#i mean I like fluff stuff but I usually read more angst hurt/comfort than I do fluff content

[oversizedclothesdemon]

y’all expose yourselves and take this fanfic test i was just forced to by an irl so now i’m making you too

[rhiannonsknife]

Okay okay so hear me out.

Imagine the Yellowjackets are actually at the nationals instead of the plane crashing. And Jackie desperately tries to avoid r BUT the coach puts them in the same room for whatever reason, maybe shauna and jackie were playing around too much so as punishment shauna had to switch with r.

Now that they’re both forced to be closer than usual Jackie is genuinely losing her mind and her emotions are ALL around. Maybe they hook up, maybe not. Or they have a GENUINE conversation for once, which surprises Jackie..

You can do whatever you want with that idea, it’s totally up to you

— summary: secretly hooking up with jackie taylor. masterlist.

— warnings: implied internalized homophobia & cheating. angst. hurt/no comfort because this is how things are done here. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

— a/n: enough with the jackie taylor fluff, back to the filthy lesbian sex + angst. you’re welcome.

the hallway of the hotel buzzes with the usual pre-competition chaos: teammates of various different schools all across the states scurrying between rooms, the sound of laughter and last-minute pep talks echoing off the walls. nationals. the peak of everything the yellowjackets had worked for all season. your last chance to win the thing as a team before most of you graduate.

obviously, jackie should feel excited, focused, and ready to step onto that court and lead her team to victory one final time.

instead, her stomach churns, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the pressure of the next couple of days.

“switching rooms is a terrible idea,” she reasons, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glares at coach martinez.

“this is not a debate, taylor,” he replies, voice clipped. “this isn’t summer camp. you’re here to win, not distract your teammates with shipman. now get your stuff and make the swap. it’s only a weekend”

jackie glances sideways, catching your eye from where you stand a little further down the hall. you’re leaning casually against the wall, trying to act like you’re not paying attention, but she knows better. you’ve always been good at reading her, too good for her comfort. what you’re not so good at is pretending.

she can see the way you’re watching the exchange, trying to hide the obvious amusement in your gaze as jackie tries to reason with the coach.

she’s been doing her absolute best to keep her distance, to keep things simple and clean. nationals are stressful enough without throwing whatever this is into the mix. but now, thanks to shauna’s antics, the universe has decided to test her self-control all over again.

with a resigned sigh and not another look back at coach martinez, jackie grabs her bag and stalks toward her new room.

you’re barely done setting your things down when she barges past you and into the space

“hello to you too, roomie” you mutter as you close the door on your own way in.

she shoots you a look, tossing her bag onto the other bed with more force than necessary. “don’t get too comfortable,” she mutters. “this isn’t permanent”

“oh?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “didn’t realize you had the power to override coach’s orders all of a sudden”

jackie’s jaw tightens, her posture stiffening as she stands by the bed. “i don’t,” she snaps, her voice sharp. “but i’ll talk to him tomorrow and get it fixed. until then, just…stay on your side of the room”

you scoff, setting your bag down with a little more force than necessary. “stay on my side of the room? what are we? fucking twelve?”

jackie glares at you. “i’m serious,” she says, brushing past you to grab her toiletries from her bag. “i don’t want any trouble”

“trouble?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. truthfully, you don’t mean to. but ever since you started whatever this is between you, jackie has been doing the same thing over and over: pushing you away, pretending like you don’t exist at all. she won’t even look at you in school. all you can do is watch when she’s with jeff instead, holding his hands or kissing him in the hall, for once not afraid of the affection

“you’re the one acting like this is the end of the world. it’s just one night, jackie. maybe try not making it weird for once”

jackie freezes mid-motion, her hand gripping the zipper of her duffel bag. when she turns to face you, there’s a familiar edge in her expression. “i’m making it weird?” she shoots back. “you think i want to be stuck here with you?”

the words hit harder than they should, but you refuse to let her see the sting. of course jackie taylor wouldn’t want to be caught in the same room with you if you’re not knuckle deep inside her simultaneously.

“right,” you say flatly, crossing your arms. “because it’s so awful being in the same room as me, huh? god forbid we have to actually talk like normal people”

jackie flinches at the unexpected bitterness in your tone, but she doesn’t back down either. “i’m just saying,” she starts. “this is nationals. it’s a big deal. we should be focusing on the game, not…whatever”

“whatever,” you echo, narrowing your eyes. “right. because that’s all this is to you. just some ‘whatever’”

her cheeks flush, and she glances away, busying herself with folding a stray sweatshirt. “i didn’t say that,” she mutters.

“you didn’t have to,” you reply, your voice slightly quieter now, but no less tense. “you know, for someone who’s so concerned about ‘trouble,’ you’re pretty good at creating it”

jackie’s hands still, her knuckles whitening as she grips the shirt tightly. for a moment, it looks like she might say something, but then she exhales sharply and shoves the sweatshirt away. a part of you would prefer it if she actually did. if she, for once, recognizes what you two have, rather than keeping it something shameful. something unspoken. it shouldn’t surprise you that she doesn’t.

“i’m going to take a shower,” jackie announces instead. “just…stay out of my way”

she doesn’t wait for a response before grabbing her things and heading for the door, leaving you alone in the too-quiet room. the door slams shut behind her, and you sink onto the edge of your bed, rubbing a hand over your face.

this wasn’t what you had envisioned for the nationals. you didn’t ask to be thrown into a room with jackie, but now that you are, you can’t help the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. why do you have to be punished, just because she and shauna can’t behave?

jackie has been keeping you at arm’s length for months now, barely acknowledging you outside of stolen moments behind closed doors that she won’t talk about. and now, trapped in this tiny room together, all the tension and unspoken words feel like they’re pressing down on you, endlessly heavy and suffocating.

when she finally returns, her hair damp and her face scrubbed clean, the air between you is no less charged.

she moves stiffly, avoiding your gaze as she sets her toiletries down and climbs into bed without a word. you briefly consider saying something to break the silence, but the memory of her earlier words

you think I want to be stuck here with you?

holds you back. instead, you turn off the bedside lamp and lie down on your back, the too-small room plunging into darkness.

a long time passes by in the familiar silence. it’s all it ever is with jackie: radio silence until it’s not an inconvenience for her to want you. then, you’ll have her for a couple of hours, before things go back to how they were before.

the other bed creaks softly beside you as jackie shifts, her back to you. for a second, you think she’s fallen asleep already. then you hear her sigh, low and almost inaudible.

despite everything, her sharp words, her cold demeanor, you know jackie, for better or for worse. you know she’s scared, for reasons beyond you, and conflicted. she’s trying so desperately to pretend to be something she’s not. and she would've been able to succeed with it, had it not been for you.

the silence stretches on, thick and heavy. at some point, you roll onto your side, your back to hers too, determined to get some sleep, yet to no avail. you hear it before she speaks: the faintest shift of the mattress as jackie turns.

“are you awake?” she murmurs, her voice hesitant.

you don’t answer right away, torn between wanting to keep your distance and the part of you that aches to close the gap between you. finally, you whisper, “yeah”

she falls silent for a moment, and you can almost sense her weighing whether or not to say more.

you hear movement in the dark, and you’re about to turn when the mattress dips by your legs where jackie has sat. ”i didn’t mean what i said earlier. about not wanting to be here“

you swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. you don’t dare to turn and look at her. “then why say it?”

jackie hesitates. you can feel her shift closer, the warmth of her body radiating against your back. a part of you wants to push her away. another, stronger and more determined part wants her endlessly closer. “because it’s easier,” she admits quietly. you force yourself to fight against the shiver that threatens to run down your back when she curls up against you, her breath warm on your shoulder blade. “it’s easier to push you away than…than deal with any of this”

her words hang in the air, and you find yourself turning to face her. the darkness between you doing nothing to hide the vulnerability in her expression from this close. this, you realize as you take in jackie’s features, is the most vulnerable she’s ever been around you.

“how do you feel?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

jackie’s gaze drops, her fingers curling into the edge of the blanket between you. “i don’t know,” she says, but the tremble in her voice betrays her. “i just know that when i’m with you, everything gets so…complicated”

you reach out, your hand brushing against hers. “it doesn’t have to be”

jackie doesn’t move, her eyes locked on yours. then, slowly, tentatively, she closes the distance between you, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s equal parts hesitation and longing.

when she finally pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, and she exhales shakily. “this doesn’t change anything,” she whispers. there she is again. the jackie you know. the jackie you will despise again in the morning. the jackie you have, unfortunately, fallen in love with months ago, long before she decided that you were worth to keep around for some occasional hook ups.

you don’t respond verbally. if this is all of her that you’ll get tonight, you will still very much take it.

jackie’s fingertips trace your cheeks as your mouths move together. you’re not even sure who has leaned in first this time, only that you’re kissing her again and that she’s kissing you back just as eagerly.

her lips are so soft against yours it’s unfair, yet they’re demanding and hungry, ravishing your mouth in a way you never dared to imagine. simultaneously, her hands are running all over you, wherever jackie can reach. frustrated with how restrictive these blankets are, she grunts and pushes them aside.

with the newfound space, she smoothly slides on top of you, your legs tangling together on the plain bedsheets.

“come here” she murmurs, closing the distance between you again. you part your lips almost immediately, giving in to all that stupid, pent-up hunger.

it’s not long after, that you try bucking your hips upward, chasing after a pressure she is not yet providing. jackie has never been one to give. you can remember the one single time where she’s actually shoved her hand down your pants. it’d been in the back of your car, from a slightly awkward angle and without much aftercare to it. but it had been, to this day, one of your best orgasms simply because it was jackie taylor’s hand that had been touching you that night. to this day, it is what you think back to when you’re alone in your room.

now, she seems oddly eager to touch you. except this time, you realize, you have time. there are no parents anywhere nearby, no jeff that could catch or overhear you. just the two of you, in the middle of the night.

maybe coach martinez had, unknowingly done you the biggest favor of your lifetime.

you bite your lip when jackie leans back to look down at you. her hair is a mess, her chest heaving with how hard she’s panting.

one tug is all it takes before she’s all over you again, caging you in between her forearms on either side of your head. you bury your hands in her hair and allow yourself to pretend that any of this is normal.

her shirt comes off first, tossed off the bed carelessly. you sit before her, hands roaming her sides, eyes glued to her chest. yours is next and jackie seems almost impatient to peel it off of you. once you’re both topless, she pushes you back into the mattress and straddles your hips.

you moan into her mouth when her bare breasts slide up against yours. eager to feel more of this, for as long as she lets you, you arch your back up against jackie. she groans softly into your mouth, the noise shooting straight between your legs.

“jackie” you manage. your fingers have, without you even noticing, wrapped around her forearms in a silent plea for her to stay this close. you only let go when she puts her mouth to the side of your neck and sucks.

well, this is new, you briefly think. jackie, for obvious reasons, never lets you mark her up at all. but you didn’t think of her as one to be into leaving hickeys. how you’ll cover them in the morning is a problem for your future self. for now, you just don’t want her to stop. whatever has gotten into her tonight, you want more of it.

“jackie” you sigh again, more urgency in your voice this time. “touch me”

she leans back from where she had her face buried in the crook of your neck. for a moment, as your hand slides from the back of her head, you think you’ve messed it all up. you’d been playing with fire from the start. and now you’ve pushed her too far, asked for too much. then, an unfamiliar determination flickers over jackie’s face, and her fingers drop down to your shorts.

“holy shit” you can’t help but mutter when she, unlike what you expected, doesn’t immediately shove her hand down past the waistline. instead, jackie pushes them all the way down your legs with your help, leaving you in your underwear. she watches as you kick them off, then turns back to face you. you do notice that she’s purposefully not looking right at you, but you don’t mind it all that much when she settles down beside you and runs her flat palm down your body.

her fingers briefly brush over your nipples but don’t waste any time to get to where you both want them the most. you’ve learned to love jackie in the quiet, stolen moments in between. you can’t miss anything you’ve never had and only the comfort of a bed and a room all to yourselves seems too luxurious to be true. you’re not going to ruin this for yourself by getting caught up in the lack of proper foreplay.

you involuntarily spread your legs wider for jackie when she reaches your underwear and you can feel her smile against the side of your neck, where she’s resting her head.

when her index finger runs over the fabric there, her mouth falls open. she must feel the wet patch of your arousal.

“you’re so-“ she gasps, just barely managing to cut herself off in time. jackie taylor doesn’t speak to you while she gets you off. she clears her throat and makes up by finally pushing your underwear aside.

you have to slam a hand over your mouth so your next-door neighbors won’t hear the sound you make when jackie circles your clit for the first time. she’s deliberate, her wrist moving in firm, clockwise circular motions.

the blankets rustle quietly as she adjusts, propping her weight down on one hand as she lingers above you and watches, then presses down harder.

your head falls back into the pillows and your jaw goes slack. to your surprise, jackie’s expression is a reflection of your own: her mouth hangs open as though she’s the one who’s getting touched, and her eyes are heavy as they study your reactions. just by the way she’s touching you, you wouldn’t know that this is only her second time doing this. she must've been attentive to the way you've been touching her during all of your past hook-ups.

you can feel how wet you’re getting -embarrassingly fast. her fingers slide over you in no time whatsoever, gathering your arousal on them before pushing it up and over your clit.

a shuddered breath falls from your lips. jackie is still watching you, alternating between your face (yet never your eyes) and where her hand is moving between your legs.

she keeps this up until you can feel her in every single nerve ending. whether jackie knows this or not, though something tells you that she does, this is not quite enough to make you cum. it’s merely enough to get you towards that edge, toeing it, yet never falling over. the pressure isn’t hard enough, the sensation too brief.

in spite of yourself, you begin to rock your hips into her hand. at this point, you’re so wet it’s dripping through your underwear. there’s no reason to hide your own desperation anymore when she can feel it herself.

“jackie-“ you gasp. it’s tortuously good.

the first time she looks into your eyes that night is when she dips her soaked finger lower and pushes it inside. the moan that you let out at this is definitely too loud for a packed hotel, but she makes no attempt to hush you.

you can feel the place where jackie's pebbled nipples press against you, every inch of exposed skin curled up with your own, and her breath fans against your earlobe. you’re half convinced you’re only imagining it when she whispers: “you like this?”

you hardly hear the words at all, drowned out by your own, mindless gasps and the sounds coming from where jackie is pounding into you; the obscenely slick noises.

she’s deep. she’s so deep inside of you, her delicate fingers pressing deeper than she’s ever been before. it’s the first time you actually feel her there and that alone is enough for your eyes to roll back in your head.

“yeah” you manage just so.

“yeah?” jackie pouts, almost mockingly, forcing them inside some more.

“oh my god” is all you can say to that.

usually, it would be you touching her. this is one of those rare occasions where the roles are reversed. where jackie gets to touch you. to fuck you, really: she's pressing her hips against you from where she’s lingering on top, draws them back as she does the same with her hand, then snaps them back immediately the moment she pumps her fingers into you. like she’s really fucking you, you think.

it briefly occurs to you that maybe, if jackie is so eager for this, you’ll have to invest in a strap so that you can fill each other up properly. then again, it would probably be too much to bring this idea up to her. you’ll consider yourself lucky if she so much as looks at you after tonight.

as soon as jackie’s third finger slips into you, you no longer bother to even try and hold your head up. she’s never fucked you like that and you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing for this feeling back.

she’s steadily pressing, curling, and exploring with three of her fingers and all you can do is chant cries of her name as you try to ride her hand.

your head falls to the side, into the pillows. a necessary but pointless try to stifle your moans.

“jackie please”

you can hear her mumbling words of “that’s it” and “take it” against your temple but it’s white noise to what you feel when her thumb finds your clit, rubbing in fast circles that match the brutal pace she’s set. even jackie is panting now. her wrists must be aching, at this rate, but she’s not stopping. you wonder if she’s as wet for you as you are for her. you know how easy it is to get her wet. so she must be, it wouldn’t surprise you if she’s stained your bed.

in the end, these aren’t the thoughts that push you over the edge. it’s jackie’s voice urging you to “cum” to “please cum for me”.

the rest of the world blurs in and out of focus and, for as long as your orgasm lasts, there’s nothing but the pleasure that explodes in your abdomen and leaves you shaking on the mattress.

you choke out a moan as it washes over you. jackie is watching you, her mouth hanging open like it only dawns upon her now that she's got this kind of effect on you.

even as the pleasure starts to fade, your thighs are still shaking. jackie is almost hesitant about lifting her hand from between your legs, though she makes a point of not looking down at your arousal on her before she wipes it off on the mattress.

“holy shit” you mutter, staring at the ceiling above and dropping the weight of your head back onto the pillows. your whole body feels ten times lighter than it did mere minutes ago.

reality sinks in soon enough though.

after another deep breath, you turn to jackie. she's still sitting on your mattress, but her bare back is turned to you. stupidly enough, you try to reach out. she senses the movement and shoots you a sharp glance, so your hand freezes mid-air, never reaching her.

“don't” the sharpness in her voice has no right to sting the way it does. you pull your hand back, uselessly dropping it onto the mattress.

“jackie...”

“i said don't" she snaps all over again. "it's better this way”

better for who? you wonder. the question burns but you force yourself to bite it back. there's no point in trying to push her further. you watch jackie reach for her discarded clothes on the floor. her movements are hurried as she pulls her shirt back over her head. like if she's frantic enough about it, it'll all go away.

“was it something i-” “no,” she immediately interrupts. with her shirt back on, she stands. “don’t make this into something it’s not”

“jackie you don’t have to-“

“this didn’t mean anything” she interjects all over again. “we shouldn’t have…it was a mistake, okay? it won’t happen again”

“a mistake?”

it’s not the first time jackie calls it that. for a ‘mistake’ she’s been coming back a surprising amount of times. yet it always comes down to this.

“i don’t want to talk about it,” she snaps, her arms cross defensively over her chest as she turns toward her bed. “we have nationals tomorrow. we need to focus”

“are you serious right now?” your voice rises slightly. “jackie, you can’t just-“

“i can,” she says firmly. “and i am”

you sit there, half naked and stunned into silence as jackie climbs into her own bed and pulls the covers up to her chin, facing the wall so you can’t see her expression. her breathing is shaky, though, and you can tell she’s trying hard to steady it.

“fine,” you say stubbornly when you realize she’s actually serious. “pretend it didn’t happen. pretend it didn’t mean anything to you”

jackie doesn’t respond.

you sit in the stillness for what feels like an eternity. as you finally settle under the covers, your back turned to her, you hear jackie’s voice:

“stay away from me. for the rest of this trip”

you swallow hard, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “got it,” you whisper.

then, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of her breathing. jackie doesn’t move, and neither do you. whatever you’d hoped might come from tonight has slipped right through your fingers.

eventually, jackie’s breathing evens out, and you wonder if she’s actually asleep or just pretending. either way, you close your eyes, trying to make the hurt fade.

