?!) @carlos-in-glasses (what's next up CIG?) @birdclowns (your wip snippet game has me blurry eyed, i must know more) @fitzherbertssmolder (any comic progress?) @louis-ii-reyes-strand (been loving your snippets) @lilythesilly (fighter pilot AU?!) @kiloskywalker (tarlos fighter pilot AU????) @sanjuwrites (soulmates????) @three-drink-amy (teacher AU teacher AU teacher AU!!) @chicgeekgirl89 (any yachts about?) @lemonlyman-dotcom (some music fic for my ears???) @wandering-night19 (4 x 18 coda???) @thisbuildinghasfeelings (cross stitching update??!!!) @freneticfloetry (something from the soulmates timer fic???) @alrightbuckaroo (summer parisian au my beloved!!!!) @cha-melodius (you've got mail AU????) @redshirt2 (anything you would like to contribute, i'd just love you to keep feeding me!) @iboatedhere (how are those prompts???) @orchidscript (lovingly bullying you to keep writing) @marjansmarwani (i know the words are hard but also i am lovingly bullying you as well <3) @morganaspendragonss (has angst queen got anything this week?) @lightningboltreader (THAT ANGSTY ONE BED THING I AM SCARED BUT I WANT)

[emotionallyattachednerd]

His Princess Part 2 ❙ EP Swindle x f!human reader ❙ NSFW 18+

Word count: 3000+ 😲

Warnings: Smut ( tocuhing, fingering, oral and spike penatration all nearing the end ) possessive behaviour, some angst and size difference. NSFW 18+.

Notes: So this happened. Why the hell do I get carried away with these? I don't know how to write a short story lol. I would like to thank @strawverrysweet for their request, and hope you don't mind it being long. I turned it into a part 2 from the first one I did here. There's smut, there's angst, read on to find out how it ends. 😅

Tips☕

It's been days since you last saw Swindle. You both had your first fight, or argument, you weren't very sure what to call it, but it happened and now you are riddled with sadness and guilt.

On each visit he would get you gifts. First it starts small, to the point he got you an actual diamond necklace. That's how the fight started. You questioned and he bluntly admitted he stole it for his princess. You didn't like the fact he was stealing and he didn't understand why you were upset about it.

He left in annoyance, leaving you to drown in misery. You missed him and desperately wanted to see him.

It wasn't right though and he shouldn't have done that.

Back at your home you look out your window with the view of the thick trees surrounding the area. You were blessed to have a place outside the city and to settle in nature.

You just finished washing up when you hear the familiar transformation sound from outside. You hurry outside the door where you find Swindle.

You honestly had no idea what to say or if he wanted to speak first, but you did move forward and hug him around his giant leg. You missed the big dummy.

It seems he approves because he ends up letting out a soft cackle and picking you up under his servo, making you hug his digit next as he brings you up to his optic level.

"Hi princess." He smiles while bringing you closer. "Miss me?"

"Yeah." You admit through a defeated groan. "I was worried about you. I'm sorry we fought, it's just..." You go quiet as you think over your words.

Swindle seems quiet as well. His optics were shifted around, as if he was nervous, but you weren't quite sure what he was thinking. Before you could ask anything you felt his large digit move towards your neck where you are wearing the diamond necklace he stole for you.

"You're wearing it." He smiles broadly. "Looks so pretty on you."

As much as you don't like that he stole it, you love how it looks on you, and you've been wearing it since he left those days before.

"It does look pretty." You admit through another defeated huff through a smile. "Just...promise, no more stealing. I don't need luxury things, all I want is you." You admit warmly as you press a tender kiss against the padding of his digit.

He seems surprised to hear you say this, then conflicted, worried. Seriously, what is the big guy thinking? Maybe you are saying too much?

"Swindle? Listen, I get if this is too much, or weird for you. You're a giant robot and I'm a human, but we already live in a weird universe, right? Things happen for a reason. I need you. I've been a depressive mess while you were gone, made me realise just how much I want to be with you."

Your words seem to hit him differently, a feeling he's probably not really felt much in his long lifetime.

"Princess, I care about you too." Hearing his confession must've not been easy for him. "I want you to be safe. Which is why I need to go."

Go?

"Why?" You manage to ask through the lump forming in your throat and eyes glazing over.

"Because it's not safe. It won't be forever, I'll come back again, but I do need to disappear for a bit until things settle."

"Take me with you." You suddenly say to him, clinging onto his digit refusing to let go. "I can handle it. Swindle," you stare up at him, concerned filling your eyes, "is someone after you?"

