#i need you all to know that i made this draft like a week ago and the other night i started fantasizing about the possibilities

[lousylemonseminar]

This won’t take long

Day one of jrwi freak week!!!!!!! YAHOOO!!

Just dissecting fish for today :o))))

Less er filters cause it’s kinda ahard to see vvv

[babybirbb]

i need a young carmrichie fic where they get caught by mikey i need to know what y’all think he would do. i do think he would briefly beat the shit out of richie

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[aerynwrites]

Dreams Become Reality

Gale Dekarios x Fem!Reader

A/N: FINALLY got this finished lmao. Posted a teaser of this weeks ago and it has been sitting in my drafts ever since staring at me as I stared back it. Type a few words. Stop for a few says. Few more words, an even longer break. And so on lol. But it’s finally here! Based on the request.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, Reader is described as having female anatomy, fingering, gale comes untouched (kinda), choking, wet dreams, inappropriate use of Mage Hand, fluff and slight aftercare at the end.

The air around you is thick. 

Thick with tension. Thick with the warm breaths leaving both your lips. Thick with the smell of arousal. 

It’s all consuming - Gale, is all consuming. Surrounding and overtaking your every sense. 

The scent of him fills your nose - sandalwood, and old books, and right now, sweat. The exertion has made a thin layer form on his skin as his body slides against your own. 

Gale surrounds you in every way, cocooning you between his body and the sheets, his lips very rarely leaving your skin as he moves with you, thrusting his hips against your own, bringing you closer and closer to the edge you long to jump off of. 

“Gale…” 

His name falls from your lips in a whispered prayer, begging for more as he responds with a soft groan of his own. 

He calls your name, and you whine in response. But then he calls it again, the sound falling in a gasp from his lips as one of his hands reaches up to clasp your shoulder in tight grip. 

He calls your name again and this time darkness crashes around you as you startle awake in bed. 

Your sleep clothes cling uncomfortably to your sweat-damp skin. Blood rushes in your ears as your chest rises and falls with effort to suck in air. And worst of all is the ache in your core, arousal burning bright in your belly from what you now realize was a dream. 

Another gentle squeeze to your shoulder makes your eyes finally fall to Gale, who sits beside you in the bed and appears positively flustered. 

He’s as short of breath as you are, chest stuttering as he gazes at you, eyes wide. You look him over quickly, and even in the darkness of the room you’re able to see the way his pupils are blown wide with lust and dark flush on his cheeks. And, you definitely don't miss the sight of him hard beneath the covers. 

“Shit…” you mutter, your own face heating up as you realize what happened. 

“Did I wake you?” you ask softly, trying and failing to tamp down the images from your dream. “I was…I’m sorry-“

Gale shakes his head, his hand falling down to lace his fingers with yours as his lips tilt up in a small smile. 

“No need for apologies,” he tells you, ever so slightly leaning in. “Most people would consider that a compliment. When their partner dreams of them in such a manner, well - at least, I hope it was me that was plaguing your dreams considering it was my name falling from your lips-“ 

You cut him off as you lunge for him, covering his mouth with your hand as you shush him, embarrassment swelling in your chest. 

“Do you ever stop talking?” 

Gale hums beneath your hand, and reaches up to pull it away from his mouth. You expect him to respond but instead, suddenly, he flips you over and presses you back into the mattress, his body hovering over yours as his hands hold your own beside your head. 

“I do indeed know when to hold my tongue but…” He pauses for a moment, and you blink in surprise as a candle on the bedside table ignites with a wave of his hand, casting you both in a dim glow before he continues. 

“I find myself most curious as to what had you calling my name like that even in the deepest sleep.” 

Gods, you feel at war with yourself. The embarrassment creeping up your neck and heating your cheeks, clashing with the arousal still burning bright in your veins. The images from your dream flash behind your eyes as they slip closed, yet the thought of voicing them makes you shrink into the covers. 

As if sensing your hesitancy, Gale is the first to act, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft kiss, lips moving against yours before he pulls away just slightly, nose brushing your own. 

“How about I guess, hm?” he asks, his voice low as one of his hands lets go of one of yours. 

His fingers brush against the shell of your ear, traveling lower over your neck, down over your shoulder to brush against your clothed breast. Your breath hitches with the contact, and you watch through half-lidded eyes as Gale’s lips tilt upward ever so slightly. 

“Was I touching you here?” he asks, voice a mere whisper as his thumb rubs over the stiff peak of your nipple. “Or perhaps it was…here…”

His hand leaves your chest in favor of slipping ever downwards, toying with the thin fabric of your underwear beneath your sleeping gown. 

Without much thought, you nod your head, a moan slipping past your lips as the heat of your arousal burns brighter. 

Gale’s eyes twinkle with triumph, and instead of leaving him with that satisfaction, another flash from your dreams makes you speak before that earlier embarrassment can creep back up. 

“But…there was something else…” you manage to say, your voice soft as your cheeks blaze with heat. 

Gale’s head tilts to the side ever so slightly at your words, brows winging up in surprise as he stills. 

“Oh?” he breathes. “Now I must know what was going on in that beautiful head of yours.” 

Despite your best effort, something akin to shame wells up in your chest, regret at ever saying anything invading your mind. But Gale’s unadulterated interest, that ever present curiosity in his gaze, practically begs you to please him by voicing your fantasies. 

You let out a shaky sigh. “What if…what if you think it’s…what if you don’t like it?” you ask sheepishly. 

Gale lets out a small chuckle, eyes soft as his free hand retreats from between you to rest encouragingly against your hip, squeezing gently. 

“My love,” he says quietly. “I can assure you that you will receive no wayward looks or reprimands from me. Your desires and fantasies are your own, I must admit - but dare I say I would be more than eager to help you fulfill them.” 

His words soothe you slightly, but that doubt is still present, and Gale must know you’re about to protest when your lips part, because he stops you with another kiss. 

“I assure you,” he says as he pulls away just enough to hover over you. “If for any reason I am not comfortable I will make it known. Just as I would expect you to do if our positions were reversed.” 

You manage a small nod, muscles quivering in subdued excitement as you reach down to take the hand at your hip slowly bringing it back on your body. 

“You were touching me there,” you say softly, voice sultry with arousal. “But you were also…here.”

Your nerves are still tingling with a tinge of uncertainty as you guide his hand to the base of your throat. 

A shiver passes the through you as the calloused palm of his hand brushes over the delicate skin, his fingers twitching in surprise as you gently press them to wrap around the sides of your neck. 

You watch through lowered lashes for his reaction, your heart tittering when his breath hitches, eyes widening and going dark with lust all at once. 

For just a brief moment, you expect him to pull away, but Gale - as usual - surprises you. His fingers flex, pressing just a bit firmer into the pulse points of your neck, his palm placing just the barest of pressure to your throat, making your already labored breathing come out ragged as a moan slips past your lips. 

“Gods above…” Gale groans, leaning up so his lips hover over your own. “This is what you dreamt of? My hands on your skin, bringing you pleasure while also toying with the slightest bit of danger?” 

He presses his fingers in deeper, not enough to leave marks or completely cut off air, but more than before and enough to make you acutely aware of the blood pumping beneath his fingers, and the breath straining through your throat. 

You can feel new wetness pooling between your thighs, joining the arousal already present from your obscene dreamscape.

And Gale…Well, he seems just as affected as you are. His hips have slotted against your own, pushing up your nightgown as he presses himself against you. 

All you can manage is a small nod to his question, not sure you’d be able to speak if you wanted to. Ecstasy courses through your veins, buzzing delightfully and fanning those flames burning deep in your core even higher as his hand tightens just that much more around your throat. 

Another moan works its way up your throat, this time getting stuck before it can fully pass your lips, the sound smothered by the pressure again your neck. 

Gale lets out another sinful sound, his hips pressing more incessantly against your own, enough that you can feel the hardness of him against your clothed center. 

Just when you think he’s had enough, that all too familiar heated look in his eyes, he pauses. 

Your brows furrow as his grip against your throat loosens as he mutters an unintelligible incantation. You go to question him, but you hear his answer before you even voice the question. 

His voice is smooth in your mind, as if he’s speaking directly to you, his lips never moving. 

‘I don’t want there to be any question of if you’re able to stop me.’ His thought comes into your mind as easily as if he were speaking, and your eyes widen. 

“Detect thoughts?” you ask, shocked at the brilliance of the idea. 

Now neither of you need to physically speak to communicate, thus no fear for Gale if you need to stop. 

Gale smiles, leaning down to capture you lips in a searing kiss. 

‘Exactly,’ he says in your mind. ‘And now…there is no need for my lips to leave your skin, no distractions from fulfilling that dream of yours…’

“Gale, please-“ you beg aloud, your patience now gone, and your only desire being him touching you, taking you in the way he was before your dream was snatched from your unconscious hands. 

Gale chuckles, lips breaking from yours to travel lower, nipping at your jaw and trailing featherlight kisses down your neck. 

‘Though I must admit…those words sound much sweeter falling from your lips than floating through my mind.’

He continues his path downwards, no doubt leaving behind ample evidence of his attentions, until he’s stopped in his tracks by the collar of your sleep clothes. It’s then that you both finally move to divest yourselves of the offending articles. 

Your hands move frantically against Gale’s velvet shirt, the fabric clinging to your hands as you bunch it up to eventually tug it over his head. His pants are not far behind, the renowned wizard helping you with those before his lips are on you once more, only parting from you as he removes your nightgown, the fabric forcing you to separate for just a moment before you claim him again. 

It feels like déjà vu as Gale presses you back into the mattress, his body caging you in, cocooning you in a heady warmth as his scent surrounds you. 

Flashes of your dream come to mind once more, and you’re forced to swallow the moan that Gale lets out, his teeth nipping gently at your bottom lip as he begs for entrance. 

You grant his silent request eagerly, moaning unabashedly agsint him as his tongue presses forward to glide against your own. 

Gale has always been a giving lover, desperate to show you how much he loves you when his words sometimes fail him. Even now you can tell he’s hells bent on indulging your fantasies. But it feels different…It feels as if he’s more eager than usual. His lips less precise, his fingertips digging just a bit harder into your hips…

He’s ravenous. 

And who are you to complain? 

Sensing your thoughts, you can feel Gale smile agsint your lips, his voice flooding your mind once more as you open your own to the spell.

“Ravenous, indeed,” he affirms, his hand snaking it’s way back up your sternum, closing deftly around your throat as he pulls away only to gaze down at you. 

His lips are swollen from your charred kisses, chest quickened with short pants, eyes blown wide with lust as he fully takes you in beneath him. 

“I have seen your desires in your minds eye,” he says aloud, voice drenched in pure sin. “But perhaps I may make a suggestion?”

You can only nod, a whimper slipping past your lips as his fingers tighten against your pulse point, teasing you with the barest hint of pressure. 

He smiles down at you - a wicked cunning thing, and you can’t help the way the coil in your belly pulls ever more taut, blood hot with ecstasy at the gleam in his eyes. 

He leans back down, another soft incantation falling from his lips before they capture your own again, and he’s speaking in your mind again just as a ghostly touch brushes against the delicate skin of your inner thigh. 

“With my hands most occupied-“ he flexes his hand against your throat, finally giving you the pressure you wish for as his other hand support himself beside your head. “I’ll need another to assist.”

He gives you no true warning before you feel a hand at your center, palm pressed agsint your clit as two fingers drag agonizingly slow through your slick folds. 

Gale’s hand cuts off the moan that bubbles up in your throat, lips swallowing what little sound does slip through, as your hips buck up into his own. 

Mage hand.

You barely have time to register that the sneaky bastard had cast the spell before the extension of himself is teasing you one more, pressing against that bundle of nerves before moving down to sink two fingers into you. 

Gale presses his fingers deeper into the sides of your throat as you groan once more - both from the magic pleasuring you and the rush in your head from the way he chokes you. 

You don’t even realize how close you were to the edge until this moment. The pressure building in your core and in your head feeling like too much in the best way possible. 

Everything feels like it’s been dialed to one hundred. The threads of the sheets beneath your skin, the smell of Gale surrounding you, the way his lips brush against your cheek when he breaks from the kiss, the fingers moving inside of you - brushing against that spot that makes you see stars.

You can feel the way his breath comes out in short bursts, the air warm against your dewy skin as he presses his body into your own. 

It’s just like your dream again. Him cocooning you entirely, his smell making your mouth water, his hand against your throat making your head pound, and his magic finally throwing you over the edge. 

You come with little warning to the wizard above you, but you’re sure he is able to tell. Whether it be from your jumbled thoughts no doubt being shouted at him from your connection, or the fact that he knows you so well…He’s prepared. 

As you tumble over that precipice, Gale applies just a little more pressure to your throat, enough so you can still gain air, but just barely.

You can feel your pulse pounding beneath his fingertips, your breath scratching against your throat as ecstasy consumes you. It feels as if pure starlight ignites in your veins, a ragged moan breaking through as you arch up into the body above you, seeking more from your lover as he does the same, grinding his hips into yours.

Gale reaches his own end virtually untouched, the mere friction from your body against his and the pure pleasure of indulging your fantasy has him spending himself on your stomach with a groan. 

His grip around your neck loosens before disappearing entirely as he all but collapses against you, uncaring of the mess between you two as he slips strong arms around you before rolling to the side, taking you along with him. 

It’s a few moments before either of you speak, and you realize both the mage hand and the detect thought spells have ended. No doubt Gale’s own end brought about the disruption of his concentration. But when words finally come, it’s Gale who speaks first. 

His fingers brush against your neck gently, barely a whisper of skin against skin as he takes a deep breath. 

“I fear I may have gotten carried away,” he says softly, brows furrowed in concern as you pull away just enough to look at him. 

You reach up, your fingers bumping against his own and can feel the way your skin burns just slightly hotter where his hand was earlier. There must be faint marks of your activities, and you have to try to quell the new stab of arousal that shoots through you. 

“You didn’t,” you assure him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “It was perfect.”

His face relaxes at your words, lips tugging upwards slightly. 

“Yes, well…Next time perhaps you can indulge me with your deepest fantasies verbally, instead of waking me in the middle of the night.”

You raise a questioning brow at him, hands sliding up until you can slide your arms around his neck.

“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy yourself?” 

Gale scoffs, nearly choking on air. “By the gods, no!” He says, aghast. “I’m simply saying that perhaps, in the future, we can disclose our fantasies more readily…So we may indulge as we please.”

You hum softly, eyes widening at his words. 

“Our fantasties?” You question, watching as a blush starts to tinge the wizard's cheeks.

“Ah, well - ehm - Yes. You didn’t think you’re the only one with uh…secret desires, did you?”

Slowly, you move so that Gale is laid out beneath you as you straddle his wait, hands planted on his chest as you gaze down at him. 

“And…what would your fantasies be?”

Gale pauses for a moment, unsure. But you lean down to press a quick kiss to his cheek, before pulling back, a smirk on your lips.

“Come, my love,” you tease. “How about I guess, hm?”

Gale lets out a soft groan at your repeat of his earlier jest, and you can’t help but laugh as his hands come up to settle on your hips. You lean down to kiss him properly this time and can’t stop the excitement pooling in your belly once more. 

The night is still young, and you have a feeling that there is much more to discover.

[witchywcmans]

AGAINST THE LAW. | KEN RYUGUJI

synopsis ━━ after one too many trips to the auto repair shop with your old car, you realize you can focus on your work tasks so much better in the waiting room. but when the head mechanic notices you've been loitering, you recognize him instantly: ken ryuguji. there’s zero chance you’re getting out of this one. (older!draken x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ missionary position on a motorcycle (hey, this is fiction), cunnilingus + fingering, praise, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (i.e. cherry), mentions loss of virginity in the past, mutual pining, au as helllll, draken is in his late 20s and a mechanic. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.2k

song inspiration ━━ one for the road, arctic monkeys / one of the girls, the weeknd / fallen star, the neighbourhood

author's note ━━ ok off the bat, I just wanna say this fic was completely inspired by this movie called wait with me. my friends and I like to watch passionflix movies for the laughs, but this one wasn't. well horrible. if you watch it, don't expect oscar-worthy performances, but it was fun and stupid and yeah, it made me think about what if part of this concept was applied to draken when he was older, workin as a mechanic. idk. I'm not caught up on the manga whatsoever so take this as a major au lol

Your car was a piece of shit, but that wasn’t the only reason you ended up sitting in the waiting room at the mechanic’s more than usual. A police officer would call it loitering. You, on the other hand, called it a safe space. For the past couple of weeks, your car had been in and out of the shop due to a faulty ignition sensor that your mechanic couldn’t nail down until your car broke down on the side of the highway. For the third time. Needless to say, it had been a stressful past month. The car issues had been one thing, but then there was all the pressure at work. And for some reason, you began to find comfort in working at the mechanic’s waiting room.

Your work as a journalist was very important to you. A perfectionist at heart, you needed to be in the right zone, the right state of mind, to write. Unfortunately, you weren’t someone who could sit at your desk at home for hours, typing away at the speed of light, and you definitely couldn’t focus at a coffee shop. You tried a plethora of other places. The local park: your laptop died. The library: teenagers still whispered too loud even in the quietest of places. The McDonald's parking lot: you got distracted by your hunger. Nowhere was right … until you were forced to work from your mechanic’s waiting room while he worked on your car. 

Even when your mechanic figured out the issue, you couldn’t help but sneak in through the entrance late mornings and work on your articles. The waiting room was just so … quiet, even more quiet than a library. There was hardly anyone in there besides the retired folk who could wait all day for their car to be fixed. You had a coffee machine at your disposable – not good coffee, but good enough – and a selection of snacks from the vending machine. It was pure bliss. You liked to hole yourself up in the corner, picking out different outfits that would conceal your face enough, and type away until the sun began to set. No one said a word to you. No one batted an eye.

So, as you can see, it was a surprise to you when someone eventually approached you two months into your loitering scheme.

It was just about closing time and you were shoving your laptop in your backpack after sending off another draft to your editor. A pair of feet appeared in front of your chair, and when you looked up at the young mechanic chewing on the end of a toothpick, you knew you were fucked. 

“Toyota,” he said without missing a beat, knowing your car from the top of his head, “ignition sensor, right?”

You paused, sliding on your backpack. Could you make a break for it? “Um … correct.”

“That was fixed weeks ago,” he said, slapping a dirty rag on his shoulder, car keys dangling from the other hand. 

Your mouth went completely dry. How the fuck could you explain this without coming off as a total weirdo? Your hands gripped the straps of your backpack for dear life. This was so embarrassing.

Before you could reply, the young mechanic gestured to the back door with his chin. “Follow me,” he said. “Boss wants to talk to ‘ya.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Still fiddling with your backpack straps, you knew there was no choice but to follow this guy. He led you through the back door and into the main workshop area of the shop. There were some cars left on a few lifts, ready to be inspected tomorrow, and the shelves packed with parts seemed to be in disarray. Besides that, there was no one in here but you, the young mechanic, and whoever this “boss” was still working in the back of the shop. You had never met the owner of the shop before; you typically worked with your mechanic and no one else.

You took down the hood that you’d been wearing today. There was no use in hiding your face now.

“Here she is, boss,” the man beside you said, still twirling those keys. “Can I go home now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boss replied, hidden behind the huge motorcycle he was working on. “Good work today.”

The younger man left, the bell above the office door jingling, and now it was just two: you and this so-called boss you’d never met. You stood there in silence, hands fidgeting with anxiety, as you waited for the boss to say something. From behind the motorcycle, all you could see was a flash of blonde hair and smoke puffing out into the dingy air. It smelled like motor oil and cigarettes back here.