[starlightkun]

cross my heart ❧ [teaser]

❧ teaser word count: 1201 | full fic: 17.6k ❧ genre: fluff, a sprinkle of angst & hurt/comfort, paranormal/supernatural au, ghost!jisung, established relationship ❧ warnings: mentions of death, prominent side character dies prior to the beginning of the fic, depictions of grieving, more family tension/drama (yeah those assholes are back lol) ❧ extra info: this is the sequel to pur autre vie, it cannot be read as a standalone. you must read pur autre vie first! ❧ estimated release: wednesday, december 18, 2024 6:00 p.m. eastern time

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, looking around the coffee shop that you were at. Your eldest stepbrother had asked to meet with you, and you couldn’t imagine that it was anything good—certainly not just to get coffee and catch up. You hadn’t ordered anything, wanting to be able to make a quick escape if needed.

Seohyuk usually didn’t request a meeting with you. If he wanted to talk to you, he typically called to tell you he was going to stop by on his way to or from work, or just dropped by unannounced. That’s why you were extra on edge. You had arrived early, and kept checking the time every two minutes or so.

Finally, you saw him walking in, and thankfully he was alone, not accompanied by either of his younger brothers or his mother. Seohyuk was much easier to handle on his own. You made eye contact with him, but didn’t wave or make any move to stand up and greet him as he arrived at your table. He sat down across from you, looking rather disheveled. His hair was unkempt as if he’d been running his fingers through it all day and hadn’t looked in a mirror to fix it, his tie was loose and askew, his dress shirt crumpled, and his suit jacket that you knew he typically wore to work was missing entirely. He was also pink-cheeked and seemed to be trying to hide how heavily he was breathing, as if he had run here and didn’t want you to know.

“Good afternoon, Seohyuk,” you said politely, opting not to comment on his appearance.

He cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, Y/N.”

“Do you have a concern with the house? Or is this a question about possessions?” You decided to just be direct. Those were pretty much the only two things he ever contacted you about.

When your mother passed away six months ago and you moved out of her and Hyukjun’s house, the property had gone to your three stepbrothers. Which meant that your life since then had been a seemingly endless string of inquiries over you “damaging” the home while you had lived there, or you “stealing” stuff that was “rightfully” theirs when you moved out—i.e., items that were actually your mother’s, but they tried to claim were Hyukjun’s.

“The house,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “Do you want it?”

You couldn’t hide your surprise, your carefully neutral expression falling right off your face. “Wait, what?”

“Do you want the house?”

“Like, Hyukjun’s house? The one that you just got?” You clarified. “You’re... trying to sell it to me? I appreciate the offer, but I don’t have the money to buy a house.”

“No, no, you can have it,” he sounded and looked absolutely defeated.

You narrowed your eyes at him, immediately suspicious. “What’s wrong with it? What could you have done to it in six months?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” He pleaded. “It’s pretty much the same, we actually fixed up some of the wiring, stuff like that. We’ve tried to rent it out, but nobody will stay.”

“You can’t keep your renters?”

“We’ve had four different tenants, none of them lasted longer than a month.”

“What? Why? It’s a great house.”

Seohyuk’s face screwed up as if he just ate a lemon; he clearly didn’t want to tell you the reason.

“Come on, I already know somebody died in the house,” you scoffed. “What is it?”

“They all said it’s haunted,” he finally blurted out. “And I mean, you know it’s an old house, it creaks and stuff sometimes—I tried to tell them that. They said the lights would flicker, so we replaced the bulbs. Cold spots—We had a guy look at the A/C, he said it was fine. Then it was things disappearing from one room and reappearing in another room, and they swore nobody who lived there moved them. One couple said they started on a jigsaw puzzle before they went to bed and when they woke up, it was all put together.”

You slowly nodded, very carefully controlling your facial expressions as you tried to figure out what reaction you should be having to this. Skepticism? Curiosity? Unease?

“All of your tenants said stuff like that happened?” You clarified.

“Every single one,” he confirmed. “And it got worse with each new one. The first one moved out after a month. The second, two weeks. Third, a week. The last one only lasted three days.”

You squinted at him suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest. “And why do you think I would want to live there?”

“I’m not a superstitious man whatsoever,” he adjusted his tie a bit, “but after all this, I went to the house myself to see what was going on.”

“What, did you bring a Ouija board or something?” You joked, sitting back in your chair.

“I felt ridiculous bringing it in, but yes.”

You knew you were giving him the most incredulous look ever, but he went on with his story anyway.

“I sat down with the board in the living room and asked if there was a spirit in the home. Something cold touched my hands, then the pointer moved to yes.”

“Planchette.”

“Hm?”

“It’s called a planchette,” you corrected him dryly.

“Right.”

“So what happened next?”

Seohyuk continued, “I asked if it was your mother first. I figured that was most reasonable, since she had just…”

“Passed away in the house right before all this started happening?” You filled in for him.

“Yes. But the… planchette moved to no. So then I asked if it was my dad. Again, no.”

“I still don’t see how this leads to me taking the possibly haunted house back from you,” you reminded him, desperately suppressing your giddiness.

“Look, I asked if it was an evil spirit, and it said no.”

“Why would an evil spirit tell you it was evil?”

“It hasn’t hurt anybody, or damaged anything, or done anything bad at all!” Seohyuk was practically begging now. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it: you lived there for two years while you took care of your mom, and nothing like this happened that whole time, right?”

“No, I can’t say anything like this happened,” you tepidly agreed.

“The spirit must have been there the whole time you were there, and it only started doing this stuff once you left. I think if you go back, it should… calm down.”

You let silence hang in the air for a few moments, holding his eye contact, admittedly enjoying seeing him squirm under your gaze as he seemed to realize how crazy all of that sounded. Finally, you sighed, “I don’t know, Seohyuk, my new place is closer to my job…”

“I will pay you to take it at this point. We can’t rent it, or sell it, this has become an absolute nightmare.” He clasped his hands in front of him, quite literally begging now.

“And you’ll stop harassing me about our parents’ possessions?”

“Yes, yes.” You pretended to contemplate this again, despite your mind being made up from the very beginning. After another agonizingly long bout of silence, you asked, “How much?”

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[blossomwritesthings]

𝐢'𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

pairing: jisung x fem!reader (afab)

genre: sick!fic. idol!jisung. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. this one has got the angst. jisung isn't taking care of himself properly :(. reader is worried and takes it upon herself to take care of the precious dumpling. mentions of jisung spiraling/having a mental breakdown. mentions of panic attacks, anxiety, weight loss, and insomnia. pet names (affectionately). some toothe-rotting fluff and humor.

word count: 2.6k

summary: after a bout of not seeing your boyfriend jisung, you take it upon yourself to visit him one night in the studio. but what you find when you get there is the opposite of a happy sight.

a/n: whoo i haven't written a skz fic in a hot minute ever since my midterms started three weeks ago (and since this final month of the semester has been fucking me over big time). 👹 but this was really fun to write and omg ji is so cute and precious i wanna hold and take care of him forever!! 🥹 i hope to get out a few more skz fics this weekend, so please be on the lookout for those too~ and thanks for reading and supporting my work, it means a lot to me (also, i'm almost at 500 followers, wtf?!)!! 💖

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

It had been such a long time since you had visited your boyfriend Jisung at his studio. Usually, the two of you would spend time with each other whence he got home from his schedules - after the two of you had worked long and hard days. The two of you liked to spend your time together by playing various video games, binging your favourite animes, and catching up on the latest comics released by your loved authors. 

 But lately, it felt like you hadn’t seen Jisung in such a long time - even if it had only been a week. Since Stray Kids had started working on their upcoming comeback, your boyfriend spent most of his time at the company or in the studio. So that little space for you guys to catch up with each other at the end of the day was suddenly gone because of his new schedule. 

 And you wanted to change that. 

 So on that random Thursday night, you decided to surprise Jisung with a visit to his studio. And of course, you brought a large offering of food with you - which included all kinds of takeout like pizza, fried chicken, and more. 

 You arrived later at the company building than you wanted to - around ten at night - since you didn’t expect to wait so long for the food to arrive at your nearby apartment. 

 Nevertheless, as you stepped through the front doors of the company, you noticed how utterly silent it was. After all, the staff were done for the day and the only people that remained were the trainees and idols who always worked late into the night on various projects. 

 You shifted down the dark hallways silently, like a ghost. And when you finally neared the door that lead to Jisung’s studio, a huge smile spread across your lips. Because finally, you were getting to see him again. Even if it was only for a little while, an hour spent with your boyfriend would be the highlight of your entire day. 

 So you filed through the door slowly, trying to lighten your footsteps to surprise Jisung. The beat he was working on flowed around the room, the bass vibrating in the nearby speakers. The dim led-lights cast a pale blue room against the walls, calming a restless part inside of you. He was seated at his large desk, completely focused on the two monitors in front of him. Your boyfriend had his headphones on, his head bobbing along to the music, which left you with the perfect opportunity to sneak up on him. 

 Placing the bags of takeout down on the nearby coffee table that was placed just in front of the large leather sofa in the room, you crept up behind him. Reaching out, one of your hands grabbed onto his shoulder. 

 Immediately upon contact, Jisung let out a loud shriek. And within a single beat, he was ripping off his headphones and twisting around in his chair, sandy-blonde hair messy and eyes wild in fright. 

 But then, as soon as his gaze landed on you, relief washed over his face in the form of a pleased smile. “Baby-” He said in a light tone, swiveling his chair around and facing you completely. 

 “Uhm- hi,” you began, twisting your hands together in front of you in sudden nervousness. You didn’t know why you were suddenly tongue-tied around him. The two of you had been dating for what felt like years - and you usually didn’t react in such a way when he used the pet name 'baby' on you. But perhaps, it was because it had been so long since you visited him in his studio - since you had entered his sacred space and breathed the same air as him as he composed his music. Nevertheless, you mimicked his smile, before motioning with your head to the nearby table that was laden with food. “I brought dinner.” 

 At that, his smile dropped just a little bit. “Oh… thanks, baby. I’ll eat it when I can, yeah?” His focus darted to the plastic bags for just a moment, before they landed back on you. A tiny smirk spread across his lips then, as he said in a playful voice, “Quit standing over there and c’mere, I wanna get a taste of your beautiful lips.” 

 A furious blush bloomed across your cheeks as you slowly stepped into his space. Jisung wrung his arms around your waist, helping you to sit down on his lap. In an instant, he captured your mouth in a passionate, almost desperate kiss. He must’ve been feeling the effects of your absence too.

“Ji- wait,” you started, drawing away from his kisses to take a few quick breaths. Your heart was beating wildly against your ribcage, as you noticed the way that his dark, chestnut-brown eyes filled with so much love as he looked on at you in bated silence. “I don’t want the food to get cold. Let’s eat…” But then, your voice trailed off as you began to notice the slight changes in his features since the last time that you had been him. 

 Because you were sitting so close to him on his lap, you had a clearer view of his face - and how his cheeks looked a little more deflated than usual, how dark circles hung underneath his eyes, and his hair was so disheveled to the point that it looked like it hadn’t been washed in a few days. 

 “Babe- are you okay?” You suddenly asked, palm coming up between the two of you and pressing gently against his cheek. It was slightly cool to the touch, something very unlike him - since you always joked that he was your furnace. “When’s the last time you ate something?” 

 Your gaze locked with your boyfriend’s then, as he stayed silent. The quietness stretched between you, dancing around the room and only heightening your concern. 

 Because oh- 

 Oh, holy fuck- 

 He was doing it again. 

 He was letting himself slip… just like in the past, when the boys had been so incredibly busy with their schedules. 

 At first, it just started as little warning signs… 

 Less of an appetite, 

 More fatigue, 

 Restless nights of sleep. 

 But then, 

 Then- the symptoms would always get worse. 

 They usually always resulted in a heightened sense of anxiety and stress and heartache. 

 Or worse, panic attacks.

 You had seen him fall off the cliffside only two times before when his schedule had been swamped with activities. And the last time it had happened - which was well over a year before - you had promised yourself that you’d never let it happen again.  

 That late, stormy night, the two of you had been sprawled out atop your plush mattress, surrounded by the four walls of your bedroom that were dim with shadows. And you had held a weak and thin and weeping Jisung in your arms in a tight embrace, as you vowed to his shaking form that you’d never allow him to fall so deep into the hole of darkness. 

Never again. 

So, pressing both of your palms to his cheeks, you forced him to look you straight in the eyes. He was a horrible liar. Jisung could never deny you when you stared deep into his eyes, so that’s exactly what you did. 

 “Now look at me and tell me that you’ve eaten something today, baby.” The words came out a little strangled at the end, and the sharp intake of breath that fell from Jisung’s lips was all you needed to know at that moment. 

 Immediately, you felt your lips quiver in a sob, as you fully leaned into him. Wrapping both arms around his waist in a tight grip, you buried your face into his warm neck, struggling to breathe as worried thoughts began to race through your mind. 

 “It hasn’t been that long, I swear-” He finally said, his soft voice taking a sharp blade to the tension that hung between the two of you. You felt his fingers grasp at your sides, digging into the fabric of your thick, oversized hoodie. “Just… it’s been so hectic around here that I haven’t found the time to-”

 At that, you frantically pushed away from him, “There’s never an excuse, baby. Never. I don’t care how busy you are- you need to eat. You need to sleep… even if it’s just a few hours a night. You need to take care of yourself, because-” Your words cut off then, as the lump in your throat solidified and the tears began to flow from the corners of your eyes, heating your flushed cheeks. 

 “Because what, baby girl?” He questioned, his eyes softening exponentially at the sight of your tears. He reached forward, tucking a strand of your hair behind one of your ears before he brushed a few of your tears away with a gentle thumb. 

 “Because… I can’t lose you, Ji. I- I-” The breath caught in your throat then, as all of the fears of what could happen raced through your mind then. Of what could’ve happened if you hadn’t caught it in time. If you hadn’t visited him that night and hadn’t seen him up close. “I’m sorry… for visiting you so late, I-I should’ve been here, and I wasn’t.” 

 Jisung silenced you with a kiss, delicately pressing his forehead against yours, the scent of him - of freshly cleaned linen and sweet chamomile tea - danced around you. It reminded you of how familiar he felt, how sweet and kind and beautiful he was. And how you never, ever wanted to let him go. 

 “Please don’t apologize, sweetheart,” he began in a low, gruff voice, his words slightly strained in emotion. “I should be the one apologizing. I told you last time that I’d never let it get this far, yet here I am…” 

 You cracked your eyes open to the sight of his furrowed brows and saw the weary light that filled his gaze at that exact moment. “No- no it’s okay, Ji. You don’t have to say sorry, I understand you.” You flattened both hands against his chest, slowly pressing against the muscle there. “Just… just let me take care of you, yeah? Let me help you gain strength again.” 

 A tiny grin cracked across his mouth at your words, and he canted his head to one side, focus landing on the table just behind you, which was full of the food that you had brought with you. “If helping me gain my strength back includes devouring that food over there, I’m all for it.” He said in a mischievously-dark tone. 

 You rose an eyebrow his way, “It also includes you promising me that you’ll get a minimum of four hours of sleep every night... at least until you're done with promotions for this comeback.” 

 He let out a loud groan, pressing his head against the back of his chair in apparent agony. “Four hours? Babe- you’re killing me here.” He whined, screwing his eyes shut and frowning in displeasure. 

 “Well, it’s either that or- six hours.” 

 Jisung flashed you a glare, but it wasn’t menacing in the least bit. Instead, it only made you giggle in delight at the sight of it. Because suddenly, you realized that upon first entering his studio and seeing him, he had been acting… different. 

 More exhausted than usual, 

 And even... weary. 

 But soon after having cracked him open, and discovering his struggles with facing another downward spiral, your boyfriend immediately brightened. 

 Like, just the sight of you had helped relieve some of the pain.

Even if the circles were still dark under his eyes and even if his cheekbones were a little gaunt, at least he was starting to come back to his usual, bright self.

 “Well now, four hours doesn’t seem too unreasonable…” Jisung started, running a hand through his hair and chuckling faintly. 

 You stood up from his lap then, nearing the table that was full of food and taking a seat on the sofa. “Good. Now c’mere, I’m starving.” You patted the space beside you, offering your boyfriend a warm smile. 

 “I haven’t eaten since… I can’t even remember when. I think it was last night’s dinner with the guys.” Jisung confessed as he took the seat beside you, already prying open one of the bags. His entire face lit up at the sight of the glistening, still-hot fried chicken. He turned to you then, a goofy kind of smile adorning his face. “Oh- what am I ever going to do with you? You’re just too perfect for me!” 

 Without any warning, Jisung was pulling you into a tight hug, peppering kiss after kiss across your entire face. You tried to protest against his affection - but in all actuality, you secretly adored it. Adored his attention and love. And of course, he knew this. So it wasn’t until you finally managed to throw him off of you that he stopped and leveled you with a mirthful smirk. 

 “Yeah, okay- I get it, you love me.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him, inclining over the table and grabbing a saucy drumstick for yourself. 

 The silence lapsed between the two of you for a few beats, as you focused on the meal. When suddenly, Jisung was speaking again, but in a much quieter voice than before. 

 “Thank you, baby.” 

 You turned to him, brows slightly furrowing in question as you chewed on a slice of cheese pizza. 

 “I mean… you didn’t have to do any of this,” he looked around the table that was full of steaming hot takeout. “Yet, you still did. You visited me at my studio to surprise me, but I think you might’ve saved me in the process too.”

 You reached over then, brushing a few of your fingers against his cheek. He leaned into the touch, holding your hand close to his skin. “That’s what I’m here for, babe… to make you feel better. And I’ll always be here, no matter what. So every time you start to feel shitty, just call me, and I’ll be here in a heartbeat.” 

 Jisung turned his face then, pressing a few delicate kisses against your fingertips. “And I hope you know that I’ll do the same for you, princess. Always. Whenever you need me, I’m here.” 

 Smiling, you tilted in once more to press a kiss against his lips. And in a split second, he was kissing you back. More fervently this time, and when the two of you pulled apart to catch your breaths, you felt the flush from before start to brighten your cheeks again. 

 “Holy fuck- I’m never getting enough of you,” was all that you heard your boyfriend say before he was tipping back into you to push his perfect, rosebud-like mouth against yours.

 After a few beats of silence that were only filled with your kisses, you slanted away from your boyfriend and glared his way, “Okay, okay- but you better stop now mister, before I truly get angry.” 

 He wiggled his eyebrows at you, a devilish smirk widening the corners of his mouth. “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do if I don’t stop?” 

 You hit his shoulder with a light fist, “I”m gonna eat all of this food myself, and leave none for you.” 

 Jisung’s impish grin dropped instantly at your words, and suddenly, he was diving headfirst into the food once more. As he stuffed his face full of pizza and chicken wings, cheeks puffing up like a cute little chipmunk, you could only chuckle softly and stare back at him in loving adoration. 