The answer is in his face, you see it. Yes, someone is after him.

Suddenly, a bright blue rope shoots out and wraps tightly around Swindle's arm, yanking him back forcefully. You gasp at the sudden movement while he brings you closer against his chassis with his free servo to prevent you from falling.

You have no idea what's going on but you suddenly find your home surrounded by dark dressed people, large vehicles and weapons drawn towards Swindle, more electrified ropes being shot out at his legs to prevent him from escaping, than his other was yanked out, the one you sat in and held on to prevent yourself from being tossed onto the ground.

"NO!" You scream as you cling into Swindle's digits tightly. "STOP IT! Leave him alone!"

"Drop the girl!" You hear one of the men speak through a megaphone.

"I ain't dropping her stupid human!" Swindle shouts back as he tries to get free from the ropes. If he did drop you, it'll be a hard landing.

"Swindle." You hear another deep voice and look over Swindle's digit to see a bright blue and red robot approach. You knew then that they were still around after all those years ago, and this is Optimus Prime. "It's over. Surrender yourself and come quietly. Let the human go, please."

"Unless you want her to have a rough landing, I suggest one of you catch her." Swindle glares back. He was fighting it, the concern for you. He fears to show he cares about you and you know it's not meant to be in a hurtful way but to put you out of danger.

Some people slowly approach below with what looks like a safety blanket to catch you. Your reaction is dumb, but you can't help yourself as you remove one of your slippers and peg it at one of their heads, catching them off guard a little.

"Screw you and go to hell."

It's Swindle that moves his servo, forcing you to slip from him. You look up as you fall and see his faint smile, a smile of sympathy. He cares, you know this and he'll keep you out of danger as best he could.

Once you're caught you don't make it very easy for them as they end up putting you into a van with guards. You look out the tinted window at Swindle as he's being arrested, your heart breaking yet again as you're taken away.

They took you somewhere, a building, or bunker, you weren't quite sure, but you gave them the silent treatment. You refused to answer any of their questions or reveal anything about Swindle. They call themselve GHOST but you hardly care. You were forced to hear them speak, about any involvement with a decepticon and how she knew him, but you didn't crack.

A part of you wanted to scream at them and demand to see Swindle, but you also knew that wouldn't be very smart. If they are to find out anything going on between the two of you, you didn't know what they might do next and you didn't really want to find out either.

But you are worried for Swindle. What are they going to do to him? Where are they taking him? Were you ever going to see him again?

You're held there for a time, you couldn't be too sure how long but eventually you were allowed to go home. You have no doubt that you'll be watched but you don't care about that. 

Back at your home you try to distract yourself from recent events and it doesn't take long for you to cry into your pillow, letting out hitched sobs feeling more alone than ever before.

Your hand comes up to your necklace, fingers tracing over the diamonds before clutching them. It is all you have that reminds you of him, and you never wanted to forget him.

As the days turn into months, just when you thought things couldn't get worse they did. Something weird was happening in Witwicky, and everyone was forced to evacuate.

You honestly didn't know what was happening as everyone was forced to leave and take shelter, and you doubt anyone knew what was happening. But after a long night it was over? You were allowed to return back home then, but you knew something went down.

Whatever it was, you hope it is gone for good.

As you returned back to your home you were glad everything looked the same, but there was one of those GHOST vans parked out front, and a man standing near your front door.

"Can I help you? Not that I want to help you at all..." You say as you approach, arms crossed and without a care. He ignores what you say.

"It's good you got out when you could. My name is Agent-I mean, just call me John." You did sort of recognize him when Swindle was arrested, had a much more serious tone than, but now he sounds lost, defeated. "As you can see a lot happened but I'm not going into detail, I'm here for something else."

You narrow your eyes at the man, unsure what that means.

"Do you trust Swindle?" Now that was a question you weren't expecting.

"Yeah...I do." You answer, trying to sound convincing. "Why do you ask?"

There is a long pause before he exhales. "Alright! Fine...come on out."

From behind your home you see Swindle come out of hiding and your breath hitches. He's here!

Dropping your bag you run over and leap into his open servo as he kneels down, holding you close against him as you embrace the big bot.

"Hey princess." He says as you kiss the corner of his lips through your beaming smile.

"I missed you." You truly did miss your robot boyfriend.

It's John that clears his throat. "Alright, so, whatever you two have going on here it's none of my business. I will say though you'll both be watched, carefully, and Swindle you're not allowed to cause trouble or run off. You're to stay put!"