You lifted your foot – maybe it was time to try and sprint out – but then a deep voice entered the work space.

“You know that loitering is against the law, right?”

That voice … it was familiar, but you couldn’t put a pin on it. And then, the boss was standing up, and you saw the tuft of blonde hair slicked back, the shaved sides on his head. That infamous dragon tattoo still on his left temple. The little hoop on his left ear was accompanied by a few other small piercings. He was still the same height – over six feet – but had grown some muscle. His hands were calloused from all those years of fighting, and now, from heavy labor. And those eyes … they were still as stormy and dark as the first day you saw him in school.

This wasn’t just embarrassing. This was mortifying.

“C’mon, Cherry,” Draken said, instantly recognizing you and your old nickname, “you know you can’t loiter in my shop.”

Cherry. You hadn’t been called that since … well, since high school. Your classmates hadn’t started calling you that because of a specific physical trait. To your face, you were told the nickname was for your quick skill of tying a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. You had been the best, after all. But unbeknownst to you, the nickname came from when Mikey Sano, the infamous former leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang, popped your cherry.

You hadn’t even liked Mikey at the time. You were just sweet sixteen, and he was a year older, and you had assumed it would be better for your first to be someone with experience. Unfortunately, Mikey Sano had no experience. The sex had been awkward and terrible, as most first times between teenagers are, but at least you could say that you lost your virginity to the leader of Toman. Your eyes had always been on someone else, though. Someone who you had been too nervous to talk to, who you had only shared just a few interactions with. You never had a crush on Mikey as a teenager; you had always liked –

“Draken,” you said finally, shock lining your voice. Your eyes formed into wide saucers. It had been so long, and he was here. This whole time. Right under your nose. How surprised did you look right now?

He chuckled, wiping his hands off on a rag. The cigarette dangling from his lips was plucked out, and he stabbed it into an ashtray. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Oh, so you did look that shocked to see him.

He threw the tool he’d been using on a bench and stepped around the bike. “I really don’t go by Draken anymore,” he continued, sitting down on the rusted motorcycle, stretching his legs out. “Just call me, Ken.”

You were speechless. Were you breathing right now? You had to admit … you still found him to be handsome. He always had been. God, you were obsessed with him in high school, but always hid your crush in the shadows. Not even your friends knew about it, but you’d made it obvious, even if you didn’t know it. And now … he’d gotten better with age. The lines underneath his eyes told a story, as well as the scars etched into his veiny forearms. He could have more that you couldn’t see underneath the tattoos on his arms. Your mouth was so dry from staring at him that you had to lick the corners of your lips.

“Ken,” you said in a single breath, lacing your hands together in front of your body. You hadn’t moved from your spot, even when he was looking at you so casually. “I’m so sorry for loitering. Please, don’t call the cops on me. Or something. I have a reason –”

“Me? Call the police?” He laughed again, and it was just like how you remembered. “Do you know me at all, Cherry?”

Once you found the courage to breathe again, you stepped forward. Then another. And another. “I guess I don’t,” you shrugged, still playing with your hands. “I guess I just knew of you.”

“And I knew of you, all those years ago.” He smiled like you two were in on a secret. The rag that had been in his hands was tossed onto his left shoulder. He was wearing a pair of grey coveralls stained with oil, but the top half was unzipped and tied around his waist, leaving him in just a white tank top on his torso, which hugged his muscles so nicely. “So, tell me then. What’s the reason for your loitering?”

This had to be the most words shared between you two than all those years at school together. You thought about pinching yourself, just to check if this was all part of an elaborate dream. Or nightmare, depending on how it ended.

“Um …” You rubbed the back of your neck, blushing slightly. “Well, you see … the waiting room at your shop is very … quiet.”

His brow raised. “So I’ve been told.” He stared you down. “C’mon, out with it.”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because we went to school together!”

“Oh, you know that means noth –”

“I’m a journalist and I write my articles better in your waiting room,” you finally answered, crossing your arms over your chest. “There. I said it.”

Draken couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He knew he promised, but the giggles bubbled up inside him, forcing themselves to emerge. You looked at him incredulously, blinking too fast. All you wanted right now was to crawl into a hole and be left alone. You had to find a new mechanic after this.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” you sighed.

He waved his hand as his laughter died down. “I’m not. I promise.” Finally, his shoulders sagged again and he stood up. “I think it’s really cool that you … like my waiting room so much.”

You found your lips pulling into a smile at the same time as him. The tension broke and you felt your dimples crease. “I also like all the little snacks in the machine.”

“And the coffee?” He added.

You shrugged. “Could use some work.”

Draken laughed again, and just the sound of it made butterflies form in your stomach. You never had such a reaction to someone laughing before. What was wrong with you?

He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his coveralls. “It’s … really nice to see you again, Cherry.”

You mimicked his actions, instead sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “You too, Ken.”

“I won’t bust you for loitering, by the way. Even if it is against the law,” he chuckled under his breath, whipping the rag off his shoulder once again. “Come over here. Let me show you what I’m working on.”

His tone was so casual, as if years hadn’t passed between you two, as if this wasn’t the most you talked in years. You set your backpack down and approached him in front of the bike. Your fingers ran over the slope of the seat, all new despite the rusty exterior of the motorcycle. “That’s new leather,” he informed you. “Feel free to test it out. I need someone else’s butt on this thing so I know if I chose a good material.”

You giggled, all light and flirty. You simply couldn’t help it, especially when he looked at you with those dark eyes, the corners creasing when he smiled. Without missing a beat, you sat down on the side of the bike, like he had minutes ago, and looked up at him. He was tall, but from this seat, he was even taller. 

He pointed to the wheel of the bike, and then the headlight. “I just started replacing the …” His voice drowned out as you simply focused on his lips. His mouth quirked as he explained what he fixed so far on the bike. You watched his finger dance around the bike, taking in the rough exterior of his hands up close. They were so much bigger now, amongst other things –

“So how’s that seat?”

You blinked, bringing yourself out of your horny stupor. “Oh, um – comfy. Very comfy.” You cleared your throat. “So … is this for a customer?”

“It’s mine. This is a personal project,” he explained, leaning slightly to the left, closer to you. “I wouldn’t be working on anything this late except if it was for me.”

His eyes were on you again, drinking you in as you sat on the bike. He placed his hand on the fuel tank, so close to yours. Your stomach was definitely doing flip-flops now, especially when you noticed the way his eyes raked down your figure. You wished you’d chosen something better to wear, something other than a pair of jeans and a cropped hoodie, but you’d only expected to be getting work done in the waiting room today. Not to be confronted by your old school crush. But it looked like it didn’t matter to him. The way he was looking at you … it felt like you were naked.

“It really is nice to see you again,” he said, voice just slightly above a whisper. His stance changed and he moved to stand between your legs.

You bit your lip for a moment. “You already said that.”

“You’re right. Uh … I …” He looked down at his hands, flexing them, breaking his nerves. “You just … look very pretty … sitting on my bike.”

You looked down at yourself. The way you sat with your legs spread wide was anything but attractive, and it wasn’t like you were wearing a cute, little dress. “I do?”

But when you lifted your stare again, his face was so much closer to yours. He was leaning down now, bracing two hands on the leather seat, and trying to pretend like he wasn’t inhaling your perfume. You just smelled … so good. Like strawberries and apples and … cherries. Red, ripened cherries. And the way you were sitting on that seat, eyes wide and cheeks blushing from being caught earlier. Fuck, it reminded him of the first time he saw you in high school. He had been a horny teenager, of course, but the way he saw you tie that cherry stem with your tongue … you were the first person he ever jerked off to the thought of. He had never made a move on you – ever – but at this moment, he was glad. Because things would’ve been different, and you never would’ve ended up loitering at his shop, and you never would’ve been sitting so pretty on his bike, all these years later.

“I just …” He trailed off, words failing him, as he lifted a hand to skim it over your jawline. “You can tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Your eyes simply batted up at him, leaning into his touch when his fingers caressed your cheek. Your skin immediately flushed. You were so soft, and warm, and god, did his skin prickle when he touched you. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He muttered, voice gravely. You nodded instantly, and his thumb went to trace the outline of your lips. “I had always been … jealous that Mikey got to you first.”

Had your feelings in high school been reciprocated and you didn’t even know it? You licked at the corners of your lips, your tongue quickly flicking his thumb in the process. “You were?” You asked, already feeling yourself getting wet from just him tracing your lips. “I … never really liked Mikey anyways.” You then shook your head. “It feels silly to talk about this so many years later –”

Draken turned your face back to his, looking into your eyes sternly. “You never liked Mikey,” he said, point blank, pressing his thumb onto your bottom lip.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the fingertip. You shook your head at his question.

His breath hitched. Just the sight of your lips around his thumb had him adjusting himself in his pants. He could feel his cock start to swell with need, causing him to mumble a soft, “Fuck,” under his breath.

You weren’t just wet now. You were soaked.

You slipped your mouth off his thumb, leaving a tiny trail of spit. His face immediately got closer, his lips grazing yours. He could tell they were soft, and even your chapstick smelled like cherries. God, how could he be so hard already? “I liked you back when we were teenagers,” you confessed, reaching out to hook your thumbs in the belt loops on his coveralls. “I was too scared to say anything, and Mikey … he’d just been there. Right place at the right time. We really didn’t feel anything for each other.”

Your words stirred something within him, something more than jealousy. Was it regret? The fact that he could’ve had you, all those years ago, if he’d just manned up and asked. He could’ve fought people all day, but when it came to asking out the girl he liked, he’d sat back, let his best friend pop your cherry. It should’ve been him. Fuck, it could’ve been him. 

His lips pressed to yours instantly, needing to taste the sweetness on your lips. His tongue darted out, swiping at that cherry flavor, and he moaned. Actually moaned. Draken wasn’t known to be weak for anyone, but you … you had always been a different story. You pulled him in closer by his belt loops, tipping your face up as he leaned over you. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue slipping past your lips once again to explore your mouth. He gripped the edge of the seat, his other hand cradling your jaw, and you wanted him so much closer. If he just put his knee between your legs, you could –

There it was. He did it, placing his knee right in the perfect spot. You bucked your hips up, setting a slow grind against his knee as he kissed you with feverish intent. Moans fell from your lips and into the kiss, making the tent in his pants grow bigger every passing second. He was so fucking hard now, and he needed more of you. He would have more of you.

“No, stop,” he muttered, breaking the kiss and moving his knee away. You huffed with disappointment, wanting that delicious friction once again, but when you opened your eyes, he was staring at you with purpose. “Please, let me taste you.”

You nodded dumbly, eyes blown out with lust. All you could say was, “Okay.”

In another life, you would’ve said something endearing, or maybe even hit him with a little dirty talk. But you absolutely couldn’t right now. Your head was swimming, the image of him unzipping your jeans and taking them off felt like it was out of a fever dream. Is this what it felt like to drown? No, you were breathing – just about – and Draken was throwing your pants off to the side, kneeling before you. Your legs spread wide as you sat on the bike. Surely, there could’ve been a better place to do this, but the way he was staring at your soaked panties, pushing them to the side to take in your pussy … you knew there was no stopping him. This was just his first course of the night.

His tongue dove between your wet folds, drinking you in like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. You knew you were done for when his arms wrapped around your legs, holding them apart, giving himself better access to one thing he’d craved for years. He rolled his tongue over your swollen clit, enjoying the sounds that slipped out of your mouth. You muttered obscenities, bucked your hips without thinking, pulled on his slicked-back hair. Anything to give you more friction on your precious, aching clit.

He dragged his tongue down, pushing it inside your warmth, collecting the arousal and groaning like a man starved. Fucking his tongue into you, he angled his nose to brush your clit, and you just about mewled. You had spent so many years either having mediocre sex or stressing over this stupid job, when this – this man you had been in love with in school – was here the whole time, just dreaming about the day he could eat your pussy. So much time wasted, so many fake orgasms, while Ken Ryuguji owned your favorite auto shop, so close to you and right under your nose. 

You were pretty sure the seat on this bike had to have been ruined. Draken was turning you into a wet mess, making your hips buck against his face. His lips wrapped your beloved clit, sucking and pulling, needing more – so much more – of you. Slipping two fingers inside you, he pumped them fast. It didn’t take long for his fingers to curl and find that sweet spot that had your core trembling around him. He didn’t know what he’d do if you came on his face. Honestly, he’d probably cum in his pants on the spot.

“C’mon … c’mon … you can cum in my m–mouth –” He was practically begging, his voice muffled from deep within your thighs. “Tastes so, so good … fuck, Cherry, fuck –”

You couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t even think about anything but the way his tongue lapped at your clit, before you were cumming on his tongue, your arousal smearing all over his lips. He moaned the second he got just a hint of your essence, burying his face more into your legs. You tasted better than candy, than cherries, than menthol cigarettes. He could spend forever between these thighs, drinking you in and listening to your desperate moans.

Once your body stopped shaking, he dragged his tongue one last time through your folds, making sure he didn’t miss a drop. You yelped from the overstimulation, and when you opened your eyes, he was rising from in between your legs. His licked at your slick still staining his lips, bringing your mouth to his again, letting you taste yourself. Your hands fisted into his shirt, downright desperate for more of him. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled back.

“I know it’s not ideal, given the place we’re in, but …” He cradled your face in both in his hands, as if you were just a baby bird. “Can I fuck you, Cherry?”

You nodded without hesitation, already drunk on his touch. You weren’t exactly sure how he planned on doing this. I mean … you two were in the dirty workshop area of an auto repair shop. This wasn’t exactly the best place to have sex. But then he was adjusting your position on the motorcycle, laying your head down by the handlebar and pulling your legs on both sides of the seat, your ass resting nicely in the curve. His hands were quick to roll off your panties.

“Ken,” you called out, sitting up a little and dragging your hand up. His white tank bunched up at the waist. “Wanna see more of you …”

Draken was so goddamn hard in his pants, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of being inside you, but you were just so pretty and he was putty in your hands. He let your palms explore him, lifting his tank top up so you could see what the fabric had been concealing. He’d really filled out since school – his arms were toned, his abdomen more defined. He looked like the statue of Apollo, all lean and muscled, but with just the right amount of grit. You liked that he never got his dragon tattoo removed (although, that would’ve been very painful), and that his piercings remained the same. Everything about him seemed untouched, but he’d just gotten better with age. Just the sight of him made your mouth water.

You leaned back down on the bike, bringing him down with you. Your lips pressed against his hungrily, and he was so, so tempted to slip his tongue into your mouth, when he felt his cock hard as a rock in his pants, aching and pulsating. His mouth broke away from yours, and he whispered, quite hopelessly, “I’m so sorry, but I really, really need to be inside you or my dick is going to explode.”

A chuckle escaped your lips, and just the sound of it made Draken smile. You nodded, urging him to continue, and he quickly unzipped the bottom half of his coveralls. He took his cock out: it was long, curved, pink at the tip, and leaking precum on the shop floor. All the more reason to be inside you; he couldn’t have his mechanics seeing that on the floor and wondering what he was doing after hours. He pulled a condom out from his wallet and slid the ribbed rubber on. Lifting both your legs onto his shoulders, your ass was almost rising off the seat and he positioned himself between your thighs, noticing the way your slick was smeared all over his seat. He grunted at the sight of it, slamming his cock into your without thinking.

You cried out, feeling him so deep so quickly. He held your legs up, leaning down as far as he could, and muttered, “Fuck, I’m sorry – so sorry – just … needed to be inside you. Needed to fuck you on my bike.”

You hand came up to cup his chin for a moment. “S’okay,” you promised, “just fuck me like you should’ve done years ago, Draken.”

He knew he told you to call him Ken, but just the nickname falling your lips in such a filthy manner had him groaning. Draken pulled out of you until only the tip remained, and then pounded his cock back inside you. You keened, trying to close your legs, but he held them up by his shoulders. He set a fast pace inside you, unable to keep his moans at bay, and slipped one hand off your leg to snake his fingers up your hoodie, pushing it up to your chin. Pulling your breasts out from your bra, his eyes clouded and played with your sensitive nipples. “So good,” he muttered, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment. “Feels so, so good … needed you for so long, Cherry.”

“I know, I know, Draken,” you whimpered, locking your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to yours, your thighs now curling against your chest. Your back ached against the seat and your legs burned from the uncomfortable position, but you wouldn’t dare push him away, not when he was filling you like this. 

With his lips just grazing yours, he tugged on your lip, making you moan, and he fucked into you harder. Your nails were now dragging down his shoulders, leaving marks that he’d think about forever. “Fuck, I’m s’deep … so deep inside you. You’re so warm, so wet – fuck, I’m so close already.”

“Wait for me,” you begged, sighing as his cock curved against your sweet spot. “Wanna cum with you, Draken.”

“I know, Cherry,” he grunted, his pace relentless. Fuck, this was all he ever needed, all he wanted to do, forever. It felt like you were made to take him. “Touch yourself f’me. Cum together … we’ll cum together.”

You nodded quickly, moving your hand in between your bodies, finding your puffy clit so easily. A whine escaped your lips as you fingers rubbed little circles, getting you so close already. You just needed a little push. Draken was slamming into you, his breaths fanning your cheeks, and when he felt your legs start to shake, your walls clenching just a little, he almost died. “Such a good girl …” He cooed, nose brushing yours. “Touching yourself f’me so nicely … fuck, you take me so well … yes, yes, you’re so close. Just like that.”

Your fingers rubbed a little faster, and you knew your orgasm was imminent. With him pushing into you, filling you completely, and the stimulation on your clit … you felt your lips purse into an O-shape. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Draken. I’m gonna … fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, I know,” he groaned. “Fuck – gonna cum too. That’s a good girl … doing so good – fuck –”

His release came first. He had been close for so long, Draken was surprised he’d been able to hold back. He came with a loud groan, spilling himself into the condom, and it was only seconds later that your jaw went slack with pleasure. His name fell from your lips in a whimper, and you kept rubbing that aching clit through your orgasm, going tight around his cock. He wouldn’t stop fucking into you, even when your orgasm subsided, needing to feel you clench around him for just a moment longer. The way he filled you wasn’t like any other. You never wanted to feel empty again. You couldn’t, not when you knew how Ken Ryuguji felt inside you.

When you both eventually stopped trembling, he gently placed your legs back down on the sides of the bike. They felt sore and limp, but that was the last thing on your mind. You opened your eyes at the same time, and you both couldn’t help but laugh at the position you were in, the absurdity of it all. The workshop smelled like gas and oil, and you were surrounded by broken-down cars. But you two had fucked like you were in a bedroom, on a soft mattress, rather than a motorcycle. You hand went over your mouth to suppress your giggles.

Draken smiled with you, and then removed your hand, liking the way you laughed. “I know it’s been a long time coming, but … can I take you out some night?”

You couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried. “I’d like that, Ken.”

His cock had gone soft, but he was still nestled inside you, basking in your warmth. Draken wished he could be inside you forever, with your fingers playing with his hair. He would give anything for this moment to last, but he knew this position on the bike had to be the most uncomfortable for you, and he needed to take off this condom. He chuckled under his breath.

“Also, in case you were wondering,” he said, lips pulling into a smirk. “You can loiter around my waiting room anytime.”

[delusional-day-dreamer]

pretty in pink - p.b

‣ paige bueckers x reader!