 Because no matter what he went through - you were always going to be by his side. 

 And it came in handy that he was a horrible liar, because at least he could never hide anything from you. 

 So matter what, no matter the hurdles that he would face in his life, you would always be right alongside him, helping him overcome them all. And you knew that he’d continually do the same thing for you in return. 

Fin.

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© ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[moonbyulsstuff]

Hey! Can you write headcannons about dating known top dogs in questism? I mean Seok, Sehyun and Jaeha (we don't know north top dog so dhdhdh)

If not, just Jaeha please? I actually read your v-hit headcannons and I enjoyed them! Ohh right, GN reader is fine right?

Dating the Top Dogs of Gangbuk Headcannons.

GN Reader.

Requested.

Masterlist.

Request Rules.

Suhyeon Kim:

Insecure Suhyeon at the end, minor angst, fluff, kinda crack?

This poor boy does not know what to do.

This was his first time dating someone, so he doesn't know what to do.

But you, who had past relationships before. knew what to do.

But to him, it was hard but it got easy over time.

Dating him would be pretty chaotic.

Its always you coming to save his ass whenever he's in trouble, and you scolding him afterwards.

But since you were dating Suhyeok, it was obvious you would get targeted by others.

Wanting to get back at Suhyeok by attacking his partner.

So Suheyok was by your side at all times or have Hajun. Haru, or Kuja by your side whenever you go out without him.

He just wants you to be safe.

When it comes to anniversary, he's a nervous wreck.

He thinks that every gift is not perfect, since to him, you're a perfect being in his eyes.

So he usually asks help from the others but they don't know jack shit about romance and never experience dating before.

Suhyeok usually ends up getting you, chocolates, teddy bear and things that are cliche stuff. But you of couse appreciate and usually give him a kiss, or something that you put together.

If someone had hurt you, the person would get a threat from the gang for hurting their boss partner.

But if you two got into an argument, and it was Suhyeok fault. He would find ways to apologize to you, giving you flowers, kneeling down on the ground for hours, or if you want some time before forgiving him. He would leave you alone while leaving some little flowers by your door.

But if it was your fault, he would wait for you to calm down. While also talking to you a few hours after the argument so that the two of you can have a calm conversation about it.

He's a very loving boyfriend.

Affectionate, like really, really, clingy and affectionate.

He would whining if you ever leave him, even if it's just a moment.

And he get's jealous very easily, Suhyeok would clung onto if he ever saw someone flirting with you.

Suhyeok is just in love with you so much, but has a sense of fear lingering the back of his head that you will find someone so much better than him.

Someone that can give you a comfortable life rather than you being with him in a life full of gang and criminals.

There were some nights that had him thinking of breaking up with you, but never fully went through it because he knows how you love him and he loves you too much to do so.

So, he appreciates every moment where you tell him that you don't mind being with him, even if his life is full of fighting and gang activity and such.

Its makes him tear up at the comforting words you say to him.

He's so glad to have you and have you by his side.

Seok Kang:

minor yandere Seok, obsessive behavior, fluff.

Seok had experience on dating prior on dating you, so he knew what he was doing.

Seok is a soft and caring man towards you, you are the only one that can bring out his soft and caring side to you.

He deeply cares for you and would kill anyone for you.

If someone ever hurt you, you bet Seok is already threatening them.

Seok likes hugging you around , just having his arm wraps around your waist, arm is enough to keep calm for the rest of the day.

If you two ever got into an argument, and it was Seok fault, he would try and talk to you but if you don't want to see him for a meanwhile, he would you some space before coming back and trying to apologize to you

But if it was your fault, Seok would give you some time to cool off and waiting for you to apologize and also talking to you.

Seok is good at getting you gifts during your anniversary, each time is more much elegant and beautiful than last time.

He would take all of his time to find you the perfect the gift, and he would make sure that it was the most perfect and beautiful gift than last time.

It usually leaves you speechless when Seok shows up with the gift on your anniversary.

You pay him back by usually doing what he wants for the day, but it usually ends on what you want to do since he's content on just spending the day with you.

Seok gets jealousy but not easily as Suhyeon.

He knows that won't leave him for another person just because they flirted with you.

But if he does, oh boy, does it get interesting.

He would start whispering to your ear and kissing your hand making the son who was flirting with you, back off.

There were a lot of people who were after you since you Seok partner, so you always had bodyguards with you. Everywhere you go to make sure you weren't in danger.

Does he ever have the same thoughts as Suhyeon? No, of course not.

He won't let himself think that way, as to him that's a sign that he doesn't love and trust you enough.

So refused to think that way.

He knows you love him and he loves you.

Jaeha Han:

minor angst at the end, overprotective Jaeha, fluff.

Just like Seok, he had prior dating experience before, but it was usually a one month relationship before it ended.

But this was the first long relationship he ever had with anyone, so it was surprise to him and everyone who knew about his dating life.

He was nervous, he didn't know what to but you were there to reassure him and lead him along the way.

Over time, Jaeha got overprotective of you which if someone ever hurt you, Jaeha would be a manipulative, cunning bastard, basically threatening them while also shaming them.

And since you are Jaeha Han partner, a lot of people were after you.

So Jaeha was always by your side 24/7 since he doesn't trust any of his guys enough to be alone with you, tbh. He doesn't like the thought of someone else other than him being alone with you.

He had never experience an anniversary before, since his relationships only end after 1 month, so he gets you some chocolate, teddy bear, flowers, F/F and much more just for you.

And whenever you would surprise him with a gift, he would keep it at his room, and stares at it sometimes as it comforts him.

Whenever you two got into an argument, and it was his fault. He would storm out of the house/apartment to let out some steam, he would be gone for hours and would be back and was already kneeling down on the ground, apologizing to you.

But if it was your fault, he would force you to sit down with him and talk to him. He doesn't want the day to end with a bitter taste on his mouth.

Does Jaeha get jealous very easily? Yes, way more than Suhyeok.

The way he deals with it is by hugging you while flipping the person off, while saying.

"Their taken, fuck off."

His behavior surprise you but you found it funny and endearing to say the least.

Does he have the same thoughts as Suhyeok? Yes and No.

He does think of it but shook that though off with saying that his loyal to you and you are loyal to him.

And you have already reassured him about it when he talked it about to you.

That made Jaeha smile, happy at the reassurance.

[space-mermaid-writing]

Wednesday [IronStrange]

Summary:Tony fights Strange and his weird wizards on a regular basis. So when he is woken up by Jarvis and being told Strange is sitting in his kitchen, waiting to talk to him, Tony just knows that something is not right. What he does not know yet is that it will be a string of very long days.

Relationship: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags:enemies to lovers, time loop, time shenanigans, hero/villain, hero Tony Stark, villain Stephen Strange, morally gray Stephen Strange, being a villain is a point of view, protecting the timeline, suicide but it has no consequences whatsoever, open ending, hopeful ending, Stephen needs a hug, Stephen and the never ending day, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, all the stuff you love

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 2.6k | Previous | Next

Chapter 4: “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“I’m not messing with your head, Tony. I swear.”

It was the first thing Stephen said to him the next day.

“I know.” Tony sighed. “At least I’m about 99 percent sure.”

The sorcerer bit his tongue. But this was probably the best that he would get. And there was something else on his mind he wanted to address.

“I want to try something. Maybe you were right that I’m the problem. We can test that. I told you that my death doesn’t break the time loop. But I still don’t know if it triggers a reset.”

The engineer looks up from where he was assembling his welding tools. “You mean you want to… what? Die? Kill yourself? Me to kill you?”

Stephen nodded and Tony put his tools down. The sorcerer had said he had done it before and then woke up to see another Wednesday. Still, it didn’t bode well with Tony. Death was something final. Usually.

“You don’t seem to be concerned about it at all,” he voiced carefully. “Are you sure it’s necessary?”

Stephen knew how it must seem to outsiders that he was almost too willing at the prospect of dying. “It’s not the first time I would die in a time loop.”

“A time loop? Not particularly this one?”

Of course Tony noticed that little detail.

“I told you I’ve been in one before,” Stephen said. “But it was different. I controlled it and I used it to trap an entity in it. It was reset by my death.”

Tony was horrified. “How many times?”

“I lost count,” Stephen admitted softly. It had been too many, if he was being honest.

The engineer sighed. “I don’t think you should do this. There’s probably a healthier option.” Seeing Stephen’s facial expression, he added, “but knowing you, I can’t argue you out of it anyway. So how do you want to do this?”

He placed his hand on Stephen's shoulder; a normal gesture for him. He was always handsy with people he was comfortable with. Which – huh – when did he become comfortable around Stephen? Maybe the same time he started calling him by his first name. Still, it was a moment of realization.

Being lost in thought, he didn’t notice Stephen had winced when Tony touched him and that there was a slight blush on his face.

Whenever the two of them stood close to each other – which was more often than not these days – Stephen had to hold himself physically back to lean towards the engineer even though he was yearning for contact. All the time alone in the time loop had taken a toll on him. So much so that a harmless gesture like a hand on a shoulder felt like a tight hug.

He took a step away to get some physical space between them and focused on the topic at hand.

“A painless way would be preferred. I don’t want to use magic, because I’m not a hundred percent sure it won’t affect our bond.” Neither Stephen nor Tony wanted to risk that. “And I’d rather have it done here and not risk someone finding my body. I will record a statement in case something goes wrong, so you’re clear on the legal side, and to explain it to Wong.”

“You really thought this through, hm?”

Stephen answered with a single nod. He had. The cloak floated over from where he had been playing with one of Tony’s bots and smoothed over his shoulders. Stephen patted over the corner of the fabric and gestured to a Starkpad. “Can I use that?”

Tony made an inviting gesture. “It’s all yours.”

With the pad in hand Stephen retreated to a corner of the lab to record his statement. His voice was quiet – the message obviously a private one – and Tony tried not to eavesdrop.

Jarvis took the moment to also start a private conversation via another device.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Sir?”

Most days Jarvis was quiet when the Sorcerer was present, but he carried out every request from Tony immediately. The engineer knew that his A.I. was watching everything closely, and every now and then Jarvis raised concern, like now.

“It’s probably not, but we haven’t made a lot of progress lately. And if he insists…” It was clear from his voice that Tony didn't like the idea.

“It could be a trick.”

“It could be,” he said noncommitedly. Tony didn’t really believe it to be a trick. By now he knew Stephen quite well. The sorcerer gained nothing from dying and framing Tony; or whatever the implication had been. “Just let it slide for today.”

He had reassured Jarvis so many times before: it’s just one day. Tomorrow will be different.

It was never tomorrow and that was frustrating. He didn’t regret joining the loop – perhaps because he knew that there was a way out for him – but it still wasn’t always easy to handle.

Stephen had finished his recording and handed the Starkpad to Tony. “If anything should happen, give it to Wong. It tells you where you will find him.” The sorcerer hesitated for a second before he added, “please don’t watch it if it is not necessary.”

Now Tony was absolutely curious, but he honored the request and stored the device in a drawer.

“So?” he asked, not sure what point the sorcerer wanted to make.

“I assume you’re quite equipped,” Stephen said and if this was any other situation Tony would have made a joke about it. But now he just nodded and walked to a locker where he’d stored some weapons. He had used them to test bullet impacts on Iron Man armors’ surface structure in the past. He grabbed a gun and put it on the table next to Stephen.

“I’d prefer you don’t do this.”

Stephen was silent. What he was about to say Tony would even like less.

He waited until the engineer looked at him, before he raised his shaking fingers in front of his chest. “These are not good for anything with precision. I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you-…”

“Absolutely not!” Tony protested vehemently. He was not going down that route. Sure, he worked with the Avengers and part of his job description was to neutralize threats. Forcibly if necessary. But this was different. He wouldn’t outride murder someone. No matter what nickname the press used to give Tony Stark.

As if he had read Tony’s mind, Stephen argued, “You are a weapon manufacturer.”

“Former.” His tone was biting. He knew it was something that would stick with him forever, even if he tried to do better, to change. He had made his amends with it. Hearing it from Strange had hit him unexpectedly and it hurt more than it should. It made him become defensive.

“I don’t know what kind of impression you have of me, but I don’t take lives lightly!”

“I will survive it.”

“But first you will be dead! This isn’t a game, Stephen. Even if today starts tomorrow anew. Killing is still killing!” Tony didn't understand why that wouldn't go into the sorcerer's head. Just because there were no physical consequences didn’t mean it was okay to go out and murder people randomly. That was what psychopaths would do. And Stephen wasn’t even a random person on the street. Tony couldn’t kill him. He wasn’t even sure if he could truly hurt him in any way – which would probably become a problem after this was over and they were on different sides again.

Strange didn’t look happy about his declining, his lip almost pouting. “Jarvis can do it then.”

That suggestion upset Tony even more. “Don’t you dare to pull my child into this! I won’t teach him to kill someone just because they asked for it!” He pointed accusingly at Stephen.

They were both still standing at the table, the gun between them. Tony was so very angry that Stephen had dared to ask him such a thing. He was angry Stephen didn’t seem to care about his own life. And he was angry that he had to tilt his head and look up at the man.

The sorcerer was adamant to push through with his idea. “Well, then you either do it voluntarily or I will make you do it.”

"How are you going to do that?"

“Magic,” Stephen simply said.

Tony yanked back as if he had been slapped. “You promised you would not mess with my head!”

“I don’t need to access your head to control your arm.” It was the equivalent of a threat.

Tony was very tempted to take the gun and kill him right at this moment. And maybe that was the sorcerer’s plan.

He couldn’t believe it. He felt angry, betrayed and foremost, fear that Strange would actually make his words reality.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled. “Why risk this?”

“It’s important to know. For science,” Stephen dared to quote Tony and the engineer hated the implication he would justify anything in the name of science. “You should understand.”

“I’m sick of you! I don’t care how you proceed but I want no part in this.” Tony threw his hands in the air before he turned and left the lab.

He barely stepped out of the room when he heard a shot; right before everything went black.

_____________________

“Sir…”

Tony jumped out of bed as soon as Jarvis' voice woke him up. He was still angry. Angry and a little bit relieved that Stephen was alive. But mostly angry.

“That bastard!”

He stomped straight to the kitchen, pulling his watch into a gauntlet on the way. He pointed it right at the sorcerer who was leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Fuck you, Strange!”

Stephen froze. It had been a while since a weapon had been pointed at him when he arrived in the morning. And for a moment he wasn’t sure about the reason why. Did something go wrong?Did his death break the bond between them?

There’s panic in his eyes and the overthinking prevents him from speaking. Tony used this moment to step closer, the flashing repulsor still raised.

“You’re an absolute asshole! What were you thinking?” Standing now right in front of him, he grabbed Strange by both shoulders.

The cloak moved out of his way, probably approving the lecture Tony gave the sorcerer; and also trusting him enough not to actually hurt him. If Tony would stop and think about that, he would have an opinion about it. But right then his focus was solely on Stephen.

“What if it didn’t work? Did you even think for one second about the consequences?!”

Relieved, Stephen realized that Tony did remember and was just angry with him. He could handle that. Or so he thought. “There are no consequences. The time loop resets-…”

“I’m talking about me!” Tony cut him off, his voice raised. At this point he was almost shaking Stephen. Trying to shake some sense into him. “If the day hadn’t been reset with your death. If I had gone back into the lab, see you lying there… if… “

The image of Stephen with a bullet in his head, blood all around him was burned into his brain. He had been in the field long enough to know how a bullet to the head looked like.

Even thinking about it tightened his chest and made his heart ache. He would have blamed it on the arc reactor in his chest, but when he blinked, he noticed that his eyes were moist.

Tony knew how to mask his emotion. He had been trained in PR since the age of five. So seeing the man like this right in front of him surprised Stephen.

What surprised him even more was when Tony yanked him forward and roughly planted his lips on the sorcerer’s.

The engineer was annoyed, evidently, voice harsh and filled with authority, and yet? Yet, there was something else, a heat that had pushed the words out of his mouth. It pushed them together, lips pressing together with a firm urgency, teeth digging into Stephen’s lower lip.

Stephen gasped in surprise, grabbing onto Tony’s toned arms for support. He was overwhelmed by the man, his proximity, his familiar smell.

Tony pulled back first, not done with his rant. “I hope you’ve achieved what you wanted, because I’m not going to let you do that again. I refuse! I don’t ever want to hear you suggesting it!”

Stephen looked wrecked – his lips swollen and a blush on his cheeks – and he was too stunned to speak.

Jarvis was not. “Sir, I’m not sure if I can follow what’s happening.”

“I’ll explain it to you in a minute, J.”

It must have seemed strange to the A.I., downright crazy: the appearance of Doctor Strange in the kitchen, calmly requesting to see the engineer; Tony yelling – that part was probably understandable – and them kissing.

But Tony had already decided that they weren't going to talk about it. It had been the heat of the moment and wasn’t the main topic right now. He had let himself be tempted. The engineer sighed. “Your death restarts the loop, by the way,” he informed the sorcerer and turned to walk to the coffee machine. He needed a strong one. “You know what that means.”

Stephen followed his movements for exactly one step forward before he stopped himself. He was reluctant to change the topic and watched Tony fixing himself a cup, before actually realizing what the man had said.

“It changes nothing.”

“It changes everything”, Tony grumbled. “Don’t you see? That means it’s directly linked to your person.”

“It could still be due to the time stone I’m wearing.”

“Yeah? Well, let’s try that. Give the stone to me and kill me.”

“No!” Stephen protested so vehemently it surprised the engineer and he turned back to him, with the coffee in his hand. “I won’t risk your life.” Stephen knew he was a hypocrite for saying that but he couldn't help it.

“You risked yours,” Tony pointed out.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“You are too important to the timeline.” Stephen shook his head. He didn’t want to explain what he had seen in the future. It wasn’t pretty, but it was inevitable. If they took the right path. And if Tony played his part.

None of that mattered if they didn’t stop the time loop.

Stephen looked down at his chest, then up at Tony. “No more deaths. But you’re going to wear the Eye of Agamotto.”

“What?” Tony thought he hadn’t heard it right.

“It’s a variable we haven’t tried yet. Just to see if it changes anything”, the sorcerer explained.

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

Strange had told him before that he would never hand it to someone. And he had been pretty adamant about it. To the point that Tony didn’t suggest it anymore. And usually Tony was very persistent about his ideas.

They must be running out of options.

Tony watched Stephen pull the chain over his head. “What? Like right now?” He put the coffee aside for a second.

“You’ll wear it during the day and the reset.” Stephen stepped right into his personal space and put the necklace around his neck. Tony didn't have the ability to activate the eye in any way. "Be careful with it," he warned him anyway. “The fate of the whole universe depends on the safekeeping of the time stone. I’m trusting you with it.”

“No pressure,” Tony mumbled but his eyes were solemn. Warmth flooded him thinking about how much faith Stephen put in him.