"Don't talk to me as if I'm a bad pet!" Swindle snaps at the man, but his attention is brought back to you when you caress his cheek plating.

"Stay with me, please." You wanted him to stay, forever.

Swindle looks at you, optics slowly softening before he finally nods with a sigh. "Alright, but only for you, not him." He sends a glare to John.

He keeps his promise and stays. Turns out the decepticons all helped save the world and were given a third chance to redeem themselves, and they finally accepted. Of course they were to work together with the autobots but you were just happy to have Swindle back in your life.

You even got to meet his brother who he spoke about. He knew about the two of you, and he seems fine with it. You think others know as well but none are going to question it, ever.

You did question Swindle if they hurt him while he was in prison. He didn't want to talk about it. Something happened, but you didn't want to push it out of him. If he wants to talk about it he will when he's ready you told yourself. But you knew that whatever happened, he got hurt. You didn't want him getting hurt ever again.

One night he had a surprise for you, one you've been wanting for a long time and he is finally going to give it to you, literally.

In your barn you lay naked on the bales of hay covered by a soft blanket for yourself. You only wear the diamond necklace, a gentle request by Swindle.

"Oh I've missed this." He purrs in delight as his digits gently run over your naked form.

In the position you laid you are in perfect level with him. You both want this to be as pleasant as possible without any struggles. As excited as you are, you are also nervous.

He seems to notice this. "You alright princess?" His digit is gently rubbing against your inner thigh as he leans closer.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just been a while since we've had any fun." You answer through a heated sigh as he touches you in the right spots. He never forgets and always knows your sweet spots.

"If you want to wait-" You cut him off.

"No, please. I've waited. I want to try. I'll let you know if it becomes too much, but I want to try." You say fondly, running you hand over one of his servo against you.

He smiles and leans closer, sharing a kiss with you as you hold his face and kiss him back tenderly. You gasp into his lips when you feel his digit stretch your core, slowly pumping as you use your hand to rub at your clit to build up your arousal more.

You want to be so ready for him.

He adds a second digit making your back arch and mewl out and clench on on him, hearing him hiss as he did this to his digits gets him all heated and aroused himself.

"Oh sweet spark, I love your reactions. So lively!" You hear him say with a smug look on his face.

"Only for you!" You know he loves that, to praise him and let him know who you belong to.

"That's right, all mine. You're my beautiful princess."

He removes his digits from your core leaving you wet and empty, then you hear the familiar sound of his panel shifting and throbbing cable emerging.

Glancing down you see it. Standing tall and tarped tip leaking fluids, using his servos to spread your thighs wider and tugging you to the edge of the covered bales right at his level.

It is without a doubt you knew you won't be able to take all of him. He laid himself across your core and belly, the tip ending right between your breasts. Yeah, not all will fit, but some will.

Slowly he rubs himself against you, drawing out heated gasp from you as he lets out short grunts, fluids leaking out and coating against your skin. The sight of you makes Swindle moan in delight.

"Here we go." He says, as if to warn you while he grabs himself and moves himself lower, pressing against you.

You are so wet already so the tarp tip of his cable slid in with ease, but the more he pushed forward the bigger he got and the tighter you became.

You can't help the moans and gasps that leave your plump lips. Feeling yourself stretch so much was something you've never felt before, and it really gets your heart pumping.

Swindle isn't dumb and knows to be careful. He was surprised you managed to take the first bit of him, watching on as he sank inch by inch, a bulge forming at your belly before stopping himself. He isn't even half way, but this is all you can take of him.

"Fuck..." You whimper out as you squeeze your eyes closed, choked groans leaving you. You felt so full, letting out surprising gasps from the twitching coming from his cable buried deep in you.

"You doing alright?" He asks from above you as he stays still, violet optics illuminating across your naked quivering body.

"Y-yeah." You manage to answer, moving your hand down across the bulge that has formed making your breath hitch. "Holy shit...you fill me so much. I can feel everything!"

"You feel very snug, princess, it feels so good. I promise to be careful." Swindle assures you before you feel him slowly moving out from you, only to give a short and slow thrust back forward again, causing both him to grunt and you to moan loudly.

He was huge! Of course you already knew this, but now experiencing it is a whole new feeling. You feel every slow movement he gives, every ridge rubbing against your inner walls, and every push his tarp tip pressed up against your belly. The pain wasn't bad, if you want to call it that, but the pleasure is burning through every inch of you like wildfire, and you love every moment of it.

Swindle makes sure to keep himself steady and not lose control of himself. His instincts were telling him to bury himself fully but that isn't going to happen. He's enjoying himself very much, and is proud to see you are loving this as well.

Soft mewls left you with each movement he gives, thrusting himself into you gently as you grip into the blanket under you, feeling the rocking motion both from him and the bales you laid upon.

Moving your hand again to your clit you rub yourself in circular motions and your other lays across where you feel Swindle's cable pressing up against your belly over again, and bringing you closer to your orgasim.

"Oh princess, so fragging good." You hear Swindle say above you before you open your eyes, smiling through the blooming pleasure about to erupt through you.

His grip on you tightens as he lets out a long strained groan, movements becoming shorter and firmer as his cable throbs, surrounded by your clenching tight depths.

"Swindle...fuck...I'm about ot cum!" You warn, seeking that approval from him, but it seems he isn't far off either.

"Do it! Frag!" He curses out before his thrusts turn jerky and you feel a sudden burst of warmth filling you deeply.

You cum with arched hips and a loud cry, whimpering as you feel his fluids filling you so much that it expands against your belly and out around his cable inside you still.

You both remain like this for a time, heavy breaths and venting filling the barn, before eventually Swindle slowly removes himself. You feel his cable retreat, followed by his fluids that your body isn't able to hold onto and lay there in a tired and blissful mess.

Swindle leans down and touches your face tenderly through a proud smile. "You did so nicely, so proud of you."

"Thank you...you were amazing." You answer back fondly.

He shares a kiss with you. You never want to let him go again, and you think he felt the same way about you.

[fl3shm4id3n]

ᵢ'ₗₗ Wₐᵢₜ Fₒᵣ Yₒᵤ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭 𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ ᴛᴇ ꜱᴜʟɪ ᴛꜱʏᴇʏᴋ'ɪᴛᴀɴ x ᴏᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʏᴀ! ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴏɴɢ: ᴘᴀʙʟᴏ ᴀʟʙᴏʀᴀɴ- ꜱᴀᴛᴜʀɴᴏ

Tw: angst, flashback, death of a broken heart, malnourishment, depression, traveling with a corpse, death of exhaustion, sad but happy ending? sorry for any grammar mistakes, I'll edit his later.

A/N: I really liked the tale of Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl, hopefully this fic is of your liking.

Masterlist

It felt as if it were yesterday, when Neteyam had told you the news that he was living with his family to be with the Metkayina clan, the reef na'vi.

"Must you really go?" You asked with tears running from you eyes down your cheek. Neteyam was holding onto your hands, tightly, as if he didn't want to let you go. "I have to, or else, the clan may be in danger, my family is in danger." He said, trying his hardest in not cry, he wanted to remain strong for you. You sobbed "but, the clan can help, you father is Toruk Makto" you pointed out while crying.

Neteyam then pulled you into a tight hug, allowing you to cry on his shoulder. You somewhat sounded like his mother, she had pointed out to his father that he was the great Toruk Makto. "I'm sorry y/n, but i's not going to be easy. We have to go, or else, we could die, you and the clan can die because of us." He said, while hugging you close to him. You cried harder while you had your arms wrapped around his torso.

He then pulled you away slightly, making you face him. Your eyes were red and puffy from the crying. "Let's make a promise" Neteyam's words caught your attention. "A promise?" you asked while looking at him. He nodded. "Yes, that we will wait for one another, no matter how long it takes, I will return to you, I promise" he said the most calmest possible. You noticed the years in his eyes. You thought about it for a moment, then you nodded to him. "I'll wait, I'll wait for you." Those wee you final words to him.

The next day you along with your family and the whole clan was gathered at the Spirit Tree. You had been in tears already, watching how Tarsem 'killed' Toruk Makto, making him the Olo'ektan while JakeSully and his family left. You and Neteyam shared a glaze, who would of thought it would be the last. You felt your heart ache, painfully when you watched him leave with his family, you basically had gone hysterical.

You had missed him dearly. You'd hoped that it was just a bad dream that you had, you'd go to you secret spot and see if he might have been there, but not, it was real, he was really gone. He had left behind one of his necklaces, you wore it the whole time and never took if off. Neteyam loved the necklace, so you cherish it every day.