‣ wc: 2835

‣‣ synopsis: your longtime (not so secret) girlfriend surprises you by dying her hair your favorite color! takes place before and on july 22nd (aka paige's sneakity peakity live). literally just tooth-rotting fluff and a little kissing!

‣‣‣ a/n: this is the fic that won in the poll (i'm not surprised y'all chose paige) but the next one i have scheduled to release is one of the nika ones! hopefully i'll be more consistent with writing in these next few weeks before school starts.

On your way home after a very successful meeting planning out the beginning of the uconn women's basketball team season, especially with media days and pressers, there was only one thing that could've made your night better. The presence of your beloved girlfriend, Paige Bueckers.

You and Paige had started dating in the middle of her junior year and your sophomore year, but that's not to say the two of you weren't harboring feelings for a while before that. Being one of the team photographers had allowed you to spend a lot of time with the uconn wbb team on and off the court, and you were very close with basically all of the players, especially Azzi.

Being in Azzi's year meant that she was the first person you connected with, having two classes with her outside of basketball definitely helped your relationship as well.

So it was nothing less of a delight to her when she would often catch your gaze lingering on her other best friend, Paige Bueckers, for just a second too long at games or certain practices you were called to take shots of.

As little did you know, she had caught on to the fact that Paige bore a huge crush on the pretty photographer who always got the best shots of her, came to check up on her before both her meniscus and acl surgeries and stayed with her multiple nights afterwards, and to top it all off, always gifting her the cutest bouquets of her favorite purple flowers.

She only put up with the two of you respectively complaining to her about your ever-consuming feelings for three ish months, before finally setting the two of you up to privately confess in your hotel room on Christmas Eve after an easy dub for UConn.

After a few shedded tears, excited giggles, slight teasing, and searing kisses, the two of you made it official, not telling anyone on the team, except Azzi of course, until around Valentine's Day, and still keeping it on the down low from the media, but you often joined Paige as her plus one to events pertaining to and outside basketball.

And unfortunately for the two of you lovestruck fools, you weren't the most discreet when making heart eyes at each other. The fans were not oblivious to the way Paige would look for you before, during, and after games, the fact that majority of your best photography was of Paige, and your friendly, but all too coupley sweet, interactions.

With this shipping, of course, came a huge following and obsessed, loving fan base for you and Paige. Fans ate up the aesthetic posts that graced your instagram feed, your occasional but always viral tiktoks, and your carefully curated list of public playlists on spotify and apple music (some that fans noticed had paige's favorite songs on).

And yet, you never outright addressed the rumors, despite your tiktok reposts hinting at the fact that you were dating someone, and small sly remarks occasionally dropped on KK's live hinting at your taken status, you and Paige had never found the need to publicly announce your relationship, reveling in the privacy you two were able to maintain while (badly) keeping it a secret.

That is, up until about a month ago. With the difficult conversation of whether Paige would enter the draft or stay another year at UConn, the possibility of long distance and what the future of your relationship would look like, you and Paige decided that you would make the most out of the last year you had together at university, and that included being able to publicly love up on your girlfriend.

Though you had never decided when and how to announce your relationship, agreeing that you would just go with the flow when it seemed right, Paige had a different idea in mind at how to hard launch your relationship to the rest of the world.

A random KK Arnold live in the middle of your junior year

"Y/n/n, the live wants to see more of you. They just can't get enough of you girly pop, they in loveeee," KK sang out, knowing the reason you so scarcely appeared on her lives was the fact that you were just a little camera shy, not used to constantly being in front of the media like the girls on the team were.

"KK I'm literally bare-faced in pajamas," you whispered from behind the camera, scratching the side of your face as you glanced at Paige sitting next to her.

"Girl boo, ain't no one care. You look good either way, just come say hi to the fans," she insisted, trying to ease you out your shell. Everyone on the team knew what an outgoing social butterfly you were, but social media had always intimidated you to a certain extent, which is why you preferred being behind the camera rather than in front of it.

You glanced at Paige again, who nodded encouragingly and scooted to the side, opening a space for you to take a seat between the two girls.

You sighed as you made your way to the couch, sitting criss-crossed between the two basketball players as KK's arm immediately swung to rest around your shoulders, happily introducing you to her live.

"Y'all if you don't know Miss Y/N, you should. She's our little camera girl and gets us right, EVERY TIME. I don't know if I can allow her to leave after next year because she's the only person out here that actually gets my angles right. Plus, we all in her little bougie apartment right now, y'all don't understand that she lives better than all of us here," You smiled at KK's rambling, she was one of the younger girls you had a particular soft spot for, and she always referred to you and Paige as her parents with how close you guys were.

"Okay so boom, let's do a little q and a with y/n so y'all can get to know who she is. You ready?" She turned to you, fake holding an imaginary mic in her hand as she got ready to "interview" you.

"Well if the fans want to know, who am I to say no?" You shrugged, loosening up a little with how infectious KK's energy was.

"Okay bars, let's start off with what the people want to know," she scanned over the influx of comments coming in to the livestream, picking out a few before turning back to you.

"Easy one first since apparently no one here pays attention to what I say, who are you and why do you know us?" She side-eyed the camera, pretending to be annoyed that people didn't listen to her explanation the first time. Paige sat silently next to you, doing her best to not stare at you lovingly on camera, knowing how intricately fans analyzed any of your interactions together.

"I'm y/n l/n and I'm one of the photographers for the women's basketball team. Have been since I was a freshman, and I don't plan on leaving anytime soon, so y'all are stuck with me," you proceeded to stick your tongue out at Aubrey, who was all the way in the edge of the live's background, but still visible as she pretended to choke herself at the mention of you staying for the next two years.

"Anyways, hmmm," you leaned in to the camera slightly, reading over the questions to find an appropriate one to answer.

"Oh my favorite color, that's literally one of the easiest questions ever. Pink, no doubt about it. I have so many pink things in my apartment."

"Someone said, you should give a little pink tour, you could show them your like matcha station thing and your bedroom, it's like a unicorn threw up pink in there. Plus all your little stuffed animals," KK joked, making fun of your obsession with the color.

"Maybe next time guys, going straight to the bedroom the first time we meet is crazyyy," you teased, inciting laughter from multiple of the girls lounging around you living room.

"Yo chilll," Paige quipped, gently tapping your knee with the back of her hand as she smirked up at you from her slouched position against your couch cushions.

You raised an eyebrow at her teasingly, giggling as you break off her gaze to return your attention back to the live.

"Which one of your stuffed animals is your favorite? Okay so for the most part they're all Jellycats, or like the weighted dinosaurs from Target, but my favorite by far is my little Jellycat bouquet of flowers, it's the cutest thing I’ve ever been gifted," You smiled, excited to talk about a part of your life that the viewers didn't know was about Paige.

When you first came to UConn, you only brought one stuffed animal with you from your vast childhood collection at home, the little pink bunny from Jellycat. But over the past three years, your college collection had grown solely due to the gifts Paige bought you, knowing how much you loved having those parts of her at night when she couldn't make it for some reason or was at away games you weren't scheduled for.

You continued to scan over the comments, doing your best to bite back a smile at the ones freaking out over you and Paige. You were used to it by now, but the thrill of secrecy never failed to make your heart race.

Back to present

Walking up to the steps of your apartment, you had no clue what surprise Paige had prepared for you, as you weren't expecting her to fly back until tomorrow. But when Brittany had called Paige to discuss the game plan for the teams upcoming shoot with a semi permanent hair dye brand, Paige immediately knew the perfect surprise to greet you with after your long separation due to her “world tour”.

Originally, the two of you were supposed to travel together, using the trip as a hard launch, but after some last minute issues with your time off with work and the busy schedule they crammed onto you, you decided it would be best to stay back while Paige enjoyed her solo tour, even though it was far from easy.

The two of you were constantly texting and calling whenever you found a spare minute in your busy days, and it was the only thing keeping you sane the last two weeks. And when you said constantly texting, you meant it.

And apparently, even Paige's friends recognized how down bad she was without you, after Flaujae exposed her for cheesing at her phone while texting you at the WNBA All-Star game, which you immediately found out about by the influx of comments tagging you, questioning if you were the person responsible. You were, of course, but they didn't need to know that. At least for now, to your knowledge at least.

Opening the door to your apartment, you set your shoes down on the neat rack you had set up, hanging up your keys on the wall above it as you made your way to your bedroom, unsuspecting as to what awaited you.

"Oh my god," you shrieked, processing the sight that greeted you as you reached right outside the door frame, mouth agape as your eyes took in the figure perched by the edge of your neatly made, pink bed, grinning at your shocked expression.

"Paige what the fuck, oh my god. You're here, you're pink, what the hell," you exclaimed hurriedly, rushing into your room to envelop your girlfriend in a tight hug, wrapping your arms around her neck as she encircled your waist.

She couldn't help but laugh at your reaction, angling her head up from your stomach so she could speak directly to you.

"Hey baby, you like it?" She grinned, pleased with the way your night was about to play out.

"You're so pink what the hell, when did you even find time to do this?" You questioned, running your fingers through her freshly dyed pink hair, in awe of the way your girlfriend could pull off just literally any look.

"Right before I left LA, figured if I was gonna dye my hair for the shoot I might as well make it my girl's favorite color yeah? But like, it looks good right?"

You raised an eyebrow at her not so subtle dig at you not answering her question, needing the validation from you to approve her new look.

You thought about your response for a second, going back and forth between teasing her a little, just to pull on her leg for shits and giggles, or just fawning over her the way you've been dying to do since she left the warmth of your embrace.

But, inevitable your longing to shower her in compliments and kisses overpowered any need to pester her, and it clearly showed on your face as your mouth broke out in a wide smile.

"You look so pretty baby. On God. Literally the most beautiful girlfriend ever," you gushed, tucking the front pieces of her hair behind her ears so you could take a look at her new piercings as well.

You had quite a few ear piercings from when you were bored in high school, the glint of gold jewelry along your ear almost always prominent since you wore majority of the earrings 24/7, and Paige would be lying if she said her piercings weren’t slightly inspired by yours.

“And these as well?” You teased, referring to her helix and seconds. “So sexy, truly P,” you nodded at her, grinning wide as you leaned down for a kiss.

You sighed against Paige’s lips, forgoing the teasing demeanor you held as you felt the craving for her subside, eager to finally have her back in your arms. Your mouth moved hungrily against hers, using one hand to grasp at her jaw and the other at the base of her neck, holding her tight in a desperate attempt to re-memorize the taste of her lips.

Paige’s grip on your waist tightened, before one hand left to travel down to your ass, playfully smacking your left cheek before grabbing onto the fat to pull you in closer to her, her intentions to drag you onto the bed next to her clear.

You whined as you broke away from her kiss, resisting her attempt to pull you down as you pouted down at her.

“No outside clothes on the bed Paige, I need to go shower first,” you insisted, rubbing your thumb against her cheek.

“You know lucky for me I have quite a bit of free time right now, and an extra shower never hurt anybody,” she quipped back, unwilling to separate from your presence now that she finally had you.

“Yeah?” You smirked, grabbing her hand as you led her outside your room and into the bathroom across the hall.

The Next Day; UConn women’s locker room (i think?)

You glanced up from your phone, watching as Paige moved around the locker room, posing with Ice, Azzi, Morgan, and Carol, setting her phone lower so the camera couldn't see anyone but her.

She raised her eyebrow at you questioningly, silently asking whether you wanted to be shown on the live from your seat in the corner of the locker.

You nodded at her, beckoning her over to sit next to you as you set your phone down, smiling at her as she made her way over to you.

“Since y’all wanna know why I chose pink, thought it was obvious but apparently not,”

She extended her arm outwards so that both of your bodies could easily fit in the frame of the camera.

“You know I had to make it my girl’s favorite color, now all that’s left is for y/n to do hers purple,” She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, making sure you were okay with how easily she referred to you as “her girl” in front of the thousands of viewers.

“Just cause you look pretty in pink does not mean I’m dying my hair purple Paige, I can’t pull all that off like you can baby,” you flirted shamelessly, running your fingers through your hair as you smirked at the blush that rose to her cheeks at your very public display.

“Aight not too much now,” She rose from her seat, patting your thigh off camera as she walked over to Brittany, cheesing and blushing hard as she avoided looking down at the camera until she posed with Brittany, smiling as her eyes skimmed over the flood of shocked and astonished comments regarding your relationship.

“Yeah that’s my girl, what ‘bout it?”

Let’s just say following Paige’s live and your respective hard launch posts on instagram, your phone has never and probably will never again experience such a quick and constant rush of notifications over the span of four days.

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed!!

[alisonwritesimagines]

Please Don't Be In Love With Someone Else ~LA!Shanks x Reader x LA!Mihawk Imagine~

Summary: You keep waiting for Shanks. But someone new comes along and suddenly, you're not so lonely.

Author’s Note: You read the title correctly. I'm evilly laughing right now as you read this in pain. Also, this is technically a rewrite of the angst ending cause the one I wrote and in my drafts is more fluff than angst.

Angst Ending to I Was Enchanted to Meet You

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: angst, fluff, but angst to all you Shanks lovers

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

It had been years since you last saw Shanks. And it's been a year since you last saw Luffy. Ever since he was old enough to sail off in the world to find the One Piece to become King of the Pirates, you had been by yourself since. Of course you did a lot for your small village to keep you occupied but you still missed your boys.

You were tending to your garden as it was time for you to harvest before it became spoiled and over grown. That was until you heard someone say something behind you.

“You don’t seem like someone who can harm a fly."

You turned around to see the warlord Dracule Mihawk standing before you. You stood up straight to seemed less intimidated.

“I can hurt a fly. Don’t think I’m good at harming anyone else,” you tell him as you crossed your arms.

“I see.”

“I know who you are so what do you want?” You asked.

“I was sent to kill you but in all honesty, I don’t think I can kill you. You’re too beautiful to be killed,” he tells you.

“Who sent you to kill me?” You asked, now worried. You’ve stayed in the island since you were born. Not only that, you stayed even when Luffy left.

“Not to worry now. I don't have any intentions to kill you," he tells you.

"Then what are you still doing here?"

"I'm curious to see why someone would send me to go after you."

"Feel free to stay. Just to tell you, it's going to be quite boring," you tell him.

Mihawk stayed around the next day to watch over you. He didn't understand why Vice Admiral Garp would want a warlord like him to kill a sweet little thing like yourself. You did nothing of the sort that would be considered dangerous or even pirate bounty level dangerous.

"Ow!" You yelled as you accidently burnt yourself with the pan.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Mihawk asked you as he rushed inside your home.

"Just burned myself," you tell him.

Mihawk quickly grabbed your bucket of water before gently putting your finger in the cool liquid.

"Thanks," you tell him.

"Of course."

"I made extras if you'd like. I got used to cooking for two," you tell him.

"Was it for you and your past lover?" Mihawk asked you.

"Not really surprisingly. I used to take care of a little boy who used to live with me who had a bottomless stomach. He wanted to become a pirate so he set sail a year ago," you tell him.

"I see."

"So, dinner?"

"Why not."

—

Mihawk stayed for a couple more weeks before he needed to back out to sea. You stood on the deck as you watched Mihawk get ready to leave.

"So I guess this is farewell?" You asked him.

"For now. I will be back in a month at most," he tells you.

"To finish me off and claim your berry?" You asked.

"No. To come see you again," Mihawk said before sailing off. You shook your head at him before walking back to your home.

You assumed Mihawk was lying or joking when he said he was coming back to see you. But to your surprise, you opened your door to see him standing before you.

"Brought you some new seeds for you to grow in your garden," Mihawk tells you.

"I'm guessing you're staying for dinner?" You asked with a small smile.

"If you'd have me," Mihawk said. You nodded before letting him inside your house.

-

As much as you didn't want to admit, you fell for Mihawk. Even though part of you hoped for Shanks to come back, you appreciated the fact that no matter how long Mihawk was gone for or even if he was wounded badly, he came back to you. Even though Shanks would come back to you, he hasn't for years.

"Will you be mine?" Mihawk asked you one night. After a midnight stroll, you both headed back to your home. Mihawk stopped you from walking inside by holding your hand.

"What?" You asked in shock.

"Be mine. I've fallen for you Y/n. And I swear to you, I would never let anything happen to you," Mihawk tells you.

"Alright. I'll be yours," you tell him. Mihawk gave you a small smile before pulling you towards him.

"May I kiss you?" Mihawk asked you.

"Yes."

Mihawk cupped your cheek with his hand before leaning in to kiss you.

-

Shanks rushed over to your home after being away for so many years. He was excited to tell you his adventures and was looking forward to seeing you once again. He knocked on your door, his heart pounding in excitement.

Instead of seeing you, he saw someone else open the door. His smile faltered as he stared at the stranger in front of him.

"May I help you?" The stranger asked him.

"My apologies. I was hoping to find Y/n L/n? The woman who lived here?" Shanks asked.

"Oh. I'm sorry. She's been gone for quite sometime. She left the village I want to say two years ago? Her and her husband moved to another island."

"Her husband?"

"Yes. I'm surprised she married a warlord but he had been kind to the village whenever he was here," the stranger pointed out.

"Do you happened to know her husband's name?"

"I believe it was Dracule Mihawk."

—

Shanks made it to Mihawk's castle where he knew you would be at. After demanding to see you, Mihawk came out to talk to him.

"You should know my wife is resting," Mihawk tells him.

"You took her from me," Shanks angrily tell him.

"I didn't take her from anyone. When I met her, she was alone," Mihawk informs him.

"She never told you about me?" Shanks asked.

"No she has. I just never told her that I knew you."

"Please. Let me see her!" Shanks asked.

"Let me see if she's well enough to move," Mihawk said.

"Is she sick?" Shanks asked.

"Not entirely."

Shanks waited anxiously for you to come down. His eyes widen when he saw Mihawk helping you down. Your stomach was large but he knew that it was because you were pregnant. And what's worse was that it wasn't Shanks's child you were carrying. It was Mihawk's child.

"Shanks?" You asked in shock.

"Hi, Y/n."

-

You sat in the garden with Shanks alone so you two could talk. Shanks stared at you, admiring your beauty once more. While you thought you were alone, Shanks knew that Mihawk was watching nearby.

“Are you happy my love?” Shanks asked you as he held your hand.

“I am. Hawk Eye makes me happy,” you tell him with a small smile.

“I’m happy that you’re happy.”

“I did wait for you Shanks. I really did. But I feared that if I waited any longer, I’d be too old for you,” you tell him with a frown.

“You could never be too old for me. You could have white hair and many wrinkles and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” Shanks tells you. You smiled at him before tearing up.

“I loved you Shanks. And I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you longer."

“Don’t apologize my love. I’m sorry I didn’t come back to you sooner,” Shanks said. You nodded before taking off your makeshift necklace that held the ring Shanks gave to you. You handed it over to Shanks before kissing his cheek.

“I hope life treats you well and I hope you find a woman who will love you endlessly as much as I did,” you tell him.

“And if Hawk Eyes dares to lay a hand on you, come find me. I’ll protect you.”

“I know you will."

"So this is goodbye then huh?" Shanks asked you.

"If you find Luffy, tell him I miss him and love him dearly. And that, he's more than welcome to visit me or find me whenever he wants," you tell him. After all, Luffy was yours and Shanks's unofficial son and you two were his unofficial parents.

"Goodbye, Shanks,” you tell him before giving him a kiss on the cheek once more.

“Goodbye, my love.”