The eye felt heavy on Tony’s chest. A chunky piece of jewelry. It lay above the arc reactor. The feared feeling of magic did not appear and Tony was both happy and disappointed about that. He didn’t know what the fuss was about, but Stephen’s words prevented him from commenting. He sensed that this was a big deal.

[lixern]

- " in your arms, i'm safe "

xiao included /w gn!reader

angst to fluff  !¡ emotional abuse , reader has issues , suicidal topics , reader shorter than xiao, modern AU

xiao who gets in his car immediately the moment you text him you're upset, even if its raining. he doesn't even know the reason you're upset, he just knows you are.

xiao who curses the speed limit for being so low, he wants to get to your house now to hold you. are you okay? are you hurt? he thinks to himself at the moment.

you who sees that xiao has left you on read, thinking you annoyed him. but its just your mind. you don't know he's speeding over to you.

you who's crying because of your parent, they're supposed to be protecting you not giving you orders and threatening you. watery eyes, crystal tears threatening to leave your eyes.

you and xiao who finally meet eyes in your house, him outside the porch with a jacket and umbrella, you in the house shivering with tear-stained cheeks. he apologizes for being so late, stepping into your house leaving the umbrella on the porch, dragging you to your room to comfort you.

"hey pretty, go get me some french fries." your parent said, just a meter away from the french fry bowl. then you reply, "why don't you get it yourself?" usually you do, out of sarcasm at least. but right now, you weren't really in the mood to get it yourself.

"you don't really wanna make me mad, do you pretty?" they said, you just wished you could reply out of spite. but no, not like those last times where you ended up ugly crying on the floor.

so you stand up from your position, get the fries and get back to your place. its frustrating, really. how lazy your parent is at home, but you couldn't blame them since they're such a hardworking faker in they're work.

it wasn't always like this, infact, you used to love them a lot. they used to be sweet, caring. they cared for you, listened to you.

but now, it just wasn't the same.

you started noticing how they'd order you to do small stuff, it annoyed you at first. but they're your parent, so you should comply, right? but then started the big stuff, how you cried day and night seeking for comfort, help. when they made you cry daily.

but spat out the words of venom, "i don't care."

whenever they made you cry, ugly in front of them. as always, anger always got the best of them. "control your anger" was a golden rule in your house, you yourself weren't allowed to shout or cry.

yet why were they allowed? it was unfair, no?

to them it was not, but a grown up you were. so why?

over time, hiding your emotions were a habit. whenever negative emotions struck out, your parent would get mad if you didn't tell them why. what a great way to take care of your child! anger? you couldn't scream, hit anything. but they could. sadness? you couldn't cry, or else they'd start hitting everyone else.

you could only be happy, no matter what.

so today, you followed those same exact rules. but you were in such a good mood that it was more depressing.

you were in a game with some of your close friends, laughing about whatever glitches and funny stuff were happening. "ayo! go get him man- he's damaged 148! oneshot, of course."

a fun game, with just you, your friends, and no one else- or so you thought.

"there! over there at logs- OH SHIT!"

everyone laughed, you too. but you were too loud, so yet you had to go out and apologize.

with your headset on, you muted your friends voices and went out.

"sorry-" you said laughing, still thrilled by your friends.

"it isn't funny, i can hear you with my headset on. go close the game, its so late you shouldn't be playing at this time."

pissed you were, they were gaming too! how do they have the right to talk? oh right, they're your parent. just because they're your parent means they can stomp on you.

so you let out a sigh, went back into your room and closed the game. climbing into your bed, you pulled out your phone to watch some videos. scroll scroll scroll, tears were threatening to pour out your eyes.

then you heard your father come in the room, slamming the door in the process. "I'll go out to pick up your mom first pretty, love you!"

oh, they're in his happy mood again.

"bye." you said in reply.

the door closed, and you got back to your phone. once you heard the car out, you started to crawl into your bed. But why were they the one who was able to do everything you couldn't do? it just isn't fair. you noticed crystal tears dropping down your eyes, but no one was there in your house to care in the first place. so you decided to just text your friends, and your boyfriend of course.

"i just wished i was dead." then you saw the eye beside the message.

oh, xiao saw the message.

you texted again, "i fucking hate my life right now." but you saw xiao didn't see the message. oh god- did you annoy him? was he busy?

"oh hey, your there." you texted xiao again. maybe he'd reply- maybe, maybe he was just busy?

well he doesn't see it again, after a few minutes even.

bad thoughts pour in your head, i'm annoying aren't i? im just a attention seeker, aren't i? what if he just doesn't like me-

tears flow out more, you hic and sob. smashing your face into the pillow to drown out the sounds.

wait- why are you drowning them out again? nobody was in the house in the first pla-

ring

the doorbell rung, maybe your parent was back. you wiped your tears hastily, looking through your phone camera to see if you looked like you didn't just cry and fuck- you did look like you cried. but if you don't answer soon enough, they'll go berserk.

knock knock knock

it was more aggressive, fuck maybe they are mad! you rushed to the door and opened it, apologizing frantically that you just woke up but-

"xiao?! what are you doing here? you aren't supposed to be here-"

"shh, quiet." he pressed a finger to your lips to shush you, with his free hand rubbing your cheek with his thumb, cupping your face afterwards.

"i'm sorry for being late, speed limit was such a bother."

the umbrella outside looked discarded from hurry, xiao's shoes drenched from the puddles of rain. you quickly tell him to take off his shoes and invite him inside, hugging him in the process.

xiao dragged you into your own room, making you sit down on the bed while he sat down with you. he held you in his arms, your back to his chest, his arms wrapped around you hugging you.

"tell me what's wrong, i'll be here for you the whole time, and every time."

he pats you while waiting for your response, whether its you just crying or talking to him, he's here to listen.

you cried, sobbed, whatever emotion you were letting out in his arms. turning around to hug him, tight. burying your face in his shoulder, it turned wet, but he didn't care, not at all.

"i just don't wanna- i don't know! everything's so unfair and- hic''

babbling out words, it was scrambled, incoherent. everything you felt, all coming out.

"calm, calm. say it slowly. i'll listen." xiao said, rubbing your back, soothing you in the process. while you hicced and hicced, sobbed and sobbed. "just listen to my heartbeat, breath in, breath out. calm yourself."

and so you did. breathing slowly controlled. you begin to speak telling your boyfriend what happened.

in detail you described each and everything that's happened, past and present. still clinging onto xiao. maybe you didn't have your family, but at least you had xiao. a sweet boy, your boy. he's everything to you, everything you thought you couldn't deserve.

"hey its okay, i'm here for you." he tried his best to sound gentle, well he never knew much about this comfort stuff. but of course, for you he'd try.

pressing kisses on your face, he cherishes you as always. you, feeling sad, he wanted you to feel loved. so he did everything he could, physical touch, words of affirmation. caressing you, holding you. a treasure you were. the silence was loud, but his actions spoke louder. so both of you were quiet.

you began to smile, breaking the silence.

"hey xiao- you know about this new update in this game and.."

you babbled and babbled, mood finally calmed. you know your parents wouldn't be back in awhile anyway.

"mhm," he'd say, acknowledging your statements. smiling with you, laughing with you.

pecks here and there, affection everywhere. xiao says,

"love you, i love you."

maybe this day wasn't such a bad one after all. because safe, you were.

with him.

[frankenjoly]

For the ship ask game: fyolai, siglai, inuokko

fyolai: ship it

What made you ship it?

nikolai's gushing about fyodor + the whole murder plan to free himself from those feelings specifically to get closer to his goal... mhmmm... and the hand-holding scene in meursault. cannot be convinced there isn't something going on.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

even me being an absolute pussy can enjoy some angsty stuff (says she, who teared up with that one hurt no comfort fic). i mean, you can have the angsty side and sprinkle it with fluff. and pls, things like the omake where fyodor plays along with nikolai's pun,,,,,,,,,,

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

why the angst when we already have the canon? (kidding) (but not much alksjdf).

siglai: ship it

What made you ship it?

nikolai picking sigma specifically as a partner in crime like... yeah, it may be about his ability but... the whole "you won't be truly free while fyodor's out there" when nikolai has his own freedom thing going on and sigma just wants a place to belong and be in peace, food for thought.

(also i'm not gonna pretend that with both fyolai and siglai you had influence, and i think it's beautiful.)

What are your favorite things about the ship?

it's usually more fluffy (again kidding but not much lakjsd). they get each other at least to a point, and pls,,,, nikolai calling sigma his beautiful assistant and sigma complaining but doing as he asked,,, mhmmm...

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

there's not enough siglai, basically.

inuokko: ship it

What made you ship it?

without knowing yuta yet, i was convinced the whole thing about him wanting to kill yuuji and using toge's arm being cut off as an argument was bcs he was mad and didn't know it had been sukuna. then i read vol 0 and omg,,, cuties,,,

What are your favorite things about the ship?

i like friends to lovers a lot, and even with the setting being what it is, they're just so cute... yuta gushing about how cool toge is and how much he had misunderstood him in the middle of a fucking mission, toge thinking about months about how to help yuta,,, also gojo basically saying "yeah inumaki-kun doesn't need help for this but go with him, watch and learn ;)" he was onto something fr.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

i don't get the takes about yuta being overly possesive/jealous when it comes to toge... i can totally buy him having some insecurities even when he's grown more confident since joining the school, but i think yuta getting jealous would involve more moping than aggression alksjdfl.

[sleepymccoy]

Fic writer ask: 5, 10, 20, 21

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

Never is such a commitment! I have a bunch of ideas that I haven't started writing, but looking at my previous behaviour I know there's every chance I will start one day. I never thought I'd start posting triage cos the ending is so emotionally complex, but I've started. Never thought I'd write my arrange marriage good omens au, but it's got so many words now that I'm having to restructure the docs. I don't think there any never.

Original work tho? I hope one day I can write my immortal lesbian witch story but I don't know if I'll ever be good/brave enough to take it on

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Mm I don't have many expectations when I post, cos I know what I get out of it. But, and I know I've spoken about this before, I think it was Is It Worth It Yet I didn't that for angst cos I knew the ending was happy. Cos I wrote it, whenever I read the first chapter I wasn't too bothered cos it was much more about the silly fluff later, that was like the prologue. But someone pointed out it was angsty and deserved a hurt to comfort tag. I reread and realised that yeah, if you're reading for the first time (which obvs most people who aren't the author are doing!) It's real sad!!! I learnt a bit about my writing then, it was cool

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

Honestly I'm so disconnected from the titles. I have working titles when I'm writing which are much much more basic be descriptive. When I post I quickly come up with a title that's either a word or line pulled directly from the fic or is some thesaurus definition cos I couldn't think of anything.

Perhaps Triage, it has a good amount of communication. That Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship isn't safe, they're having to constantly triage their interactions to prioritise safety over comfort. But sometimes comfort does need to be prioritised but that doesn't mean it will be next time. I think triage is a good way to summarise them

21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why?

Oh yeah! Its something I do very often. Struggling with a scene means I will have spent hours writing it. If I'm not happy with what's coming out I write it out two or three times more with different intentions. I always have the if they communicated perfectly draft, which removes misunderstanding and lets me explore moving the plot forward. Then there's the worst misunderstanding possible draft which is the absolute opposite and they fuck up royally. Sometimes I also do a funny version or a version with lots of external interruptions.

So I'll often end up with four very different versions of the same scene. I usually end up blending the two best versions and make sure it still fits within the overall story and scrap the rest.

For example, the last chapter of Triage has been undergoing this for years. I'll show you my files

The one modified on Oct 3 has four dot point draft ideas as well. I'm gonna spend a whole arvo restructuring at some point. I think it's gonna end up being two chapters, cos it's a bit too much in just one rn

But yeah, the stuff I don't keep will just go. I'm not attached to things that don't work

[azapofinspiration]

Writer Interview Game

Tagged by @grassbreads

When did you start writing?

Uh, I started attempting to write my own stuff around 5th/6th Grade (though not much came of that; most of my own stories and characters just turn in the microwave of my brain rather than on the page).

Writing fanfic though (which is most of my writing) is a bit different. I had a friend who wrote fanfic in middle school (though I didn't know that it had a name and community online) that I would read over and proofread/edit for. So I was also inspired to write a couple fanfics and lines for my fave series at the time, Inuyasha and Chrono Crusade.

But I didn't know what fanfic was and actually start writing regularly until I was in college. I was looking for official art, stumbled into fan art, which then lead to fanfiction on FF.Net and the rest was history.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I do read smut when the mood takes me and I don't write that at all. Though admittedly, depending on the context, sometimes I kinda zoom through the sex stuff to get to whatever catharsis or crisis the characters are going through in that setting. The closest I've gotten to writing that is just fading out and implying sex happened.

Other than that, I read and write hurt/comfort, fluff, angst. Fantasy, adventure, slice of life. I mostly stick to what I know and only occasionally dip my toes in elsewhere.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

As a kid, I wanted to emulate the author of HP. I no longer wish to do that for obvious reasons, though part of me still admires how back in the day her works spurred practically a whole generation to read.

I know once someone told me that a poem I wrote was a similar style to Robert Frost's but that's the only time I really remember someone comparing my work to another author (and I don't think I was even a teenager yet). I don't usually write much poetry anyway so it's kinda a moot point. Usually when people talk about my work, comparisons aren't much of a factor.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

My writing space is mostly my apartment, usually either my bed or my couch/love seat. I use a laptop to do most of my writing, though I have on occasions used my phone if I'm compelled to write elsewhere or need to be sneaky about it.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

It's just a hobby for me, so I write as I can when I can. The coming up with ideas is usually the easy part. The actual getting them written down and comprehensible to others (and motivating myself to do so) is the hard part.

I've got tons of ideas rotating in my brain, mostly for fanfic but also for my OCs in the way back.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I mean, I do write a lot of hurt/comfort. While I do write angst, I don't like completely hopeless endings. I like something that allows at least a smidge of hope to linger.

I guess if there's anything close to a theme, it's about people being there to support each other. I've written this as family, friends, and romantic partners. Actually, a lot of my shipping fics are in an amibiguous, is it romantic or platonic zone, because I don't necessarily care about the specifics as long as they're together and supporting each other.

What is your reason for writing?

I think it's fun even though it can be a lot of hard work. And I like to get these ideas out of my brain and share them with others.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I've often been told that my characterization is really strong and feels true even when I do AU settings completely different from canon. I also think my dialogue has gotten a lot more natural sounding over the years.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I like it. Sure, when I've just posted a fic, I may be fed up with it due to all the writing and editing and proofreading I've been doing, but I'll eat it up the same as any other fic or story I read within just a couple of weeks. I write the stuff that I wish I could read and want to put my own spin on, so of course, I do usually like my writing - even if upon reading it I suddenly notice grammar, spelling, or word errors that weren't caught in all the proofreading and spellchecks I did.

Still, overall, I do like my writing and I'm proud of how far it's come.

Now, perhaps if I could just get some stuff written about my OCs...

For whoever wants to do this, feel free to try this game yourself. I'll tag @theroadtosomewhere and @xlillyle to play if they want to (no pressure).

[heybaetae]

what are your favorite fanfic tropes? and can you read every trope you like with every pairing or do you have specific tags/tropes that you must either only read with this one specific ship or a tag/trope that you will never associate with that one ship even if you like the trope itself (so you would rather read it with a different pairing)?

haha i love talking about fics :) i'm not very picky about tropes as long as it has a happy ending and nobody important dies. genre-wise, i don't read canon compliant. i enjoy AUs way better for the original plots and world building aspect of the story and preferably with non-famous characters (although that doesn't mean i won't read fics where someone is famous, i just don't usually gravitate towards it because i like to read fic where they're just every-day people or if their occupation as a "famous" person at least differs from how they're famous in real life... i.e. actor, boxer, author, etc.). i loooove historical fics and the occasional story with fantasy/adventure elements like mythical creatures or magic. i'm also a big fan of pirates. i love a pirate. basically, any kind of story that takes place nearby (or on) the sea will have me rattling bars. that's good stuff.

as for tropes, i like good ol' strangers-to-lovers or friends-to-lovers the best. enemies-to-lovers can be fun if it's written really well, but it can feel a little repetitive sometimes and i don't always enjoy reading two characters be hurtful towards one another for long periods of time. it just depends on the writing and the plot with that one. i like all the cliche tropes! mutual pining, roommates, social media, fake relationship, slow burn, ANGST!!!, fluff, emotionally stunted characters who slowly open up throughout the fic as you peel back the layers of their backstory, bed sharing, travelling together, hurt/comfort....all that fun stuff, really. i'm not super squeamish, so plot-necessary violence is tolerable. but if scenes start treading into really heavy self inflicted pain on-the-page instead of implied/referenced, especially if it wasn't tagged, then that's different. i'm not into omege-verse. and obvious stuff like incest, r*pe, or pedophilia is a giant no. i don't know why or how people even go looking for/writing anything with that.

i'm not picky with pairings either, but i do tend to stick with certain ones if i like how they're written more often and if i enjoy the dynamics between them in a story. some pairings make me feel more than others, but that can also vary depending on the writing or the storyline too. i can get just as invested with side pairings as well and have no preference with that kinda stuff as long as the fic remains mostly centered around the main pairing of choice.