For days, you cried, you could not get used to the absence of Neteyam and his family. As much as you tried not to shed a tear, you couldn't help it. Not only that but you began to feel a sharp pain on your chest, you could feel your heart burning by the pain of not being able to see the love of you life. Not only that but you had completely neglected yourself. You barely left your home, you barely ate anything o drank anything at all. You just couldn't do it no matter how hard you tied.

This made your family concern, they thought that you'd be okay after a while, but no, you were not okay. They had asked Mo'at for some help. when she got a look at you, she knew something was wrong, due to how thin and sickly you have got. You no longer smiled or were active like before.

Mo'at had mentioned how he grandson would no have liked it f he saw you like this. The mention of his name made you cry in hysteria, anything that reminded you of Neteyam made you cry, even the mention of his name would get you to tear up. Mo'at understood how you were feeling, she felt the same way when someone were to mention her daughter, son and her grandchildren, she didn't blame you.

Several months had passed, you did not get any better, you were worse. You had got sick due t the lack of eating, drinking and sleeping. At this point Mo'at had asked the scientists for help, thy tried their best into help heal you, but nothing, nothing could of been done, you were in the verge of death. You had been bed ridden, numb and would not say a word that wasn't Neteyam. All you could think about was Neteyam, wondering when he'll return, nothing else mattered to you you just wanted Neteyam.

One day you heard your family talking, about something that happened to Neteyam. He got shot and most believed that he did not survive, this broke your already damaged heart. You began to shed tears, believing that rumor to be true, that was you final cry until you had passed that night when everyone went to sleep and have wished you a good night. The next morning, your family was distraught, you mother had tried to wake you, but you were cold to the touch, you were dead. They new from the scientist that you could of died at any moment, but it still hurt. Specially since it was your mother who had found you.

While everything was getting prepared for your funeral, the Sully's hand come back. No one expected for them to come back, specially around this time. Neteyam was alive, everyone was glad that they were back and well. When Neteyam asked about you, that was when things were going to turn out bad. He did no believe it when he was informed about your death. But when he got a look at you, he was destroyed.

Neteyam wanted to be in denial, you must have been sleep and just cold. He tried to wake you, even got a blanket to try and warm you up, nothing. He desperately wanted you to wake up and see that he was there, that he had come back like he promised. You were dead. He couldn't help but cry, he cried while hugging your corpse. He still couldn't believe that you were gone, you both had made a promise, a promise he kept, but you death was not part of that promise. Neteyam felt that he was responsible for your death, you waited and waited, but you couldn't handle his absence. He felt broken.

He stayed with your body that night, holding you as if you were sleeping next to him. He didn't want to let you go, ever. That night he dreamt of the things you both did years back. How you both hunted together, went of flights at night and would star gaze for hours. The next morning before anyone would b awake, Neteyam had taken you body with him. He was going to take you to the highest mountain on Pandora, he wanted for you and him to see the stars one more time together.

Neteyam didn't take his ikran with him, instead he walked with you in arms. He walked for days, non stop, not caring that he was exhausted, he just kept n gong. The whole walk he would sing your songcord, day and nigh, he'd sing it, as well as add another part to your songcord, for only him to sing and know.

Finally he had arrived to the highest mountain, but before anything, he had made you a bed out of flowers that he knew you'd like for sure. He then laid you down on the flower bed and used the remaining flowers to put around you. He had lid a torch using some wood he found, so when it was dark. For the rest of that day, Neteyam kept singing your songcord for hours and hours until night fall.

That nigh he laid next your copse, looking at the stars while he torch was still lit. For some reason that nigh the stars were much prettier then usual, some he thought that he could see you face smiling at him. He reached over to hold you hand, weakly. Neteyam felt his eyes getting heavier by the minute, all he could think of is you. Just you, the thing he saw was the stars that he could swear he heard you call out his name to him. "Yawne" beloved, he whispered one final time.

Neteyam had then woken up, in a strange placed, it looked like the forest, but this place was surrounded with purple plants, purple light and the trees were of the Spirit Tree instead of regular trees. He sat up to look around, trying to get an idea of where he was. Then he saw a figure walking towards him, when he got a better look, he noticed that it was you. You were alive and seemed well, also happy that you saw him. You looked just like how you did before he left.

"Y/n?" he called out to you, he quickly got up and ran towards you, bringing you into a hug. You hugged him back tightly, nearly fallling to the floor. "I'm so happy to see you" he said while hugging you even tighter tears steaming down his face. "I'm happy to you too, Teyam" you said while hugging him, also developing tears. You stayed in each others arms for who knows how long, it didn't matter though, you were just glad that to be together again.