—

You sat on the couch in your lounge room waiting for your son to arrive with his new fiancée. Twenty five years had gone by and you had lived your life. Dracule sat next to you as you both waited for your son to come home. Now that your husband has retired from being a pirate, he had spent his time with you while your children explored the world.

“I wonder what she’ll be like,” you tell your husband.

“I trust his judgement. After all, I chose well didn’t I?” Dracule joked.

“You most certainly did,” you smiled.

“Mom! Dad! I’m home!” You heard your son say.

“Over here!” You called from where you were.

You smiled at your son the moment he walked in but your eyes widen from the sight of the woman next to him. Not only did she have the exact same hair as Shanks, but she also had the same eyes as him. It was no doubt that she was Shanks's daughter.

“Mother. Father. This is my fiancée, May,” your son said proudly. You smiled at the woman before getting up from your chair to greet her.

“It’s nice to meet you, May,” you tell her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Mihawk.”

“Please call me Y/n,” you tell her as you shook her hand. You noticed her necklace with a ring on it. It looked exactly like the one Shanks gave to you from years before.

“I like your necklace,” you say.

“Oh thank you. My father gave it to me. Said it was his prize possession,” she tells you. You felt your heart break a little from what she said.

“Will we be able to meet your parents soon?” You asked.

“Unfortunately no. My mother passed away from childbirth and my father passed away not too long ago,” she tells you. You frown from hearing that.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’m really glad to have met your son,” May tells you. You smiled at her before giving her a hug.

“Well, I know my son will treat you well. And if he doesn’t, you tell me,” you tell her. May smiled at you before looking at your son.

At the end of the night, you stood outside on your balcony as you stared up at the stars.

Maybe this was the universe telling you that in another life, you and Shanks end up together. But you did wish he didn’t have to be gone so soon. You wished that he would’ve came back to you sooner and maybe you two could've had the future you two wanted together.

[dumpywrites]

Tears and Poetries - Kim Namjoon / RM

Prompt: “You look familiar, like that one guy from BTS.”

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, comfort, idol Namjoon, non fan reader 

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

a/n: Come back to me got me feeling all inspired soooo yeah :)

It was late. Frankly you did not bother to check the time but you knew it was at least way past twelve. You just needed some air. Late night polluted air might not be the right option, but it was the best you could have at the moment. Getting out was the only coping response your mind could think off. Getting out from where exactly you could not be sure. 

Work life had been a real shit-show. You were on your fifth revision for your company project and your manager still would not accept your draft. While life? Life had been pretty exhausting. Recently your mother had been pestering you about wanting you to achieve more, comparing you to her friends’ sons and daughters, while also underestimating your own accomplishment. 

And not even two weeks ago, a guy who you were seeing just admitted that he apparently had a girlfriend. He really just dropped that info to you like a bomb, as if you did not spend time with each other the past six months. True, you never really put a label on whatever you both had, but in your head you were single and so was he. Until he told you that he got a girlfriend and had dated her for a month already. 

The wound still felt fresh especially with all the external problems added to the equation. Bearing the feeling of unwanted, unimportant, and never enough at once, was hard. Even labeling it as only hard sounded like an understatement. 

So you ran. Theoretically speaking you did not run away, you just took off from your apartment randomly to wherever your feet and your worn off sneakers took you. And they took you to a random spot near a river. 

You sat down on the dirty grassy ground, not minding how your shorts could get dirty from it.  Just sitting down and looking at the night sky, as if the cold breeze would calm you and do anything besides giving you a possibility of catching cold. 

Five, fifteen, maybe it was around half an hour you had been sitting there with empty thoughts, just letting the cold air hit your skin, when you suddenly heard a sound of a bicycle stopping and footsteps approaching. 

“Hello? Are you alright there?”

The deep voice started you and made you look back in an instant. There was a tall and quite big built guy standing with his bicycle. He had a buzzcut from the very faint image you could see due to the low light. 

Although skeptic, you decided to answer. “Yeah, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

You realized how shaky and stuffy your voice sounded. It probably was not a very convincing “don’t worry”. And when you did not voice another reply, the person parked their vehicle and slowly walked towards your direction. 

“Hey! Stranger danger!” You said, backing off from where you were seating. 

The guy stopped in his tracks but did not walked away. “Do you mind if I join your pondering session? Who knows two great minds might think alike.” 

You stayed still in your position, eyes searching for his in the very confusing lack of light. You could barely make out of what he looked like. 

“I’m not a creep, I swear!” He threw his hands in the air. “There’s a police station nearby if you wanna shout as loud as you can, they could hear you from here.” 

He took your silence as a green light and stepped closer until he reached a spot on your left. He cleared his throat and sat down next to you. 

There you could eventually fully saw his face. The first thing you noticed was the nicely shaped nose, and his plump lips, then his dimples which showed when he politely smiled at you. 

The first ten minutes was spent in complete silence. You did not expect the man to whip out a notepad and pencil and just started writing. A story? Poem? Or song? You tried your best not to sneak a look. He was even humming at some point when he wrote, and it was strangely enough, soothing. 

“What are you writing?” You finally asked, the suspense was killing you. 

“Thought you’d never ask.” He replied with excitement. “I’m writing a poem. Though I’m starting to think it’d sound better as a song.”

“You’re a singer or something?”

The man looked at you in disbelief for a good second before chuckling. “Sorta.”

“Am I suppose to know you?” You eyed him back with the same questioning look. 

“Dunno.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s a good thing that you don’t know for today.”

You looked at the guy suspiciously, which earned a laugh from him. “The more I think about it, I think I’ve seen your face somewhere…”

“Oh yeah?” He said, a light tone of nervousness was visible in his voice. 

“You look familiar, like that one guy from BTS.”

He almost choked on nothing. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“Yeah, that one dude from BTS.” You repeated. “Although I don’t think any one from them has a buzzcut… Idols always seem to have either colorful hair or beautiful long locks.” 

“Really…” The man voiced out, sounding unsure. 

“Are you perhaps an indie artist? K-hiphop? Don’t tell me you are a DPR member that I somehow don’t know about or something…”

“Okay, enough about that it’s not important.” He dismissed. “You wanna take a look of what I’ve written?”

“Uh, sure…”

You leaned a bit closer to him and peeked over his notes. He took his notepad nearing it to your side so you could read better. Despite the low source of illumination, you could read the delicately written words. It was deep and meaningful. Whatever he wrote on that paper seemed a little too real to just be a song, it almost felt like it came from true experience. 

“You sound like you went through hell to get to where you are right now.” 

You commented, you were not aware of how reading through his words affected you until you could practically hear your heartbeat. You clutched at your chest, trying to calm it down. 

“I’m not only talking about the sufferings.” He pointed out. “I also mentioned about the journeys in between.”

His expression brightened as he explained further. You found it really attractive for some reason. 

“The feeling of loss, left out, were there alongside the feeling of excitement, growth, and wanting to change for the better.” He grinned. “And I think life needs that small bits of flavor to complete us as human beings… Wouldn’t have loved myself so much without all my struggles and flaws.”

You gazed at the guy in front of you in awe. “Guess you’re right.” You finally broke into a smile. “That was beautiful though, almost got me tearing up.”

“Thank you.” He grinned, showing his dimples. “What about you though? What’s on your mind?”

“It’s kinda lame…” You nervously laughed. 

“I’m listening.” He scooted closer, making your knees touched. 

“There are a whole list of messed up things happening in my life right now, but I guess I could name one or two…” 

You took a deep breath and the guy in front of you patiently waited for you to speak. 

“Basically my mom’s been yelling at me saying stuff about how unsuccessful I am for my nine to five job, while getting bullied by my manager at work, and not to mention, how I just got dumped by a guy who I was seeing for six months.”

“That’s fucked up…” He looked at you with wide eyes. 

“You tell me.” You replied sassily. “I mean I guess for the most part it wasn’t really about the problem itself. I’m aware of how perfectionist my manager could be and multiple revision is expected. My mom never really feels content with anything, so that’s also expected. And that fucking guy leaving me? It was probably for the better…”

“Hey.” He grabbed your shoulder suddenly, catching you in a surprise. “Don’t downplay your feelings like that. You’re allowed to feel sad when other people treat you like utter shit. It’s valid.” 

There was something about his words that triggered an emotion within you. Unknowingly, a tear escaped your eyes, followed by more next. 

You leaned backwards to free from his grip, only for him to lose it but proceeded to take off his knitted sweater, revealing a black oversized t-shirt underneath. He took it off with one hand before shoving it through your head so you could wear it. 

“It’s chilly. You might catch a cold.” 

Hesitantly, you rolled the sweater through your body. You felt the neckline stained with tears and wondered if it was his polite way of helping you wipe your tears. You thanked him and he told you to continue. 

“I don’t know what else to say, I don’t want to trauma dump on you.” 

“How are you feeling though?” He asked, eyes gently looking at you. 

“I just… I felt unwanted? Unimportant and undesirable? It happened all at once and it got me connecting strings. The root cause of my problem felt like it came from me as a person and I felt sick…”

He gazed at you and quietly nod, allowing you to continue. 

“I came here because it was loud and deafening in here,” You tapped your head with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “And I’m glad I did. Not only did I manage to tone it down a couple notches, I also get an exclusive song preview from a top star!” 

Both of you laughed in unison. You were the first to break the eye contact due to the sudden invasion of butterflies in your stomach. It might be dark and late at night, but your eyes could not lie about the beauty of the stranger in front of you. 

The silence was soon broken by a buzzing notification from his phone. It was on silent mode, but the multiple vibrations got him shuffling his hand on his pocket, fishing his phone out from his cargo pants. 

“Damn, I gotta head back. Someone needs me in the studio…” 

“At this hour?!” You argued immediately.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” He ran his hand through his short hair in a frustrated way. 

“What’s your name?” 

You both stopped and looked at each other, dumbfounded. Both of you asked the same question at the same time. Laughter filled the air once again. 

“You first.” The guy gestured. 

You got up and he followed right after. Now looking at how tall he was compared to you, spelling out your name felt a little bit harder. Your heart was beating in an abnormal rate. You finally managed to tell him your name and you patted yourself internally for not voicing out like a squealing hormonal teenager. 

“I’m Namjoon.” He said with a huge contagious smile. 

“Now where did I hear that name—“

“Can I have your number?” He interrupted. Glancing at his phone screen, a small groan escaped his lips. “It’s almost three, you have to go home.”

“Oh.” Your lips formed a small O shape. “Sure. Here, give me your phone…”

You both then exchanged phone numbers. 

“I want to take you back to your home so badly but I really can’t…” Namjoon sighed. “Besides, my bicycle can only do so much…” He chuckled. 

“It’s okay, I live nearby.” You smiled. “You take care, though.”

“Yeah, you too. I’ll text you?”

“Yeah.” You nodded happily. “Thank you, Namjoon.” 

“Don’t mention it, I’m really glad we met today.” He nodded at you before retreating to where he parked his bicycle. 

“Wait!” 

You followed, running to his direction. You stopped when your arms barely linked behind him, hugging him tightly. It was bold of you but it just felt right at the moment. 

“Thank you so much, I mean it.” You said with voice muffled a little by his clothes against your mouth. 

And you did. You meant it, it felt really nice having someone who actually listened to your problem and seemed like he cared about it too. 

He hugged back. “You’re not unwanted, okay? You are loved, please know that.”

You nodded and broke off the hug. A big smile plastered on your lips and he mimicked it. “Okay, you may go now.”

You both bid your goodbyes and that was how you found yourself smiling and giggling at three in the morning, by yourself, on your way back to your place, all while hugging the sweater that you forgot to give back. That encounter was weird, but in a very good way. It almost felt like the universe sent you an angel knowing how down you were feeling. In a peculiar way, it almost felt like he saved you. You went to sleep easily that night. 

The next morning you were awaken by a text notification popping up from Namjoon. You smiled like an idiot to yourself before opening it. 

“Good morning! I hope you slept well. Did you arrive safe yesterday? Sorry something came up, I wished I could stay longer.”

You quickly replied to him. “I slept good. Probably thanks to you, hehe. No problem though! Maybe we could hangout again someday? I need to return your sweater after all :)”

After typing the text and sending it, suddenly a curious thought filled your head. His name did ring an unknown bell. Namjoon did mention that he was a singer, an idol maybe? You could not be sure. You tapped your Google app on your phone and started typing his name followed by the word “singer” behind it. 

Maybe this was your cue to be more aware of the Kpop industry. You had your fair share of listening to K-hiphop, and were even an avid listener of groups like Epik High and Balming Tiger. 

So how come you failed to notice that last night you in fact just hugged Kim Namjoon, aka RM from the internationally well known boy group, BTS???

Thank you for reading! 🌙

a/n: this was a rather short one but i hope y'all like it nonetheless <3

Prompt request: HERE

[blackbearmagic]

Ten, maybe more like twelve, years ago, I got a call from my friend Julie: "I have a bunch of yarn and I need to get rid of it. Come take as much as you want."

She had gotten the yarn from a coworker, who had in turn gotten it from her mother-in-law's estate. The woman had been an avid knitter for most of her life, and had amassed an absolute Smaug-load of fiber. Her daughter-in-law crocheted, but twenty contractor-sized trash bags of yarn was more than she alone could use. So she did her best to share it among fiber friends, like Julie. And Julie, having no need for that much yarn, sent out the word to all of her friends.

Much of the yarn was poor quality: old, dusty acrylic from brands long discontinued. There was some cotton mixed in, and a decent amount of wool. But I also found a plastic bag containing four loosely-wound balls of handspun. It was coarse and vaguely sticky, but I was intrigued by it, so I added it to the bags I took for myself.

And ever since, that bag of handspun has sat in my stash. It's gone through two moves with me. I kept telling myself I would make something out of it, but never did. The texture unnerved me. It wouldn't make a good hat, or scarf, or gloves. Nothing that would touch the skin. But I didn't know what I could do with it.

But last week, I decided it had sat for long enough. I had found, and made, a nice vest pattern with some of my own handspun. Surely this coarse yarn could be made into the same: an outer garment, worn over something with sleeves and a collar. I would make it to use up the yarn, and if I hated the end result, I would throw it in the donation box and make it someone else's problem.

As I wound the yarn onto my niddy-noddy to measure the yardage, though, I saw it in a new light. With my more experienced eyes and knowledge of spinning, I could see now that sections of it were under-spun, or over-plied. The twist was irregular, the drafting inconsistent. This wasn't just handspun yarn. This was likely someone's first or second attempt at spinning.

A chore became an honor.

I held an untold, unknowable story in my hands -- a story that had run up to a dead end. The sheep had been sheared, its fleece prepared, cleaned, carded, dyed; the roving had been spun into singles, plied into yarn. And there the yarn had sat, unused, waiting. It was time to finish the story. It was time for my hands to play their part.

It wasn't exactly pleasant. The yarn, as I said, was sticky and coarse. It left grease on my hands that soon picked up dust and dirt from the yarn, staining them. But I finished the task, and in the end, I found myself with a garment that... actually, I really quite like. One that I think will see a good bit of wear come autumn.

To the unknown spinner who made this yarn, I say: Thank you. Thank you for your labor, your time spent in our shared craft. I wish we could meet; I wish I could show you what your yarn has finally become, after so many years of waiting. I hope you are pleased with what we created together.

[imaginespazzi]

Can you write a Drabble where the team is at the theater but the new freshmen who is obsessed with azzi doesn’t realize that Paige and azzi are together so they sit next to azzi and talk her ear off and Paige gets more and more annoyed and kk and ice think it’s hilarious

You asked for this a week ago and I fully forgot it was sitting in my drafts, but here's the unedited, unseriousness you asked for:

KK thinks Allie Ziebell might have a death wish. It's a shame really because she hasn't known the freshman for that long, but she seems like a sweet enough girl and really, KK doesn't feel like hiding her body. But if Paige murders her, and it's looking quite likely, by that glint in her eyes, that she might, well KK can't not help her father.

It had started basically the day they'd come back to Storrs. While Morgan and Sarah had immersed themselves in the chaos immediately, Allie had been a little quieter, gravitating to Azzi's calmness. Since then, Allie seemed to have latched herself onto the redshirt junior, slowly getting more and more comfortable.

Now Paige hadn't had any problem with that, always happy to see the freshman starting to fit in but then Allie had started to break the rules. Granted, no one had even told Allie these rules, or why they existed, but still, rules were there for a reason (except CD's Paige and Azzi can't room together because really, Paige thinks, that's a dumb as hell rule and it's not like it's stopped them anyway) and needed to be enforced.

It had started with Allie sitting next to Azzi at breakfast. Paige had been making a silly tiktok with KK, and then turned around to find her spot taken by Allie. She'd brushed it off, knowing the newcomers didn't know about her and Azzi yet. no she hadn't narrowed her eyes in irritation and this totally was not the moment KK and Ice started making a bet for how long it would take Paige to blow up.

Then there had been the car incident. Allie was trying to be nice, trying to be helpful by offering to drive, seeing that Paige's car didn't have space for all of them that were going to the movies. But then she'd made a grave mistake.

"Azzi, you can come with me."

It had taken a lot of self-restraint for KK to not burst into laughter, not at Allie's innocent enough remark, but at the way Paige's hands had immediately balled into fists at the idea of her passenger princess not being in her car.

"Azzi always rides with me," Paige had bitten out.

"Oh," Allie looked a little bit like a lost puppy and KK had to sympathize. They'd all gone through what she and Ice liked to call their "Pazzi initiation", catching onto the rules quite quickly.

And of course, Azzi, never one to let anyone feel awkward or pass up the opportunity to piss Paige off had been quick to say that, "no it's okay, I'll go with Allie today."

Allie's face had lit up at that and Paige's had immediately soured, eyebrows cocked in annoyance as her girlfriend slid into the other car, sending Paige a cheeky smile through the windshield. KK had to bite her fist to prevent herself from laughing, knowing it would only turn Paige's wrath onto her. Ice, always terrible at hiding her reactions, had let out a snicker which had resulted in her being banished to the backseat. And that, KK thinks, is why she's definitely the smarter child.

It had only gotten worse the last hour. Allie was everywhere. Excitedly chatting to Azzi about everything and nothing, as they waited in line for tickets and then popcorn. Paige had sulked as she walked behind them, arms crossed against her chest as she seethed in silence at not having Azzi's complete attention on her.

But the last straw had happened mere seconds ago, when they'd finally gotten into the cinema hall and Allie had had the audacity to slide into the seat next to Azzi. Paige had glowered at the younger girl before reluctantly taking her seat in between KK and Ice who seem to be finding this situation far more hilarious than it is.

"Do you think it'd be wrong to have a stepfather who's younger than us?" KK muses, trying and failing to keep the amusement out of her voice.

"Shut the fuck up," Paige grunts, hand gripping the seat handle tightly as she cranes her neck to continue glaring daggers at an oblivious Allie.

"I think Allie'd make a great stepfather," Ice surmises, "ooooh do you think she'd let me go on live- ow what the fuck?"

"Damn well at least we know Allie would never hit us. That's child abuse you know?" KK sends Ice a symapthetic look, as the red-shirt sophomore rubs at the spot on her arm that Paige had just hit.

Ignoring the two snickering idiots on either side of her, the UConn point guards, stands up abruptly, bumping harshly against KK's knees as she budges her way to Allie and Azzi. While the freshman looks up at Paige quizically, Azzi merely raises a knowing eyebrow, a barely concealed smirk playing on her lips.

"Allie," Paige says, voice dripping with fake honey, "that's my seat."