[minetteskvareninova]

Notes:

A/B/O - I can imagine a good fic with this trope, but still very much Not My Thing

amnesia fic - That's not how human brain works. That's not how anything works. No. I reject.

angst - Honestly, this can be basically anything from mild miscommunication making two people believe the other one doesn't love them back to hardcore tragedy. Too nonspecific, is what I'm saying.

arranged marriage - cackles like the freak I am

baby fic - Nice trope! Not a top-tier, but still Appeals to me.

sharing a bed - The more I ponder this one, the more I like it. Even if it does make me feel like the most basic of basic bitches.

bang or die - softly NO

body swap - Not exactly my thing, but I guess it can be fun, like purely theoretically?

coffee shop - Pure cliche. I don't hate it, just mildly dislike it.

college AU - Another one that can go either way.

crack fic - I mean, if it's funny, why not?

crossover - Once again, depends what is combined with what, but I do have to say it Appeals to me in a way that, say, college AU doesn't.

dark fic - I am less keen on fics going darker than canon than the other way around, but it's not an unsalvageable concept either.

major character death - Again. Who is dying and how.

canon divergence - Nice concept for a fic!

enemies to lovers - I'd rather not. Too easy to fuck up.

established relationship - If it's not one of my NOTPs, then heart eyes

fairytale AU - I've always loved fairytales, and I am still a sucker for a good retelling, so sue me.

fake relationship - Would be a pretty fun concept if it wasn't so predictable. Like at this point it just makes me roll my eyes, because there's literally zero will they or won't they. THEY DO. EVERY SINGLE TIME. And I know that's the case with other tropes too, like arranged marriage, but those at least don't try to lie to you.

fix it fic - The best kind of fic!

fluff - Well, I guess I am a whore then.

friends to lovers - People who like each other getting into a relationship? What is this sorcery???

gen fic - Not my preference, but otherwise a perfectly valid concept and there should be more of them.

hurt-comfort - Again. Why not?

historical AU - I want to say that I wish there was more research involved, but… Let's face it. You are not writing serious media, and I am not reading it. Research is a nice bonus, but I'll eat it up regardless.

high school AU - Uh… I like when they are actually written as kids, either for humor or horror (in a dark fic)? Otherwise it just gives me Gossip Girl flashbacks. Ugh. No.

huddle for warmth - The guiltiest of guilty pleasures.

humor - Much like angst, too non-specific.

in vino veritas - Dunno. Can be funny, I guess (I am a base, unsophisticated creature and alcohol-based jokes never fail to make me laugh), but doesn't Appeal to me.

first kiss - I guess it could work in like a story about two teenagers falling in love or queer people discovering their sexuality or whatever. But mostly I don't get the big deal.

magic AU - Eh?

miscommunication - Haha NO

missing scenes - FUCK YES. My favourite stuff to write.

mutual pining - Just… Don't overdo it, please? Okay?

sex pollen - And you thought A/B/O is a stupid concept!

pregnancy fic - Again, I am a whore.

pwp - I read this one way too much for my own good, because they are quick, easy, and fun, but just because something excites me sexually, that doesn't mean I can't hold it in contempt, okay?

royalty AU - I am not proud of myself either, but I am not going to lie to you either and say it's not very much My Thing.

slow burn - I don't have the patience most of the time, but they are usually more emotionally satisfying, so that kinda evens out.

soulmate AU - This goddamn trope could go die in a ditch. That's not how love works, and it would suck pretty badly if it did!

time loop - Overused and uninteresting, at least to me.

love triangle - Can go very badly, but still. I love me some good love triangle.

unhappy ending - I'd rather not, but I'll admit, sometimes, it's necessary for the story, and I respect that.

unrequited love - Not very keen on it, but I don't hate it either.

Look What I Found

Create a Fan Fiction Tropes Tier List - TierMaker

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[yesloverboy]

hot for teacher (eddie munson x reader) pt. 3: more than this

part one | part two |

SUMMARY: Feelings start to grow as the weeks go by, but for some reason Eddie won't stop avoiding you at school. As it turns out, there's nothing a little public humiliation can't fix.

word count: 7k (someone sedate me)

[content warnings: swearing, smoking, drug use, name calling, slight angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, idiots to lovers, eddie kind of being an asshole, confrontation, KISSING!!]

NOTE: I know it's a long one, but it's gotta be one of my favorites. Thanks for reading!

tag list: @captinkirc, @eddiestyles-harrymunson, @itswormtrain, @yoojinkang, @untilwearestarsinthesky, @youareadistraction, @totallynotkaibiased, @preciousbabypeter, @feminist-mina-harker, @ajeff855, @projectcampbell, @the-better-harrington

It wasn’t long before tutoring Eddie became a seamless part of your weekly routine. Eyes sprung open eagerly every Saturday morning as slippered feet propelled you to the bathroom on their own accord. As the days went by, you found yourself fussing over each lipstick color and out of place hair more and more, pretending to be blissfully unaware of where your uncaring attitude had run off to. Dustin would pound incessantly on the bathroom door, asking when you decided to become such a girl. 

“What are you looking at, creep?” 

You had been reading Eddie a passage from his history book about the Louisiana Purchase after he had all but insisted the words would stick better if you did. At the time you didn’t buy it, taking note of the worn through J. R. R. Tolkien and Anne Rice paperbacks tucked away in his unkempt room. Yet you indulged his request anyway, finding it harder and harder to resist Eddie’s wry smile and sable eyes. 

Halfway down the page, you realized the familiar scratching of Eddie’s pencil had ceased. Instead, his gaze was transfixed on your lips. The few times you’d caught him staring, he would retreat, pretending to look past you or be intently focused on something right in front of him. 

This time was different. 

“Red looks good on you,” he smirks. 

You've worn that lipstick every day since. 

Each weekend was filled with more of Eddie’s erratic outbursts, followed closely by horror movie marathons and music-based rewards for his constant effort. In fact, you were so close to running the Family Video dry of its slashers that Robin started getting more concerned for your health than usual. 

“Friday The 13th V!?” she’d shouted incredulously, causing a group of middle school aged kids to scurry hurriedly out the door, bell chiming cheerfully in their wake. “I thought we agreed; no sequels! Everyone knows sequels are the death of originality.” 

Another Saturday afternoon had rolled around, and you decided to stop by the video store on the way to Forest Hills to see if there was something, anything in their limited stock you may have missed. As usual, Robin was annoyingly perceptive, a quality you typically found endearing when she wasn’t blurting out your every noteworthy action to the general public.

You roll your eyes. “Well, that was before I ran out of stuff to watch.”

Steve waggles his eyebrows, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his Quik-E-Mart slurpee. “You mean before you and Munson ran out of stuff to watch. That is if you even watch them at all.” 

Heat floods the apples of your cheeks, wondering when Steve Harrington of all people decided to get so invested in your personal life. Robin you could understand, she had a heart of gold and a brain that ran a mile a minute, interested in anything and everything that fell outside of the norm. Steve, on the other hand, was chronically preoccupied. He was a bad listener, with a penchant for hitting on girls that had no interest in anything but the newest Tom Cruise flick. Perhaps Steve didn’t understand subtleties, but from where you were standing it seemed more than likely he was just a glutton for punishment. 

“Eddie and Y/N kissing in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N–ow!” Robin yelped as a copy of The Breakfast Club collided with her temple. 

“Would the both of you grow up, already?” You scold as Robin clutches the back of her head protectively. “I’m helping Eddie, not screwing him.”

“Not yet anyway…” Steve mumbles, straw between his teeth. Irritation stings in your chest as Robin not-so-secretly slides a crisp high-five being Steve’s back, their giggles taunting you. 

That afternoon Steve Harrington, too, learned just how much it hurt to get a Molly Ringwald tape to the back of the head. 

____________________________________________________________

It wasn’t until you were fully enveloped in school’s mundane cycle that something about spending so much time with Eddie Munson started eating away at you. It seemed that, no matter how many history chapters you conquered or cassette tapes you burned a hole in, Eddie refused to spare you even a passing glance in halls of Hawkins High. 

At first it was no big deal–Eddie had his Hellfire Club, and you had a GPA to keep up. It made perfectly logical sense that the two of you wouldn’t magically be fused at the hip after just a few study sessions. Regardless, there were only so many hand brushes and stolen glances you could share under the cover of his trailer before avoiding you seemed deliberate. Any time you were in front of more than one other person, Eddie's demeanor would shift, his usual doe eyes glazing over as if nothing were there at all. 

The thought alone of Hawkins’ own outcast turned unlikely confidant not wanting to be associated with someone like you was enough to turn your stomach into angry knots. Anxiety radiated off of you, repeating over and over again that Eddie was just using you to get what he wanted. 

It was impossible to believe that he could be so deceptive, especially not after the way he kept after you at the first session when you fell asleep curled at his side. Most boys his age would have jumped at the opportunity to try something unsavory, yet he’d done everything in his power to keep you comfortable. He’d held you there, long after the credits rolled, the film inside nearly curling in on itself as the hours passed. 

You weren’t even fully aware of how bothered you were until Friday’s lunch period rolled around. Sitting with the band kids, close at Robin’s flank, you watched sullenly as Eddie laughed along with your brother and his friends, the grinning demon on their matching shirts mocking you from afar. For the first time, you wished so badly to trade places with Dustin at Eddie’s side, ridiculous uniform be damned. 

“Why don’t you ever sit with Eddie?” Robin ponders, watching your face evolve into various stages of disappointment. “I thought the two of you were getting pretty close. He’s a freak, you’re a closet freak; you like horror movies and metal; he likes horror movies and metal. It’s like a match made in some kinda weird Lovecraftian heaven, don’t you think?”

Picking at the frayed denim of your jacket, you find yourself unable to even look in his direction any longer, afraid the familiar sting of loneliness would well in your eyes once more. “I guess even the freaks are too good for me after all. You gotta give it to him, though, he plays a damn good game–even I nearly fell for it.”

Robin guffaws suddenly, a snort erupting from her nose. “Care to share with the rest of the class, Buckley?” 

She curls inwards, muscles constricting her ribs in pure amusement. “Is that what you think is going on? God, Y/N, you may be the smartest in our grade but you sure are blind. It’s like you’re, uh-uh, a mole person or something–surviving beyond us mortals without a clue of what life above ground is really like. Wait until Steve hears that you think Munson is secretly some evil genius, he’s gonna–”

“What the fuck are you even talking about? Clearly he won’t even speak to me unless we’re reciting the Bill of Rights. Trust me, I know when I’m not wanted.” 

Robin coughs awkwardly, giggles fading as your bitterness turns her watery blue eyes into wells of sympathy. She leans in close, her usually loud voice barely hissing above a whisper. “You’re really telling me you don’t see the way he looks at you, Henderson? It’s like you’re the last person on earth.”

A slender hand wraps protectively around your own as the rasp of her words fizzle with comfort. Robin knew better than anyone else what it was like to be rejected, even if the shouts and screams would always fall on deaf ears and behind closed doors. 

“The last person on earth he’d want to be seen with…” You mutter, but Robin isn’t letting up. Before she was able to list off the dozens of reasons why she believes you and Eddie are made for each other, Robin could feel a pair of eyes following along as the two of you bickered.

“Psst,” she hisses, “He’s looking at you now, dingus.” 

Eyes darting across the cafeteria you find that, sure enough, Robin was right after all. Eddie’s dusky gaze met yours, a glimpse of the sweet boy you’d come to know piercing straight through to your fluttering heart. Face flushed, he turns away, defensively leaning in towards Mike Wheeler and your baby brother, hands folding in as if he’d been concentrating on their conversation all along. 

Something inside of you snaps, fraying and severing the glue binding your level headed demeanor together. Who did Eddie think he was ignoring you for weeks and then having the audacity to look at you like nothing was wrong?

“Hold this,” you grunt, shoving your bag into Robin's open arms. Her grip isn’t fast enough, and she’s left scrambling to pick up the mess of notes that tumbled free from your chemistry book as it fell from the loose fabric.   

“Y/N, wait–” She tries, but it’s too late, you’re already exiting the bench and striding over to Eddie, hell bent for an explanation. 

Watchful eyes follow you in horror, mouths gaping as the quiet, soon-to-be-valedictorian storms Eddie “the freak” Munson’s table of cult followers. 

“Eddie Munson,” you bark. He looks up at you bewildered, the rest of his nerdy entourage following in suit–your kid brother included. 

“Y/N, are you okay–” Dustin flounders, but you’re quick to cut him off. 

“Shut up,” you scowl, voice firm. “This is between me and Munson, isn’t that right, freak?” 

Eddie just looks up at you helplessly, all too aware of the audience that was beginning to accumulate. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He’s desperate, slowly coming to the realization that this whole spectacle could be your undoing. 

“We have spent every Saturday together for weeks yet you don’t even have the decency to say so much as one word to me at school? I want to know why, now.” 

The silence in the cafeteria is deafening as each member of the Hawkins student body absorbs your words. Y/N Henderson the quiet and lonesome honors student, had been hanging out with Eddie Munson? Shock didn’t even begin to encompass the palpable energy that hung dangerously in the air.

Whispers tentatively erupt from all sides, their increasingly eager chitters crawling beneath your skin and raising the hairs on your arms. 

I thought she was smart? 

They always say drugs fry your brain like an egg.

Do you think they’re banging?

Probably made a pact with the devil.

Oh, he has her under some kinda spell.

Eddie didn’t concern himself with the words of others anymore; in fact, he was more than accustomed to the sideways glances and bouts of wicked laughter following him like a disease. But this time it wasn’t about him, it was about you. His beautiful, perfect, history tutor that all but hung the sun in his midnight sky, illuminating a world he didn’t believe he was meant for. You took the time to understand him, to learn his language and exist in his world, even if it were for a few hours at a time. In his eyes, he assumed it was just a job to you–no more, no less. But to Eddie, it meant the world. 

Avoiding you had been his way of protecting you, and he would save all of his wildest stories and funniest jokes for every passing Saturday in the hopes they would eventually make up for it. But now, with the whole of Hawkins High in attendance, he realized the silent treatment wouldn’t be enough. More than anything he wanted to take the hurt and frustration off of your face, even if that meant going back in time and returning every wave and smile you’d so graciously gifted him. After this, that wasn’t going to be a viable option.

He wouldn’t let you become a leper like him, he couldn’t. 

Eddie’s face hardens, a ringed fist coiling tightly together under his chin. The grip is so unyielding you’re worried his fingers may snap in two. He didn’t want to do it, but he had to make this hurt.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says flatly, just loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear and relay back to the others, dark eyes boring into yours. “Dustin, why don’t you tell your sister to get back to the books and stop being such a fangirl?” 

Your heart shatters, each broken piece slicing your insides on the way down. The faint sound of gasps and giggles grate against your ears as white hot fury pricks tears in your eyes. Just as the nagging voices in your head had predicted, you had been played. Thoroughly and unabashedly made a fool of after years of ensuring it would never happen again.

With a trembling hand, you snatch an open carton of milk off of Dustin’s plastic lunch tray. In that moment it was as if you were outside of your body, watching helplessly as some otherworldly force guided you. 

“Fuck you, Eddie Munson.” 

In one swift motion, you dump the carton on Eddie’s head, the steady flow of watery cafeteria milk soaking his curls and cascading down his face. His mouth falls open in astonishment, air sputtering from his lips. The cold is shocking against his skin, seeping through the collar of his vest and trickling its way down his back. Eddie doesn’t dare move, knowing full well he deserves whatever punishment you were willing to dish out. 

Before you could let the inevitable clutches of humiliation take hold, the urge to flee overcomes you. Turning on your heel, you rush through the cafeteria, shoving past the onslaught of students crowding around the scene. Sneakers pound against the linoleum, the echoes of your frantic steps and pained gasps chasing you through the halls. 

Robin is the first to react, clumsily scrambling to her feet with both of your bags in tow. “Y/N, wait up!”

She hesitates only to shoot Eddie a venomous glance, eyes cutting into him like shards of glass. “When Steve Harrington finds out about this, you’re dead, buster.”

The rest of Hellfire lets out a chorus of oooh’s at Robin’s threat, with the exception of Dustin and Mike sharing bewildered glances. Surrounding laughter continues to dominate the room, drowning out the sound of milk dripping off of Eddie’s trembling shoulders. 

“What the shit did you do that for, asshole?” Your little brother slams an opened palm on the table, fed up with Eddie’s silence and the face of his heartbroken sister playing on repeat. “You can’t just talk to my sister like that! All she ever wanted to do was help you.”

As furious as Dustin was for the pain Eddie caused you, he was hurt, too. His hero was tumbling from grace right before his very eyes, the revelation of the crash and burn all too difficult to fully comprehend. When Dustin yelled at Eddie, part of him was seeing someone else. 

“I know,” Eddie’s voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of the pain and humiliation he inflicted. “I returned the favor.” 

____________________________________________________________

As the bathroom door slams behind you, the well of tears that had been brimming behind your eyes finally spilled over. Back against the wall, you sink to the floor, legs collapsing beneath you on the dirty concrete. Shallow gasps turn into wet sobs, sucking the air out of your lungs and singeing a hole through your chest. 

…Why don’t you tell your sister to get back to the books and stop being such a fangirl?

Eddie’s words are scorched on your memory, the vision of his deep brown eyes turning black with contempt burning in your mind. That wasn’t a face you recognized, and yet the cruelty punched through his voice clear as day. He used you, just like Robin and Steve worried he would, and just as your bruised self esteem had frantically tried to caution you.

Still, memories of Eddie’s laughter came flooding back. You couldn’t ignore the way his eyes crinkled as you flinched away from sprays of fake blood on the television screen, or how he would fall in a heap on the carpet during an air guitar solo, fluffy curls thrashing wildly. Each afternoon spent rifling through history books, you had unlocked a new secret about Eddie that made you grow fonder. Like the way he would leave out food for the stray cats each night, or how he refused to even smell a cup of coffee without heaps of cream and sugar mixed in. He had names and voices associated with each of his guitars, and sometimes they would even “talk” to you when Eddie would take a break to restring them on his lap. 

Eddie wasn’t the occultist the Hawkins rumor mill painted him out to be. No, that much was obvious. The Eddie you saw was unbelievably kind and gentle, taking any broken outcast under his wing and taping the pieces back together. In fact, you’d started to think that maybe he could put you back together, too. Instead, he had ripped you apart. 

Even as he broke your heart, he still looked so beautiful. You cursed yourself for being so foolish. 

A harsh pounding on the door shook you from your grief-stricken trance, the reality of all the anger and humiliation being witnessed by the entire school racing back into view.  

“Henderson, open up!” 

Relief hits you like a tidal wave when you realize it was just Robin chasing after you and not a mob of Hawkins students coming to claim their new Jezebel. You rise to your feet slowly, knees trembling. 

The frantic knocking continues, Robin’s voice increasing in pitch as the seconds ticked by. “Y/N I swear to god if you don’t open the door I’m coming in th–” 

Robin’s fist nearly socks you in the face as you open the door, causing you to stagger backwards as she comes stumbling in. Dropping both yours and her books to the floor, her slender frame slams into you suddenly, enveloping you in a tight embrace. 

“Jesus Christ, Henderson. Are-are you okay? God, why did I even say anything–of course you’re not okay. No one would be okay after, uh, after…whatever the fuck that was back there. This is totally my fault, okay? I shouldn’t have said anything, and this never would have happened. I’ll fix it! I promise, Steve and I–we’ll figure this out. Trust me, we’ve been through way worse.” 

Robin’s babbling rattles through your mind as she holds you close, hands clutching the back of your jacket as if you’d fall apart without them. 

“Hey, hey,” you sniffle, “I appreciate it, but you and Steve have already done enough tolerating me, alright? I’m on my own on this one.”

Suddenly, Robin pulls away, still firmly gripping your shoulders. Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, making you wonder if you’d managed to grow a second head on top of today’s already emotionally devastating events. 

“Done enough? What the hell does that even mean done enough?!” 

You pull away, wanting so badly to sink into the floor with nothing but the worms to eat your sorrow and keep you company. “I just mean that you and Steve–you’re not obligated to help just because you feel bad, alright? It’s my mess, and if I’d listened I wouldn’t even be here in the first place.” 

Robin snaps two fingers in front of your face, still peering at you like some kind of escaped zoo animal. “Umm, hello, dingus? Earth to dingus?”

“Cut it out, Robin–!”