"Oh I didn't realize we had assigned seats?" Allie asks confusedly.

"We don't," Azzi reassures

"There are rules. For example," Paige points at Azzi, "my girlfriend," ignoring Azzi shaking her head, she points to Allie's seat, "my seat. Simple stuff like that you know?"

It's almost comical the way Allie's eyes go wide, mouth opening and closing as her eyes dart back and forth between Paige and Azzi, "oh. So um- you two?"

"Yes," Paige nods solemnly, "us two. So if you don't mind..."

"Oh yeah, yeah of course," a light blush tinges Allie's face, as she scampers away to find another seat.

Ignoring KK and Ice's howling laughter, she plops down next to Azzi with a satisfied grin, intertwining their hands together. And even though Azzi rolls her eyes, she doesn't pull away.

"Was that really necessary?"

Paige gives Azzi an offended look, "of course it was! We never sit apart at the movies."

"But-"

"It's literally rule #43 on the list."

"There's no list."

"Of course there's a list."

"Paige...."

"Azzi!"

The girl in question shakes her head, a small grin betraying how amused she actually is, "were you really jealous of our teammate? Our freshman teammate? Our freshman teammate who clearly has a boyfriend?"

"No," Paige draws out the syllable, "I just like to make sure everyone's following the rules."

"Because you're really big on rules and sticking to them right?"

"Right."

"Well that's too bad," Azzi runs a seductive finger up Paige's arm making her shiver, "guess you won't be breaking CD's rules and sleeping in my bed tonight then?"

"Fuck the rules actually!"

[unangelic-thoughts]

Imagine this: jealous! rafe when you’re ward's personal assistant

[A few notes: 1. Rose doesn't exist in this AU. 2. This is a really rough draft, literally just wrote it and posted it so haven't had a chance to proof read it but I was honestly so desperate that I just had to write somethinggg 3. I hope you can pleasurably indulge in the same way I just did imagining this? :)) <33 love y'all with the same filthy minds as mine)] *spoiler alert* you fuck them both xoxo

you've been spending a lot of time with ward, working from the office and his home since you got the job as his personal assistant nine months ago

he's always made it clear that you're welcome to help yourself with anything in the kitchen or have a dip in the pool

one hot day you decide to take advantage of that and bring your swimsuit to his house

after finishing up on important but boring paperwork, you ask if you can take a dip and ward is more than happy about it

you swim as he sits at the edge of the lounger, talking to you about the new partnership deal he's working on

you notice the way his eyes flick down to your breasts, it makes you feel good, he's a handsome man after all

you plead with him to join you in the water, but he declines despite the evident want in his eyes so you splash him, egging him on

the glass doors swing open and out comes rafe, his arm around a pretty girl's shoulders

he's surprised to see you, especially with so much of skin on show and with his dad right there as if this is a completely normal and professional occurence

but then again, since when has his dad ever cared about professionalism anyway?

he only looks at you once, making a point to not let his eyes wander to you again

you watch as him and his dad make small talk and then him and his girlfriend(?) are gone

unbeknownst to you, rafe heads to his room and peeks at you through his blinds

he watches as you step out of the pool, water dripping down your breasts and thighs, it gets him real hard

that is until ward wraps a towel around you, his fingers caressing your shoulder and all rafe wants to do is yell at him to not touch you

you can feel someone's stare but as you look up to where you think it's coming from, he swiftly steps away and walks up to the girl he brought home, eva, and kisses her fiercely - wanting to block out any thoughts of you

at the company event, a week later, he doesn't fail to notice his dad's hand on your lower back or the way he leans a bit too close to you when you talk

it infuriates him every time you direct that sweet smile of yours towards ward. that should only be for him, no one else and especially not his dad

he corners you later that night as you walk out of the bathroom stall

it takes you by surprise, his broad chest right up against you as he looks down at you

"you should be more careful" he says

"careful?" you frown in confusion

"of my dad. he's not a good man" his hands rest on his hips

you stare up at him with doe eyes, a chuckle escaping your lips "oh really?"

"he's dangerous. a pretty, innocent girl like you shoudn't be getting involved with men like him" rafe looks you up and down, taking in the shortness of your dress

"and what type of men do you think I should be involved with?" you ask, a smirk on your lips

he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'isn't it obvious?'

at that, you laugh and roll your eyes

"you know, people would say that you're the dangerous one" you state honestly

his right hand reaches up to stroke your cheek "not with you. i would protect you from anything bad"

"that's really sweet of you" you say sarcastically

"but i don't need protecting" you shove him and walk past him to join the others outside

unfortunately for rafe, seeing him so jealous of you and his dad only makes you want to provoke him further

so you do what any other innocent girl would do

you get his dad to fuck you on rafe's bed just as he comes home from his late night gym session

ward is ecstatic about it, because 1) he's wanted to shove his cock inside you from the moment he saw you in that tiny bikini and 2) he knows that him and rafe have grown apart and what better way to bond than getting to share the same hole?

you're on all fours, your hands fisting rafe's fresh bed sheets as ward pounds you from behind

rafe walks in and as soon as his gaze lands on the two of you, he drops his gym bag on the floor with a thud

you and ward both turn to look at him, continuing to fuck as if there's been no interruption at all

rafe is absolutely seething with anger "what.the.actual.fuck?" he asks through clenched teeth

"hey son! are you joining in?" ward asks in the same way he would ask him if he wanted to play golf

"a-are you fucking kidding me right now?" his hands are fisted into balls. if this were a cartoon, he'd have smoke coming off his head

"i'm really not. as the saying goes, sharing is caring. what's mine is yours, son" his dad replies with a sweet smile on his lips

rafe's cold gaze turns to you then "and you're okay with this?"

you nod innocently at the same time as ward says "it was her idea in the first place"

rafe stands by his door in shock but you're staring to lose your patience

"rafey, baby, can i please have your cock? please?" you plead just as ward hits your sweet spot and you gasp in pleasure

he fucks you harder as you stare into rafe's blown pupils before involuntarily shutting your eyes, feeling yourself reaching closer to your orgasm

a moment later rafe's ripped all of his clothes off and lays on his back on the bed next to you

you open your eyes when he forcefully grabs your arm so that you're now straddling his lap, causing his dad's cock to slip out of you

you don't get to miss the sensation for long however, because rafe brutally shoves his girthy shaft inside your swollen pussy

your hands go onto his chest to steady yourself, feeling his defined pectorals

ward spits on your ass and slowly buries his dick inside your second hole

it makes you want to scream, but you bite down hard on your lower lip

they thrust into you in unison, you have never felt this full, never felt this kind of bliss

rafe takes your tits in his hands, then brings each nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking them with his tongue

you're so close, so so close

tears fall down your face at the overwhelming sensations in your body caused by the two men

rafe notices, looking concerned and asks if you're okay as his hands cup your face

you nod, "just keep fucking me, please. don't stop"

relief washes over his face and he kisses you deeply but softly, a complete contrast to how he's splitting you open

you kiss him back, your tongues dancing together

ward places two digits on your clit, it makes you whimper in rafe's mouth

and as they both frantically slam into you with their hands all over your body, you come completely undone

your body convulses between them and your legs begin to tremble

you're soon overstimulated by it all but they keep going

they thrust in and out, in and out, as you squirm, completely trapped between their two bodies

before you can register any of it, warm cum fills up both of your holes at the same time

they grunt in unison and you ponder at how similar father and son really are

[halohalona]

Letting Go

Old memories resurface so Logan reminds you who is truly there for you.

Logan Howlett x Reader

a/n: the fics I'm starting to write are getting more and more self indulgent and the situations are getting hyper-specific. Not only do I want to be with Logan, on so many different levels, he's also become such a comfort character to me (or maybe it's just hugh jackman idk). ANYWAY, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now so enjoy the short fic

masterlist

warnings/tags: more emotional hurt/comfort, Logan is probably a little or a lot ooc here, I wanna specify this is the movie logan and not the comics, betrayal? idk, I probably forgot a few details about Wolverine here

Logan noticed you've been quiet recently. Not only that but you've been avoiding him. One time when you rounded a corner of the mansion's many hallways you immediately turned back the way you came when you saw him. Did he do something wrong? Every time he tried to talk to you, you would run away.

He asked Ororo if she knew what was going on but she didn't know either. He asked Jean but she didn't know anything either, but he did find out that you've been avoiding everyone. Scott, Ororo, Jean, Hank— not just him. It even came to the point where he asked the professor himself and all he said was, “She needs her space.”

He was at the library looking for a specific textbook he needed for his next class when he heard sniffling from a secluded corner of the library— your corner. You told him once that you've pretty much claimed that part of the library for yourself since it was secluded and quiet enough that no one would bother you as you worked.

He slowly and quietly walked over. Sure enough you were there. Your laptop was in front of you, folders neatly stacked around you on the table, and your bag placed on the side facing the main library, likely to hide your face.

He sat in front of you, gently moving the folders to the side before speaking.

“Hey.” he said softly.

You jumped and quickly wiped your face but your head was still down. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you crying, of course I'm gonna go check on you. You've been avoiding me all week. Something's going on, and as your boyfriend I want to know.”

You don't say anything.

“Is this about Eve?”

Silence.

He leans back on the chair crossing his arms. “You know that was years ago right?”

Eve was a close friend of yours. You both have been friends for almost two years back in high school. She was someone who stood by you through your toughest times, and at the time there was a lot, specially since that was same point in your life your mutation decided manifest. But then you guess they got sick and tired of having to deal with what you were going through with you because one day you learned from your best friend, who was a mutual friend of yours, that she planned on cutting you off. You don't remember exactly what she said but one thing was clear to you, she no longer wanted any relationship with you, not even an acquaintance. What stuck with you was the promise she made a year prior: “If you think I'm gonna leave you, I won't,” which ended up being a lie.

It's been years, you know that it's time to move on, but every now and then it haunts you. You've been keeping people at arms length since then, not sharing much about yourself aside from the basics: name, age, and what you like to do in your free time. Although you've opened up a bit when you started dating Logan, you've share a few things about Eve, but you still hold back in fear of the whole thing to happen again.

“You have to let it go. I'm not saying this to be dismissive, I'm saying it because holding on to it will prevent you from finding people who actually care for you.” he unfolds his arms and leans on the table closer to you. “Like I've said before, if she was able to let you go so easily, then maybe she wasn't a good friend to begin with.”

He walks over to your side of the table and kneels beside you. Gently, he places his hand on the side of your face lifting it up to make you look at him.

“I know it hurts to be abandoned by someone you cared for deeply, but dwelling on what happened won't bring them back. It's time for you to focus on the people who genuinely care about you. Ororo, Jean, Hank, Scott, pretty much everyone in the mansion, and of course me.”

Your eyes start to well up again, a couple tears escape, sliding down your cheek. Logan gently brushes them away.

“I know she's told you this but when I say I won't leave you, no matter how hard things get, I mean it. I love you and I care for you, remember that.”

You look into his eyes for any sign of deceit and seeing none, he genuinely means it. So for the first time in years, you trust those words. You lean your forehead on his “I believe you. And thank you.” you whisper.

[lynaferns]

FNAF Steampunk AU

That I never finished because I couldn't figure out what was going to be the story and character dynamics, and the role of each character, and yeah… I also spend many days writing, rewriting and changing thing, I didn't even get to finish the first draft and I got artblock.

I think my problem in the first place was that I wanted to make this AU stick to canon. A mistake, I know lmao. Later I thought of just making up most of the things but having to rewrite what I had already done dismotivated me.

So I thought of at least showing this character height chart I made a year ago. And maybe, idk, some of the wips that I never finished.

Maybe some notes and interactions I wrote under a cut.

If you ever want to ask me about what I had planned for this AU go ahead! Some main things about this story are:

All of the events of the story happens in a week (or so).

Gregory acts a little more scared than what is shown in the game.

DCAs arms can stretch up to 100 ft (30 m). He bends them to write or make shapes in the air.

Sun has some nowlege in animatronic repairs and maintenance due to being abandonent, having to repair himself.

Vanessa/Vanny have a biger role than in the game.

Burntrap also apeared more.

All animatronics are equiped with dart guns (for safety!). There are some places that require to leave the dart guns behind to continu.

Pizza is scuare (this is not important, I just felt like adding it).

Also, first idea and some doodles.

Edit: Now Cassie is in the AU

Gregory gets to escape to the locker rooms leaving Chica behind him. While searching for an exit Gregory gets surprised by Sun who was searching for him, and out of fright takes out the camera and flashes his bad eye damaging him for a few seconds.

Sun- "you were carring an object capable of blinding animatronics with you and you didn't use it against Chica to escape?!"

Gregory- "I didn't remember! I was more focused on running than taking a camera out of my pocket!"

Sun-pointing at himself with his hands- "And you had to remember when you saw ME?!"

Monty grabs Moon by the neck and throws him like a stick doing a spinning motion on the air, Roxy chases after him. She comes back carrying Moon with her mouth.

Freddy has an existential crisis by seeing endos. Moon is there awkwardly watching him. He gives him a pat on the back.

The auxiliary arm of the protective cylinder is broken, Gregory has to repair Sun manually. Trying to put his face plate back the nose falls off and Gregory nervously catches it juggling. They look between each others and the nose.

Sun-"..." "Gregory"

Gregory-"..."

Sun-"come on, say it"

Gregory-"..." "Got your nose~"

Vanessa is explaining something to the group. Moon is behind her copying her movements. The others are trying not to laugh. She notices and throws a flashlight at Moon.

They divide in groups. Moon gets on Monty's backs like a gremlin.

Moon-"go gator boy"

Monty-"I hate you"

One last, this is a whole scene that needs a bit of context. The current team members are Gregory, Freddy, Sun/Moon. They have figured out that the safe mode prevents animatronics from acting weird/hostile (found out the hard way in an encounter with moon and a fuse box). Though Moon seems not to attack Gregory anymore they wanted to test it with the rest of the band and found Chica, some things happened, they left her in her room in sleep mode and went to roxy raceway. This begins when they head to the west arcade to repair the service bot's head and on their way they encounter Chica out of the sleep mode but more normal.

(Forgive my poor writing, this was more of a script)

The four of them stare at each other until one decides to react.

Sun–”HELLLLO” Chica– holding her left arm–”A- Hiii, umm” Freddy– “He-hello Chica! What got you here??” Chica– “I-uh…patrol? I- think?? There… There is a child lost in the pizzaplex and we were, like- told to go find him, remember?” “Actually, wait, why are you out of your room? I thought maintenance put you on lock down- And what is the Daycare attendant doing out of the Daycare? it’s not the end of the hour yet- Oh!”–she just saw Gregory behind Freedys legs–”hey! you got the kid-”–flashback of the garbage compactor–”GET HIM”–she points at him with a dart gun– Sun–gets in the way–”WOAH WOAH WOW easy there!” Freddy–”Chica- wait! It’s ok he’s with us” Chica–”T-that-that kid is a menace! He- we should-HAVE to take him to the officer Vanessa–” Gregory–*gasp * Freddy & Sun– “NO!” Chica–”????wha-?

Freddy– “We must not take him to her.” Chica- “You guys kidding?” “These are literal-plain-instructions that you are- just-” “That kid threw me through the garbage compactor!” Gregory–”You tried to kill me!” Chica–”what?! No! I couldn’t do that, that’s against my programming!” Sun–”Uuumm, about that miss-” Chica–”YOU”–points at Sun with the gun– Sun–”?!” Chica–”You were there too!” “You have been with this kid all this time!” Sun–hands up-”Iwastryingtostophim” Freddy–”Chica, calm down, I know what this looks like but-” Sun–”OHMYGOSHWAITGUYS, she’s not hostile!” Chica–”wha-?” Freddy–”what…?” Gregory–”what??” “She’s literally pointing at us with a gun” Sun–standing next to Chica, pointing at her while looking at Freddy and Gregory–”I just noticed! her behavior changed-!” Chica–redirects the gun to re-target him–”you’re getting too close” Sun–ignores that–”She’s back to normal! That means the safe mode worked, we can use this!”

Chica–”What are you talking about?” Freddy–”You’re right! That’s a relief” “right Gregory?” Gregory–”...Yyyyyeah? I guess, yeah” Chica–”seriously, what do you all mean?” Freddy–”Well, It’s a little long story-” Sun–”And we will explain it to you!” “BUT not now, we are in a rush!” “To repair this bot-head so Gregory can ride the racecar” Chica–”...” “‘you serious?” Sun–”yep!” “Say, Gregory! You still want to ride?” Gregory–”uh-yeah” Sun–”Then let’s go!” “TO THE WEST ARCADE!”–grabs Freddy and Gregory and takes them there–”You can come if you want~!” Chica–”...” “OH- GOLLY, WELL” “I guess I’ll just go with you even though I don’t understand what is happening! And no one is going to give me an explanation!” Freddy–”-I promise that I’ll give you a wide explanation once we are done with all this… But in a more private place”

There are actually a couple more of scenes before this one (and after) but I'm not very confident of showing those (or any actually but I don't want this to be buried in my documents and forgoten because I really want to at least make a decent story)

Also, I know that the canon heights for the animatronics are like 6 ft but I prefered my height variety headcanons. Maaaaaybe they are a little too tall looking at it now that I look at it again but, eh.

[sunboki]

⎯ CHRISTMAS BLUES a Hwang Hyunjin fiction

🎄 : Hwang Hyunjin x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, reader is a writer, one bed au, forced proximity au, hyunjin is an artist(not mentioned a ton), coincidences

WORD COUNT. 7.3k words ☆ 40 minute read

WARNINGS. cursing, angst galore, mention of sex (non desc.), breakup, hurt feelings, making up, mentions of getting drunk

AUG'S NOTES. this is a stupidly lovestruck hallmark christmas mindset talking, whatever you read below is definitely not me… definitely. anyway, happy holidays to everyone that celebrates! this has been sitting in my drafts for months now, initially planned to be a smau, then a fic!! hope this fic exceeds your expectations, feel free to leave a reblog or comment of your thoughts!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. You thought getting a call from Hyunjin was the last thing you needed during the holidays, but when he reminds you of your non-refundable tickets to Paris you had booked seven months prior to your earth-shattering breakup, you realize that his call was the least of your problems.

or alternatively :

Just a week over Christmas with your ex in Paris, what could go wrong?

Every circumstance has a question that goes along with it.

How did I get so lucky? Why did you leave?

As for yours, it’s fairly simple.

Where did we go wrong?

December 18th – Seoul, South Korea.

Holding onto what could’ve been is stupid, you agreed upon that mindset a long time ago. However, the past, Him being the past, lingered around you like the scent of citrus still clinging beneath your fingernails even after washing your hands. Everywhere. He was everywhere. And no matter how hard you tried to erase the memories of what was, they served their memory purpose and disfigured your mind all the same.

And so, you replaced it.

Replaced the hurt, the searing burn, with someone else. Who turned into someone else, and someone else after that till the only thing sufficing any weekly relationship was a no-strings attached notion.

Until you met Seungmin.

He was your vice, the person dragging you out of your self-made hole of false sanctuary and safety. He laid all his flaws on the table, showed himself to you. Seungmin was gentle and kind, he was patient— more patient than anyone else in this world— and loving. Oh so loving.

But behind your undying affection for your boyfriend, he saw something you didn’t. Perhaps in your eyes, perhaps in your soul, bared to him on an onslaught of occasions.

Longing.

He saw longing in your treasured hues, longing for someone that wasn’t him.

Because some scars take longer to fade away, but yours hadn’t even begun to heal. Masked with his many layers of band-aids only to never staunch the cut, the one Hwang Hyunjin left on you.

“Seungmin I’m so sorry—“

“You love him, I know,” He nods his head, a sad, soft smile holding place on his lips.

Tonight was the night he officially talked about it. The unforgivable thought continuing to incessantly plague his mind.

Although, he didn’t regard you sourly for it. That connection you had with Hyunjin was something no other person could return nor deliver, and he had to accept that if he really loved you.

If Seungmin really loved you, he wanted the best for you, even if that meant the best were when you weren’t with him.

You were shocked when he brought up the matter, asked if you really missed him, asked if you still loved him. Yes, you had of course discussed your previous relationship, but never to this extent, never so blatantly.

Though the absolute kindness in both his tone and the way he looked at you, seated at the dinner table, kept you from lying.

It’s not fair. Not fair for Seungmin, your boyfriend, to have to take responsibility for your tormented feelings. But here he is, assuring you nevertheless.

Because he’s known. He knew from the start you weren’t over Hyunjin. Knew that, despite so much ache and anguish he caused, your heart can’t help but beat at his pace, fruitlessly connected.

And he knew in the end things would fall apart just like this, and his spot as a placeholder would fall apart along with it.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

“He hurt you, but you love Hwang Hyunjin, I know.” He whispers, fingers tightly twined beneath the table. There’s a sort of hiccuping sound bubbling up from your throat. You stave it down.

“I’m sorry.”

He smiles, smiles when you don’t deny it, reaching forward for your trembling hands to take in his own.

“I want you to be happy, Y/N. I’m not the one you’ll be happy with though.”

A soft squeeze before he rises and curves to where you sit, free-flowing tears threatening to cascade past glossy eyes.

Without hesitation you wrap your arms around him in a hug, chest wracking with unfiltered sobs. Guilty. Guilt is devouring your soul. You don’t deserve Seungmin, nor does he deserve to be hurt so cruelly by someone he loves. But here you are, ruining him.

He’d never admit it, but the pain in his eyes—the ones you’ve stared at countless times—will always remain evident. No amount of smiling or laughing can hide that.

Pulling back while your arms stayed hooked upon his shoulders, you savor the kiss he places on your lips, the ones he delicately pressed to each of your wrists.

Sad. It’s a sad kiss. A kiss that causes your entire body to wilt against him, crashing deeper and deeper into his warmth, his comfort. He’s not false, he’s real. A real, unadulterated love you’re undeserving of.

Guilty.

“If you’re happy,” He breathes, leaning in to land gentle pecks all over your face, forehead connecting with your own. “I’ll be okay.”

December 20th – Seoul, South Korea.

Your room is still exactly as it has been. Pillows faced the same way, sheets still tousled and hanging halfway off the bed. Hell, he hasn’t even touched the blinds — staying open throughout countless nights, your perfume lingering.

Like he was afraid his touch would break apart what he had left of you.

He hopes, swallowing down the remainder of wine in his glass, you’ll be able to look back and laugh at what used to be, find the matter childish and ridiculous.

What you used to be.

Lovers.

Not kids anymore, you taught him once before. You also taught him how deep a love could be. There’d always be a space for you here, just as you left it. Although, he doubts you’d come back. In fact, you’ve probably moved on with your life. Found someone else to fill the space he did.

But maybe, if he keeps the room as it was for long enough, your room; if Hyunjin keeps those tiny paper notes you wrote for him long enough, you would come back.

What a lie.

Wishful thinking takes you far then drops you into festering despair over and over, he’s learned this the hard way.

Starting with a text.

He blinked once, then twice, then three times—picking apart his brain in order to recollect anything, any details whatsoever that could decipher this random message on a Monday morning.

Paris.

Paris?

Paris.

It hits him, evidently.

Immediately clutching his head and simultaneously slapping an aghast hand over his mouth, a sensation recognizable as utmost horror obliterates his soul into pieces, quite literally rocking his world.

Months ago, he remembered.

You’d been stupid, you’d been drunk, and impulsively booked the tickets, laughing off the “no refunds” reminder as if nothing would’ve ever happened.

It did though. And now he’s dealing with the karma in return for that idiotic decision. Soon enough you both will.

Non refundable tickets to Paris, two days from now, together.

What were the chances?

Blindly tapping his password into his phone, he (just as blindly) jams his finger to the first caller he sees, who turns out to be Minho, seeming like both a blessing and a curse in unison.

Never before had Hyunjin so clearly lost his mind and control of his words, but there’s always a first time for everything, right?

“Minho, what the hell am I supposed to do? She hates me and the flight is booked two days from now. This is just.. Fuck!” Hyunjin pours, slamming his hands against the steering wheel, burying his head into the leather as if that would magically make his endless desperation disappear.

He didn’t usually curse, so when he did, whatever had happened was serious. He carried his words elegantly, proficiently.

He'd be the last picked candidate for elegance right about now.

“If I were Chan I would’ve said you should still try talking to her about it, but in my opinion that wouldn’t change a thing. So suck it up Hwang, it can’t be that bad.”

Ah. Remind me why I ever decided to call you hoping for advice.

‘Hwang’ was the name his friend had reserved for him, coming from a long line of tissues in the mouth and other ways Minho would pick fun at the blonde. But he was at least trying to help, somewhat.

How he got himself into this situation is honestly laughable, situation being your nasty breakup and a plane to Paris.

Great. Paris is great, right? Wrong.

Because this stupid, stupid trip to Paris isn’t one he’s going on alone to enjoy the sights and delicacies there, it’s one with you, the girl who ripped his heart in half two months ago. The trip you’d planned while you were still head-over-heels, not hating his guts.

Oh, and your tickets were nonrefundable. Couldn’t forget about that part.

“.. What am I gonna do?”

“Suck it up, duh.”

“And please enlighten me on how the hell I'm supposed to ‘suck it up’ in a plane seat right next to her for thirteen hours and spend every day glued to the hip, your honor.”

The mental picture of Minho’s fraud-innocent face through the line grated his nerves like nothing else. Brows lifted, mouth slightly open. He wanted to punch that imaginary face so badly right now.

"Then follow Chan’s tutorial on making it up to your now-ex. You asked me for my opinion, and you got it. Look, all I’m saying is this is a good chance to get some level ground between you two, even if you still fly back hating each other—"

“I don’t hate her,” Hyunjin quickly quips.

Honestly, truthfully, he doesn’t hate you, he can’t hate you and he doubts he ever will. You were the one responsible for years upon years of the best moments of his life, how could he hate you for that?

Although, by the way you looked at him that night, he doubts your response would be the same.

Minho sighs.

"Even better, you could fly back with her hating you slightly less."

For once the snarky man he was spilling his problems to had provided decent reason, it was terrifying.

From a spectators point of view, his utter fit had to be quite a sight. For the record, witnessing thee calm and collected Hwang Hyunjin go insane in his car wasn’t a sight you’d see on a regular day.

But today wasn’t a regular day. Instead, it was the day he found himself trapped in a loophole of love and war with his ex.

What were the chances?

There’s no book that could wholly describe Hyunjin.

Even as a writer yourself, not even Shakespeare could depict him to the full extent. He’s flawless but so flawed, kind and yet malicious in terms of his brilliantly unfair beauty.

Every day you run into Hwang Hyunjin. The first few times, you called it coincidence, told yourself his meeting happened to be at the same time, maybe he was headed to a neighboring coffee shop.

Well, before those few days turned into every day on your commute.

And when a breakup is as nasty as yours was, it’s not too refreshing constantly seeing your ex on the daily afterward.

Today, Hwang Hyunjin is wearing a tan trench coat that reaches down to his knees. He’s wearing the same tennis shoes as always (except his usual camera is absent from the picture), and his hair is pulled up, soft, sandy strands framing either side of his face. He stands on the other side of the crosswalk, occupied with his phone while you internally ridicule him.

Staring daggers into his frame, the frigidly cold beverage in hand doesn’t aid in warming up chilling temperatures burning your fingertips, signs of winter’s impending approach.

He looks up.

You avert your gaze to your shoes. You can feel his eyes on you; feel them traveling over your body, then to your face, boring into your skull. He’s waiting, watching.

And somehow, you know you’ll eventually have to make eye contact. Because on your normal route, your turn left on Harrison street, then right on Fords. He’s there. Unbelievably, wildly, he’s there.

It’s the one factor in your (almost) perfect life without him that makes things hell.

Back then, you were like clockwork. Not a minute going by without someone being awake. You taking a nap after spending two hours searching synonyms on Thesaurus, Hyunjin just waking up, heading out with his signature Canon camera loosely hung around his neck.

Two perfect oppositions leaving their cluttered love scattered all over a cheap apartment.

For Hyunjin, it was the mug you’d gotten him last christmas labeled in bold font: “ART WHORE”, while yours was an equally degrading “SHE WOULD RATHER FUCK THE MEN IN HER BOOKS” sticker print slapped on the back of your laptop.

Little did you know you’d be desperately scraping the sticker off seven months later, that you’d leave your chapter unfinished since breaking up and that he had likely thrown away that mug.

Or maybe not. Maybe he painted over it, scribbled it out and somehow made it look good. Hyunjin has a way of making anything catastrophic look pretty.

You, on the other hand, are an erupting volcano. One that cries its lava onto the earth and doesn’t leave a pretty photograph. One that froths and rumbles, and destroys things as it goes.

Perfect opposites, exactly.

Now for the real question, the monumental “where did we go wrong” part that served as an explanation.

Three little words.

I love you.

You lied.

Those are big words, big words for somebody. Big words for yourself, words you spoke to Hwang Hyunjin, looped in his apartment, making love on the couch.

Big words he didn’t return.

Big words that kept your heart stilled in your chest, left your lips blue, drowned as you collected your discarded clothes off the floor.

And you left.

You didn’t need the awkward silence, the “let me think about it”, the bullshit they spouted Kissing-Booth-style. You needed him, his reassurance when you were your most vulnerable. His three words that told you your three years together weren’t one sided, not wordlessly confessed through actions though too scared to say aloud – a feared incantation.

Words he never said. Because you did love Hwang Hyunjin, so much it consumed you into his favorite muse, him your inspiration. Then came the doubt. The recollection of your favorite, dearest moments. Was it all a lie?

Those hour-long seconds, tangled on his sofa, kept that incessant anxiety alive.

You thought you found the one when your drunk night didn’t turn into an orgasm you can’t remember, but rather being coaxed into a warm shower despite your complaining about your pants being too tight.

Somehow, you can still feel his tender kisses like a ghost of a presence, littering the skin of your shoulder instead of the sloppy alcohol ridden ones you’d known before, and for once you had woken up beside the person responsible — not to a note saying they had to leave early.

He was the one responsible for teaching you how to paint, propping you in his lap, hand guiding your own while tracing careful strokes on the canvas. It was hardly possible sitting on his stool together, though neither of you noticed (nor cared), too busy savoring the intimacy of the moment.

That was Hyunjin. He was the glass of water placed in front of you after one too many at happy hour. He was the relaxing bath when everything hurt, the shoulder to cry on.

But you were mistaken. He wasn’t the one. Seungmin was the one, the one you had left behind only to chase after a toxic remedy.

In fact, Hyunjin never was the one.

And it fucking hurt remembering that.

December 21st - 22nd – Seoul, South Korea.

The last news you’d anticipated slammed into you like a bus.

Cozied up at your desk, a number pops up on your screen, interrupting the one moment of silence you managed to enjoy. Most people didn’t call during your work hours, except Seungmin, who, for the record, called before work.

The number you’d memorized by heart was not normal either.

Him.

“Before you curse at me,” He begins, and your hand hesitantly hovers over the call button, jaw clenched beyond reason, silence shouting loud. No strength in your bones allowed you to reply. Was it fear, hatred? Both most likely.

Taking the time to continue, his silky tone lulls along the line.

“Do you remember the tickets?”

Hatred seemed the dominant factor.

“What are you talking about?” You rhetorically snap, obviously annoyed albeit confused.

Tickets? It’s been three months, why the hell are tickets the first thing he’s mentioning?

He sighs. “The tickets to Paris. You remember, don't you?”

It takes you a moment, then, aha.

How could you forget? The tip of the iceberg of what two naive, lovestruck idiots thought would be forever. Little did they know everything would slip past their fingertips.

”Well um, did you know they’re non-refundable?”

Huh.

“WHAT?!”

You’d just managed to convince yourself free of Hyunjin, but he simply dragged you further into his labyrinth.

Or so you thought.

You had grown since he broke you (with the help of your better-ex, Seungmin). You evolved better (or so you told yourself). So out of the plentiful lessons you’d learned during your reflection, the factor that stuck with you most was that nobody is there to pick up for you. No matter how much you think they will.

You swore yourself into the belief Hyunjin would mend you, but you lived blind to the truth that he was just as broken as you were, a dog chasing its tail.

And so, you dealt with it.

In ways.

Whether that was incessantly talking to yourself, fanatically checking the date, contacting Felix on the verge of tears for him to laugh and then attempt at consoling your doom, or googling the best ways to run away from your predicament, fate had it out for you.

A disgustingly impertinent, unfairly fair fate.

Packing wasn’t all too stressful, unless you count trying on an entire entourage of outfits descending from dinner to snow-attire, then focusing on simple.

And it really shouldn’t have been so awful getting into your car, nonetheless waking up to realize today was the dreaded day, but it was, and you seriously deserved an award for the amount of times you checked your clock.

Although, you at least expected to have a little bit of time before having to face him again. Talking and interacting, not just drilling holes into his head. Little bit of time as in, a few years at least.

You were wrong.

Not the first time that’s happened.

“Hi Hyunjin.”

Answering his awaiting call with unsteady pitch, your eyes immediately gravitate to the blond-haired man. Taller in stature, leaning against a nearby pillar by your gate, staring directly at you.

Never had it felt so terrifying.

“Hey.”

You hesitate, never breaking eye contact with the man you’re speaking to a few meters away.

“Are we…Are we doing this again?”

He’s solemn. He’s not the same. Different.

“I don’t know. You decide for me.”

Never for a second does your gaze stray to his lips that barely move as he utters the line. Not the same either.

Before, you’d always been mesmerized by his lips. Then he’d notice and tease you prior to delivering the long-awaited kiss, again and again till you were breathless and your head became dizzy.

But this wasn't before; this is now, filled with grudges and sourness.

“You know I can’t make big decisions.”

That isn’t him. Isn’t the Hyunjin who would always provide endless tips and support, opinions unable to be held back without duct tape.

“Because you don’t want to get hurt knowing we chose this?” He whispers, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth hard enough to bleed.

“Because I want better for us.”

“Y/n,” He sadly laughs, and your name rolling off his tongue sends an ache clawing your chest. It’s humorless, bitter in his throat.

“There is no us, only you and me, remember? So who do you want better for?”

There’s no twinkle in his eyes or his charming smile, it’s dry and painful, like he’d been crying.

You don’t want to think about that.

“Tell me something, okay?” Holding your phone to your ear with an iron grip, you slowly inhale through your nose, sparing a fleeting glance to the floor.

“Anything.”

“If I cry, will you hug me?”

“Do you want that?”

Question after question. He reaches in further, ripping out pieces of your soul with each inquiry. Stupid, sure. But genuine, all the way from the shrouded depths of your mind did you ask.

Of course you want that, want what’s so bad for you. No strength can make you admit it.

He knows the answer.

You hang up the call, fiddling around with your suitcase prior to wheeling the blundering thing over and ensuring you find a comfy spot out of Hyunjin’s sight.

Only five minutes of talking and you already feel as if your body is splintering into little pieces he’ll arrange into the perfect puzzle, ideal and pleasing.

He won’t. Not anymore he won’t.

And in that stead you’ll remain shattered.

What a shame.

Now boarding Group Five. All passengers in Group Five are welcome to board.

The hailing announcement earns a muffled groan through your mask, begrudgingly rising to your feet while directing your attention solely upon the bridge and your tightly held boarding pass. Luckily, Incheon International Airport isn’t half as hectic as you anticipated, but you have a gnawing feeling Paris will have a lot more to say.

Truth be told, you thank every lesson on task focus you once deemed useless as you shuffle among Paris-goers to find your seat.

One that obviously had to be right by Hwang Hyunjin.

“How’s you and Seungmin?” He fixes the length of his headphones, sparing a quick look at you while speaking. You despise how easy he treats this, how easy he’s treating everything at the moment.

Unfortunately, booking this hell-on-earth back when either of you were in your demented fantasy-land meant sitting beside each other also, in assigned seats.

Cupid really needs to give up by now.

You grunt beside him, uttering a hushed, “We broke up.”

Tilting his head, Hyunjin presses his face closer, craning. Close enough that you hold your phone up as a barrier, shrinking away nearer to the window.

“…Who broke up with who?”

Asshole.

Sighing boisterously, you shove in your own earbuds, rolling your eyes. Hyunjin, cocking a brow, dejectedly slouched back. Although he doesn’t ask any more questions, and you successfully get through your first three hours in silence.

Well, prior to the flight attendant strolling by with her cart, mandatorily beckoning orders from each row.

Wheeling her cart over where your seats are, Hyunjin takes a ginger ale and the customary pretzels they hand out. So when she gets to you and you order a Sprite, the man to your right’s head snaps to you, giving you quite an incredulous cock of his brow.

“No ginger ale?”

You wrinkle your nose.

“I don’t like it,” Biting back, you interrupt him upon accepting the canned soft drink, expression bitter and unwavering.

“You always got it when you were with me” or “Wasn’t it your favorite” was what you expected to come out of his mouth, positively obliterating any ounce of peace of mind remaining inside your rattling skull. You weren’t about to sit another seven hours sulking about something your ex said.

The ex you were very much over.

Right.

Your new goal? Avoid genuine conversation for as long as possible, at least on this flight.

So, given the chance to be deep in thought, you came to a conclusion.

You were clockwork, just like before. Except now instead of just equaling the time of day, he was the hour hand and you were the minute hand, always chasing after one another only to briefly touch and start all over again in an endless cycle of time.

Although the rockier the air gets and the more your grip squeezes the armrest does your initial goal falter, finding his considerate gesture asking if you were alright practically impossible to keep from responding to.

Especially when a huge drop has his hand racing atop yours, both too nervous to truly let go.

Just the circumstances, you blame, as if this plane was the sole cause of your slamming heartbeat.

Bullshit.

Four days and this trip was going to be one for the books for a multitude of reasons, that’s for sure.

Let’s just hope you can land first.

December 23nd – Paris, France.

His assuring hold on your hand guiding you through the bustling crowds of visitors and locals storming Charles de Gaulle Airport gives you this disgusting nostalgia, festering in your gut the longer you focus on his dark head of hair in front of you, kind, magnificent almond eyes flickering back to catch sight of you time and time again — like you’d magically sift from his grasp.

It’s a miracle you managed to hit ground in one piece, nevertheless end up with the notorious artist-jerkface named Hyunjin navigating you through an supremely overpopulated airport.

Perhaps it’s the scent of wispy pine or faint cigarette smoke that tinges the atmosphere such a rosy hue, perhaps everyone’s anticipation for the holiday’s. Either way, it certainly doesn’t help fuel your “absolutely NO touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda”.

Well, you had no doubt you’d have to stick to your morals on this trip in the first place, and it’s not like the odds were supposed to work in your favor. Although, a little assistance would‘ve been nice.