She lets out an exasperated sigh. “We’re your friends, you moron. I know you’ve been through some serious mental trauma today, but your big ‘ol brain still knows what those are, right?” 

Friends. The word hung in the air sweetly, like a grape dangling from the vine in a garden of poisoned fruit. You had cultivated your loneliness out of desperation, out of survival after years of middle school torment at the hands of your peers. What people didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, and in turn they cannot hurt what they don’t know. You had your kind brother, your somber but sweet mom, and school to keep you company–it wasn’t much, but it was safe.

And yet, there was Robin. Robin who rang your landline one night desperate to raise her grade to stay in band, not because she enjoyed playing the trumpet per se, but because of a boy she had a crush on who played alongside her. It wasn’t until she finally got her grade up to a B- that you pointed out her section was made up of only girls. 

“And you still wanted to tutor me? Even after knowing…that?”

“What difference would it make? You still suck at AP European history.”

You would never fully understand just how much that meant to her. 

“I–uh…” You start, but words fail you. How could you possibly be so wrong about so many things in a short amount of time?

Robin shoots you a sympathetic smile and bends down to pick your stuff up off the bathroom’s filthy concrete floor. She extends your books out to you as a peace offering, gazing up at you from behind her dirty blond fringe knowingly. 

“Let’s just get you home, okay?”

You can only nod, a stray tear leaking out as you let Robin wrap a long arm around you. Something warm swells within you, blossoming in your stomach with the knowledge that she wasn’t going to let you face the hall’s predatory gaze alone. 

For just a moment, it feels like everything might be okay. 

____________________________________________________________

Steve and Robin stayed with you all weekend, only leaving your side when Dustin insisted that he could handle entertaining you all by himself. Robin in particular was pulling double duty, a new arsenal of cheesy horror movies and boxes of board games occupying her arms each time she rang the doorbell. Monopoly and the Evil Dead; Ghoulies and Scotland Yard; Chopping Mall and Go Fish…the options were seemingly endless, and yet all the same. 

To your surprise, your mother didn’t seem to mind the intrusion. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn she looked pleased to see you spending time with people your own age rather than holed up in your room. While she didn’t pry too much into the matter, each lingering glance at your red-rimmed eyes and every smile directed at your doting friends told you everything you needed to know. A mother’s intuition was rarely fallible, and the woman who raised you and your sweet brother was one who recognized rejection all too well. Perhaps she could see its reflection in your face. 

For the most part, everyone had been great at keeping up the act that everything was going to be fine. 

“It’s just a sleepover! An extended, mentally and emotionally necessary sleepover!” Robin encouraged, her face filled with unbridled enthusiasm as Steve’s jaw flexed each time he was reminded of what Eddie did to you. 

By Sunday night, you had fallen into a safe lull. School was supposed to arrive bright and early the next morning, but everyone unanimously agreed that it would be best for you to remain under the protection of your home until Robin could effectively survey the damage. Occasionally the phone would ring and Dustin would rush to the kitchen, insisting it was just Mike checking in on the situation. You gulped, reminded that your heartache wasn’t an isolated incident.

As the afternoon wasted away, you found yourself in yet another Boggle match with Robin, insisting that no, foreign languages did not count if your opponent didn’t have the means to investigate their legitimacy. Especially if they were written in the Cyrillic alphabet. While Robin pouted in the foyer, you excused yourself to grab a soda from the kitchen. Passing through the hall, the sound of faint voices stopped you in your tracks, your casual stride reduced to tip toes as you tried to make out what they were saying. 

“Listen, Henderson, I don’t give a shit if his little club disappears from the face of the earth. There is absolutely no way he’s coming near her. Not unless he wants to eat through a straw for the rest of his life.”

“But Steve, he’s miserable without her. I can only take so many phone calls before she starts to notice. You remember she’s not a moron, right? All he wants to do is talk.” The sound of your brother’s exasperated voice is unmistakable, invoking the same whine you’d heard thousands of times when Dustin wasn’t getting his way. 

“Well he should have thought about that before humiliating her in front of the entire school. Hmm?” Steve seethes, an anger you didn’t recognize infecting his voice. 

As you try to creep away, your shoulder bumps a picture frame on the wall, the metal jostling noisily against the drywall. You cough awkwardly to muffle the sound, playing it off as if you hadn’t been eavesdropping all along. 

“Y/N?” Dustin calls, muffling the sound of Steve swearing under his breath. 

You emerge out of the dim hallway and into the fluorescent kitchen light apprehensively. “Hello boys,” you mumble, giving the two of them your best half-hearted smile. “What’re you up to?”

Steve leans against the counter, doing his best to look casual as you saunter forward and make a beeline for the fridge. “We were just, uh–”

The phone rings again and Dustin clambers to pick it up, nearly dropping it as he hisses in the receiver. “Not now!!!” He slams the phone back on the wall, a sharp ding echoing through the kitchen. 

“Mike, again?” you venture, cradling an RC Cola nonchalantly. “Maybe you should call him back–that’s what? Four times today?” 

Steve shoots Dustin a knowing look. “Yeah, Dustin. Why don’t you call Mike back?”

Dustin grins nervously, “You know what? I think I’m just going to pay him a visit.”  Grabbing his book bag and walkie talkie from the kitchen table, he rushes out the door in a flurry, shouting goodbyes over his shoulder. 

“Kids, am I right?” Steve snorts as an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. 

The door slams, and suddenly it’s just the two of you. Usually, any interaction with Steve had been buffered by Robin’s endless stream of consciousness that she outwardly expressed to anyone within earshot. Without your security blanket, you found yourself with even less to say than normal. 

“So, how are we holding up considering, um, you know…?” Steve searches the floral wallpaper, hand winding in circles as he tries to find the proper words. It’s clear that being naturally protective and being comforting were two totally different things. 

You snort, still awestruck by the ridiculousness of it all. Eddie “the freak” had completely broken your heart and here “King Steve” was, standing in your mother’s cheerfully decorated kitchen and checking in on your wellbeing. 

“Like shit,” you answer honestly. Robin neverending rotation of distractions had been just that–distractions. There hadn’t been time to think, let alone process the utterly scarring experience that unfolded just two days prior.

Steve lets out a soft laugh, kicking his feet against the linoleum as the back of his arms remain firmly on the counter. “I guess that’s to be expected. Actually, I’ve been in your shoes before–not exactly, but pretty close.” 

“You, Steve Harrington, have been in my shoes?” you quirk an eyebrow, struggling to imagine a reality where things didn’t go his way–little did you know, you had a lot to learn. 

He shifts awkwardly. “Well yeah, uh, you remember Nancy Wheeler, right? I thought she and I were going to be endgame–the perfect couple for god knows how long. Forever, maybe? I don’t know, it was a stupid thought.”

You want to interrupt him, assure him that no, he wasn’t being stupid, but instead you held your breath. It seemed that Steve didn’t talk about it much, and who knows when he’d have the strength to do it again. 

“But, uh, at Tommy H.’s Halloween party everything just fell apart. All I wanted was for her to relax, forget about all the scary shit for just a little while. I guess she thought that meant getting as drunk as everyone else, but that wasn’t–isn’t– Nancy, and I didn’t want her to change, just…have fun.”

“What happened next?” you ask quietly, taking a seat on the countertop. 

Steve tugs at his hair. “I tried to help her get cleaned up and all she could do was tell me I was bullshit–that we were bullshit. And right there, in that bathroom at Tommy H.’s house, she said she didn’t love me anymore. That she was just pretending.” 

“Jesus, Steve that’s–”

“Humiliating?” Even though he was smiling, you watched as his soft brown eyes traced the moment in his mind, the pain writhing under the surface. 

“I was going to say brutal, but yeah, humiliating works, too.” 

A moment of silence passes, with only the thrum of the overhead lighting hanging in the air. You think back to all the phone calls Dustin had scrambled to answer, accompanied by his and Steve’s hushed voices.

“Steve?”

His eyes snap up at you suddenly, shaken from whatever trance the memories of Nancy had him under. “Hmmm?” 

“Would you forgive, Nancy? I mean, if she wanted to talk–to apologize, would you let her?”

“Of course,” he answers quickly, as if he’d mulled the question over in his head a dozen times before. “She’s–well, she’s not a bad person, you know?”

He’s convincing you, maybe even convincing himself. 

“Yeah,” you agree, “I know.” 

Steve smiles and moves from his place at the opposite end of the counter to place an encouraging hand on your shoulder. You allow him to usher you out of your mother’s sickly yellow kitchen and into the dim hall. 

“We better get you back to that Boggle game, we all know what happens if you keep the beast waiting.” 

While Steve had a point–Robin was an absolute monster when it came to word games–the laugh you choke out is hollow, mind drifting elsewhere. Try as you may, you still couldn’t imagine the crisp and put-together Nancy Wheeler slurring venomous words into Steve’s unwary face. Sure, it had been months ago, but Steve had recovered. Forgiven her, even. 

If only you could be sure of what kind of person Eddie Munson really was.

____________________________________________________________

Monday goes by in a blur. As soon as the school bell rings, Robin is rushing over to share as many of the grisly details she thinks you can handle. Yes, everyone was still talking about the incident with Eddie–Jason affectionately dubbing you the satanist’s virgin sacrifice. Each confirmation of how much of a loser you now were makes your stomach churn.  

“Is that all?” you prod weakly. 

“That’s, uh, not everything. Your tutoring fliers, they…well, you’ll have to see for yourself.”

Robin swallows hard, reluctantly unzipping her backpack to unfurl a neatly folded sheet of cardstock. Someone had taken the liberty of scrawling haphazard pentagrams in the empty spaces, each word dripping with red permanent marker. Your phone number had been scratched out, replaced with only sixes arranged in the same pattern. That much you could have excused, childish doodles and poor invocations of the devil were one thing, but it was the place where your name should be that had your nails digging into your palms. 

Please call Y/N Henderson – FREAK FUCKER

Yanking the flier out of Robin’s grasp, you crumple it between your hands, hoping mashing it between your palms would emulsify it out of existence. She stares at your pale face wordlessly, each thought in her head only coming up with disappointing silence. 

“I think I need to go lie down,” you croak, wishing so badly that the nightmare could be over by the time you awoke. 

Robin turns to the door. “Good idea, I’ll tell Steve to come by.” 

Her words fell on deaf ears, you were already halfway down the hall. 

You awoke with a start, a loud banging on your window ripping you from a fitful sleep. Chest rising and falling with your shallow breath, you frantically search the darkness. Eyes finally adjusting, you’re relieved to find nothing out of place. Only the familiar faces on your posters looked back at you–Kirk Hammett, Poly Styrene, Dave Mustaine, Siouxsie Sioux–each one urging you to go back to sleep. 

As your eyes flutter shut once again, another loud bang outside your window sends your heart into overdrive. In the past week you’d muttered a number of pleas that god would just put you out of your misery, but you hadn’t meant it like this. 

Tentatively, you lift the safe covering of your duvet and step onto the cold, wooden floor. You shiver, wearing nothing but an oversized Megadeth t-shirt that doubled as a nightgown. The thumping at your window is getting more erratic, branches from the flowerbeds below rustling against the pane. Approaching the window, you cup your trembling hands against the glass, praying it was just a raccoon. It was a misty night, a thick layer of fog distorting the darkness too much for you to make out any figures lurking nearby.  

Before you can convince yourself it’s safe to turn around, the window juts open from the sill in a staggering motion. Your lips part in a scream but a clammy hand emerges from the blackness, covering your mouth as a tall figure rises up from under the brush. Instinctively, you bit into the intruder’s palm, teeth clattering dully against the steel rings on their fingers. 

“Jesus H. Christ, Y/N!” A familiar voice hisses. 

You wriggle free, rushing over to flick on the lamp at your bedside table. A well of orange light floods the corner of the room, illuminating your intruder. 

Eddie. 

Breath hitching in your throat, you realize that the sweet, puppy-eyed metalhead that sat across from you for so many Saturdays was now standing in your bedroom, holding his wounded palm protectively. It didn’t take long for your sluggish brain to remember he was the reason why your heart ached so heavily.  

On the other hand, Eddie’s heart is racing, both from the rush of prying your window open with his pocket knife and the sight of you standing before him, vibrating with pure and beautiful rage. 

“Eddie Munson, did you just break into my room?” 

He looks at the ground shamefully, milky white skin flushing pink in the dim light. “Listen I–I know what it looks like, but please don't kick me out! Not yet. I’ve been trying to call you all weekend, but Henderson–Dustin, he insisted Steve Harrington would kill me if I tried to see you.”

You take a step towards him, anger flooding through your veins. “Do you really think I’m such a pushover that you can humiliate me in front of our entire school and then climb through my window like some kind of knockoff prince charming?” 

“You have to understand I did it to protect you–!”

“Protect me?!” you’re nearly shouting now, uncaring if you wake the whole house. Atop your dresser is the flier Robin brought home earlier, crumpled firmly into a tight ball. With shaking hands you unravel it, thrusting it into Eddie’s chest. “You call this protecting me, Munson?” 

Eddie looks down at the vandalized sheet, his eyes wet. His eyes fall on the worst of it, and he tries not to internalize the way his peers clearly thought fornicating with him would be among the worst punishments.  

“Are they all like this?” he asks quietly, his voice barely exceeding a whisper.  

“What do you think?” you scoff bitterly. 

Flopping at the end of your bed, you bury your head in your hands, refusing to face Eddie as the tears begin to leak out. It’s all so surreal, and you find yourself unsure if it's sadness or frustration that has you coming unglued. You try not to flinch as you feel the mattress sink next to you, Eddie’s thigh hovering near yours. 

The hesitation in your movements nearly breaks Eddie, knowing in his heart that he was the cause of it. Tentatively, he grabs both of your wrists, his larger hands engulfing yours as you tremble. You don’t resist him, all the sleepless nights and pressure to convince everyone you’re fine crashing down on you all at once. 

“Hey, hey,” he shushes, “I’m sorry, you hear me? I’m so fucking sorry.” 

You want to pull away, to kick and scream and pound against his chest. Instead you’ve completely resigned, fury fading into a scary numbness that felt too heavy and cold to carry. 

“Then…why? You could’ve–I don’t know, talked to me? Told me you didn’t actually want to be seen with me in public. I can handle rejection, I’m not a child.”

Eddie swallows hard, your hands now gripped tightly in his lap as he rubs absentminded circles into your palms. You curse the way your heart stutters and allow the tears to fall. 

“I thought that, you know, if people didn’t know we were spending time together you wouldn’t get treated like the rest of us, like me–the freak.” He’s shaking his head, his deep chocolate curls falling in front of his eyes. “And what I did in the cafeteria? I thought if I could at least make you hate me, maybe the vultures would spare you, but I was so fucking wrong.” 

Eddie turns to face you, “But then I realized something, and it’s selfish and s-stupid, but I couldn’t–I can’t–let you go. I won’t do it.”

You sniffle, “You’re forgetting one thing, Munson.” 

“What’s that?” He’s eager, willing to do anything if that means he got to see your smile beaming for him once again. 

“I could never hate you.” 

Eddie wasn’t prepared for the way you looked up at him, eyes glittering through tearstained lashes. He hates himself for making you cry, but hates himself even more for the way his eyes wander to your lips, mind racing at the thought of what is or isn’t hiding beneath your pajama shirt. Even with messy hair and leftover mascara running down your cheeks, you still took his breath away. He’d had a whole speech prepared, missing school so that he could rack his brain for the right promises to make that could get you to forgive him. But right now, you were a heartbroken little angel and he was determined to heal you. It was the overwhelming urge to make everything better, make you his. 

Oh god, he thinks, I’m gonna regret this. 

Without giving it second thought, his lips crash into yours. You melt into the kiss immediately, frustrated by just how quickly your body was willing to betray your brain. Blood buzzes in your veins as Eddie’s arms snake comfortably around your waist pulling you flush against him, his heart thudding in rhythm with your own. It's messy and frantic, like the both of you are drowning and fighting the other for the air from their lungs.  

Your hands thread through his curls and they’re softer than you imagine, much like the grip he has around your middle. The kiss softens, foreheads resting together as you try to catch your breath. 

Eddie’s the first to break the silence, letting out a laugh of utter disbelief. His head shakes against yours, his hair featherlight and tickling your face. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about doing that.” 

“Since when?” you gasp, pulling away to search his dark eyes. 

He bites his lip, knowing he owes you the truth but embarrassed to admit it. “Um, ever since…ever since the video store, actually.” 

“Really?” You can’t help that laugh that escapes your lips, remembering the way Eddie jerked out of your grasp after nearly knocking you over. 

Eddie tries to hide his face, but you won’t let him. “It’s stupid I know, but–I don’t know there was just something about you. I, uh, haven’t really stopped thinking about it.” 

“Been reading any romance novels lately, Romeo?” You can’t help but try to and brush him off, denial seeping in despite how intently Eddie kissed you. 

Eddie jumps to his feet, pacing around the room wildly. “Y/N, I’m serious. It’s just like KISS said, it’s like I can’t get enough of you.” 

“God you’re so cheesy,” you chide, but he’s already pulling you to your feet with him, left hand at your lower back while the other holds your right hand, swaying the both of you back and forth. He’s humming, the tune of I Was Made for Lovin’ You rumbling softly through his chest. It’s the most peaceful you’d felt in three days, as if the winding world had slowed to a standstill. 

“What are we going to do?” you whisper thinly, the weight of reality slipping back in. 

Eddie rests his chin on your head. “Well, I guess we’re just gonna have to show the people of Hawkins what a couple of freaks look like, huh?” 

“But Jason–”

“Sweetheart, listen. As long as you’re by me, Jason won’t bother you.” His hand brushes the back of your hair. “I may not be tough, but he does think I have the power of the devil on my side…”

You’re about to protest when the bedroom door bursts open, the faded oak nearly flying off the hinges as every piece of furniture rattles with it. Both you and Eddie turn around to find Steve armed with a baseball bat full of bent nails, chest heaving. His usually perfect hair is pressed to one side, a clear consequence from being crumpled up on the couch all night. 

“What?” he mumbles, voice still slurry with sleep. “I heard a noise.” 

Eddie just chuckles, tapping at your arm and then pointing to the floor. Steve's tired ass was only wearing one sock.

[casuallyimagining]

Fix You (1)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?  Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 3,660 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: This is for the March project for @thebtswritersclub. The prompt word was ‘adventure’ and I mean, what’s more of an adventure than adopting a pet? Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae​, @hoebii​ and @aroseforyoongi for editing various parts of this for me.

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“That cat got into Rick’s chickens again. Killed a couple chicks. He said he’s going to kill it if he sees it on his property.”

Your dad had said it nonchalantly, barely glancing over his newspaper. Without a second thought, you were out the door. There was no way to be sure, not really, but the sinking feeling in your stomach made you run a little faster down your parents’ driveway.

You could have sworn you saw that cat slinking under Rick’s fence on your walk earlier.

Rick’s property neighbored that of your parents, but you wouldn’t necessarily consider him their neighbor. If you stood on their front porch, you could just barely make out Rick’s house through the stand of trees that served as the property line. Your parents had chosen to let their piece of the world be natural, carving out just enough space for a house and a decent sized yard all those years ago. It had made for some great childhood adventures in the woods: pretending fairies were real, living out your childhood fantasies of being some sort of wizard, making friends with the trees--normal kid stuff.

Rick, on the other hand, had turned his land into farmland, even though he neither farmed nor cared for the land. The vast rolling fields of Rick’s “farm” were mostly bare. He had a pond in one corner on the other side of the property, and he had a small cabin for hunting when game season started. Mostly, though, Rick raised chickens. Annoying things, the chickens were, not unlike Rick himself. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the hens’ incessant clucking from your parents’ house, and the roosters never seemed to shut up.

When you moved to the city to attend college, you were elated to get away from the chickens.

According to your dad, the cat had showed up in the woods a few weeks ago, and it had made an enemy out of Rick almost immediately. The poor thing was skinny--too skinny, like it had been living on the streets for a while--and though its dark fur was ruddy and matted, you could tell it would be a beautiful onyx if taken care of.

As you got closer to Rick’s farm, you heard barking and a sharp yowl, and you hurried in the direction of the sounds, afraid of what you’d find. Rounding the corner of the chicken coop, you gasped in horror.

Rick stood with his back to you, shotgun in his hands. His dog, an old bird hound with caramel spotted fur, had the cat clutched in his mouth, the dog’s teeth sunk directly into the cat’s shoulder. The cat, to its credit, had puffed itself up greatly, its tail nearly double its normal size. It was growling and hissing, and, despite the pain it was almost certainly in, was swiping at the dog with its front claws.

“Call your dog off, Rick.” Your voice was steadier than you thought it would be. You were out of breath from the run over there, and being anywhere near Rick with a gun and his snarling dog made you a little uneasy.

“Fuck off.” The man barely turned his head to you. “Damn cat’s been a pain in my ass since someone dumped it here. It killed four of my chicks.”

“Look at it. Of course it’s going after your chickens. You don’t keep them in their coop. It’s starving.”

“Damn thing should stay at your soft-ass parents’ house if it wants handouts.” Rick cocked his gun, pointing it at the cat. The cat’s copper eyes flashed to Rick at the sound. It looked terrified.

The fact that it knew what a gun was and knew to be afraid of it broke your heart a little bit.

“Call off the dog,” you said again, taking a step toward him, hands splayed out in front of you placatingly. “Calm down. I’ll get the cat out of your hair, and you won’t have to worry about it again.”

“Ain’t going to replace my chickens.” Rick���s voice was gruff, but he lowered the gun.

“I’ll pay for your chickens. Just call off your dog.”

He stared at the cat, the gun clutched in his hands but no longer pointing it at anything. For a second, you thought he was going to sicc the dog on the poor thing just to spite you and make a point. You had a feeling he was the type of person to do that. But after a tense stare down, he whistled through his teeth.

“Drop it,” he commanded the dog. The dog looked to its owner, and he repeated the command. It took a second, but the dog released its bite, and the cat slumped to the ground. Rick regarded the cat with a sneer before turning to you. “Take care of that thing. If I see it on my property one more time, it won’t be so lucky.”

You nodded tensely, and he whistled again. The dog trotted over to Rick’s side and the two walked off. You stared after him for a moment. A pained yowl drew your attention back to the cat.

The cat looked angry, and you didn’t blame it. Its tail was still puffed up, and you could tell that if it hadn’t just been attacked by a dog, its hackles would be straight up. Its copper eyes glared at you, its ears flat against its head. You approached cautiously, and it growled deeply in its throat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothed, crouching down to make yourself less threatening. “I’m going to get you help. Is that okay?”

The cat hissed at you and attempted to back away. It made two limping steps before collapsing into the mud around the coop.

“That’s alright. It’s okay.” You sighed, unsure of your next steps. You didn’t want to traumatize the cat by coming any closer, and you really didn’t want to risk injuring it further by picking it up and having it fight you.

You looked at the cat, blinking slowly when you accidentally made eye contact with it. You had read somewhere that blinking was a way to show a cat that you weren’t a threat, and though you felt kind of silly, at this point, you were willing to try anything.

“What am I going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned, sitting down in the mud. The cat looked at you curiously, as if asking what the fuck you were doing. “I don’t want Rick to hurt you,” you confessed. “I’d like to take you somewhere safe.”

Truthfully, that was part of the reason why you were even visiting your parents. Your mom had told you about the cat, and how it didn’t seem to be wearing any collar, and while you were visiting them you wanted to try to trap it, either to bring it to live with you, or to take it to a nice shelter where it could get a good meal and hopefully find a nice family.

“Can I take you to the vet, at least?” You really were desperate, talking to the cat as if it understood what you were saying. The cat, to its credit, looked at you, copper eyes staring into your face before it blinked, just once, slowly and deliberately.

When you reached out to it, it didn’t growl.

You stood and approached the cat, doing your best not to make any sudden moves. You scooped it up gently, careful not to jostle his left shoulder too much, and cradled it close to your chest.

The walk back to your parents’ house was slow, but the trip to the vet was even slower.

It was a weekend, so the vet in your parents’ sleepy little suburb was closed. You had no choice but to pack your bags back up and make the trek home to the city to take the cat to the 24/7 emergency veterinary hospital.

You tapped your hand on the steering wheel. Traffic wasn’t usually this terrible on a weekend, but there was some sort of sporting event happening, so of course, all the roads into the city were clogged.

Stopped at a red light, you spared a glance toward your passenger seat. The cat laid on his side--it was a him, your mother had confirmed--his breathing labored. You could tell he was still on edge. His tail was still puffed up like a cat-of-nine-tails, and he kept eyeing you warily. But he had let you wrap him in a blanket and carry him to your car, and he had stayed on the seat, almost like he knew it was the safest place for him.

“Almost there, kitty,” you mumbled, changing lanes, finally free of the congestion. “Hang on just a little longer.”

Thankfully, the vet wasn’t busy, and you were able to get in with the assistant almost right away. You explained everything that had happened to her as she examined the cat, tutting slightly as she checked his shoulder.

“There are some punctures, but nothing that’s too worrying. I can bandage it and give you some antibiotics.” The assistant pulled her hand back as the cat swatted at her for touching his shoulder a little too forcefully. “Do you know if he has an owner? It would be helpful to know his shot records.”

You shook your head. “He just showed up in the woods one day.”

“We’ll get him a full round of vaccines, then, too.” Copper eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw a look of concern cross them. But then he blinked, and it was gone.

The vet ordered an MRI, and thankfully, because it was a large veterinary hospital connected with the local university, they were able to do it the same day. So you ended up staying at the vet for two hours as they anesthetized the cat and did the scan. While the cat was waking up, the vet called you into the exam room.

“We checked for a microchip, and there was none,” the vet--Dr. Jung--informed you, his brow furrowed. “Based on the cat’s malnutrition and the condition of the coat, it’s likely he was a stray for at least a few months.” You nodded. The poor cat. “We should have the MRI results soon. I’ll give you a call in a few hours once I get a chance to read them. Normally, since he’s a stray, we would contact our foster network to see if anyone would be able to take him in. But since you brought him in-”

“I’ll keep him,” you said quickly. You were planning on it anyway. Just because he was hurt didn’t mean you were willing to give him up.

“Good.” Dr. Jung smiled at you. “My assistant is wrapping his shoulder now, and we’d like to just monitor him for a few more minutes to make sure he’s coming out of the anesthesia well, but you should be clear to take him home after that.” He placed a box on the table between you. “This is Clavamox. One millilitre twice a day for seven days. I don’t think he’ll develop an infection, but since he was so dirty, I think it’s probably better to be safe.” You nodded and pocketed the box. “We also gave him a rabies shot while he was here. It’s standard because he was bitten. If you notice any symptoms, please call us immediately. Once he’s feeling better, we can get him the rest of the vaccines he needs.”

You nodded. This was a lot all at once. And you didn’t even know what you wanted to call the cat yet.

Dr. Jung seemed to be able to tell you were feeling overwhelmed, because he offered you a comforting smile and patted your shoulder. “I’m going to go check on him. You can come if you want.”

As soon as you entered the room, groggy copper eyes were on you. The poor thing looked stoned out of his mind, but there was recognition there, and that gave you some comfort. At least he wasn’t glaring at you anymore. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped his shoulder, so he had a bandage from his upper left front leg wrapped all the way around his chest and up around his shoulders.

“What are we going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned softly, reaching out and gently placing your hand on his head.

After checking the cat’s vitals one last time, Dr. Jung let you leave.

He was limp in your arms as you carried him into your apartment, still a little drugged up from the anesthesia. The whole way back to your apartment, he had sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window like a drunk, moody college student.

“It’s up to you if you want to stay, kitty,” you told him, gently laying him down on your couch as soon as you kicked your shoes off. Of course you wanted to keep him. You had grown attached to him in the few hours you had been with him. But if he was miserable, you were willing to help him find somewhere that was more suited for his needs.

He tried to stand, succeeding only long enough to give a dramatic wobble before collapsing back into the overstuffed cushion. While he was completely recovered from the anesthesia, Dr. Jung had warned you that the cat might be feeling the side effects for a day or so. You reached out to pet him, but his copper eyes slanted into a glare, and you pulled back.

Assuming the cat was hungry, you left him alone and headed into the kitchen. You had some chicken in the fridge, and you thought maybe he would enjoy some fresh meat he didn’t have to steal. You weren’t sure when his last real meal was, so you wanted to go easy on his digestive system until you knew he was feeling better. You’d have to stop and get cat food at some point, but for now, chicken would do.

You did your best to trim off all the fat from the chicken breast. You knew he wouldn’t mind eating it--cats ate weirder things from fresh kills, after all--but you figured with how thin he was, lean meat would probably be better. Carefully, you cut it up into small, easy-to-chew chunks and put some on a plate, wrapping the rest and putting it into the fridge for later. You used a dropper to evenly spread the required dose of the antibiotics onto the chicken in hopes that it would make it easier to give him the medicine.

Returning to the living room, you noticed that the cat hadn’t moved aside from doing his best to curl up as small as possible in the corner of the couch. You tried not to make eye contact with him as you pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it on the cushions. You weren’t particularly keen on having raw chicken all over your furniture, but you sat the plate on the blanket anyway. There was no way you trusted the cat to be able to jump down off your couch at this point.

“Here’s some chicken, kitty.” You gestured toward the plate, and he eyed it warily, unmoving. You supposed he would feel more comfortable eating if you weren’t in the room. “Don’t leave it too long--it’ll go bad. I have to go do some work. I’ll be in my office if you need me. It’s just down the hall.”  As you stood up, you paused. You were talking to a cat. You were talking to a cat as if it could understand exactly what you were saying.

Maybe your parents were right. Maybe you had been living alone for too long.

Your mother had suggested you get a hybrid when you first moved to the city--a nice, loyal, protective one, like a German shepherd hybrid or a golden retriever--but you had never gone further than passively looking.

You were happy for the hybrids. A majority of them were still owned, but they could move about their lives freely and without question. It was illegal to treat them as servants, and all ownership had to be consensual, though you weren’t sure how well those rules were enforced. You didn’t really understand how someone could just own a hybrid--they were people, after all, even if their DNA was a little altered. It was weird to you, owning another sentient being like that.

Their lives were certainly much better than they had been. Some hybrids were naturally occurring, but others--a majority of them--had been created by rich and powerful individuals and the government in secret during some shady human experiments in the early 20th century. And, of course, because they were experiments, it created a whole host of problems regarding rights and discrimination.

But despite all the improvements, there was still a long way to go. There was nothing wrong with owning a hybrid if it was consensual, but that didn’t mean you were necessarily comfortable with it.

After a few hours of sitting at your desk working on your most recent graphic design project for work, you turned away and stretched. If you had to stare at the color chartreuse for ten more minutes, you thought you would go blind. It was time to check on the cat anyway, and you wanted to make sure you threw away any chicken that was left on the plate you had given him so he wouldn’t get sick.

When you entered the living room, you were immediately confused. The cat was gone, but so was your blanket. The plate was still on the couch, almost exactly where you left it, but it was entirely empty. Wonderful. You had taken in some sort of Houdini cat.

You grabbed the plate and put it in the sink, trying to look for your blanket as you went. You found it when you returned to the living room, the corner sticking out from under your TV stand. There was just enough space between the bottom shelf and the floor for the cat to fit under, and apparently he had taken the blanket with him. You couldn’t really blame him--it was April, and it was late evening, and your floors were still a little chilly.

“Hey kitty?” you called, bending down to see if you could see him under the shelf. You had thought about it while working, and at this point, you were just going to lean into the whole ‘talking to the cat like he’s a person’ thing. “It’s starting to get late. I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” You could just barely see his copper eyes hidden all the way under the TV stand. His pupils were blown wide to capture all the ambient light they could. “You can explore or whatever you’re comfortable with tonight, but please don’t ruin my stuff. Please be a good kitty.”

He blinked once and continued to stare blankly at you.

“Okay, well… if I don’t see you, goodnight.”

You stood and headed off to your bathroom to start your nightly routine. It only took you about a half an hour, but you were soon laying down in bed with your book. You had started it a few days ago, but you were hooked, and you were already almost done with it. The author had managed to somehow insert a space alien robot into today’s modern digital age, and you found it fascinating. You would never look at social media and influencers the same way after reading this book.

It was cozy in your room with the little bedside lamp on, snuggled up in your blankets. Your bed was soft--it was one of those that you could change it using a remote to fit your mood and preference, but you almost always preferred it soft--and you had plenty of blankets and pillows to make it comfortable.

You only had a few pages left when you noticed it, the shadow lingering in the hallway, slowly getting closer to your open bedroom door. It started out against the wall across the hall. When you next looked up after glancing down to your book, the shadow had moved to your doorway. He even had turned his head away like he was pretending it was a coincidence that he had ended up in your room.

He was walking with a slight limp, which was unsurprising given the bandage and the fact that he was attacked not even 12 hours before. He was much more lucid than he was when you first brought him home, though you could tell he was still a little groggy. You didn’t say anything to him--you figured if you did, he would bolt, so you let him do what he wanted.

After a few minutes--maybe 15 or 20--you closed your book quietly, careful not to startle the cat. You glanced at the doorway and didn’t see him, so you put your book on your nightstand and turned off the light. It took you a second, but you snuggled down into the blankets, pulling them tightly around you. You were just about to drift off when you felt it.

Something landed gently on your bed by your feet. It paused for a moment before slowly making its way up the bed to your head, its gait uneven. When it got to the other pillow, it laid down. You risked opening an eye then, and were met with copper eyes staring back at you.

He watched you warily, as if waiting for you to yell or kick him off the bed. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed, and he slowly allowed himself to lay down, his head on his paws, curled up as best as he could be.

You fell asleep to the sound of him snoring lightly.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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[dracoscene]

Hi friend! Just ran across your work and I love it!! 😍🤍 would you be willing to write something angsty where the reader overhears him talking to Blaise about how clingy she is and decides to give him space only to find out he was taking about Pansy? And then all is good and there so much fluff and love 💕

Crossed Wires | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Contains: angst, kinda mean Draco, FLUFF

A/N: Thank you so so much for the request, hope this is close to what you wanted!

Word count: 1.6k

_______________________________

"She's pathetic, Blaise."

You came to a halt when you heard the familiar voice of your boyfriend.

"No matter where I go, she's there, all the time. Like a bloody dog." His voice was filled with pure hate. It felt as if the blood in your veins froze as the words fell from his lips.

"What do you expect mate, this girl is head over heels for you. Don't you see the drool on her chin everytime you're within a five mile radius of her?"

Draco scoffed at his friend's words. "It's repulsive."

Repulsive. You weren't unfamiliar with those kind of words coming from him. He almost used them on a daily basis; when students ran past him in the hallways, when Crabbe and Goyle stuffed their faces with pastries at dinner, when first years cried after Draco had just threatened to hex them, or when Potter just so much did as breathe. What you were unfamiliar with, was him using those words in connection with you, and it made you feel sick to your stomach.

A tap on your shoulder ripped you from your thoughts, making you flinch. You turned around to see Pansy standing behind you with her hands up.

"Woah there, didn't mean to scare you." She laughed, waiting for a response that didn't come.

Pansy cleared her throat as she re-adjusted the bag on her shoulders. "So, do you think Draco and Blaise are here already?" Shit. It totally slipped your mind that the reason you came here was the study date the four of you agreed on having before dinner. You watched Pansy silently as she took a few steps forward to look around the bookshelf you two were standing next to.

"Found them!"

You didn't care to move, all you wanted to do was just turn around and get out of there, dreading to face Draco after what he'd just said. Still, you followed Pansy to where the boys were sitting.

Your heartbeat skyrocketed when you spotted the blonde already looking in your direction, the annoyance in his face very much visible. Your eyes met for a moment before you felt the urge to look away, feeling small under his gaze.

Confusion was growing inside of Draco when you took the free space on the couch next to Blaise and not him like you usually did. It felt weird doing so, but you were too embarrassed to sit next to him right now, knowing that he probably wouldn't want you to anyway.

Blaise's eyes alternated between you and Draco, trying to figure out what was going on when Pansy dropped her bag with a loud thud before making herself comfortable next to Draco, grinning. "Well then, shall we begin?"

Minutes went by like hours, the only sounds being the turning of pages and the occasional scoffs coming from Pansy when she didn't understand something in the Potions book.

"Draco could you help me with th-"

"No."

Draco didn't even bother to look at the book in front of him. His eyes had been burning into you from the second you sat down next to his friend. You shifted in your seat, staring at that one sentence in your book that you were trying to read for the seventh time now, but you just couldn't focus long enough. Your cheeks were on fire, feeling utterly intimidated by your boyfriends stare.

After what felt like an eternity, Pansy and Blaise started packing up their books. Draco didn't even move a muscle.

"See you at dinner then." Blaise stated before leaving the library with Pansy by his side. You hurried to gather your stuff, trying to catch up to them, but a firm grasp on your wrist stopped you.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Draco's voice was stern, but you could still make out a hint of insecurity.

"I wasn't ignoring you, I'm just.. tired I guess? Oh and I've been having this awful headache all day and I don't really want to bother you with that so I think I should just g-"

"I'm not stupid, y/n." he cut you off. "I know when something's up with you. What is it?"

You didn't know what to say. Confronting him about what you heard would've been the mature way to handle things, but you were hurt. Hurt about the way he talked about you, and especially how he did it; behind your back. So, you removed your hand from his grasp and looked up at him. "I'll go now. I know you don't want to have me around anyway, so don't act like you care."

You left, leaving Draco completely baffled. If you wouldn't have been in such a hurry to get away, if you would've looked a little more closely, you might have seen the effect your words had on him.