Guess you’ll just have to make due.

Lovely.

“Thank you!” You shout, forcing your voice to sound chipper speaking to the Cab Driver (opposing the twenty-two hours of traveling you managed to survive through). Except now, you didn’t know what to do nor what to say standing outside the hotel entrance, especially not when Hwang Hyunjin was going to be biting your ass for the next few days.

Much to your luck though, it seemed he was just as clueless as you, both prioritizing just checking into your room first and foremost.

Thankfully, the sights are a wondrous source of distraction, and you devise a plan to go walking more often than not (and not just to avoid Hyunjin). Each building appears as if it’d been expertly carved from stone, historically aged beige, awnings titled a bottomless array of Grand Seiko and Jaeger-LeCoultre.

To add, huge paneled windows are placed in each room, allowing a breathtaking view of the city as evening dawns. Whether it’s a quaint bakery hitched right below a bookstore or the bell tower seated comfortably in the middle of a square—you could never get bored.

Seems your interest tore you away from an unwelcomed reality until Hyunjin cleared his throat, thick eyebrows raised questionably.

“..We could go ice-skating?” He offers, index pointing to the huge rink a few blocks to the left.

You don’t have to speak for him to know your response, unzipping your suitcase to gather a new change of clothes without a word.

“Look, I know you want nothing to do with me, but I doubt either of us will ever have enough money to come to Paris again, so just, do it for the experience, not for me.”

That’s it.

“For you? You think I’m doing this for you? Are you really that conceited to think I’m still catering to you, Hyunjin? I’ve changed whether you like it or not, and I’m not the girl that’s willing anymore,” You toss your clothing to the side, giving him a downright venomous stare. Loathing. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“In fact,” Spitting poison, you stab your index to his chest, causing him to back up the more you advance forward. “You don’t know shit about me.”

He appears torn. His nose scrunches, and his lips form a squabbled line upon his face, evidently troubled.

Somehow, those actions that normally earned your sympathy only reared your deftly oiled gears more, angrily roaring without fail.

“Because if you did, we wouldn’t be like this.”

Gesturing around, you retreat back a few steps, arms slapping your sides irritably. Meanwhile, the tall man remains silent, attention magnetically directed down at his shoes. And for a swift moment, mere seconds, you feel sorry — apologetic even.

It makes you sick to your stomach.

You exhale. “I’ll go, and not for you. Understood?”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply, biting his cheek as he watches you disappear into another room.

You thank the refreshing scent of peppermint for its momentary relief upon entering the bathroom, practically drenching your face in ice cold water over and over as if it’d clear your head.

For you; you’re doing this for you, nobody else, you remind yourself, prepping a washcloth and your toiletries whilst praying the warm shower water eases your blaring jet-lag.

Yet, you didn’t expect a visitor to suddenly pop in while you were mid-shampoo, and it seemed he didn’t expect it either.

You swore the prolonged eye-contact went on for centuries, absolute terror embracing every aspect of your face through the clear shower door.

“Fuck! Get out!”

Scurrying like a character off a cartoon, Hyunjin manages – through spilling apologies – to blindly ram himself into the door, hands gripping his skull.

Suddenly, he pauses, hesitating.

“Wait but I’ve seen you naked befo–”

“GET OUT!” You scream.

“Okay! Okay.” He hurriedly slips out, leaving you to rethink every decision made with his name involved. A recurring thought at this point.

And with that, you quickly accept that your jet lag isn’t even close to gone and likely won’t be as long as the artist sharing your hotel room is within a six-foot radius.

Oh, and you don’t know shit about ice-skating.

Of course, Hyunjin is a natural on ice. He glides like a snow spirit, freer than ever. Meanwhile, your nails are embedded into your vice of a railing, knees shakily attempting at balancing with little success.

He’s the princess, and you’re the frog. It’s decided. Walking while you crawled, running while you walked. A step ahead that was at some point motivating, now plain humiliating.

The ice rink is jam-packed, citizens and tourists alike savoring the crisp winter, the faded twinkling of lights glittering in the distance.

“C’mon, just one?”

You, clawing the icy edge, confusedly avert your focus to where the voice came from.

It’s Hyunjin, gesturing to his camera while you piece together his request before childishly whining your despair. He lifts his toboggan upward, a few endearing tufts of golden peering out to hang over crescent moon eyes, evidently smiling.

Leave it to this man to test your sanity. How could anybody say no when he looked that cute.

“Fine, one.”

Not like I could run off anyway, you mentally consider, finding the fact your legs are quite literally flailing as a good enough sign to give in.

“Yes!” He chirped happily, hurriedly fiddling with his camera.

Watching him with that kind of expression, you witness your Hyunjin again, fumbling around, so excited about the smallest of things.

It hurts.

“I..” He trails off, voice barely audible whilst winking to see through the lense. “Don’t want to miss a moment of you.”

“What was that?”

The camera flashes, and you wonder if you heard him correctly.

“Oh nothing.” His lips curl into a sheepish grin, easing toward you and unexpectedly prying your hand into his own, involuntarily pulling you along.

Panickedly, you clutch onto any article of clothing available (another goodbye to your no-touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda) similar to the handrails, squeezing your eyes shut while painfully awaiting a harsh slam against rock-hard ice.

A harsh slam that never happens.

You cautiously open an eye.

“One, two, one, two.” He counts steadily, soaring across the ice, unable to contain the huge beam the longer he watches you. Captivating.

You fight the urge to smile, the sensation of wind whipping your hair and his warm, reminiscent touch setting your nerves into a dopamine frenzy, making the routinely frown much harder than need be.

Nevertheless, perhaps staying in Hyunjin’s grasp would’ve been the safer option. Because with confidence comes failure (at least in your book of life), and your knees would’ve definitely appreciated not getting ruined.

“Are you alright?” Hyunjin murmurs, sympathetically regarding your black and blue frame, looking worse for wear, skates in hand.

“Amputation has never sounded more tempting,” Grumbling, you hobble to return your skates, the man tailing behind you choking back his giggle, kindly waiting in case you stumble.

From the way things are going, the probability is high. Except, Hyunjin walks on eggshells, worried you might rip his head off in the case he asked the question sitting tentatively on the tip of his tongue.

Keeping himself contained had never been as unbearable as when with you, constantly having to refrain from wrapping your precious self into his arms, witness those warm, beautiful hues blinking at him like globes.

Five minutes into the walk back and your near-face-plant-turned-catastrophe was his last straw.

“Can I at least carry you?”

Your head snapping back was almost comical, ogling at Hyunjin as if he told you he’d been neutered or something.

Insane. He’s officially gone insane.

So have you, apparently. Because after getting all too familiar with the icy side walk for a fifth time, you give in, stifling your thoughts from erupting out of your skull—feeling like your entire earth was slowing down on its axis when he easily swept you off your feet.

Cute, hell, romantic too, until you arrive back at the hotel and the curious looks sent your way have your cheeks burning.

“This is so embarrassing.” You whine, burying your face in your hands. Of course, Hyunjin just laughs.

You missed his laugh.

And he cares for you that night, transporting you from room to room in his arms despite your complaints you could do so yourself (although you secretly preferred it, and no, not because it was Hyunjin, only because of how bruised your legs were).

Plus, the mental exhaustion was practically debilitating, sleep beckoning you into its cozy embrace as the clock ticked on the wall. The man before you knelt in front of where you sat on the side of the bed, gently applying antiseptic to your cuts while you blanked in and out of consciousness.

Any common sense had completely abandoned you. Certainly, since you hadn’t noticed only one bed sat dead center in the room. Nor had you noticed through your half-asleep eyes how sweetly he maneuvered you around, pulling the comforter snug over your body.

His hand strays, wistfully smoothing some hair from off your eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, gathering spare pillows and blankets.

He’ll sleep on the floor.

December 24th – Paris, France.

Apparently, there was much more to this Paris dilemma than just the “going to Paris” part (excluding, y’know, the havoc that’s occurred over the past three days).

This fantastic surprise came in the form of a booked Louvre Museum date, now a bit more like a punishment with your current state of soreness merely rising up from bed. And, in turn, seeing Hyunjin sawing logs on the floor below, an action you were inaudibly grateful for.

You two are a different kind of romantic if that’s what you want to call it, especially when Hyunjin practically barricades the bathroom door, nonsensically shouting that he won’t make the same mistake of walking in ever again.

Sweet gesture, but it gets a tad bit irritating when you have to basically charge the door in order to move the chair situated behind it, making you doubt if it was to keep Hyunjin himself out or keeping you in instead.

Yeah. Different kind of romantic. Exes kind of romantic.

Once 5pm rolls around, you’re already dressed and ready to leave, trying your darndest to pretend you’re doing something on your phone to evade conversation. A middle school move, though your ego is on the brink of becoming extinct anyway.

Seems the final act is when Hyunjin steps out of the bathroom, wearing that tan trench coat he always did.

He notices you analyzing, stifling a very tempting smirk.

“I thought you’d like this jacket. Y’know, since you stared at it all the time.”

With a sentence you watched your endangered ego obliterate in real time, embarrassment swallowing you whole. The cycle is neverending.

Thankfully, at least one factor in your unsolvable equation proves itself useful, the factor being your already purchased tickets, granting an earlier entrance into what felt to be a new world.

A new world you recognized as Hyunjin’s world. Vast, expansive. A place you can get lost in and be okay with. Stories hidden behind gold-rimmed frames, so much to tell if only you’d listen.

He lingers by the Psyche and Cupid sculpture longer than usual. Briefly, he told you about them many moons ago. Their love awakening from something much more tragic, apocalyptical.

What a coincidence.

You spend what feels to be days in there, daylight from the lengthy windows overhead falling dark by the time you’re finished. The temperature dropped exponentially while you explored, ignorant to the frigid conditions till realizing you still had your trek back.

Curse the taxi service for not running twenty-four hours.

“You grew your hair out.” You comment, but it’s not really a comment, more like an observation you already knew and felt the need to point out for some odd reason. The awkward silence is suffocating enough.

Granted, you’d known his hair had grown. You saw him every day coming to and fro from work, so any adjustments he made you saw, some of which you remember loving oh so much.

This adjustment was his hair.

Hyunjin’s lips quirk ever so slightly, fingers straying up to tousle a strand.

“You used to love it when I grew it out.”

He continues to walk ahead, ignoring how you had stalled behind, numb grip desperately clutching your puffer jacket as if it’d magically allow you inhalations.

“You would tie it up for me, and stick my paintbrushes in the bun.”

This time, he spins around, seemingly unaffected by your (both literally and figuratively) frozen finger that simply blinks at him — robotic-like.

Like Hyunjin is a stranger. Like your Hyunjin, the old one you were mad for, is now a stranger.

“And I,” He sniffs in, his exhale causing a cloud of air to comprise in its stead. “Really wanted to marry you.”

There’s your breaking point.

He’s pulled you thread by thread closer to an unthinkable free fall, a freezing free fall. Unfurling your strings of yarn to no point of repair. So as you teeter on the edge, your defense mechanisms kick in. And before you can logically consider your options, you smack him.

Right. Across. The face.

He’s stunned, you don’t blame him for that, but there’s also a crinkle in his brows, a look of utmost hurt beginning to stain any somber expression left.

“You have no right to say that when you’re the one that caused all of this.” Your volume increases, unaffected by the glances from passerby.

You have no doubt the two of you are quite a scene, though common sense had long abandoned you, and no thought but fiery rage curls around you, tendrils alight.

“Why the hell did you want to marry me if you can’t even love me? Quit hurting and confusing me Hyunjin, I can’t keep doing this.” Practically pleading, he pulls his palm from where it babied his cheek, instead retreating to your wrists, keeping you in front of him.

“Listen.”

“No!” You screech, trying your hardest to escape.

“Listen.”

You pause, gingerly allowing him to adjust the scarf over your pink nose and ensure your gloves trap warmth for your fingers.

He bites his lip, gaze dancing across your features.

“I love you.”

You shakily exhale, wishing everything would just stop. Time would simply diminish into nothing but stillness, easiness.

Your anguish and anger was easy, and staying mad was a whole lot easier than this—confronting the pains of meeting him again, nonetheless this trip.

He’s finding the pieces to your puzzle.

You want to hide.

Worst of all? Especially hearing him say the words that ended you two months prior.

Cruel.

“I loved you,” His voice wavers. “More than anything, Y/n. And I still do. But when you said that, I got scared.”

He shakily inhales, the grip on you lessening a bit.

“Because when I say I love you back, that means I have someone to lose.”

It’s hypocritical, you know.

Hell, you know what it’s like to be a hypocrite more than anything right now. From hearing the godforsaken news to sitting in an airplane together after wholeheartedly promising yourself you’d never let him have you once more.

Yet here you were, dragging him by his collar into a kiss.

He kisses you back, like an idiot, childishly grasping his clothing-cladden frame against your face and savoring the small bit of heat huddled between where your lips meet.

His trench-coat, you remember, despite so many adjustments, is the same as usual, and it’s almost comforting to find he smells the same as well—floral, with hints of jasmine (mainly thanks to his favorite perfume). You remember that too.

Guess some things never change.

Perhaps he kept that mug after all, drank from it every day like he used to.

And perhaps, right now, he’s wishing back all the time you’ve spent apart, just like you are. Wishing you would’ve just talked like mature, capable adults. Figured things out.

Newsflash, you’re not mature adults. You’re two broken lovebirds fighting to find their song after being caged together, searching high and low for the perfect pitch when all you needed was a single note, a single start.

Positioning you where an arm wraps around your back, the other holding your cheek, he dips you as if in a ballroom dance, not kissing beneath a street light.

Everything is pretty in Hyunjin’s presence.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” You whisper, nostrils burning the longer you’re surrounded by snow, falling in hefty sheets at this rate.

He hums into your lips, maneuvering his head to kiss away the chilled tears beginning to froth upon your waterline. And in those moments, you feel so fragile, so weak in his touch.

Almost instinctively, his grip tightens oh so slightly.

“I really don’t want to lose you.”

And he laughs, a muffled laugh that nonetheless causes his shoulders to shake before delving further into your kiss, melting away every bit of anguish you felt, all the hurt and ache. Dissolved into nothingness by his lips.

Figures briefly illuminated by the light of the street lamp, you remain ignorant to the encroaching nightfall, the way the stars seamlessly blend with white snowflakes. Something out of a fairytale.

You’re certain you could’ve stood there forever, all numb and freezing cold.

But in love. So very in love.

For him you would’ve stood there. And the you still in denial without understanding this entire story would’ve died before admitting that.

This time, you’re okay with letting him finish the puzzle, create a song as lovebirds.

“You won’t, I promise,” He traces your cheek with his thumb. “Now let’s get someplace warm, shall we?”

Landing an affectionate peck to your burning red nose, he takes your hand, guiding you through climbing snow toward your hotel, sign reading “Hôtel de Vendôme” glittering in the distance.

In your opinion, however, it was too fleeting. A kiss you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for until it actually happened, till you pathetically craved it again and again.

Although, that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy gaining feeling back in your fingers and toes, treasuring the flicker of the fire crackling beneath a brick mantel. A few guests litter the lobby, dishing paper cups of hot chocolate left and right, taking the opportunity the mistletoe hanging above a long forgotten stairwell provides.

Christmas Eve and you’re beside the ex you swore you’d never spend it with, spend any time with generally. So surreal you simply cannot stop thinking about it, enough that you become too distracted to notice the mischievous glint in Hyunjin’s vision.

Well, before he points upward and you notice the dangling mistletoe.

And he kisses you again just like you wanted. Deeper, slower, like separating would cause you to break apart, carving your kiss into his memory for a second time.

Standing there, too lost in him to ever consider anything better than this, you begin to think maybe you’ll be able to finish that stagnant book of yours. Maybe it’ll be about two lovers turned two exes, whose trip to Paris might just have been the cherry on top to hurt feelings and broken love. Because, at the end of their tribulations, Cupid falls in love with Psyche.

And you begin to think—as the clock’s ringing announces midnight has arrived—maybe this Christmas will pass by on a good note.

No, you’re certain of it.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @slut4colinbridgerton @armystay89 @shujohajohaminnie @minhosbitterriver @callmedarlingsstuff

[zamiecmunson]

scooby snacks

eddie x reader

you accidentally eat some of eddie’s very special brownies

i love edibles. i love scooby doo. i love eddie. can you tell. warnings: weed obviously, vomit but no graphic description, wrote this a long long time ago been sitting in my drafts so not too sure what else sorryyyyy 🫶🏻

‘voila!’ eddie whispered to himself, beaming down with pride at his creation. he passed on doing a taste test as he knew the guys would get pissy if they turned up & he was already stoned. plus he didn’t know exactly just how strong they were. that was the purpose after all, stronger than usual. gareth had been complaining for weeks that he was ‘building a tolerance’ and wanted to ‘trip balls’ without taking the hard stuff. eddie scoffed at that of course but came through with some pretty sweet brownies anyway. he left them out to cool on the kitchen counter before jumping in the shower.

after knocking on eddie’s door and getting no answer, you let yourself in.

‘eddie?’ you called out clocking that the weird fuzzy noise was water running.

‘in the shower baby, i’ll be out in a sec’ he called back. both a pro and con of living in a trailer: thin walls.

‘ooh!’ you raised your brows excitedly at the freshly baked batch of brownies on the side. eddie bakes? who knew! you helped yourself to a small corner slice, after taking a bite you sorta understood why he’s never baked for you before. it tasted kinda funny. but the kind of funny where you had to keep taking another bite to figure out if it actually did taste funny or not. two and a half brownies later, eddie surfaced from the bathroom.

‘hey!- oh. oh god, babe!’ his face switched from a sweet smile to deer caught in headlights as soon as he locked in on the face full of brownie.

‘ ‘m sorry they jush looked shoh good and i’m tryna figure out what the shecret ingredient is’ you mumbled through heavy chews.

‘that would be pot’ his eyes stayed at full screen as he gently pressed his hands to the brownie, lowering the rest of it from your lips.

‘oh, i’ve had these before it’s fine! i thought they tasted kinda funky, i should have guessed’ you stayed blissfully unaware and calm, wiping the crumbs off the side of your mouth while eddie’s heart was going at 100 mph. his eyes darted from the tray, to your face, to the tray, to your face then back to the tray.

‘and you’ve had three of these?’ his nervous voice matched his face.

‘two and a half, technically’ you continued to grin innocently.

‘do you, by any chance, perhaps recall gareth complaining about how the usual stuff just wasn’t touching the sides for him anymore?’ eddie did this thing where he used a lot of unnecessary words when he was nervous. you chuckled at his little habit peaking through and answered with a subtle eye roll ‘yes’.

‘well… these were made with him in mind. extra strong. like, should probably just start with a quarter of a slice strong’ he delicately placed his hands on the side of your arms. there was silence for a while. a painfully long while. you focused on the feeling of it sitting in your stomach.

‘well this isn’t good’ you responded with a straight but calm face.

‘no, no it’s not’ you both continued to stand very still. you couldn’t tell if it was kicking in already or if you were just prematurely paranoid.

‘i should probably sit down’ you broke the statuesque silence, eddie guided you to his sofa as if you were his 89 year old grandmother.

‘i’ll get you some water’ he immediately sprung up again after sitting you down.

you probably should have been more nervous than you were. not eddie’s level of panic but somewhere in the middle. weed had only ever given you a slight buzz and the giggles, surely there couldn’t be irredeemably dire consequences. eddie was running around looking for a bucket just in case you were sick and anything else you might need while you stared into space.

after a while, you could hear eddie talking to you… but every other noise in the world appeared just as loud and 10x more important.

‘oh fuck here we go’ eddie caught onto your darkening eyes and droopy muscles. he’d looked after you when you were sick, drunk and stoned. this was about to be his ultimate test.

‘you know,’ you started but got cut off by how dry your mouth was. ‘your place has always smelled good. it smells like boy, but YOU boy. good eddie boy you’ you blinked what felt like 900 times but it really really wasn’t.

‘oh yeah?’ eddie smiled slightly, his panic dying down a smidge as he was amused. he handed you a glass of water recognising the signs all too well.

‘thank you that’s brilliant’ you took the glass and chugged.

‘slow down sailor you don’t wanna make yourself puke’ eddie suppressed a grin, pushing the bucket closer to your feet just in case.

‘do you think sailors get land sick? like, if they’re so used to being at sea would that make them get sick from not wobbling about on a boat?’ your brow knotted with concern as eddie’s shoulders bobbed up and down. ‘wobbling. wobble. wobbly wobbly wobble’ you started to amuse yourself with a slight slur of the pronunciation while eddie’s giggles turned into hearty laughter.

‘that’s an amazing question that i unfortunately don’t have the answer for’ he rubbed a brewing tear of laughter from his face and stared adoringly at your hazed state.

‘since when do you not know everything? you know everything ever, actually. you always have an answer’ you responded with upmost seriousness. on a normal day, that might have come off as condescending. but weirdly, it gave eddie a huge confidence boost as he could tell you were being completely genuine.

‘i know what goes on in your brain, not sailors i’m afraid. i’ll try do better in the future’ he petted your head like a dog and ruffled your hair. god, it felt amazing. like a head massage worthy of 10 million dollars.

‘what am i thinking right now?’ you continued to slur, smiling into his touch.

‘mcdonald’s probably, though it might be a bit early for that stage’ he continued to massage your head, fantasising about how good it probably felt from your perspective. you may as well have been purring like a cat.

‘mcdonald’s…’ you whispered not even almost comprehending what that word meant. until approximately 15 seconds after it sunk in. ‘MCDONALD’S!’ you attempted to spring up but in real time just un-slumped your shoulders and opened your eyes wide. eddie did his biggest grin yet and handed you back the glass of water.

‘i’ll get the guys to pick some up on their way over. stay right here’ he kissed you on the forehead and made his way to the phone.

‘uhhh gareth i’m gonna need you to bring one of everything from mcdonald’s on your way here’ eddie didn’t even wait for gareth to say hello when he picked up the phone.

there was a sigh.

‘…how many did she eat’ gareth’s spidey senses tingled.

‘enough. too much actually, i’m in for a long-‘

‘HIIIIIII GARETHHHHH,’ you appeared out of fucking nowhere. ‘NUGGETS?’ why use a full sentence after all? just saying NUGGETS at the man would obviously do the trick.

‘coming right up scoob’ eddie could hear his smirk through the phone. ‘and what would you like shaggy?’

‘drop dead’ eddie responded through a smile. ‘…cheeseburger and fries please’

by the time the guys reached eddie’s trailer, you were in silent mode. your vision was fuzzy, skin felt like velcro, cotton mouth was in full swing, there was a constant ringing in your ear and blinking was becoming an actual task. eddie was starting to get concerned but found comfort in knowing food was on its way. unfortunately eddie opened the door to an unwelcome surprise.

‘no’ was all he said when he met eyes with dustin & mike.

‘what?’ jeff asked holding 2 bags of mcdonald’s, slurping from a straw sticking out of one.

‘they can’t be here, they’re 12’ eddie spoke about the two as if they couldn’t hear.

‘we’re 15!’ they said in unison.

‘no!’ he said again, using his body to block the doorway.

‘nuggets?’ you attempted to shout from the couch but it came out as a dry whisper. only eddie heard.

‘hand over the food’ he compromised the barricade by putting one arm out.

‘idiot!’ gareth barged through the small opening using his bag of food as a battering ram.

‘nuggets!’ you said just as quietly but with a smile this time.

eddie clambered onto the couch you were sitting on to place the brownies on the top shelf before swiftly turning to dustin & mike, gripping their shoulders tight.

‘i’m not supplying class b’s to a bunch of freshmen. its bad enough that she’s out of action,’ without looking, he pointed behind to your melting body. ‘i actually wanna get out of this town alive and not shot dead by mrs wheeler, okay?’ dustin and mike stared blankly, wide eyed but blankly.

‘you do know i’m taller than you-‘ mike broke his gaze to point to the brownies on the shelf.

‘ARE WE CLEAR?’ eddie interrupted, gripping them tighter.

‘yes eddie!’ they stuttered together.

‘good’ eddie smiled, brushing them down.

‘NUGGETS?’ you actually shouted this time behind them, still slumped on the couch. eddie did an almost balletic 180 turn to face you, face softening immediately.

‘coming right up princess’

dustin & mike got a slap on the back of their heads for giggling at the pet name.

15 nuggets, a large portion of fries and half of eddie’s burger later, everyone was starting to loosen up a bit. gareth & jeff saved their food for later so they could feel the full effect, eddie wouldn’t even consider getting stoned before you’d got through the worst of it and the freshmen were just happy to be there. they thought eddie was soooooo cool, yet here he was. babysitting you. being responsible… he thought his street cred was over. but they admired him more, deep down.

‘feeling better scoob?’ gareth was starting to get giggly and watching you devour a milkshake without breathing definitely fuelled it.

‘who..’ you remembered to breathe. ‘is scoob?’ back to slurping with no remorse.

‘i don’t know lets ask shaggy’ he threw the screwed up bag at eddie.

‘does that make you velma’ eddie threw it back in return.

‘dustin is velma, i’m daphne’ he flipped his imaginary long ginger hair. dustin and mike shared a confused yet amused glance.

‘does… does that make me… fred?….’ jeff skipped giggle phase and landed straight in deep thought mode.

‘aww they’re girlfriend boyfriend!’ dustin and mike teased, making kissy faces at them.

‘OHHHH, SCOOBY DOO!! i get it now…’ you nodded into your milkshake. everyone laughed. you didn’t understand why. ‘dustin is totally velma’

everyone was arguing about lord of the rings when eddie noticed you’d gone quiet. not just staying out of it quiet, but not even going to laugh at how silly the situation was quiet.

‘hey sweet,’ eddie said quietly so only you could hear. you tried to move your head up to look at him but it didn’t work. ‘too many scooby snacks?’ he gestured to all the empty food boxes at your feet.

‘mmh’ was all you could manage. he then noticed you’d gone green. without saying a word he picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bathroom, telling dustin only with his eyes what the situation was. dustin suggested they all go to the park, gareth & jeff too gone to realise eddie had carried you across the room. eddie placed you down in front of the toilet and held your hair in a makeshift ponytail, rubbing your back. you were there for a while. eddie was impressed it took this long, he thought you were hard as fucking nails. when it was all out your system he hooked his arm under your shoulders and propped you up on the sink. taking your special eddie’s trailer tooth brush he cleaned you up with a smile. he always did everything with a smile when it came to you, no matter how gross it may seem from the outside. he knew you’d be mortified when you properly came round but seeing you this vulnerable, being your sole caretaker, was weirdly his happy place. you did it for him all the time, he loved, ADORED returning the favour.

picking you up bridal style once again, he carried you to his bedroom. after placing you down as carefully as possible and moving you onto your side, he ran back to the couch to fetch the bucket & water.

‘ez’ you attempted to call for him for the 0.5 seconds he was out the room. that was “ed’s” in your mind.

‘i’m here, i’m here’ he crouched down to face you after placing everything down.

‘ar ou g wa?’ you weren’t even sure what you tried to say then. but eddie deciphered it.

‘i’m not going anywhere sweetheart,’ he swiped his thumb over your sweaty brow. ‘close your eyes’ he whispered before kicking off his shoes and gently getting in bed behind you, tucking you into his frame.

‘ove ou’

‘love you too’ he kissed your ear and stroked your hair until you fell asleep.

the next morning you woke up to the smell of coffee right under your nose. opening your eyes, you discovered a steaming cup on the bedside table and a distant clatter that can only be eddie getting frustrated in the kitchen. rubbing your eyes you sipped from the mug and shuffled closer to the noise.

‘morning’ you muttered, feeling very groggy.

‘good afternoon!’ eddie popped out from behind a cabinet door, hair in a bun with a wooden spoon in his mouth. ‘do you know how many times i’ve reheated that? i kept having to check you were still alive!’ he giggled to himself, removing the spoon from his mouth to give you a big kiss on the forehead.

‘how long was i out?’ you grabbed eddie’s wrist to check his watch. ‘IT’S FOUR THIRTY?’ you tapped at his watch thinking it would tell you something different if you kept attacking it.

‘gareth woke up in the park today, you should be grateful you had a bed to sleep in!’ eddie tucked your hair behind your ears, laughing. ‘shit!’ he noticed his mac & cheese burning.

‘i’m never eating mystery baked goods ever again’ you thousand yard stared over the brim of your coffee

‘serves you right, doll!’ he winced at the too hot mouthful but continued to shovel more in. ‘anyway,’ placing the saucepan down, he climbed onto the couch to retrieve the brownies. ‘it’s my turn’ he grinned.

[hugz4hoon]

stargazing (pt.2) - s.j.y.

read part one here!

summary — you finally come to the conclusion that you need to get over your one sided feelings.

pairing — best friend!jake x fem!reader

genre — fluff and angst

wc — 2.3k

a/n — she's here! it ended up taking longer than i thought because i absolutely hated my first draft LOL so i completely scratched it and restarted it with a new plot hehe but i really hope u guys like this one!!!

It’s been two weeks since you last spoke with Jake. The last time you saw him was when he left you heartbroken on your rooftop. Since then, Jake has regretted not telling you how he feels that night. The only reason he hasn’t called or texted you is because he’s embarrassed about how he acted, and he doesn’t know what to say to you. Meanwhile, you’ve been forcing yourself to get over him by distracting yourself everyday. It’s obvious he’s been avoiding you; it’s definitely time to move on.

You were at the mall with your friends when you saw Jake walking in your direction. It was a bit nerve wracking—you haven’t seen him for two weeks, and suddenly, you didn’t know how to act around him anymore. But, that didn’t seem to be a problem, because when you made eye contact with him, his eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost. The second Jake saw you, he immediately turned to walk in the opposite direction. And that’s when you saw who he was with… a girl that you’ve never seen before? You watched their backs as they left your eyeline.

Your heart ached with a newfound heaviness. You felt as if your whole world was crumbling down. Who was that? Does he hate me so much that he can’t even look at me? Did he really find a new best friend in the span of two weeks? Or even, a girlfriend? Your mind was going haywire, and your distress definitely showed on your face.

One of your friend’s voices snapped you out of your daze.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just feeling a little tired right now. I think I should head home,” you half heartedly smiled at them. You had to get out of there. If you stayed in the busy environment for any longer, you’re sure you would’ve passed out. Shrugging off your friends’ demands and questions asking whether you wanted company, you called a taxi and headed home.

--

As soon as you got home, you took a hot shower to collect your thoughts. You didn’t want to be heartbroken over Jake because that would ruin all the progress you’ve made in getting over him. Instead, you decided to take a nap to try to sleep it off.

When you woke up, it was 6pm; you ended up sleeping for around three hours. You wake up to the vibrations erupting from your phone. Before you could see who was calling, the call ended. That’s when you saw the many missed calls adorning your notification center. There are over a dozen missed calls from… Jake? You keep scrolling to find Jake’s text messages to you from two hours ago.

jakey <3: can we talk

jakey <3: i shouldn’t have walked away from u

jakey <3: i miss u

Now you're pissed. Saying he misses you right after ignoring you for two weeks, and walking away from you without so much as a quick hello at the mall, is confusing as hell. Not only is it confusing, but it’s also rage inducing. With anger clouding your mind, you sharply respond to his messages instead of calling him back.

y/n: that’s so stupid

y/n: you say all that but your actions say otherwise

He calls you immediately the second you text him back, but you cannot be bothered to pick up.

[missed call from “jakey <3”]

jakey <3: pick up ur phone y/n

y/n: no. i don’t wanna hear it jake

y/n: i’m done

jakey <3: done? what do u mean by that

jakey <3: y/n please just call me we need to talk

jakey <3: y/n

At this point, you’re so annoyed with him that everything he says pisses you off. You stop responding when you start to feel as if steam is blowing out of your ears, before your head pops off due to built up pressure. As you start to distract yourself by doom scrolling through social media, you get another notification from Jake.

jakey <3: open ur door

Sure enough, he’s at your house now. You ignore the message and continue scrolling, hoping that after a couple of minutes, he’ll leave. About five minutes pass by, when you hear a tap on your window. You jump at the noise, and your gaze immediately turns to where the sound came from. There on the tree branch sits Jake, in all his boyish charm, as he sports that damn quirky and apologetic smile again. Unfortunately for him, this is the first time it doesn’t work in his favour. Honestly, you still don’t want to let him in, but it’s a particularly windy day, and despite your anger, you don’t want him to hurt himself.

With a stern expression plastered on your face, you unlock the window and turn right back to your bed. He watches with sorrowful eyes as you sit on your bed, realizing in his haste to see you, he forgot to prepare an apology.

He hesitantly pulls open the window and enters your room. After closing the window, he awkwardly stands there as he thinks of how to approach the situation. You, on the other hand, are staring daggers into his eyes.

“So, are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” Jake flinches at the clear irritation in your tone. This is the first time you’ve ever been mad at him, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. He hates it. He hates that he’s the reason behind your disdain. All he wants is to see your beautiful smile again.

He shuffles his feet clumsily as he searches for the right words. “I’m here to atone.” He announces with an uncertain voice. Hm, maybe that wasn’t the way to start off, he thinks as he sees your face change into an expression of disconcert.

Your jaw falls open at his statement. What kind of stupid opening is that? “Jake, if you're not going to be serious, I don’t want to hear it,” you firmly state, while getting up to leave your room.

“No, wait, let me finish!” he spews out before you can leave, which gets you to stop in your tracks. “Sorry, I know that wasn’t the best thing to say, but it’s because I don’t know how to address this,” he mumbles.

“Why? I don’t understand, Jake. We used to be able to talk about anything. You used to tell me everything, what happened? I feel like I’m going insane right now.” Your eyes start to water from the vulnerability you’re showing him.

Jake’s eyes soften after hearing your words. He never meant to make you feel this way, in fact, this is the opposite of what he wanted. The reason he didn’t reach out to you was because he was terrified. Terrified of ruining the friendship you two had built over the years. Jake had spent countless nights thinking about you, replaying moments in his mind, and imagining what could be. He wanted to tell you the truth, but he was paralyzed by the fear of your rejection.

What if you didn’t feel the same way? What if confessing his feelings meant losing you forever?

Jake walks over to you and pulls you down to sit on the bed with him, his expression filled with a mix of desperation and vulnerability. His eyes gaze down at your teary ones as he starts to speak in the most serious tone you’ve ever heard from him. “Y/N, the last thing I wanted to do was confuse you.”

“Well, you are confusing me!” Although you want to hear him out, you can’t help but be angry while thinking about his previous immature actions. One thought in particular crosses your mind. “Who was she?” You whisper as you break eye contact with him, prepared for the worst.

Jake takes a deep breath, knowing he needs to explain everything to you. “The girl you saw me with at the mall,” he begins, his voice steadying, “she's not what you think.”

You raise an eyebrow, still feeling a twinge of uncertainty. "Then who is she?"

"She's a friend from one of my classes.” Jake explains, running a hand through his hair. She asked for help with a project she's working on, and we decided to grab some coffee and discuss it. That’s all it was. I promise."

You feel a wave of relief, but there’s still a lingering doubt. “Why did you walk away when you saw me?”

Jake sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “When I saw you, I freaked out. I didn’t know how to face you after everything. I thought you might think she was someone important to me, and I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already had. But running away just made things worse.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. "You could have just told me, Jake. I spent these two weeks thinking you hated me or something."

Jake's face softens even more, his eyes pleading. “I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted you to feel that way. To be honest, I was just really scared of losing you. But I've realized that keeping my feelings from you was the worst thing I could have done.”

Your heart races at his words, relief and apprehension filling your chest. "And what are those feelings, Jake? What have you been so afraid to tell me?"

Jake takes a breath, finally ready to tell you what he’s wanted to say for years. It’s now or never. “Y/N, I’m in love with you, and I have been for years. I was scared to tell you because I didn’t know how you would react, and the last thing I wanted was to lose you.” His heart races as the precious words fall from his lips.

You gasp at his sudden confession. You’ve been waiting for this for years and years, and as it’s finally happened, you feel your heart burst with excitement and joy. However, you still feel a fair amount of hesitancy to accept his feelings due to his previous actions.

He watches your face, searching your eyes for an answer. “Jake, I… I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the uncertainty in your voice. “But do you understand how much you hurt me by ignoring me for so long?” Your voice trembles with anger and sadness. “How am I supposed to know that you won’t do that if we get into another situation like this? I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

Jake’s eyes fill with regret. “I know, Y/N. I was such an idiot. I thought staying away would somehow protect our friendship, but all I did was make things worse.” He takes a hold of your hands and kneels between your legs, while looking up at you with pleading eyes. “Please, Y/N, I’m so, so sorry. I can’t lose you, I don’t know what I would do with you.”

Your lips part in shock and overwhelm as you can sense the sincerity in his words as a couple of tears slip from your eyes. “Okay, Jake. I believe you. And actually, I’ve loved you for years too. I love you so, so much. But you need to promise me that you’ll never do that again, okay? We need to be there for each other, always.”

Jake’s eyes light up with elation. Under this light, he looks a bit like an excited puppy. How adorable, you think to yourself. “I know, I promise I’ll never do anything like that again. I love you, Y/N. I want to be with you.”

Now that you’re feeling more secure in your relationship with Jake, you finally feel at ease. With him, everything is easy and comfortable. With him, you feel at home. “Well, of course you do. I know I’m hard to resist,” you tease. Jake smiles up at you, happy that you’re back to your normal, witty self. “Yeah, imagine how hard it was for me to hide it for so long,” he replies with a grin.

“Mm, yeah, must’ve been pretty tough,” you nod sarcastically as you gently pull him up by his chin. He beams at you before cupping your face and bringing it closer to him until your lips meet in a tender, soft kiss. You both feel fireworks as your mouths rhythmically move together in waves of passion. The kiss is filled with years of unspoken feelings and promises of a future together.

When you finally pull apart, the room is filled with nothing but sounds of heavy breathing. Jake then rests his forehead against yours. “I love you, Y/N. I won’t let you down again.”

You smile, feeling a surge of warmth spread through your chest. “I love you too, Jake. Just don’t keep me in the dark anymore, okay?”

Jake nods, his eyes shining with love. “Never again. From now on, no more secrets.”

You two lay back on the bed, and Jake pulls you close to his body, letting you rest your head on his chest. You talk late into the night, much like you’ve always done before, the difference being instead of best friends, it’s now a conversation between a boyfriend and a girlfriend. This is all you’ve ever wanted and more.

The sun begins to rise again, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, just like that night on the rooftop. But this time, there are no unspoken words or missed opportunities. Just the promise of a new beginning for you and Jake, together.

tags: @breadlover01 @en-chantedtomeetyou @14-hibiscus