He did care. A lot.

__________________________

Draco knew you probably wouldn't want him to sit next you during dinner, that's why he did exactly that. He wasn't just going to let this go, so he plopped down next to you.

Your whole body tensed up, and Draco noticed.

The poor boy was confused as ever, you could almost see his brain working with high speed, thinking of every encounter and every conversation with you he had that day, trying to figure out what in the world he's done that made you avoid him.

Confusion turned into frustration real fast when he just couldn't seem to think of anything.

"This is ridiculous, y/n." his voice was barely above a whisper, but the desperation in it was loud and clear. "Will you just tell me what the bloody hell is going on?"

Draco's eyes followed your every move as you turned to look at him. "Can we go somewhere else?" your voice was shaking and you could feel a lump forming in your throat.

He gave you a quick nod before standing up and taking your hand to lead you out of the Great Hall. Pansy called out his name when you two walked past her, but Draco simply waved her off.

The laughter and chatting of students stopped when the doors closed behind you. He led you a little further away with your hand still in his. You felt your heart pounding in your chest when he turned to look at you, it was beating so fast you were scared he might hear it.

"Will you talk to me now?" his thumb started caressing the top of your hand when he saw how nervous you were, as an attempt to calm you down. "I need to know what's going on, did I do something?" "What happened?"

Tears fiilled your eyes when you replayed the words in your head.

"She's pathetic."

"Like a bloody dog."

"Y/n?" his soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"I heard what you said." You tried your hardest to keep your composure. "In the library, about how I'm always with you and how pathetic you think that is." Your voice broke at that last part.

Draco's face fell when he realized that you thought his words were directed to you. Thinking about how hurt by his words you must've been made his heart break.

"Darling." he breathed out, gentle hands cupping your cheeks as he used his thumb to wipe away the single tear that fell from your eye. "I wasn’t talking about you."

You furrowed your brows as confusion replaced the hurt look on your face. "Huh?"

"It was Parkinson I was talking about, she's been bothering me the whole bloody day."

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment, the color of your cheeks became a crimson red, which you tried to hide as best as you could by covering your face with both of your hands.

Draco let out a laugh as he took your hands into his and pulled you into a hug, his head resting on yours. "I'm so so stupid, oh my god." your voice was muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"Sometimes." he chuckled while rubbing soothing circles on your back with his hands. "You should know better than to think I’d ever talk about you like this, love."

"I know, I'm sorry." you lifted you head and looked up at him through wet eyelashes, hands resting flat against his upper body.

"Merlin y/n, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you." he planted a kiss on your forehead, lingering for a second before you buried your face back into his chest. Your arms draped around his waist, holding fast onto him.

The creaking of doors made Draco's head shoot up, looking in the direction of approaching footsteps. His face turned into a sneer as soon as he saw Pansy turn around the corner, looking for him.

"Draco why aren't you in th- oh. Am I interrupting something?" Her gaze landed on you.

You felt the muscles in Draco's arms flex around your body as he pulled you even closer into his chest like he was trying to protect you from her prying eyes.

"For fucks sake, Parkinson. Get lost." he snapped at her, voice brimming with venom. This was all it took for Pansy to leave as fast as she came.

Draco scoffed before he let one arm fall to his side, leaving the other one around your waist to keep you close.

"Pathetic, isn't she?" You leaned into him, smiling. Draco couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips at your statement.

"Hey" he grabbed your chin, lifting it so you were looking at him. "I love you, always will. You know that, right?"

You gave him a reassuring nod before planting a kiss on his lips. "Love you too, Dray. More than anything."

[xoxo-teddybear]

Hickeys and Revenge - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, crack, swearing, fluff

Summary: Bakugou learned his lesson from his cheating prank but you weren’t satisfied quite yet. The man really almost broke you so to get back at him, you decided to pull this little masterpiece.

A/N: H/T means Hair Type!!! This is also related to this fic which you should read in order to understand the beginning of this story.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“Mina. Get your ass over here, I need you to suck on my titts.”

—

You couldn’t hold your laughter as you demanded your best friend to come and give you hickeys over the phone.

Not too long ago, your lovely boyfriend, Bakugou Katsuki, decided to pull a little prank on you. It wasn’t uncommon. You were the type of couple to enjoy a laugh every now and then but there was only one rule. No cheating pranks, no breaking up pranks. That was all. However, after being on a losing streak, your boyfriend decided to pull a little prank that very much broke the rules. In the end, he was also hurt but at least you knew he wouldn’t be pulling anything stupid like that again.

After that, you both went back to normal. You guys were once again happy, loving, cuddly, all the good stuff. But something in the back of your mind knew you weren’t quite satisfied with Katsuki’s punishment. You decided you had to feed the flames just a bit more to have your revenge. This ended up with you pulling a little hickey prank.

Now you were a prank master! You were skilled, smart, creative, and maniacal. Things had to be just right when it came down to it. That is why instead of using makeup like anyone else would, you’re looking for real, authentic hickeys. Since you obviously can’t have your boyfriend be the one to give you these hickeys, it would have to be your bestie, Ashido Mina.

—

“What?!” Mina laughed on the other side of the phone.

“It’s for a prank! Remember Katsuki’s cheating prank?” You said with excitement.

“Yeah. The one where he failed miserably and you ended up breaking up with him until you figured out it was a prank and you guys got back together after 3 days.” She explained.

“Gee, thanks for the play by play of me almost walking out of my very happy relationship.” You sarcastically replied. “Anyway, as revenge, I’m gonna do a little hickey prank!”

“Revenge? Girl, were you not satisfied with him being devastated over your almost breakup?” She asked.

“It’s not enough!” You replied.

“Not enough? Honey, he locked himself in the house for days. Eijirou had to force him to bathe and eat. What do you mean not enough?” She explained.

“Awwww, my poor baby. Look, I know he went through shit but he caused it! I didn’t get any revenge. I’m feening for it.” You explained.

“Alright, alright,” Mina giggled. “I’ll be over in 10..you fucking sadist.”

“Thank you!”

—

Time had passed and you were expecting the arrival of your best friend any minute now. You figured it’d be fine for her to be over for a bit because Katsuki was out on his final patrol for the week. After that, you’d have him all to yourself since he’d be home for the rest of the day.

Finally, after waiting and waiting, a knock was heard from the front door. You ran to the wooden structure and opened it to be blessed with the pink sight.

“Hickey time!” Mina said in a sing-song voice. You both laughed as she came in and you pulled her to the couch. “Okay, how are we doing this.”

“Uh, I don’t know- fuck this is so weird!” You joked as you both laughed again. “Okay, ummm, I think I’ll take a few on my chest and then some on my neck.”

“Okay. Should we have them like, trail up. Do you want me to go and make it look like he went from here to here?” She said and pointed from your chest to your lips, to which you nodded. “Wow bitch, you’re bold, wearing a tube top and everything!”

“I know right!” You both laughed. You layed back and pulled your tube top down to reveal your bra. Before you started, you pulled out your phone and started recording. You needed proof to show Katsuki that this was the work of your best friend and not some rando. Finally, Mina leaned down as you both released giggles and she placed her lips on your left mound. “What the fuck, this is so weird!”

You both laughed and Mina pulled her lips away as she began dying. You both turned red in the face as tears filled your eyes due to all the laughing. You both finally settled and she began sucking on your boob.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” was all you could say as you laughed. “Wow, oh my gosh, your lips are sooo soft! Kiri is getting a treat!” You teased as Mina pulled off to laugh again.

She finally created the first mark and pulled off as you both took a look at her work. “Holy shit! There’s a fucking hickey!” You said like a teenage girl.

“That’s a fucking hickey, all right.” Mina said, proud of what she had done.

“What the fuck? This is really good!” You laughed. “You’re so good at this, how often do you practice? Is there a hickey on Kirishima right now?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mina laughed. You both joked around a little more as she continued to mark you. It’s safe to say the whole procedure was quite comical.

—

“Can you like..make it darker? Like suck harder.”

*Mina sucking on your neck harder*

“Yeah, yeah. Harder. Yeah.”

—

“Ow! Did you just bite me?”

“Sorry! Instinct!”

“Ow...does it look bad?”

“It looks more believable.”

“Oh.....do it again.”

—

“This is weird...it’s like..hot when Katsuki does it though.”

“Okay, can you not talk about how you like it better when your boyfriend gives you hickeys while I’m literally swallowing your neck right now?”

—

Finally, after about 20 minutes of sucking and laughing, you were finally marked with red and purple hickeys. You looked in the mirror and were stunned with the work. You turned to face your best friend and high fived her.

Encouraging her to stay for a bit, you both spent some girl time together before she had to go due to Katsuki’s arrival approaching. After saying your farewells, you shut the door and jumped in excitement.

“Shits about to get real.”

—

You sat on the couch waiting for Katsuki’s arrival. Soon enough, the sound of his car door shutting alerted you of your boyfriend’s presence. You quickly covered your hickeys with your hair and went back in your phone to appear natural. Finally, after the sound of jingling keys, your boyfriend walked through the door with his best friend.

“Hi baby!” You said with glee as you got up and went to greet Katsuki with a kiss. He happily returned the quick peck and took note of your attire.

“The hell? Why’re you wearing this?” He asked, looking down at your tube top and spandex. You rolled your eyes knowing how he was whenever you wore clothes that exposed a little more than necessary around others.

“Because I didn’t know you were bringing Kirishima over so I stayed comfy.” You explained as Katsuki held his arms around you, grumbling about how you made a fair point.

After speaking for a little bit at the doorway, Katsuki made his way over to his best friend who had already made himself comfortable in the kitchen with a beer in his hand. The two were like brothers so it wasn’t uncommon for them to act this way in each other’s homes. While the two men were in the kitchen, you made your way up to your shared bedroom. You would rather have Katsuki see the hickeys in a private setting so that your upcoming argument wouldn’t take place in front of Kirishima.

Katsuki spent about 20 minutes down there with Kirishima before deciding to check up on you. The red head was fine with waiting in the kitchen and nodded his head at his friend when he decided to check up on you.

The blonde finally walked in through the room to see you sitting criss-crossed on the bed, looking at your phone. He shut the door as he approached you and you looked up and smiled at his arrival.

“Hi.” You said as you sat up a little straighter.

“Hey.” He said as he walked over and wrapped his arms around you before picking you up to kiss you. You both held the tiniest make out session before you settled to just holding each other, with your arms wrapped around his neck.

Katsuki joined you on the bed for a bit as you both sat together while still cuddled up. “How was your day, baby?”

“It was fine I guess. Nothing really happened. I stayed home, waiting for you dummy.” You said, trying to make Mina’s markings more noticeable. He still didn’t see them though.

“Oh yeah? Waiting for me to do what?” He smirked at you.

“Shut up, you fucking horn-dog. Waiting to spend some time with you. That’s all.” You said and Katsuki jokingly pouted.

“So you didn’t want me to come home and fuck you stupid?” He asked, pulling you into his lap.

“No. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to now.” You said in a soft voice. He chuckled softly before kissing the clean side of your neck.

“Maybe after Shitty Hair leaves,” he said before picking up his little pecks again. “I’ll do you just how I want to.”

He finally shifted over to the other side of your neck where the markings remained and he finally took notice of the work Mina had done. He paused his teasing and pulled away with a confused look in his face and furrowed his brows. He licked his thumb and reached out to wipe at the mark but silently seethed when it didn’t wipe away.

“What?” You questioned and Katsuki gently took you off his lap before standing up to pace around a bit. You walked to Katsuki in a “confused” manner before he stopped you.

“Uhhh...hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on.” He ran his hand through his hair, like he usually did in stressful situations, before looking at you.

“Uh, what- what is that? On your Uh-“ he said and tapped his neck. You went to your vanity mirror before turning to face him again. “Is that a hickey?”

‘Showtime’ you thought to yourself. “N-no. No, it’s not a hickey-“

“Then what is it?” He eagerly questioned with fear and anger laced in his voice.

“I don’t know, I was running and I fell and-“

“And what? You fell and got bruises?” He said looking at your neck and chest. He walked to you and pulled down your shirt to reveal the hickeys Mina left on your mid-chest. Katsuki shook his head and backed up, more pissed off than before. “No. No- you don’t fucking fall and get bruises on your neck and chest like that. So is it a fucking hickey?”

“No, no it’s not a hickey I swear.” You said softly, walking up to hug him but he gently stepped out of your hold. “Babe, babe-“

“Mm, no that’s definitely a fucking hickey.” He said as he chewed on his lower lip. “S’a fucking hickey.”

“No it’s not, I was using the H/T iron and I guess I burned myself-”

“Your hair is naturally H/T. Why would you need to use a H/T iron?” He said. You were stunned in silence but wanted to smile, appreciating the fact that your boyfriend knew you so well.

“Y/N are you fucking serious?!” He said, raising his voice a bit to show his anger.

“It’s not a hickey! I swear!” You said and walked to the mirror and he followed you.

“You’re fucking lying! ‘Cuz you don’t fucking get hickeys on your chest and titts randomly.” He said as you turned to walk to him, causing him to step back.

“I- I was using makeup and-“

“I swiped at it already, it’s not fucking coming off!”

“No I was like, I was fighting-“

“Fighting with what?!”

“I don’t know I just-“

“No, no! Stop! Can you stop coming towards me right now? You’re fucking lying to me and making up excuses. Those are fucking hickeys.” He said at a good distance away as tears began to fill his eyes. “Are you serious, Y/N?”

“....I’m sorry.” You quietly said. Your apology pushed his tears to flow as he dropped his head back and used his hands to wipe away his tears.

“You’re sorry? You’re not fucking sorry! You’re a fucking hoe that cheated on me while I was away. Are you fucking serious?” He said looking at you with teary eyes and a red nose. “Hurry the fuck up and just say you cheated on me!”

“No!” You whined. Katsuki laughed and rolled his neck as he wiped more tears before taking some random thing and throwing it at the wall, creating a loud sound.

“The fuck is wrong with you?! Did I do something wrong?! Tell me!” He said, shouting at you.

“No! You didn’t do anything!” You said, standing still.

“I must’ve done something! Or what? Are you just a slut that likes fucking attention? Is that why you’re okay being dressed like that around Kirishima?” He asked with an angry voice as he looked at your attire once more. He watched as you shook your head ‘no’ before his eyes dropped down to the markings on your upper body.

“Why would you do this?!” He said with a cracked voice as he openly cried now and walked to you. “I fucking love you Y/N! How could you do this to me? We’ve been together for years! I spent years of my life with you and you do this?!”

After seeing his tears and hearing his broken voice, you decided this was enough.

“Katsuki...” you softly said as you reached out for his arm. You expected the argument to go on longer but Katsuki seemed like he was heartbroken and done as he tried to walk away from your touch. “No, no Katsuki wait!”

“Get off of me.” He said trying to shake you off but you lightened your voice and coated it with giggles to assure him.

“No wait! Baby it’s a prank! It’s a prank I swear!” You said standing in front of him, pushing him deeper into the room. He turned around to avoid you but you only clung to his back. “Mina did it! Mina came and did it!”

“Baby, I swear!” You said, turning him around and keeping his front facing you

“KIRISHIMA!” He called out and soon enough, the red head came in, cautious of what was going on.

“What happened?” Kirishima softly asked in confusion. A quiet silence filled the room and all that could be heard was your boyfriend’s heavy breathing.

“I’m shaking right now.” The blonde said in your hold.

“Why?” Kirishima asked, looking to you.

“He thinks I cheated on him because I have hickeys but Mina came over earlier and did it.” You said as the red head walked into the room.

Silence filled the room once more as Kirishima inspected the scene. He looked at your hickeys, to your face, to Katsuki’s shaking body and teary eyes. “I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t believe me?” You asked him.

“Not really. I want to but why would Mina come and give you hickeys on your chest and neck?” The red head said with his hands in his pockets and head tilted to the side.

“I swear she did it, I have the footage.” You said pulling out your phone.

“No- no, this is fucking dumb. I guess we’re over.” Katsuki said and began walking to the door but you quickly pulled up the video and jumped on him. He wouldn’t turn and so you put the video in front of his face as he began to watch, alongside Kirishima.

After finishing the video, Katsuki crouched down to the ground and allowed his head to drop as he gave a relieved sigh. You laughed at him and began to hug his shoulders as Kirishima laughed in the back.

“I’m sorry baby!” You said. Bakugou surprised you with tears of joy and a smile as he quickly turned to give you a hug while he stood up and assaulted your face in quick pecks.

“Alright, well how the fuck do we get rid of these Mina marks?” Katsuki asked, wiping at your neck.

“You could do it with a cold spoon.” Kirishima interjected causing you and Katsuki to settle.

“Oh..oh yeah, you would know.” You both simultaneously said and laughed at him. The red head blushed and turned to the same shade as his hair before coming up with a comeback.

“You guys are just weird!” Kirishima embarrassingly joked before walking out of the room, laughing and going back down to his beer.

Bakugou held you in his arms and swayed you as you allowed him to kiss your face. “I’m sorry~”

“Baby, that’s so messed up!” He laughed out with a sigh as he placed his head to your own. “I almost fucking left you!”

“I know, you were so mad.” You said in a sad but laughing voice as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “But that’s what you get! Now you know how I felt when you fucking pranked me last time.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I get it, this is why we don’t pull these types of pranks.” He said.

“Exactly.” You pecked his nose before continuing. “I’m sorry.” You whispered before he placed a long and hot kiss on your lips. He picked you up as you wrapped your legs around his torso while your arms tightened around his neck.

“Aww, I feel so bad!” You whimpered as you tucked your head into his neck. “Are you mad at me?”

“No. You’re my girl.” He said with his husky voice.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You pulled your head back to peck his lips and he did the same and kissed you back. You both went in for more small pecks before you pulled away the slightest bit to make fun of him.

“You got praaaannkkkeeddd!” You said before laughing again, to which he rolled his eyes and flopped onto the bed with you in his hold.

“I’m gonna get you back.” He said with determination in his eyes.

“You’re gonna get me back?” You questioned.

“Yup.”

“No!” You giggled out.

“Mhm. I’m probably gonna cut your hair this time. Maybe throw all your makeup out the window, I don’t know.” He threatened.

“Those aren’t pranks! Those’ll actually do damage!” You said.

“Mhm!” He agreed and you both just laughed some more. You made it up to him with apology cuddles in bed for the next half hour before you both remembered you had a guest in your house. Katsuki quickly got up once he realized his friend was still in his house and went to kick the red head out.

“Why’re you making him leave?” You asked as Katsuki stood at the bedroom exit.

“Because apology cuddles aren’t enough. You’re making it up to me in another way.” He said with a wink and smirk before walking out the door. You laughed and sighed before flopping down on the bed with a blush. With his leave, you mentally began to prepare yourself for the hours of rough make-up sex that was to come.

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight