#like i wrote one in middle school to open upon high school graduation

[probayern]

.

[leaderwonim]

SEASONS

⤻ pairing. popular!sunghoon x shy!reader (ft nishimura riki and hanni from nwjns)

⤻ genre. fluff, hints of angst, brother’s best friend to lovers trope (reader is heeseung’s sister) forbidden love kinda

⤻ synopsis. park sunghoon, the notorious playboy who just so happens to be your brother’s best friend, was off limits. heeseung had made it clear to you during your freshman year of high school, and the rule still hasn’t changed even when entering your senior year. but what lee heeseung doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

author’s note: wrote this out of boredom after listening to seasons by wave to earth 🥹 i love that song with all my heart. riki is so unserious lmao i love him. COMMENTS & REBLOGS are always appreciated 🤞

“he’s off limits,” heeseung says as he swings by your desk, watching as you scrolled through your Instagram feed, a post of sunghoon’s passing by. “i saw you stalk him, you know.”

“i wasn’t stalking him.” you say, shooing your older brother away. “geez, have you gotten crazier since you’ve left for stanford?”

“first of all, i’m not crazy.” he flicks your forehead, deciding to be the annoying older brother he was and rummage through your things. “and i’d like to see you get into stanford yn, i really would. instead of being boy crazy with your psychotic friends.”

you roll your eyes at this, placing your phone down to look at your brother. “my friends are not psychotic. plus, your stupid rule about sunghoon started in freshman year of high school, can’t you let it go?”

“never.” heeseung steps off your bed. “i know him, yn. you don’t, you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

you blow the threat from your brother. if there’s one thing you’ve learned from living with lee heeseung your entire life was that ignoring him was easier than trying to pick a fight with him. he was stubborn as a bull.

heeseung and sunghoon became friends in the fifth grade after your family had moved, and he ignored your presence up until junior year of high school, where he ruffled your hair when you congratulated him on his graduation.

“thanks little lee,” he says, and it’s all park sunghoon has spoke to you, which hurt knowing that you’ve practically tried everything since middle school for him to acknowledge your existence.

“YN!” your mother calls from the kitchen. “oh gosh, i forgot to pack heeseung his lunch! can you drive to the university?”

your cheeks puff out, which makes riki who was currently on your phone screen, laugh.

“yah, listen to your mother lee yn,” riki snickers. “i’ll come with. i need to get out of my house anyway.”

you roll your eyes at his self invitation, hanging up as you quickly run down to grab heeseung’s lunch from your mom and your keys.

yn on top���️

be ready in 5 nishimura, im omw

nishishi

ok.

yn on top ☝️

dry ass

“get in loser!” you call out. nishimura riki pulls his black shades down, eyebrows furrowed.

“the hell you call me?” he jokes, opening your passenger car door.

he starts to buckle his seatbelt as you drive, taking a sip from your stanley. “so why are you so excited? wait—i know why. you get to see park sunghoon in action!”

“yah!” you slap his shoulder with your free hand, turning the music a bit louder so you couldn’t hear him.

“oh don’t turn up the music because you can’t handle the truth. you just wanna see your brother’s hot best friend.”

“can you blame a girl?” you say, lips out in a pout. “maybe now that i’m 18, they’ll take me seriously.”

“nobody takes you seriously, y/n.”

“nishimura riki, you have 5 minutes to get out my car.”

turns out, nishimura riki did not get outside of your car. for a boy who was on the varsity track and swim team of your high school, he refused to walk the 3 miles that was left to go to the university.

“you almost forgot his lunch idiot,” riki laughs, handing heeseung’s lunch to you. “imagine you approach sunghoon thinking you’re all cool and then he asks why you’re here and you don’t even have your brothers lunch to defend you.”

“do you always wish death upon me?” you give him the stink eye, pulling him by his hands.

“little lee, did not expect to see you here.”

you knew that voice from anywhere, and you were almost afraid to turn around to face the owner of it.

“yah little lee, i’m talking to you.” it was park sunghoon in all his glory, his hair sitting all nice and pretty as he waits for your response.

“oh! uh—where’s heeseung?”

“ouch,” sunghoon places a hand over his chest. “i greet you and the first thing you ask is where’s your brother.”

riki cackles loudly, so loud that you want to slam his mouth shut and pretend you don’t know him.

“hi park sunghoon,” he greets, extending his hand.

although sunghoon finds the tall boy a bit of a cutie by his baby face, the way he was holding onto your hand made him already seem like a threat, so sunghoon’s expression is pursed into a poker face.

“heeseung is down at the corridor,” sunghoon says, turning back to you. “do you want me to give him that?”

you nod shyly, handing the lunch to sunghoon who smiles. “aish, the kid got into stanford and he’s still making his mom make his lunch?”

you could feel riki’s hand loosen from yours, his attention caught on two students who were currently dancing on the other side of campus.

“be right back!” he exclaims, running off to watch them.

“this jerk,” you whisper underneath your breath, smiling when you make eye contact with sunghoon again.

“he’s quite the character, isn’t he?” sunghoon questions. “who is he?”

he says that in such a bitter taste that makes your stomach flip, wondering why he was suddenly upset.

“nishimura riki, he transferred to hybe high from japan just this year. he’s really sweet but very chaotic.”

“ah,” sunghoon clicks his tongue. “is he your boyfriend?”

your words almost get caught in your throat, obviously shocked by sunghoon’s straightforward question. “what?! no!”

“oh,” he smiles. “that’s good little lee.”

“you should just call me y/n,” you groan. “little lee sounds so stupid.”

“it’s not stupid,” sunghoon says, flicking his hand. “it’s cute.”

“really?”

“like you.”

before you could even process it, riki’s already running back to the two of you, excitedly telling you about the amazing dance program stanford has to offer.

“let’s go! i have to go home and submit an application to stanford!”

sunghoon raises an eyebrow at the excited tall boy who was currently grabbing you, sending you a small wave and smirk when your eyes plead for him to rescue you.

“see you soon little lee.”

“YAH! ARE YOU AN IDIOT?”

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU IT WAS AN ACCIDENT?!”

you were currently scolding the japanese boy for ruining your chances with sunghoon earlier.

“it is not my fault lee yn!” he says, puffing out his chest. “plus, the dancers say there’s a party this weekend at stanford and they’ll sneak us in. we have to go, you can see sunghoon hyung again and i can see them!”

you pursed your mouth into a thin line, riki awaiting anxiously for your answer.

“let’s say i do wanna go, heeseung would never let me go to a college party, especially not with a boy like you!”

riki clasps his hand over his chest and pretends to fall over in pain on your bed. “how could you say that?! i’m a great guy. cmon yn, you can’t let your older brother dictate your entire life, you’re 18 now!”

although riki has said a million of stupid things, he was right about this. you were eighteen, and you didn’t need your older brother ruining your chances of getting a boyfriend.

“okay,” you say, watching as riki’s eyes lit up. “let’s go. who are your dancer friends?”

the weekend had came by quicker than you thought, and you waited until heeseung said his goodbyes to you so you could get dressed and do your makeup.

although you didn’t want to go overboard with the whole thing, you still wanted to impress sunghoon, because after all, there would be a bunch of prettier college girls at the party that were smarter than you in everything.

“wow.” nishimura riki’s mouth drops as he sees your dress and face. “you clean up nice lee yn!”

“thanks ri,” you ruffle his hair, which he swats away in annoyance. “let’s go, heeseung’s already there.”

“great, so are my dancer friends!”

the two of you blended in easily, riki’s height doing both of you a favor as you held hands and made your way through the crowd of dancing and drinking college students.

“little lee?” your face bumps into sunghoon’s chest, and you almost gulp when you look up at his height. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“well that’s my queue to leave!” riki chuckles nervously, throwing you a lazy thumbs up as he runs to the drink cooler.

“never will understand that kid.” sunghoon mutters under his breath. “but seriously y/n, it can be dangerous, why are you here?”

it’s the first time in forever that he’s addressed you by your first name, and you can’t help but feel giddy.

overconfident by the drinks you had pregamed with riki previously, you find yourself leaning closer to park sunghoon. “i came here for you.”

he blinks.

“here..” he states, glancing around the party. “for me?”

the confidence wore off in a second. you were now starting to get embarrassed, cursing yourself for saying such things in front of sunghoon who probably didn’t even like you.

“that’s sweet little lee,” he says, eyes crinkling. “but you could get into a lot of trouble if your brother finds you, you know? he already freaks about you enough, finding you at a party at his college at night will kill him at the spot.”

park sunghoon was right, your brother would absolutely rage if he had found out you snuck out to go to a party. in some ways, he was even more strict than your mom.

“hoonie!” the voice of a girl interrupts the both of you as she makes her way over, placing a sloppy kiss against sunghoon’s cheek. she hasn’t said anything to you and you were already starting to see red.

“oh hi! i didn’t see you there!” she extends her hand, grinning from ear to ear. “i’m hanni, president of the pi beta thi sorority!”

you notice sunghoon’s hands finding themselves around her waist. although he’s probably only doing that to stabilize her, you find yourself too jealous to speak.

“hanni, this is lee y/n, heeseung’s sister.”

“oh!” the girl gasps. “oh my gosh, i’ve heard just so much about you! you’re prettier in real life! what are you doing at a college party?”

now you can’t really keep being mad at her because she seems so genuine when she’s complimenting you.

“oh, my friend riki has dancer friends who invited us.” you say awkwardly, watching as sunghoon whispers something in hanni’s ear.

“well that’s awesome, i hope i’m gonna see you here next year!” hanni then waves her hands, parting away from sunghoon. “i’m gonna go say hi to your brother, toodles!”

you watch as she makes her way towards the outside, most likely to the pool. at least you knew where your brother was so you know how to avoid him.

“hanni is really sweet,” sunghoon says as you turn back to face him. “met her a few months ago.”

“oh really,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. “is she your girlfriend?”

sunghoon laughs as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “what? no—of course not. she’s just touchy when she’s drunk. she’s dating one of my frat friends, his name is yang jungwon.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, happy that sunghoon was still single. after all, hanni was a pretty and nice girl, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was able to pull him.

the two of you stand in silence for a bit, sunghoon staring into your eyes with his dazed eyes. you almost want to pull him in, close the gaps between yours and his lips.

“am i stupid?” he suddenly asks, eyes still in contact with yours.

“no, why would you say that sunghoon?”

“i still like you after all this time. even when i got to college and promised myself i’d find a girlfriend and move on, you’re always still at the back of my mind.”

his confession makes you wonder if you were hallucinating, not believing that the park sunghoon who you’ve been inlove with since childhood was currently telling you he liked you.

“i..” he doesn’t let you say anything else, choosing to lean in and kiss you instead.

it’s all great and feels magical until you’re pulled back harshly, the sound of your brother’s yelling filling your ears.

“LEE Y/N? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING AT A COLLEGE PARTY, AT NIGHT? KISSING SUNGHOON OF ALL PEOPLE? WE’RE GOING HOME!”

you want to cry in embarrassment when you realize everyone has turned their eyes to look at you, and sunghoon throws you a look of guilt and pity when he sees heeseung dragging you away.

“stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” you cry as you’re outside the party.

“me, embarrassing you?” heeseung scoffs, looking up into the sky before looking down at you. “do you know how much you’ve disappointed me tonight? first, you dress up in barely any clothes, then you sneak into a party with some japanese male exchange student, and then you KISSED MY BEST FRIEND?” you close your eyes at heeseung’s yelling, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole.

“what will i do with you?” he grumbles as he drives the two of you home. “you’re lucky mom is out of town for two days. if i drove you home like this, she would kill you. and is that fucking alcohol i smell on you lee y/n?”

you gulp, knowing full well that you probably reeked of alcohol and sunghoon’s cologne at that moment.

“i told you he was a bad influence.” heeseung says as a red light comes up, turning to you as his hands were still on the steering wheel. “he’s going to break your heart and crush it beneath his feet, and who are you gonna come crying to? me. i’ve seen it so many times before y/n, my own girl friends at college have got with sunghoon and all he’s done is crush their souls and spirits. you think you’re any different because he said a few sweet things and kissed you?”

“stop it.” you say, wiping your tears away. “you’re being mean, heeseung.”

“men like him don’t change, y/n. sure, he’s my best friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend. he’ll drop you the second he feels like you’re inconvenient.”

you let out your first sob at night as your brother pulls into your driveway. although he’s still fuming mad at you for going against all his rules, he pulls you into his chest, letting you cry it out as he rubs your back comfortingly.

“are you okay?” is the first thing nishimura riki says when he sees you at school, frowning at your bloodshot eyes. “i saw you get dragged away by heeseung hyung yesterday night. it was really loud.”

“gee, thanks.” you scowl at him, making him raise his hands in surrender.

“if it makes you feel better, sunghoon wanted to speak to you.”

your head suddenly peeks up at this, and riki almost laughs by how easily he could change your mood.

“really? even after last night?”

“mhm.” riki stabs a fork into his mashed potatoes. “but he didn’t look so happy, so if you end up crying after, i have ice cream at my house.”

you let out a laugh at the boy’s words, silently thanking the world for giving you such an unserious best friend.

and just like riki had said earlier, park sunghoon was waiting in front of your house by the time you got home.

“hey.” he says, hands in pocket.

“hey.”

“about last night,” he seems to be looking everywhere but you. “i’m really sorry about your brother.”

“it’s fine.” you say, shrugging. “he was just being overprotective as usual.”

“yeah.” sunghoon steps closer cautiously. “i meant what i said, you know. about me liking you.”

“sunghoon, i like you too.”

he nods slowly, expression still glum. “that’s the problem though. we cant be together, y/n, you know that, right?”

“why?” you breathe out. “because you want to keep playing girls at your college?”

his eyebrows furrow deeply. “what? no? i’m just—i can’t be with you!” he steps backwards. “i’ll ruin your life, you said it yourself, i play girls at stanford. what’s to say i wont do the same to you?”

“i have known you since you were 10 sunghoon!” you say, throwing up your hands exasperated. “i know you can change for the better. i won’t let you go away this easily, not when i’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

“really?” sunghoon whispers, eyes teary. “you’ve spent your entire life loving me?”

“i have.” you walk up to sunghoon, cupping his face into your hands. “and i’ll love you for my next life if i have to.”

he laughs quietly, head tilting as he admired your face.

“little lee,” he says softly. “you really are a gem, aren’t you?”

park sunghoon being park sunghoon doesn’t let you reply to his words, instead shutting you up with a long kiss on the lips.

“wow.” you say as you pull away, making the older boy giggle. “lee heeseung is so gonna kill the both of us after the life lecture he gave me last night.”

“can’t kill me if i move away to antarctica.” sunghoon smirks, watching as your expression changes in a millisecond.

“YAH PARK SUNGHOON! YOU ARE NOT MOVING ANTARCTICA AFTER JUST CONFESSING TO ME!”

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 11 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 12

Making the scrapbook was cathartic. Remembering the good times, the innocence of your childhood, was as much of a joy as it was painful. The pictures were all quite good quality since Abuela had had a film camera. Some photos had been taken with a digital camera, which had probably originally belonged to the Georges and ended up in your possession somewhere along the way.

Regina and yourself playing in the Georges' backyard and swimming in their pool, beaming smiles directed at the camera. You could almost hear the laughter. I miss when we used to be able to just have fun together like this. I guess it's a part of growing up.

Regina in a white frilly dress, carrying a small basket of flower petals, donning a crown of roses on her head. She was pouting, clearly unimpressed by the whole thing. You hadn't been at the wedding since it was a George event, but Regina's mom had been so elated her daughter had gotten to be the flower girl. I remember I was so jealous you got to go to a wedding and I couldn't. You hated it, though, which was funny. You used to leave the room whenever your mom insisted we watch the tape. I wonder if she still has it.

You sitting with Regina, hip to hip, on plastic chairs while a newlyborn Kylie slept in your laps. Regina, eyes stuck on her baby sister and a thoughtful look on her face, while you looked at the camera with a smile. She's growing up so fast. Don't think I don't know you care about her. There's gonna be a time you'll regret not spending time with her. I already feel it.

Mrs George, Abuela, Regina, Kylie in her mom's arms, and you grouped together at a parking lot. You and Regina had on little graduation gowns and had scrolls in your hands. Elementary school graduation. The summer before middle school. End of an era. I love your mom's clothes, they're so nineties. Does she still have those jeans? You should get ahold of them before somebody else does...

Remember when I sliced my hand open when we were peeling apples? That was a time for sure. I still have the scar!

You taped pictures onto the pages, wrote little things here and there, hoping the labour of your love wouldn't end up in the garbage. Or if it did, Regina would read skim through it first.

I think this album was the first time we agreed on music. Britney Spears really brought us together, huh? We even learned the choreography of Baby One More Time. Mrs George loved it. I bet there's a video of that somewhere.

Mostly the scrapbook was filled with anecdotes about your childhoods together. You did write a letter of sorts on the first page, regarding your intentions with the whole thing.

I made this for you to commemorate the good times we had. You know me regrettably well, so I think you know how I tend to hold onto things. I still have that gaudy pink Build-A-Bear you made me for Valentine's Day that one time. It's one of my most important possessions, only second to the memories we have together. You'll always be a friend to me, Reggie. If not forever, or from now on, then back then. I love you. Yours, Jorts.

You'd pretty much finished the whole thing by the end of the weekend. You spent Monday and Tuesday decorating the front cover, mostly because you purposefully put it off. You cut out letters from magazines and glued them there, painstakingly forming the words Reggie & Jorts. You'd tried to come up with something clever, but making a pun or a dumb joke felt like cheapening the whole album. A simple name made up for with fabulous decorations!

You weren't much of a painter, but you figured it'd be fitting if the album reflected its contents. It was fine if the roses you painted looked like a five-year-old did them. A good majority of the pictures featured you and Regina huddled around a crafts table, similar projects scattered all around you, young with clumsy hands but filled with artistic passion.

The album in itself was an earthy green colour, something Regina undoubtedly found ugly. The flowers brightened it up somewhat, but there was only so much ages-old acrylic paints could do. You outlined some with Sharpies. If you didn't know better, one could assume it looked like that on purpose.

You took it with you to school on Wednesday. You had it weighing your backpack down the whole day. You sweated under all your layers, and by the end of it, you were sure you were sporting some epic pit stains. Gross, but you were so nervous. You hadn't broken into anyone's locker in so long. And it was Regina George's locker.

You loitered around the hallways as they emptied out steadily, people heading home or off to extracurriculars. As you approached Regina's locker, you swallowed down your nervousness and got to work.

It wasn't hard. The combination locks were all old and weak, more of a formality than an actual barrier between one's stuff and a burglar. The lock clicked open easily and you wasted no time in stuffing your album inside.

"Hey!" Just as the resounding click of the lock going back into place came, a voice called out to you. "What are you doing with Regina's locker?"

"Uhh..." Gretchen Wieners stood at the intersection of hallways, hands on her hips and accusatory eyes burning holes in you. You made the swift decision that you did not have time for this. You booked it.

"Hey! Get back here!" Gretchen, surprisingly considering her heels, started after you. "What did you put in it? You cannot prank Regina, or- or, oh, was it a bomb?"

"It's not a bomb!" You shouted over your shoulder, sprinting towards the exit. The aggressive clacking of Gretchen's heels on the floors as she ran after you would surely haunt your nightmares. How could she even keep up with you?

"If it's not a bomb then what!" How was she closing in on you? It seemed like she was not even fazed by your little race, meanwhile, you were already winded. The exit was not that far away, but it felt like miles.

"It's Regina's business now! Ask her tomorrow at school or something!" The doors to freedom approached. "Stop chasing me!"

"Stop running!"

"No!"

You burst out and quickly hopped down the stairs, two at a time. Gretchen was still on your tail, but once she got to the top of the stairs shouted: "Karen! Tackle her!"

You hadn't even noticed Karen fucking Shetty. There was no not noticing her when the girl sprinted at you with perfect athletic form and squashed you like a linebacker.

You collided and flew into the snow. Better than the concrete of the footpath but it still hurt like a bitch.

"Get off of me!" You tried to get out from under her, but Karen was surprisingly dense. She was small but it was as if there were stones in her body instead of organs. "Fuck!"

"Keep her there, Karen, very good."

"Thanks!" Karen beamed, which was a much more common expression on her than the bloodlust she'd shown earlier.

"This has nothing to do with you." You snarled, still wriggling. "This is between Regina and me."

"Whatever's between Regina is between us," Gretchen said, all hoity-toity. "Now, tell me exactly what you put in her locker."

"A fucking photo album." You hissed, closing your eyes and clenching your jaw. What lie could you come up with? "Our families used to know each other. It's mostly pictures of her, so I just thought to... Return it."

"Oh, that's so nice!" Karen's hold loosened and you went to escape.

"Nuh-uh, not good enough." Just like that, Karen's weight slammed back down onto you. Your breath wooshed out of your lungs.

"What more do you want?" You wheezed out, getting sick and tired of this.

"Why was it in your possession?"

"I don't fucking know! It just was!"

"Hmm. And why couldn't you just give it to her?"

"You think that would've gone well, Gretchen? Seriously?" You turned your head with great effort, staring up at the girl. "Please, just let me go."

"I don't think I believe you." Gretchen squatted next to your head. "We're going back and checking it's what you say it is. And then you might be free to go."

"Fuck you." You hissed but made no move to book it when Karen hauled you up.

"That's not very nice." Karen pointed out.

"I don't want to be nice to Gretchen right now." You had no real issue with Karen, even if she had just tackled you.

"Oh, okay." You couldn't see her when she was holding your wrists behind your back, but you could imagine she was bobbing her head up and down like she was known to do.

You were walked back into the building, going mostly without a fight. Gretchen strutted along proudly as if capturing you was some great victory. Regina had trained her well. You weren't sure if that was impressive or just sad.

"Open it." Gretchen gestured once you were back at Regina's locker.

"I need my hands to do that." You helped out, smiling at Gretchen like she was stupid. Sputtering and offended, she instructed Karen to let go.

Instead of running like you should've, taking the chance you could get out if Karen didn't get a one-up on you, you obediently cracked the code again. Was it selfish that you kind of wanted others to know about you and Regina? Was it totally horrible of you to want to know it was real and have proof of that? Well, if it was, there was no helping it.

Gretchen snatched the album from the locker before you could even think to touch it. Karen sidled up to her, peering over her shoulder as she opened it.

You stood by, waiting for their judgement and looking at the ceiling. There'd been a water leak right there, based on the discolouration. Gross.

"You... You're J. J is for Jorts." Gretchen said. She sounded weird, like hollow or something. "J is for Jorts." She said again, breathy and disbelieving.

"What?" What the fuck was going on?

Karen spoke then. "She talks about J a lot. Like, a lot a lot. A whole lot." You nodded slowly as Karen went on. "J's like, her true love. It's so cute."

"J is not her true love, Karen! They are both girls." Gretchen pointed out. You had to agree. "Are they?" She looked you up and down judgementally.

"Yes. I am a girl." You said. It was true, you were female and around the age that it was acceptable to be referred to as a girl. Even so, it made you distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hmm." Gretchen didn't seem to believe you. Karen was busy cooing at the pictures of small Regina. It was sheer luck they hadn't bothered to read your writings.

"Look, can I go now? I know I'm busted, you're probably gonna confiscate the album, and Regina will never see it. Happy?"

"No. Karen, please put it back in the locker." Gretchen said, not taking her eyes off of you. Karen did as asked with a pout. "What is your relationship with Regina?" The album was back in the locker, but it hadn't been locked again.

"Nothing." And that was true. There was nothing there anymore.

"That's a lie and you know it. If you're J, then you've known each other at least since middle school. Based on the pictures, even longer."

"Who is J?" You asked in exasperation.

"Somebody who she has protected for years now. Somebody who is always better than we could ever be." Gretchen pointed between herself and Karen. "J is important to her."

"Okay, well, good for J, I guess."

"You're so infuriating." Gretchen sighed, pinching the skin between her eyes.

"You aren't the first to tell me that."

"Of course, because Regina has said that to you. Because you've known each other forever. Because you're J."

"Listen, I may look a bit butch, but I have a perfectly ordinary girl name."

"That is not the point!" She spoke fast and high-pitched. "You. It's you. You've been under our noses this entire time! Do you realize how much easier things could've been if you were around?"

"Excuse me?" Now, you were really lost.

"You're excused," Karen said cheerfully. You nodded to her in thanks.

"We could never be as good as you. It was like we were placeholders for the ultimate pretty girl she'd somehow let slip. And it's you. In a flannel and hoodie, ratty jeans, dirty shoes, no fashion sense to speak of. It's you." She said that last part with contempt.

You were reeling. Regina had talked about you to these two. Had compared them to you, cited that you were better. For years she'd done that. She'd never forgotten about you.

"Look, Gretchen, I'm sorry Regina's treated you badly." You'd lost the need to defend her, even still. Then again, even if you hadn't, there was little you could argue about with the two she'd tormented the most. "You can probably tell this is something Regina doesn't want coming out."

"What does that matter?" Gretchen asked, eyes far away and legs beginning to pace. "We could- could finally bring her down. Yes. We have J, we have everything she wants. She'll come grovelling."

You took a deep breath. You didn't feel angry, you were too tired to get angry at mean girls at this point. Besides, nobody could rile you up like Regina.

"You're wrong." You put it plainly. "What Regina's been doing to these people, to everyone around her, is wrong. But what I find despicable is how everybody is the same. I know her reasons, I can sympathise with her, but I can't say the same for you. So tell me." You paused to take a deep breath. "Why?"

"I'm not good at riddles, I'm sorry." Karen said, looking genuinely apologetic.

"It's okay, Karen, Gretchen can answer for you both."

"She deserves it." Gretchen said, steel in her tone.

"You sound just like Cady Heron and Janis 'Imi'ike. She hurt them too. What do you think ruining her life will achieve?"

"I'll be the new Regina George."

"Do you hear yourself? You still idolize her. If you're gonna be the new Regina George, it's always going to be a Regina George world. Don't you want to be Gretchen Wieners?"

"No!" She screeched. "Gretchen Wieners is lame, boring, too eager, a slut, desperate-" She took a deep breath.

"Okay." You said. "Why? Because Regina said so? Why would you believe her? She's just the same as you. Look," You pulled the album back out.

"Here we're in the Georges' pool. She would not go to the deep end. Y'know, she refused to even go in without those arm floaties for the longest time. Eventually, some boy made fun of her for them and that was the last time.

"And in this one we're driving back from summer camp. Regina was already tall enough to go without a booster seat, but I wasn't. She'd just thrown the biggest tantrum 'cause Mrs George didn't allow her to take off her seatbelt to sleep. She went out like a light, anyway.

"We're in Six Flags there. We'd just gotten those ice creams and you can see that Regina's isn't sticking to the cone all that well. Right after the shot, it just slid off. Regina was inconsolable. I offered her mine so we could share, and that seemed to be good enough for her but her dad was not having it. He threatened to take us home if she didn't stop crying right then, that it'd be all her fault that their whole family wasted money and time on this stupid trip. Eventually she calmed down and Mr George didn't have to drive us back."

You sighed. "I already tried this with Janis, in a way. I don't think Regina would appreciate me airing out her personal life like this, but... I don't know..." You closed your eyes for a moment. "I just want people to stop making things worse for her. She's been so wrong for so long, and I know I can't keep defending her, but I just don't think revenge will make her regret anything that she's done."

Karen hummed. "My auntie's been teaching me about karma. So, like, if she feels what she's made others feel, then won't that like... Fix her?"

"I don't want to hurt her." You said, resolute. "Maybe, it could be the most effective way to make her see her shortcomings. But I don't want to. I do not want to hurt her." You looked between the two. "And that's where we differ, I guess."

Gretchen didn't say anything, eyes glued to a picture from the Six Flags trip. Regina had mustard and ketchup smeared all over her face while she was holding a napkin to your lips, in the process of wiping your face.

With that, you snatched the album from her hands, deposited it back into the locker and slammed it shut. The lock clicked. Without a word, you began to talk towards the exit. Neither of them followed you or said anything to you.

You couldn't stop people from taking their revenge. You had done your best to be diplomatic. Evoking sympathy in hormonal teenagers wasn't something easily done, or maybe you were just shitty at it, but there was little else you could do. If you went ahead and retaliated, hurt them for hurting someone you cared about, the lines blurred.

You'd just be another mean girl.

Notes: Sorry for the delay! The next chapter will be the last one, unless I start rambling or something. After that, I'll do a less structured series of epilogues. Loosely related oneshots, that kinda vibe.

Also, my writing assistant stopped working in the middle of this, so if there's stupid typos I'll come fix them later.

I swear to fucking god if the taglist doesn't work I'll start breaking bones.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism , @9unknown0 , @sage-rose2000 , @massive-honkas , @nattys-swiftie , @likefirenrain , @luz-enjoyer , @dandelions4us , @natashamaximoff-69 , @alexkolax , @jareaul0ver , @here4theqts , @charleeeesworld , @natsbiggestfan1 , @brocoliisscared , @yellowwallflowers , @scarlettbitchx , @ayoungexwife , @cyberbonesworld , @syddie-reads , @screechcat , @theenglishswiftie , @gabby-duhh , @sweetmissnothing , @masterofpuppets-10 , @l1lass , @starved-mortal , @nothanksbye07 , @nenas19 , @jvuyii , @starry-night17 , @reneeswife24 , @glorioushamsterqueen , @krononan , @slug-on-bike , @rayisaknight , @chaseatlanticlover91 , @reginassweetheart , @mirage018

(this actually makes me angry. why. why doesnt it work. i type in the @ and then i type in the name and then it shows up in the lil' box and i click it but then it don't show up ;-;)

(this is cyber bullying. the cybers are bullying me.)

(anyway, if you want to be added to the taglist there is no gurantee if it'll work, but i'll add you if you want! just comment on this post :) if anybody has any ideas why it's like this, lmk!)

[puppy-coded]

Loser Boy{S.H.}

1: Scoops Ahoy

✰ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this is just the set up for the rest of the series really </3 also not beta'd and i wrote this when my internet was bad so typos </3

✰ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, platonic!Robin Buckley x reader

✰ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k words

✰ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Robin are best friends. Inseparable. When she gets a job at Scoops Ahoy, her coworker seems... awkward.

You were walking down the halls of Hawkins High as a new transfer. Everybody knew you were new and picked on you like you were one of the freshman, even though you were a sophomore in high school and sixteen years old. You let it slide until lunch.

There was a lone freshman who seemed lost. She was eating on her own and picking at her food. You sat across from her with a smile.

"Hi. I'm (Y/N)." You greeted, opening the milk carton on your tray.

The girl stared at you for a good couple of seconds before responding. "I... I'm, uh, Robin."

Her timidness just made you smile wider. "Well hello Robin. I'm adopting you as my freshman."

The girl, Robin, blinked at you and nodded slowly, clearly not understanding your previous statement.

You scrunched your face in thought and figured out a good way to explain it. "Like... I'll protect you and stuff. And as your new best friend-"

"-We're friends?" Asked Robin, cutting you off in the process.

It was your turn to stare. You stared for a second so you could recover and your smile quickly returned to your face. "Of course silly billy. As your new best friend I shall vow to protect you until I graduate high school," You said dramatically.

Robin put her elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen." You responded, taking a sip of milk. "Why?"

Robin shook her head at your response. "I don't think I can be adopted if we're the same age. Well... Almost. I'm fifteen." She said teasingly.

"See?" You said, ignoring the first part of her answer. "I'm older than you. So as your new high school guardian we're friends now."

"... I'm not getting out of this am I?" She asked, getting up to take her now empty styrofoam tray to the trash.

You beamed brightly at your new, and really forced, friend. "Nope! We're best friends."

You had gotten a job at a small bookstore in the middle of Hawkins upon graduating high school. It was a cute little shop called The Book Nook with an equally cute cafe next door to it called The Sugar Stop.

Sure your paycheck took a hit every day you worked but it was totally worth it.

You got an employee discount and almost no one came in. You got paid for doing basically nothing.

"Hey mom," Robin greeted. "I need help."

You popped up with a stack of books from behind the counter. In Robin's mind you looked like a prairie dog.

You smiled and put the books on the counter, leaning on it dramatically, earning yourself a laugh from Robin. "You called daughter?" You asked, really playing up the "1950s stay-at-home mom" performance.

Robin smiled and pulled a folder out of her backpack. "Read over my application please?"

You grabbed the folder from her and furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. "Where are you applying to?" You asked, trying to get more information so you could help Robin better.

"Scoops Ahoy, it's at Starcourt and they need summer employees." Robin said quickly as she hopped up onto the counter next to you. She shuffled back and leaned on your register as you read over her application. "Why?"

You looked up at her seriously. "You put your mom as a reference?"

Robin shrugged. "She's chill and she'd put in a good word for me." She half-heartedly explained. "Why?"

You poked your lips out and couldn't sit still as you read. "I mean... I can't fault you. This is your first job and I put Mr. Z as my professional reference. It looks good aside from 'can fold laundry'. Don't include that. Scoops won't care," You said helpfully.

Robin smiled and hopped off the counter. "Thanks (Y/N). Glad you could help. I'll be back when I get the job." She said confidently.

You decided to let her have it. She's never confident in herself.

You hoped, for her sake, she got the job.

You were at work for most of the day, everyday that summer. It was actually so boring you started to bring hobbies to work.

This week's hobby is knitting.

You enjoyed it and it would probably stick if the job keeps being slow.

You heard the bell on the door ring and put your scarf down, fully prepared to help a customer.

"Guess who just got the best job ever scooping ice cream and getting free ice cream for the whole summer?" A familiar voice asked before coming up to the counter.

You smiled at Robin's excitement and tapped your chin as if deep in thought. "Uh... Robin-"

"Yes!"

"-Williams?"

"No!" Robin said with the same amount of enthusiasm. "It's me!"

You walked around the counter and picked up a fancy book. "This is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in leather binding. It's usually about forty-five dollars." You started to explain to Robin, going back to your spot at the register.

Robin stared at her favorite book, wide-eyed and practically salivating. "Whoa..."

You rang it up with your employee discount and put your own cash in the register. "This is your gift for getting that job. I'm proud of you Robs," You smiled. You offered her the book and she gently took it, as if it would dissipate if she accidentally handled it roughly.

Robin blinked at you before responding. "You didn't have to do that."

You waved her off and organized the table closest to you for the nth time that day. "Nonsense. It's a gift."

Robin slowly smiled at you. "In return I'll give you free ice cream for the whole summer. Boss won't mind," She winked.

"Because boss won't know," You agreed.

You went in to Scoops Ahoy witch a small skip in your step. I was really all you needed after a long day. You'd been going to Scoops everyday for the past three weeks because of Robin's free ice cream offer.

You walked into the store, awaiting your usual ice cream and talk with Robin.

Except it wasn't Robin behind the counter. It was a man. Robin's not a man.

You walked up to the counter with, probably anyway, a confused look.

"Um. We do samples." The man said awkwardly. "You- you know. If you don't know what you want yet." He offered.

"No, no. I just... Where's Robin?" You asked quietly.

The back sliding panels opened to a smiling Robin. "There's my best girlie!" She shouted. "Dingus get away from her with your germs." She said rudely, coming out from the back.

You crossed your arms and gave her a look. "Really Robin? Why don't you introduce me to your little friend over here?" You teased.

Robin grabbed the scoop from her coworker's hand and got your regular order going. "He's not really my friend per se... We're just acquaintances is all."

You nodded, grabbing your ice cream from Robin when she was done. "You're avoiding the question."

Robin sighed hevily and rolled her eyes. "Dingus, this is my best friend (Y/N). (Y/N) this is my coworker Steve. Or Dingus. He doesn't actually have a name. It's Dingus."

You shook your head playfully at the tall brunette in response to how she talked about her coworker. "Robin play nice. Anyway, nice to meet you Dingus. I'm going home early because I'm opening tomorrow and I think I'm gonna need two of these after work," You joked. "Bye guys! Have fun!" You waved enthusiastically.

Steve watched as you left and leaned on the counter next to Robin. "So... She seemed-"

"Off limits."

[lastheavens]

Letters to your past self

I find it quite common to write letters to your future self, but never to your past self. I wrote myself a letter in 6th grade that was supposed to be received upon graduating high school, but I don't think I ever got it. I wrote a letter to myself freshman year during confirmation class that I did receive after graduation. I've written a couple birthday emails to myself. However, I don't think I have ever taken the time to respond. I know that my younger self will never be able to read it but I feel like they deserve to know how life is going for me. I'm not in the same place I was then and my life has turned out so different than what I imagined for myself. So here we go.

Dear 6th grade me,

While I don't remember the contents of your letter very well I would like to let you know that you did get into a very good college. It's better than you could've imagined and you love it even though you're struggling a bit. No you didn't go through with becoming a zoologist and getting to meet giraffes. Nor did you ever pursue anything with art. You will learn in middle school that your little robotics interest is way bigger than you think. You're pursuing aerospace engineering now and you absolutely love it. You're so much happier now. You moved on from the bullying for the most part and you don't have many friends but you are doing so much better now. And no. You didn't get to eat a sandwich on the Sandwich Islands or in Sandwich, Massachusetts. Maybe one day kiddo. Make the most of that summer you'll never see her again. I love you.

Dear me from Oct 17th, 2018,

You wrote this letter to be delivered on my 14th birthday. It was only a few months later so not much changed in that time and I never felt the need to respond. Now though, I have so much more to say to you. You decided to go to that all girls school. You made some amazing friendships and become a lot more social. You were in fact not super lonely at your new school. You still keep in touch with the girl you befriended your first week of school. She went back to public school but was still your best friend. You stopped talking to everyone you knew in middle school. Not because you necessarily wanted to, but because they just weren't the people you needed in your life anymore. Some were life long friendships but they clearly weren't strong enough to last since none of them even really reached out to you. You do not make memes anymore. Also you are trans.

Dear me from Jun 27, 2020,

Hi love. Thank you for the birthday message. High school was typical high school. It had it's ups and downs but overall you got a lot out of it. You did run for robotics captain! And electrical lead your junior year! And you started a coding club. You were even Italian Honor Society Secretary! You didn't chicken out on anything and took so many opportunities. You even have club leadership your freshmen year of college. You still haven't come out to your parents and you probably never will, but you're very open on the internet and in public. You have also come to a pretty concrete conclusion on your gender identity. I know it was hard figuring that out going to a catholic school and with your parents, but you did it. You haven't transitioned yet and probably won't for a long time, but you're happy. You use he/they pronouns now. A bit of a big switch from then. As for that next question, I'm so sorry sweetheart. You are months away from the worst thing that will happen to you in your high school years. You were so wrong about that heart of gold. You're healing well now though and you're very happy in your current relationship. You are still doing art and you have figured out what you want to do! You did decided aerospace was what your heart was set on and got into one of the best schools for it. Robotics engineering isn't quite what you thought it was lol. You still try to talk to your friends but you're very busy and you don't keep in touch with many people, not even your parents. I didn't glow up quite yet but I am much happier with myself now. You were right, I do love myself, and I wish you did too. I am still working through a lot but I'm so much better than I was then. For your final question, am I happy? I think so. At least for the most part. Things are going well for me, or at least as well as they can be. I love you too past me <3. Buckle up for the next few years, they're gonna be hard but you're gonna make it through like an absolute champ. You did pretty well on the just keep going part but remember there is so much life left to live. There is so much you will get to experience.

[kpopsfic]

oblivious ꩜ eric sohn

pairing: eric sohn x gender neutral reader

genre: high school au, best friends to lovers, fluff, angst

warnings: cursing, a kind of dumb and very oblivious reader, cheating (idk if this is a warning but oh well lol), hyunjae is depicted as a pos

word count: 2.3k

written by: tiff

description: you’re constantly dating people who don’t treat you well and eric is always by your side, even if you’re a dumbass.

a/n: i wrote this sooo long ago and i apologize if there’s any inaccuracies or plot holes. i just wanted to post something about eric since deobis have been missing him a lot lately. hope you enjoy!

i.

You always considered yourself fortunate to have Eric Sohn in your life. From the moment the two of you were born, you were pretty much inseparable. He had been there for you through everything that had ever happened to you in life, and you were there for him the same way.

From the first day of kindergarten to the awkward puberty phase of middle school up until now, where you were about to graduate high school and were finalizing what colleges you wanted to attend in the fall. You were always so grateful for him, especially in the times you needed him.

Especially now as you shakily dialed his number, holding your phone up to your ear and covering your mouth in an attempt to stifle the sob that threatened to slip past your lips. However, the moment you heard his voice sleepily mutter a quiet “what’s up?” guilt weighed down your entire body.

“Did i wake you?” you asked, trying your absolute hardest to keep your voice even. but, he knew you better than anyone on the planet, and instantly knew something was wrong.

“Y/N, talk to me, tell me what’s wrong,” his voice was laden with concern, “and don’t try to tell me nothing because I know you’d be lying.”

You chuckled, ironically, sniffling a bit as you finally said, “I think Hyunjae cheated on me.”

A heavy silence filled the other end of the line. You knew Eric had ill feelings toward him the moment you introduced the two, but you stayed with him despite all of Eric’s warnings. You wouldn’t be surprised if your best friend immediately started in on the “I told you so” and “you should have listened to me,” but instead, he abruptly ended the call. you instantly started texting him.

𝗬𝗢𝗨: eric for the love of god please don’t go to his house

𝗬𝗢𝗨: if you do i will never forgive you

𝗬𝗢𝗨: i mean it

Despite all of your texting, he never replied to any of your messages. You sighed in defeat, flopping back onto your bed with fresh tears streaming down your face. You couldn’t help but stare at the video of your boyfriend - if you could even call him that at this point - kissing someone who was definitely not you.

How could you be so stupid? How could you not listen to the one person you trusted the most in this world? If you had, you wouldn’t be in the position you are now. You wouldn’t be feeling so heartbroken. You couldn’t help but text Eric again in hopes he would reply to you soon.

𝗬𝗢𝗨: i’m sorry for not listening to you

𝗬𝗢𝗨: i knew there was a chance of this happening and still got into a relationship with him anyway

𝗬𝗢𝗨: and then woke you up only to more than likely annoy you

𝗬𝗢𝗨: just…. please don’t bring harm to him, i’m afraid he’ll do something worse to you too.

You tossed your phone to the side, covering your face with your hands and letting a quiet, muffled sob rumble in your chest. You were too absorbed in your own thoughts to even hear the loud footsteps in the hallway or your door barging open. You only took notice when a weight was sinking down on the other side of your bed and a pair of arms were pulling you into their chest.

“What are you crying for, dummy?” upon hearing his voice in your ear, your practically melted into him, your tears soaking into the fabric on his shoulder.

He pulled you closer, squeezing your frame tightly against his own with a sad sigh. He hated seeing you like this, especially over a boy who didn’t give you the time of day to begin with. He just wished you weren’t so oblivious about what he felt for you.

Oblivious to how he could treat you so much better.

Finally, you pulled away and look up at him, wiping underneath of your eyes with a quiet sniffle, “I can’t talk about it here, I don’t want my parents to hear.”

“Let’s go out for a drive then,” Eric stated.

“Dude, it’s 11:00 on a school night, there’s no way they will let me leave,” you replied, half-heartedly gesturing to your desk, “besides, I have work I have to do.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Do you really think you’re gonna do your homework in the state you’re in right now? Because I don’t,” he countered, his eyebrow raised slightly as if to question you.

You shrugged at his words, “even if you’re right, my parents still won’t let me leave.”

Eric clapped his hand onto your shoulder, a sly grin stretching across his thin lips, “that’s why we sneak out, idiot. When I came in I told them I was bringing you a textbook you left at my house. When I leave, just climb out your window and meet me at my car.”

He didn’t really give you much of a chance to answer before he was practically vaulting himself off of his bed and out of your room, closing the door tightly behind him. You sighed, shaking your head.

If you got caught, he was taking the blame.

ii.

Once you were finally far enough away from your house to stop worrying, you relaxed into the passenger seat of Eric’s car and willed yourself not to start full blown crying again. He was the first to break the silence.

“How did you find out?”

You stared down at your lap, messing with a loose string at the end of one of your hoodie sleeves, “he went to a party with Kevin and Sangyeon. Apparently Chanhee as there too because he was the one who sent me the video.”

Eric’s grip on the steering wheel tightened and you could visibly see his jaw clench at your words, “they had the audacity to send you a video of it?”

You nodded, “at the end Hyunjae realized what was happened and practically begged Chanhee to turn off the camera. He said something along the lines of if I found out, I wasn’t going to let him live it down.”

After that, you continued to rant, allowing everything to be said into the open and lift the weight off your shoulders. Throughout all of it, Eric kept his eyes on the road but his ears open, listening to everything you had to say. He wanted you to feel like your feelings mattered and that he would always be by your side, no matter what.

Because he always would be, even if it broke his heart.

iii.

Despite the breakdown you had over Hyunjae, you still decided to give him a second chance. You talked with him and told him the next time anything of the sort happened, the two of you were done for good. Needless to say, Eric was more than pissed.

The moment he saw you walking hand in hand with the same man that cheated on you in the hallway, he saw red. You had only caught a glimpse of your best friend before he was storming out of the double doors, leaving school entirely.

Once fully settled in his car, he hit his hands roughly against the steering wheel, frustrated tears gliding down his face almost effortlessly at this point. When were you going to learn that you deserved better? When were you going to learn that when someone cheats once, they almost always do it again? When were you going to actually give a damn about yourself?

When were you going to acknowledge him?

As if on a queue, his phone chimed to several messages from you, ones of which expressed your concern as to why he was leaving school.

𝗬𝗢𝗨: are you okay?

𝗬𝗢𝗨: do you feel sick?

𝗬𝗢𝗨: do you want me to come with you?

𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗖: i’m fine. just didn’t feel up to being here today.

𝗬𝗢𝗨: do you want company?

𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗖: no, it’s okay. i just need to clear my head. besides, you have a test today.

𝗬𝗢𝗨: okay… be safe wherever you go today.

𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗖: i will.

𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗖: y/n?

𝗬𝗢𝗨: what?

𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗖: keep your guards up this time. i know for a fact he won’t hesitate to hurt you again.

iv.

You really wished that Eric’s advice would stop being right.

Here you were, once again, feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces. All because Lee Hyunjae didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself when he was around other people that weren’t you.

After receiving a plethora of unledgible texts from you, he was able to only make out that you needed to skip school and wanted him to come with you. He didn’t mind the skipping, really, because he hated school anyway so it was never an issue.

However, what he didn’t expect was to find you stumbling out of the bathroom with tear stained cheeks a puffy eyes. He didn’t even need to hear you say what happened before he already knew your current state was because of Hyunjae. Sighing, he grabbed your arm and practically drug you out to his car.

Once the both of you were inside, he began driving out to the spot you always went to whenever you wanted to skip class because you knew nobody would ever find you there; the creek.

The drive there was painfully silently, the car only filled with your cries and sniffles every once in a while. You could sense that Eric was fuming next to you, and you didn’t dare speak until he asked you to explain what happened this time. Within minutes you were parked in your spot, sitting at the edge of the creek with your legs drawn up to your chest. Eric studied you for a moment before he finally decided to start talking.

“Why do you always settle for the people who you know will find some way to break you?” his tone was slightly bitter as he spoke, “why do you always settle for scum?”

You were taken aback by his questions, “I- what? since when has anyone other than Hyunjae been scum? Please, enlighten me, Eric.”

“Hmm let’s see… Juyeon put you down every chance he could get, Younghoon never cared about your opinion or what you had to say, and Hyunjae cheated on you, and with every single one I told you they were gonna treat you horribly. Do I really need to continue?” he didn’t hesitate to spit out a list to you, and you felt anger beginning to bubble up in your stomach.

“Since when do you get to decide who I should and shouldn’t date?” you fired back.

“I never said that, Y/N, but I told you before all three of those relationships that you should seriously take into account how their last ones ended. I was right about them all, especially Hyunjae, and you still went back to him anyway.”

You scoffed, staring out ahead of you, “I cannot believe you just said that to me. As a best friend you’re supposed to comfort me now and tell me later that I was an idiot and needed to do better.”

Eric rose to his feet, and started to pace back and fourth along the bank of the creek. He was fuming, and you knew it. You followed suit, standing up to start walking in the opposite direction of him before his words stopped you.

“I just want to know why you gave him a second chance after he broke you so badly the first time.”

You sighed, “I don’t know, Eric. I guess I just enjoy the feeling of someone loving me even if it’s twisted.”

“You deserve someone who truly loves you.”

You laughed sadly, stating, “well in case you haven’t noticed, nobody in my life seems to love me like that.”

Something within Eric seemed to snap, and the next thing you knew, his voice was echoing throughout the woods surrounding the creek, “I do!”

“What?” the tone of surprise was evident in your voice, “Eric, what are y-“

“I love you, okay? I have loved you from the beginning of our high school career all the way up until now. I have loved you even when you were at the lowest points in your life. I’ve loved you even when you were dating those shitty people,” he yelled, “and it has broken my fucking heart every time I have to see you get walked all over and every time you’re completely oblivious to me.”

He began to walk closer to you, standing only a few feet away from you now, his chest heaving and pain dancing effortlessly in his eyes, “I love you, Y/N, why can’t you see that?”

A small silence fell between the two of you before you quietly said, “I’ve been oblivious to you because I’m afraid of losing the one person I have ever truly cared about on this earth. If we were to ever date and break up, I really don’t think I could handle it.”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” eric’s voice cracked, but you could tell how genuine his words were, “even if you don’t feel the same, I’m content with loving you without it being returned. At least this way I can still have you in my life.”

Without any hesitation, you closed the distance between the two of you and pressed your lips against his own, taking the taller boy by surprise before he finally melted into you, his hands cupping your face gently. You pulled away, looking into his eyes before saying, “a part of me has loved you this whole time too, I’ve just been too afraid to admit to myself, let alone you.”

Eric only kissed you again, this time with the reassurance that you would never lose him, that he would never treat you the way any of the other people did. Somehow, you knew everything was going to be okay.

It always was when you were with him.

[riddlerxl]

it was all cold except for the laughter

Pairing: Edward Nashton | the Riddler x GN!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: nothing really just mention of murder

Summary: halloween night comes and with it brings surprises

A/N: Part 3 to THIS (link to part 1 hehe). side note, there may be spelling/grammar mistakes. I did not proof read 0-0 also thank you to Mo and SNT for helping me brainstorm

After that night Edward walked you home, something changed between the two of you. You didn’t realize at first but he was the only person you talked to outside of coworkers. Yet the same applied to him. The suspicion you held of him being a recluse was only confirmed as your conversations went on. It was childish to admit but you had a somewhat innocent crush on him. Two whole weeks of the two of you trauma dumping to one another went by in a flash. Before you knew it, you sustained a decent amount of facts about him. Those facts being: he was an orphan who got fucked over by Thomas Wayne’s Renewal plan, grew out of the system, at age 18 he graduated High School as the salutatorian of his class, and went to community college and earned a bachelor's of science degree with a focus in finance while minoring in biochemistry. Edward was smart. It was obvious by the way he wrote you brain teasers at the start of every book you two exchanged. The answer would be on the last page of the novel with some cocky remark asking if you had solved it with no help. You would be lying if you said yes. 

If you had to use one word to describe Edward, it would be calculated.

wait for me @ the diner tonight. i’ll be there around 10.

Halloween Night. 12 AM.

The diner has never felt this lonely in months. The muted tiles wail out to you. Edward was supposed to be here hours ago. It was unlike him to stand you up. This wasn’t a date by any means; however, the prior commitment had you hopeful. You begin to get agitated. Actually, you had dressed up tonight. As childish as it may be, you thought it would be charming. In the middle of your thought process, the door to the diner slammed open. You jump, believing the place was about to get robbed. Wouldn’t that just make your night so much better? Yet the familiar messy brown hair puts your anxiety at ease.

Edward storms in, disgruntled. His hair is a mess, face red. He sits down near you, not making eye contact. It hurts you. For a man who told you he never felt seen in his life, it was odd for him to ignore you. He orders his usual as police cars rush by. The sirens are headache inducing. You move to the seat right next to him. Sitting, you break the silence.

“Well?” You ask, the annoyance clear.

Slowly, he turns his head to greet you. His irritated expression softens upon seeing your face. Whatever he was feeling before was gone and now guilt had built a residence inside of him. You give him a heartbroken look. Either he talks a big game over text or you’re going to get screwed over by the cute, mysterious diner guy. Yet he looks to you sincerely. Something was not right. There was a difference in his attitude.

“Y/N. You waited.” He answers breathlessly, “I didn’t think you would!”

Smiling, he takes your hands into his own. This was unlike him. Yet you did not question things yet. Deliberately, he rubs his right thumb over the palm of your left hand. Cold, calloused hands caress yours. The diner and sounds of Gotham city fade as you look into his frozen eyes. The crazed look he offers you is enough to have your stomach in knots. Your gut is screaming for you to run off. Something was obviously off with Edward. The way he grabbed your hands was what set you off. 

“Of course I did.” You respond, chewing on your bottom lip while pulling your hands away from his. “Edward, I have to go.”

“Alone? It’s Halloween night, y/n. Aren’t you a bit scared of who could be lurking in the shadows?” He teases.

Instead of staying to chat like you expected, you find yourself preparing to leave. So much for waiting. While you pack, he silently stares at you. Something in his eyes wails toward malice and resentment. You never did anything to hurt him. You even stayed. Waited. Once you’re all packed up, he grabs your arm with a tight grasp. The shitty television in the diner is interrupted with breaking news, the mayor was murdered in his home. So much for walking home on your own with confidence. Your eyes are taken off the television when you hear the sickly sweet voice of Edward besides you.

“At least let me walk you home again?”

You want to run away from him but you’re reminded of the pleasant few months the two of you shared. He’s still your friend. Defending him in your mind, you can’t help but feel sorry for him. All the miserable details of his unfortunate life made him like this. Before you could think it through logically, you are already nodding in agreement. Edward gets up, taking your hand into his. There is confidence in his stride. As the two of you walk out of the diner, all you can think about is this new Edward. 

Walking past the iceberg lounge, you lean into him and squeeze his arm. He chuckles to himself and squeezes your arm tighter. None of this made sense. This wasn’t Edward, this wasn’t you. By the way the two of you walk near one another, anyone can confuse you and Edward as a couple. Thank god Gotham seems to be quiet tonight. 

Upon reaching your apartment complex, he lets you go. No words had been shared during the whole walk. That was odd. This was fucking odd! The two of you stand in the orange street light, looking and waiting for any signs of life and normalcy. He still has the crazed eyes. You notice his glasses are crooked. While waiting for the other to make some sort of move, you fix his glasses. He takes this opportunity to collide his lips with yours. It’s a needy, desperate kiss. He would pull back, taking a deep breath before continuing to clumsily kiss you. His hands reach and cup your cheeks. Before you can get a word out, he’s already pulling back and placing his forehead against yours. You look into his eyes, frozen.

“You’re far too good for this city. Too precious. I can’t imagine why you would stay here.” He whispers, smirking. “Your eyes are hypnotic. You’re smart, alluring, and far too innocent for any of this. Aren’t you scared y/n? Living alone in this big bad city? You’re different.” 

You push him back, taken out of your own hypnotic gaze. Being kissed by Edward was… something. It left a knot in your stomach. You didn’t dislike it; however, you didn’t expect it. Yet, Edward stumbles back with your push. He looks at you, offended. You’re trying to think of what to say to him; but, your mouth is working faster than your brain.

“What the fuck?” You laugh out, running a hand through your hair. “What the fuck, Edward? First you show up late and act surprised I wouldn’t show up? And now.. Now you fucking kiss me! What is your problem?!” 

You hadn’t noticed at first but your voice is raised. To be fair, it felt like you were losing your mind. It was as if he was gaslighting you for months. Who was he? Who did he think he was? Yet he’s crawling back to you like a kicked puppy. Edward walks up to you, eyes watering. Whatever haze he was in, it seemed like he was snapped out of it. 

“Ah- I’m sorry.” He says softly, “Please don’t be mad at me I-I…” He cuts himself off. He looks at you with wide, soft eyes. “Don’t leave me like everyone else.”

You don’t want to entertain him. You’re already pissed. But in a way, you understand how goddamn lonely this city can get. Conflicted feelings rise in your chest. One part of you wants to scream at him to leave you alone while the other actually enjoys the kiss and wants to kiss him again. At this point, seeing him broken hurts you.

The rain starts to pick up as the two of you stand outside of your apartment. Despite all your primal instincts to stay safe, you invite him inside of your apartment.

“Actually, uh, I can’t I gotta- um- gotta go.” He says, running off into the night. 

He leaves you standing in the pouring rain with a question on your mind. What the actual fuck just happened?

[frknchrldr]

Eddie proposes to Chrissy.

So i kinda assumed you sent this ask to me in particular because you wanted something sweet, fluffy and indulgent. And well I went a little ham lol...

Any ways I hope you enjoy.

Also this is set in the same verse as into the blue again but you shouldnt need to read that for this to make sense. (:

and heres my heart

Chrissy gasps in delight as they take a familiar turn.

"Ooh are they finally done?! Does this mean we can move in this weekend?!"

He smiles. "I already scheduled the moving truck for this weekend."

She squeals in excitement and claps her hands. His heart soars at the sound.

They bought the house just over a month ago after Corroded Coffin's latest album went platinum. He had wanted to propose first but she saw the house and had insisted that it was theirs. And well he's never been very good at saying no to her.

The work they had done to turn the basement into an at home recording studio for him, was also her idea. She was too good for him, though she had insisted it was for her own selfish reasons .

'That way you can spend more time with me!'

Which he didn't mind one bit.

The only thing was, the work on the studio had been done for almost a week. He just hadn't told her until because needed time to get everything ready.

The song he wrote her, well he wrote a lot of songs for her she was his muse after all, but this one was specifically for tonight still had to be recorded. Plus he had to fly Nancy and Dustin in for their help.

Chrissy and Nancy had become close shortly after they got together. The cheer squad had shunned her and Nancy had experience with falling from the Hawkins High social ladder.

The two of them and Wayne had been at the house all afternoon getting it ready and making sure their new house didn't burn down, with the amount of candles Nancy had insisted he buy.

His first idea was to bring her onstage at one of his shows and get down on one knee making his love for her known to the thousands of people in the audience.

It only took about five seconds to realize two important faults in that plan. It was something Carver would have done, making it more about himself than her. And more importantly she would have absolutely hated it.

Chrissy didn't mind going on stage with him from time to time but she also prefers the most important parts of their relationship to be private between the two of them. Which he gets and honestly this will definitely be better.

He pulls up in the driveway to their house and damn if that wasn't a trip.

They owned this place outright.

Sometimes his life felt completely unreal. Like he had been living in a fever dream, living out his wildest fantasies. And it all started that day she very loudly asked him to buy drugs from him in the middle of school.

By the end of the day they were making out on his couch. They had graduated together and then he and the band had followed her to UCLA that fall.

He was still amazed that they were picked up by a major record label within a year. Another year after that they were selling out arenas. His life made no sense sometimes.

The sound of her unbuckling herself stirs him from his memories as he quickly starts to get out of the car. As he does so he "accidently" hits the horn. (The agreed upon signal to let the others know they were here.)

He gives a quick "oops" at her confused look, shit she totally knows something's up. Oh well no option but to keep going. He hops out and runs to open her door.

As they reach the front door he says "Welcome to our castle m'lady."

She gives a giddy giggle then as the door opens she gasps again and her hands come up to her mouth.

Read the rest on ao3

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[tillidontneedfantasy]

A Track-by-Track Breakdown of Taylor Swift’s 9th Studio Album: ‘evermore’

“My collaborators and I are proud to announce that my 9th studio album and folklore’s sister record is here. It’s called evermore,” is how Taylor Swift introduces us to this album in its foreword. One might assume a “sister record” would entail b-sides, or tracks that didn’t quite make the cut for folklore, despite Taylor’s explanation that “we just couldn’t stop writing songs.” evermore’s release came at a strange time, upon the heels of the Folklore: Long Pond Studio Sessions film on Disney+, as well as 5 Grammy nominations for folklore. The world still captivated by folklore, it’s understandable why one might not consume evermore as critically. Even as a die-hard fan, I felt some whiplash by this announcement; I am still processing folklore! Hell, I’m still processing reputation!

If this was the Taylor from two years ago, this may have been a big enough fear of hers to hold off on releasing evermore. But as she explained upon folklore’s surprise release, life is too unpredictable now, and there are zero givens or guarantees. So she followed the same path this time (although making sure it fell in line with her birthday weekend). But it’s not just the strategic timing of the release that she’s thrown out the window for now, but also her mindset whilst making records. As she explains in the evermore album foreword,

“I’ve never done this before. In the past I’ve always treated albums as one-off eras and moved onto planning the next one as soon as an album was released. There was something different with folklore. In making it, I felt less like I was departing and more like I was returning. I loved the escapism I found in these imaginary/not imaginary tales. I loved the ways you welcomed the dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found. So I just kept writing them.”

This is a revelation for Swift, to let the music lead her into artistic freedom, which is what makes evermore such a triumphant return. Truly folklore’s sister record, Taylor wrote evermore with the same creative team: Aaron Dessner of The National (Swift’s favorite band), long-time pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, and William Bowery aka Swift’s boyfriend, Joe Alwyn (as officially revealed in the Long Pond Studio Sessions). Additionally, former 1989 tour openers and close friends of Taylor, the HAIM sisters, join the crew, along with Marcus Mumford for some dreamy backup vocals.

The production is just as wistful and mesmerizing as it was on folklore, yet the storytelling on evermore is kicked up a notch, expanding on the topics and worldbuilding established in its sister record, with even sharper lyrics and an effective and elaborate use of alliteration. The best thing about Taylor is that no matter what she does, her masterful lyricism is always at the heart of her art, and somehow, she keeps getting better. Once again, I wanted to explore the rich stories she’s crafted in this woodsy universe. This is how I’ve interpreted the album, but I hope you find your own meaning in the songs as well.

1. willow It is fitting that the opening track to folklore’s sister album, where we wade further into the forest that is Taylor Swift’s imagination and storytelling, would center on the type of tree that is a symbol of hope, belonging, safety, stability, and healing. “willow,” one of the few more obviously autobiographical tracks on the album, is a hymn of gratitude for her man (as she wants you to know, yes, thirteen times), Joe Alwyn, and how the invisible string tethering them together pulled her to him in a time when everyone else was counting her out. Though not as present on many of the other songs later to come on this record, you can feel the lightness in her heart on this song as she embraces the way in which the willow has bent, wrecking her plans, throwing her into the water and leaving her happily lost and afloat in his current. The downward key modulation throughout the last two repetitions of the chorus is beautiful and very fitting for Swift vocally, but also sounds like the feeling of finding your comfort and settling into it, basking it in while you wait for the next place the wind pulls you. Best lyric: “Now this is an open/shut case / I guess I should’ve known from the look on your face / Every bait and switch was a work of art.”

2. champagne problems On the second track of the album, Taylor dives back into the fictional worldbuilding she began to explore on folklore. While on folklore high school relationships and dramatics took center-stage, evermore graduates from adolescence to young adulthood, not that it is any easier emotionally on the listener’s heart. “champagne problems” chronicles a rejected marriage proposal between two college sweethearts at their old dorm building. Taylor sings as the narrator, a reflective, self-deprecating young woman who jokes about belonging in a madhouse and dismisses all her turmoil as champagne problems. The term ‘champagne problems’ itself could have various meanings here: their trivial concerns, the fact that their “sister splashed out on the bottle” of champagne that they will not be using to celebrate as they had hoped, or perhaps it could even hint that excessive drinking is a piece of all the ways the narrator is “fucked in the head,” as they said. Although the person she is singing to is the one who got hurt in the story, the hurt in the narrator’s heart is just as palpable and relatable, because you only have yourself to blame when you self-destruct. Best lyric: “’She would’ve made such a lovely bride, / what a shame she’s fucked in the head,’ they said / but you’ll find the real thing instead / she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.”

3. gold rush On her YouTube live chat prior to the album’s release, Taylor explained that this song “takes place inside a single daydream where you get lost in thought for a minute and then snap out of it.” The daydream consists of a love story so pure that the town had never seen such a thing; it could only happen in a fantasy for the narrator. How could she possibly have the gall to call them out on their contrarian shit, or end up with her Eagles t-shirt hanging from their door, when they are so coveted by all, and when she cannot withstand the thought of even competing? She sings, “My mind turns your life into folklore / I can’t dare to dream about you anymore,” a sweet little connecting piece to this album’s older sister, effectively convincing herself out of the idea of jumping into the chaos of the gold rush because even inside her own imagination it’s too dangerous. Best lyric: “I don’t like that falling feels like flying ‘till the bone crush.”

4. ‘tis the damn season According to Aaron Dessner, Taylor had written the lyrics for “’tis the damn season” in the middle of the night amidst their Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions recording after a long night of chatting and drinking with their co-conspirator, Jack Antonoff. The lyrics perfectly encapsulate the guttural ache the track evokes. It is a tale of two people who always find their way back to one another in their hometown, which acts as the ever-returning fork in the road. The path taken, back to L.A. in pursuit of her dreams, is the one she chose and continues to choose, but whenever she returns home, she takes a ride down the road not taken, just to get a taste of what could have been, even if just for the weekend. What starts off as an icy homecoming always transforms into the warmest intimacy. The success of this track is aligned with the success of Taylor’s entire career; even with such specific details, it feels so deeply personal to the listener. You know the street you’d drive along late at night laughing, the spot you’d park the car, the person who stars in every what-if. You will never really know if the road not taken is as good as it seems, but that might be ok; sometimes, the fantasy is better than the reality, anyway. Best lyric: “It’s the kind of cold / fogs up windshield glass, but I felt it when I passed you / There’s an ache in you / put there by the ache in me.”

5. tolerate it Inspired by the novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, “tolerate it” is an agonizing track from the perspective of a devoted wife who polishes plates and paints portraits and waits by the door for her husband with a battle hero’s welcome, who at best tolerates all her adoration. There are few things as painful as idolization being met with indifference, when you have all this love to give to someone who just leaves it there untouched. “tolerate it” captures that desperation for the approval you know will never arrive, but you sit and watch, waiting for it just in case you’re wrong, but you know you’re not. Best lyric: “I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life / drawing hearts in the byline”

6. no body, no crime feat. HAIM “no body, no crime,” the one evermore song solo-written by Taylor, has the clearest plot from beginning to end. In the same vein as the female powerhouse country classic “Goodbye Earl” by The Chicks, Taylor is out for blood to avenge her friend, Este (named for one of the HAIM sisters). The story goes as such: Este’s husband kills her for calling him out on his infidelity, and then Taylor kills the husband and frames his mistress. The HAIM girls, who are long-time friends of Taylor’s and former touring mates, lend their vocals to reinforce the accusation on the husband and to provide Taylor’s alibi. “no body, no crime” is so far the closest we’ve gotten to a return to “country Taylor,” proving that she is still the master of a killer country tune (yes, pun intended, it had to be done I’m sorry). Best lyric: “Good thing Este’s sister’s gonna swear she was with me / (she was with me, dude) / Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy”

7. happiness Written a week before the album’s release, “happiness” is one of Swift’s strongest and most reflective breakup songs. Although she writes it as though it is recent, there’s a lot of power in knowing that she’s been happily in love for four years, and that she is even better now at doing the thing that has always been best at. She is finally “above the trees,” as she sings, and is able to see it all for what it is, but her character is still in the heat of it all, trying to navigate the stages of grief when a relationship ends. We see the narrator grapple with many of those stages throughout the song. Most striking is the anger displayed in the second verse when she sings: “I hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you / No, I didn’t mean that, / sorry, I can’t see facts through all of my fury.” That section is jarring and feels like one of the most honest moments in a Taylor song, the insanely difficult emotional balancing act when we are grieving a relationship. The devastation of loss can distort our perception, and a part of that is the difficulty of understanding how multiple seemingly opposing things can co-exist in our hearts, such as happiness because of someone and happiness after them. But when you leave it all behind and finally find your place above the trees, you can find happiness after someone and also look back and appreciate the happiness they once provided. Both of these things can be true. Best lyric: “Showed you all of my hiding spots / I was dancing when the music stopped.”

8. dorothea Taylor Swift has the uncanny ability to create such developed and well-rounded characters with such little information, which is what makes her storytelling so compelling. In “dorothea,” we learn much about the title character through the narrator’s eyes, and the relationship they once had. The lyric “skipping the prom just to piss off your mom and her pageant schemes” alone tells an entire story in itself. “dorothea” is also the companion song to “’tis the damn season,” just from the other person’s perspective, which helps shine even more light on the story. The narrator of “dorothea” reveres her but wonders if she’s still the same soul in L.A. as she was back in their never-changing town. Whatever the answer, they’re still willing to support her no matter where she is, but she’s always welcome back in Tupelo by her hometown love’s side if she ever just wants to be herself rather than someone known for who they know. Besides, they’re the only soul who can tell which smiles she’s faking. And you can always return to the road not taken. Best lyric: “They all wanna be ya / but are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? / Well, I guess I’ll never know / and you’ll go on with the show.”

9. coney island feat. The National What really started the folklore / evermore journey was Taylor’s love for The National. Taylor has cited them as one of her favorite bands for many years, and as we know, this led to her beautiful new collaborative relationship with Aaron Dessner. So it would make sense for the track written with the intention of this duet to be so well executed; you can feel the love and care Taylor put into writing this song. In her press for these sister albums, she has spoken about trying to channel frontman Matt Berninger’s writing style. But what actually happened was she just produced her own signature lyricism at its sharpest. “We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be / the mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams / sorry for not winning you an arcade ring over and over,” is a hall of famer Swift-ian lyric. “coney island” explores the confusion, hurt, and self-reflection when a passionate affair burns out fast because you did not prioritize that person. And to top it off, Swift and Berninger’s harmonies are achingly beautiful, transporting you right there in the story, on the bench, wondering, over and over. Best lyric: “Do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? / Will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?”

10. ivy Leave it to Taylor Swift to make a song about an affair sound so romantic, and so sympathetic to the narrator, that you’re rooting for adultery. “ivy” tells the tale of a woman in a lifeless marriage, likening her home with him to the tombstone that the widow in town visits each day. I like to think this is the same wife whose husband was out there building other worlds without her in “tolerate it,” because then that means she found someone who celebrates her love, who holds her pain for her, who blooms all over her; they started it, but she’s fighting for it all the way to the end, nonetheless. “ivy” showcases Swift’s gorgeous vocals and her sharp lyrics, with a melody so infectious it is bound to permanently plant its roots in your dreamland. Best lyric: “Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”

11. cowboy like me With the beautifully blended backing vocals of Marcus Mumford, “cowboy like me” is an entrancing love story of two con artists who lost at their own game and got conned into forever with each other. She’d gone from swindling old men for their money and fancy cars to falling victim to the danger of dancing with someone who only has eyes full of stars, and she knows she’ll pay for it. “cowboy like me” is one of the most romantic tracks on the record, proving that life never plays out quite as we plan. Best lyric: “Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon / with your boots beneath my bed / Forever is the sweetest con.”

12. long story short One of the more pop-sounding tracks on evermore, “long story short” is pretty much a summary of the long story behind reputation (2017). The song is filled with various metaphors for her reputation crumbling around her, and then finally putting her defenses down to be with her lover, someone as “rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky.” It is a sweet ode to her boyfriend, and a gentle comfort to her past self that it will all work out. But it is also an oddly relatable example of how we shrug off our struggles and minimize them to just a “bad time,” when the time she is singing about was obviously something that deeply affected her (as will be further explored in the title track); but sometimes it actually feels good to just shrug it off as just a blip in your life, because at the end of the day, you survived, and that’s what counts- even if you’re not keeping score anymore. Best lyric: “Pushed from the precipice / clung to the nearest lips / long story short, it was the wrong guy. / Now I’m all about you.”

13. marjorie Whereas track 13 on folklore was a tribute to Swift’s paternal grandfather, evermore’s track 13 is a tribute to her maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, who was an opera singer in the 50s, and passed away in 2003 when Taylor was 13 years old. “marjorie” is quite possibly the most touching track Taylor has ever written thus far in her career. Grief is one of the most difficult topics to tackle in a song; the genius of “marjorie” is that it is simple, yet not understated. Swift reflects on the profound lessons she learned from her grandmother, about the difficult balances of kindness and cleverness, and politeness and power. She curses herself for not cherishing the moments she had with her, for complaining rather than understanding in the moment how admirable her spirit was, for all the amber skies she’d love but will never see. The chorus, blunt and hard-hitting, reminds us that someone does not have to be living to be alive, to be all around, to be with us. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing to me now,” Taylor sings towards the end of the song, right before you hear a sample of Finlay’s opera singing in the background, a truly eye-swelling moment. It is clear that Finlay played a pivotal role in Swift’s own ambitions, as she sings, “all your closets of backlogged dreams, and how you left them all to me.” Marjorie knew she was leaving them in good hands. If you haven’t yet, check out the moving lyric video for the song, where you can see photos and video clips of Marjorie, both throughout her career and in her time with Taylor. Best lyric: “Never be so polite you forget your power, / never wield such power you forget to be polite.”

14. closure On the most experimental track musically on the record, Taylor writes off her need for closure from a relationship of some sort, whether it be romantic or platonic or business, all of which can cause hurt of equal intensity. The subject of the song is trying to make nice with Taylor, and she is just not having it, as it is not coming from a genuine place, but rather to ensure that their life remains picture perfect, or to clear their guilty conscience, or to preserve their own ego. This is a deeply relatable sentiment; as valuable as forgiveness can be, sometimes the person who hurt you just doesn’t deserve it, and all you can do is forgive yourself for blocking their number or shredding their letters. Best lyric: “I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life / staying friends would iron it out so nice.”

15. evermore feat. Bon Iver To close out the standard edition of the album, Taylor joins forces once again with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, with whom she collaborated on the Grammy-nominated duet, “exile” for folklore. However, Swift leads most of the track this time, lamenting the difficult time she went through in 2016. The piano and Swift’s vocals are haunting, particularly when she describes this time in her life as “catching my death,” consumed by a pain that she feels will never end. If you’ve ever been depressed, you know what that feels like, and the dark places it leads you. Although she is singing about a time four years prior, it sounds so present, and it is heartbreaking to hear her in such a state. When Bon Iver comes in, the tempo of the song picks up, the piano riff becomes more erratic, like a winter storm hitting you in the face, and he voices all the anxieties of the cost of such a downfall. But through those anxieties, Taylor finds not a cure, but an anchor in love, and then the tempo slows back down. By the end of the song, Taylor has the foresight to understand that although it may not feel like it now, the pain she is experiencing is not permanent (a sentiment my therapist has been trying to instill in me for years). In her Apple Music interview with Zane Lowe, Taylor explained how the lyrics parallel the times we are in currently, and so it feels really special to have the album end with someone who knows how it feels to be imprisoned by your pain gently comfort us with the wisdom that “this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.” I hope one day soon, as we leave 2020 far behind, we can all truly believe her. Best lyric: “I was catching my breath / barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death.”

16. right where you left me (bonus track) The first bonus track on evermore, “right where you left me,” captures a moment so earth-crushing, a piece of you is trapped in it forever. In this song specifically, the narrator finds herself stuck in the same corner of a restaurant where she was told by someone she loved that they had met someone else. “Glass shattered on the white cloth, everybody moved on,” she sings in mourning. We have all experienced those moments that we could teleport back to if we just closed our eyes; the scenery, what you wore, the smell and taste of the season, the very point in your body where it felt like your insides were collapsing. Or that one particular person, who is long-gone from your life but seeing them is like time-travelling back to that person you once were, ready to pick up where you left off. But as much as you want to stay in that moment forever, just in case it changes in your favor, the cold reality is that the world stops for no one. Best lyric: “If our love died young, I can’t bear witness / And it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong / I’m right where you left me.”

17. it’s time to go (bonus track) “right where you left me” was Taylor’s cry for help to get out of restaurant, and “it’s time to go” is the answer to the call, as she sings in the first line, “when the dinner gets cold, and the chatter gets old / you ask for the tab.” This song is about gathering the strength to leave situations and relationships behind that no longer serve you. She grieves the betrayal of someone she thought to be a twin from her dreams (almost definitely referring to former friend, Karlie Kloss), acknowledges that keeping a marriage together for the sake of the kids often actually has the opposite intended effect (possibly- but not certainly- something she and her brother experienced), and recounts attempting to bargain with someone consumed by greed, only able to leave with herself (absolutely referring to the end of her fifteen-year long business relationship with Scott Borchetta, her former record-label owner). But as painful as leaving all of those situations was, Taylor has gained the wisdom to understand that walking away sometimes takes as much strength as persevering. You can’t stay at the restaurant, or at the mercy of someone else forever; you have to forge your own path, even if it’s in the opposite direction of what you envisioned for so long. And even with all her past success behind her, as folklore and evermore have proved, there is so much more ahead of her. Best lyric: “That old familiar body ache, the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul / You know when it’s time to go.”

In a time where we are all trapped in our homes and in our heads, the folklore/evermore experience has been the sweetest escape. If anything, the creation of these wonderful sister records has taught me that our most powerful tool in times of distress is our own imagination. Even just the ability to close my eyes while listening to one of these tracks and feel the character’s story is a gift. The way I’ve always been able to pick up Harry Potter and escape to Hogwarts when I’ve felt alone and friendless, I can listen to folklore and evermore when I feel scared or hopeless and escape into this enchanted forest Taylor has built, where I can climb above the trees and see it all for what it is. I feel so lucky to watch Taylor’s imaginative world unravel around me. I can’t wait to see what she creates next.

DISCLAIMER – REVIEWER’S BIAS: I would literally die for this bitch.  

[immacaria]

Box of Memories

Happy belated birthday, A-Sang! Wish you all the joy and love life has reserved for you!

Almost three weeks after the actual birthday I've finally finished this thanks to my dear school (grinds teeth angrily). Anyway, this is a bit short, like almost 4k or something, and I took this insanely amount of time because of school, but it's alright I finished it now. So I hope you guys enjoy this and I can make your day a little brighter with it. As always, stay safe and healthy!

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It was Nie Huaisang’s birthday and Jiang Cheng was more anxious than when he had to survive Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen and Meng Yao’s shove talk one after the other. For the heavens and all above, they had been dating for four years now and met each since they were five and six! There was no reason for him to be so nervous! They passed so many birthdays, with so many presents exchanged and Jiang Cheng was still nervous. And just because he made the present with his own hands and it turned out horrible!

Like not the ‘you can’t even look at’ type of horrible, but the ‘didn’t meet my expectations exactly what immediately makes it horrible’ type of horrible. He started doing it exactly two days later after Nie Huaisang said he wanted it and guaranteed that nobody would buy it for him, exactly nine months and eight days before his birthday. He had seen it on Pinterest, in a video where a girl was making a “box of memories” (as Jiang Cheng came to call it) for her younger sister.

She had chosen their favourite memory and made something like a box of shadows to show it. There was a light bulb in the middle with various metal plates cut in the shape of the memories. When turned on, the metal plates started to revolve around the light bulb and create images on the wall, recreating the memory with the shadows. Nie Huaisang loved it and showed it to every person who he knew could give one for him or make one. Thankfully, none of them could give it right away which gave Jiang Cheng enough time to plan how he would do it.

It all began with him asking what memory he would use of all his favorites and asked what happened there, memorizing them to the heart and writing everything down the second he saw himself alone. His drawing skills weren’t as good as Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen’s, but as long as they remained a sketch, they would do. After sketching it all, he went to Nie Mingjue and asked him to teach him how to cut the metal plates and arrange them properly in the other metal pieces. Apparently, there was a machine that did that for them, the only thing they needed to do was insert the images and the sizes of the plates and let it do what it needed to do. Which led Jiang Cheng to ask for some draw lessons from Lan Xichen and digital design from Lan Wangji, which cost several years of his life but he guessed he was bound to do everything needed for his boyfriend.

He planned everything on the little planner he bought (if it was specifically brought for that no one needed to know) and every day he ticked something off. Besides the box of memories, he wrote a letter everyday to him and hid it in the last drawer of his wardrobe under piles and piles of clothes. From Open it now to Open it when you are sixty years old and Open it when you are in doubt about us, everyday a letter for 281 days and too much ink, paper and ideas, too much feelings engraved in those. But should he regret it, knowing that it would make Nie Huaisang happy? The boy loved this kind of old, romantic things like handwritten letters, so why shouldn’t he give it to him too? Handwritten letters with little doodles on the edges of the paper and little trinkets.

At the beginning of May, Jiang Cheng started putting it all together, doing the last reviews and adjustments. Once the plates were done, he called Wei Wuxian to help with the electric part of the thing, the shameless idiot being graduated in electrical engineering somehow. He had to endure his little ramble about how he had become so romantic and how considerate of somebody else’s feelings, how he was going miles out of what everyone said was normal. It would be a lie if Jiang Cheng ever said that he wasn’t slightly proud and happy upon hearing that.

They made slow progress but the present was ready six days before the due date, which gave Jiang Cheng enough anxiety and stress for the rest of his life (good thing he took on his mother’s side of genetics and wasn’t getting any white hairs until a very, very old age). Would Nie Huaisang find out the present before his birthday? Would he hate it or love it? Would he simply be neutral about all the gifts? Would he fake liking it? What could possibly happen once he gives it to him? Would it destroy their relationship?

On March 20, Jiang Cheng was about to have a stroke or an aneurysm or both of them probably. Just some more hours and they would see if Nie Huaisang liked the present or not. Since it had been ready, the poor present had been tested countless times to see if it worked properly (it did, thank gods), changed locations incessantly while he wrote every single letter by hand before making a wooden box and putting all he had made in there. The memory box, the 281 letters and some fans he bought in the Yunmeng market that reminded him of Nie Huaisang.

Early on, he had promised Nie Huaisang that he would help him with the birthday’s decorations and preparations for everything . After that, he made a quick run to his house to take a bath and try to calm himself because he couldn’t throw up in the party, he even got time to test it again, watching as Nie Huaisang’s favourite memory of all time played on his bedroom wall. It was practically memorized by now, the way the images followed one by one in quick succession, recreating a story that he could tell even if he had amnesia.

Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue and their parents were the main characters in the memory. Nie Huaisang was maybe four or five years old while Nie Mingjue was something like sixteen or seventeen years old and they were travelling to the small cabin they passed the holidays. He always said that that weekend was the best one of his life, one where his entire family was together and happy, complete. This memory in particular was one where Nie Huaisang was being thrown in the air by his father to land in the arms of one of his mothers while Nie Mingjue and their second mother were suffering a heart attack. Even though there was some melancholy in his eyes, he always spoke fondly and laughed about the face his brother made when he landed on their mother’s arms and passed the rest of the weekend guaranteeing that their father wouldn’t do another one of those again.

Jiang Cheng would die as a happy man if he could make him as happy as he was on that day, even if for one day. Well, not die, he was still too young to die, but he would feel fulfilled and satisfied. So, he tried to focus on that when he stepped inside the party, clutching to the wooden box and breathing deep. He’s going to like it, he’s not going to hate me, he’s going to smile because of the present, everything is going to be fine, we are not breaking up. Okay, maybe he was a little bit paranoid and afraid of what was going to happen, but he was fine, he was going to be fine. He just needed to loosen up and enjoy the party until it was time to open the presents.

“A-Cheng!” Nie Huaisang said, throwing his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his neck. Jiang Cheng only had time to pull the box to the side to prevent him from getting hurt before putting an arm around his waist and kissing his temple. “Tell your brother to stop being mean to me on my birthday.”

“If Lan Wangji can’t control him, what makes you think I can?” He said, still holding him. “Happy birthday, Huaisang, many years of life and happiness for you.” He kissed his temple again before stepping away and showing him the present. “For you.”

“Oh, A-Cheng! You didn’t need to! You are already present enough.” He gasped, taking the box of his hands while Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at him. He always said that but he remembered very well what he did to Jin Zixuan when the man showed up without his present. He didn’t want to be in the same ending of his fury, thank you very much.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” He rolled his eyes again, bending a little to let Nie Huaisang kiss his cheek.

“I don’t know what you gave me, but I already love it.” He smiled brightly at him, walking to the kitchen and carefully choosing a place to put it. The kitchen was loaded with presents, some big, others small, colorful wraps or black and white with an interesting pattern on it, some didn’t even had proper wraps around it. There were a lot of presents and for a moment Jiang Cheng’s brain simply went blank and decided that, for sure, there was one that topped his present. Which was nonsense, but still served to increase his stress and anxiety (once again he thanked his genetics for not getting white hairs early). “C’mon, let’s go to the living room. Da-ge is telling some story from when we were children.”

“Is he telling the green incident? Because if he is, I would rather stay in the kitchen.” And check if the other presents are better than mine so I can throw them out the window.

“Of course not! Da-ge doesn’t remember that story anymore.” He waved him off, entering the room in the exact moment Nie Mingjue said:

“Then a bucket of green paint fell into his head.” His thunderous laugh filled the room as he started to tell the amazing story of how Nie Huaisang managed to dye himself green after he dumped a whole bucket of paint on his head when he was seven years old.

“Da-ge!” He screamed, going red instantly. “What are you doing?!” He yelped, high-pitched, as he threw a cushion at him. “Shut up!”

“What? I was just talking about the green dye you did on your skin.” He laughed again, dodging the cushion and showing his tongue to him. It was strange to see a man of his size acting like that, but sincerely Jiang Cheng sometimes forgot that he too was human and (kind of) young. “Hey, Wanyin, do you want to sit here?”

“Hey, hey, hey. No stealing boyfriends on my birthday or ever, Da-ge. You already have two.” He wrapped himself around his arm, glaring at his brother. “Stop being so selfish, Da-ge.”

“Selfish? Take that back, brat, before I break your legs.” He narrowed his eyes at him, pointing a finger at him.

“It’s his birthday and you don’t get to threaten the birthday boy, Jue-ge.” Lan Xichen sighed, pulling his hand down. He was beside Nie Mingjue and sitting next to Lan Wangji, talking quietly between the two of them before the threats started rolling out.

“Stop covering him, Lan Xichen.” He turned to him as Nie Huaisang pulled him to the bench next to the window and between two high bookshelves full of sketchbooks, some completed, others completely blank.

“So, what’s your present?” He suddenly asked, playing with Jiang Cheng’s fingers.

“What? It’s a fucking surprise, A-Sang, I can’t tell you.” He spurred, furrowing his eyebrows at him.

“But, A-Cheng, yours were the heaviest of it all. What is it?” He shook his arm, doing the puppy eyes. The fucking puppy eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. Stop, A-Sang.” He growled, avoiding looking at him. “You know I can’t take the puppy eyes.”

“A-Cheng~.” He laid ahead, searching for his eyes. And, heavens, who taught that boy that? Nie Mingjue for sure was not. Maybe Meng Yao. Yeah, definitely Meng Yao. Jiang Cheng was going to kill Meng Yao for teaching Nie Huaisang that. “Please~. I want to know.”

“Ok, ok, ok. Just one part, okay?” Jiang Cheng pushed him away, feeling the back of his neck heating up.

“From how many parts?” His eyes were shining and attentive which meant that he was probably making a million combinations on his head, comparing and guessing what he could possibly ever get him.

“I’m not going to tell you.” He scowled, taking a deep breath. “One part of your presents is fans, okay? I got you some fans.”

“Really?!” His eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his bangs. “I love fans.”

“I know, A-Sang.” He breathed out, kissing his fingers.

“But I love you more.” He smiled, leaning to kiss him lightly on the lips. “I love you so much more than the fans.” He murmured against them, hands on his neck.

“Idiot.” He chuckled, kissing him back while smiling. He always seemed to smile easily when he was near him, breath was easier too. Sincerely, Nie Huaisang just made things easier just by being near him, just his presence and, maybe, it was the reason why he wanted to do everything in his power to make him happy as he could be. “I love you too.”

“More than dogs and A-Ling?” He sat between his legs, back against his chest.

“Don’t push your luck.” He may love A-Sang, but dogs and his nephew were more important, they always brought instant happiness with them. Next to him, Nie Huaisang was chuckling quietly, pulling both of Jiang Cheng’s arms around his waist and putting his hands above before starting to talk with Meng Yao about some new exposition of them and all the technicalities involving it.

Jiang Cheng let himself fall back into the security of all the conversations around him that didn’t involve him and the warmth of Nie Huaisang on his arms and against his chest. Slowly his panic disappeared from his mind as the time passed and the presents weren’t mentioned not even once. Almost everyone was there, the only ones missing being Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli and their newborn Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng’s little sweetheart, who were overseas to look over the inauguration of Jiang Yanli’s new restaurant in Las Vegas (To say that Jiang Cheng was crazely proud of her would be an understatement).

Either way, no amount of time would be enough to prepare him for when Wei Wuxian and MianMian appeared in the kitchen bringing the cake and the tray of sweets. The candle was already lit up and displaying the number 23, as if nobody knew how old Nie Huaisang was. He dislocated his hands enough to clap but not remove his arm from around his waist. Nie Huaisang laughed, clapping according to the music, but sunken further on his chest, refusing to move another millimeter as his ears went adorably red.

“Happy birthday, Nie Huaisang!” Everyone screamed when the song ended, blowing confetti over them. The screams and whistles became a cacophony as Nie Huaisang blew out the candle and laughed out loud, putting both of his hands over his mouth.

“Happy birthday, Nie-xiong!” MianMian hugged him after Wen Qing, her girlfriend, took the cake from her. “Many, many years of happiness and fulfillment to you, my dear. Hope you enjoy mine and A-Qing’s present.” She winked, mischievously.

“What have you given me, MianMian?” Nie Huaisang said, eyes wide.

“Nothing you can open in front of Da-ge.” She laughed, absolutely delighted at his terrified face and Jiang Cheng’s groan. He had noticed that everyone had a tendency of calling Nie Mingjue ‘Da-ge’.

“No! You stole my idea!” Wei Wuxian complained, giving him a half-hug and equilibrating the tray of sweets on the other arm. “Many years of love and laughter, Nie-xiong, may time and life treat you well.” He fully hugged him once MianMian came back to take the tray away from him, calming Jiang Cheng’s anxiety.

“I want to see what those two gave you. No excuses.” Nie Mingjue said, serious, before crushing him in a tight hug. “Happy anniversary, didi. I’m very proud of you and what you have become. Ma, Baba and Mother would be so, so proud of you and happy for all the friends and people you have around you.” He may or may not have sniffed on that part, hiding his face on his brother’s neck.

“Thank you, Da-ge. They would be very proud of you too.” Nie Huaisang whispered back and Jiang Cheng saw him blink repeatedly to avoid the tears from falling out.

“He grew up so fast.” He mourned, resting his head on Lan Xichen’s shoulder while Meng Yao hugged and wished him a happy birthday and life. Once he was done and it was Lan Xichen’s turn, Nie Mingjue wrapped himself over him, sniffing loudly. After that, the other guests did a quick succession of ‘Happy Birthday’ and wishes for a good and long life. Not for a moment Nie Huaisang stepped away from Jiang Cheng, always at arm’s reach of his hands. Not that he had tried to pull him back when he stepped away, Jiang Cheng would never do that.

“So, A-Sang, now that all the wishes have been given and Wangji-ge and I have cut the cake. For whom is the first piece?” MianMian asked, holding a plate with a piece of cake to him.

“A-Cheng!” He quickly answered, turning to him. “For being the best boyfriend a man could ask. And not being too scared of Da-ge.”

“I’m not that scared of Mingjue-ge, but thank you, I guess.” Jiang Cheng said, taking the plate from his hands and completely refusing to look over where Nie Mingjue was.

“Woah, he didn’t even hesitate.” Wei Wuxian said, surprised. “I could swear he was going to give it to Da-ge.” That was it, Jiang Cheng was now certain that everyone, except for maybe Wen Qing, saw Nie Mingjue as an older brother. But, well, were they wrong?

“Da-ge has received many first pieces in his life. It’s A-Cheng’s time.” Nie Huaisang scrunched his nose at him before jogging to the kitchen. “C’mon people! Eat, eat! I want to open my presents!”

Jiang Cheng chuckled, starting to eat the cake as the others were doing a line to receive their own piece and, fucking hell, he understood why they wanted one. The cake was divine! It was fluffy and tasty, exploding in the mouth the moment you bite it and it wasn’t too sweet. It was possibly the best cake he ever had the pleasure to eat and by the look of the other’s face, they thought that too.

“Nie-xiong, who made the cake? I want their number.” Wei Wuxian said, pleasure written all over his face. “It’s so good!”

“Oh, it was Wangji and Da-ge.” Nie Huaisang said, pointing at them. Everyone turned their heads to them, looking in awe.

“Lan Zhan?! But he never did one of me.” Wei Wuxian complained, pouting.

“Mingjue-ge made the dough and I did the frosting and the decorations.” Lan Wangji passed a piece of cake to Wen Ning.

“And the sweets. He did the sweets too.” Nie Mingjue said, throwing one of the sweets in his mouth.

“Which are fucking marvellous!” MianMian exclaimed, doing a thumbs up for him.

“No speaking while eating.” He and Lan Xichen said in unison, without looking at her. After that everyone focused on eating the cake and the sweets. Nie Huaisang came back to sit beside Jiang Cheng, taking the sweets he didn’t like to his own plate. Most of them got a second piece and more sweets because those things were really fucking good.

“Now, the presents!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, excited and sending Jiang Cheng’s heartbeat to space. “I’m excited.” He was jumping on his seat.

“Whose present will you open first?” Lan Xichen said, getting up and going to the kitchen.

“A-Cheng’s.” He smiled as he started to bring the presents from the kitchen. Jiang Cheng prayed that his panic weren’t showing on his face nor his anxiety because his mind was running a mile per hour.

He was going to open the present and see how horrible it was that box of memories and they would break up. Maybe not now because of the fans, but once he started reading the letters and seeing how messed up he was, it would be an endgame. No one, being in their right mind, would stay after reading those letters. Before he could be totally swallowed by his traitorous mind, he heard a scream and someone throwing themselves at him, arms around his neck.

“Thank you!” Nie Huaisang screamed in his ear, pulling him against himself. “Thank you so much!” He sounded happy, but he was crying too.

“What the fuck, Huaisang? Are you crying?” He said, trying to look at his face where it was hidden on his neck. “Why are you-...” He started, before seeing the box sitting on his lap. “Oh.”

“A-Cheng.” He whined, looking up. “Look what you did to me. I’m crying like a baby.” The tears were falling two by two, big fat tears that he did not like to see on his face. “When did you buy it?”

“I made it.” He blurted out, focused on wiping the tears.

“What?” He blinked, sniffing loudly.

“I made it. I made most of the things in the box, including the box. The only things I bought were the fans, I still don’t know how to make fans like you.” He kept wiping the tears, putting his sleeve over his nose for him to blow. “You know I’m not good with handcrafted gifts but since it’s your birthday I tried.”

“I love you so much.” Nie Huaisang hugged him again while Wei Wuxian took the box from his legs and turned it on.

“What memory did you use?” He asked and, oh yeah, Jiang Cheng never told any of them what memory he was planning to use. He instructed MianMian to turn the light off, rearranging it on the small coffee table in the center.

“One from when me and Da-ge were younger.” Nie Huaisang answered as Nie Mingjue’s eyes filled with tears at recognition. “Best present ever.” He whispered, leaning on him with a small smile on his lips and watching as the memory came to life again. Jiang Cheng smiled down at him, passing an arm over his shoulders and watching as he told the story about how Nie Mingjue, who had many comments on how it was being told, almost had a heart attack when he was seventeen.

It was, indeed, the best present ever.

[nikki-writes-stuff]

A Stolen Choice (Alpha!Nomad!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader)

Summary: When your aunt dies and leaves you everything she owns in her will, you find yourself travelling to the mountains of North Carolina to her cabin in the middle of nowhere to sort through her belongings. But you also quickly find yourself helpless against the desires of a mysterious alpha who’s decided to claim you as his... 

A/N: Hello! I wrote this fic for one of my ko-fi readers! Click here if you’d be interested in donating. There’s no pressure to whatsoever, but everyone who donates will be able to request any type of fic they’re interested in. Message me if you have any questions! In the meantime, enjoy this fic! Be warned: it contains rape, dub-con, breeding kink, a/b/o dynamics, and nomad!Steve. Enjoy!

You hadn’t really even known your aunt very well; you’d met her three, maybe four times over the course of your life, and while she’d always been incredibly sweet, she’d never really stood out in your mind as one of your closest relatives. Therefore, you were surprised to say the least when you were informed, after her death, that she’d left all of her worldly possessions to you in her will.

“Wait, there… There must be some kind of mistake,” you’d told the banker, shaking your head. “I wasn’t even that close to my aunt. I don’t understand…”

“I can send you a copy of her will, if you would like to see for herself,” he’d told you in a disinterested tone. “She also had a letter she wanted you to read; perhaps that can shed some light on the matter for you.”

The letter, as it turned out, did manage to enlighten you; it arrived at your apartment about a week after you’d first learned about your inheritance, and it revealed more about your aunt in just a few sentences than you’d ever known about her over the course of your life.

To my niece:

If you’re reading this, then it means my cancer finally got the best of me. It was a long fight, but rest assured that I’m glad it’s over; I’m a tough woman, always have been, but cancer is even tougher, and I’ve been tired of my uphill battle with it for a long, long time.

I know we never got to know each other well, hon. But you always stood out to me – you’re stronger than people give you credit for. I know most of our family’s judged you for being an omega; hell, I’d even made assumptions about you before meeting you. But you managed to prove me wrong, and for that I love you.

Don’t stop being yourself, and don’t let the family get you down. The only thing you need in life is you. But I’m sure the twenty grand I’ve saved up won’t hurt, either.

Her signature was scrawled across the bottom half of the page, and you found tears in your eyes as you read the letter for a second time; no one, not even your parents, had been that accepting of you after you presented. Your entire family was made up of alphas and betas, with only one or two omegas popping up along the way. And while they’d all still loved you, their disappointment upon learning of your status as an omega had still been loud and clear.

But your aunt evidently had believed you to be strong, and you felt more determined than ever to prove her right.

And so, here you were, navigating the treacherous, narrow roads of western North Carolina, your knuckles white as they gripped your steering wheel and your nerves frayed from the lack of guard rails, fences, or really any kind of separation between the road and the twenty foot ravine sloping down along its length.

“Ok,” you breathed, focusing your eyes straight ahead. “It’s fine; everything is fine. We are not going to go over the side; we are almost there. We can do this.”

Along with the twenty thousand now resting in your savings account, your aunt had left you a cabin she and her late wife had built about ten years ago. Ever since your aunt’s wife died in a car accident, she’d lived in their home in the middle of nowhere, and no one in your family had ever been to visit. Everyone had joked about her being a hermit, and while you’d never laughed along with them, you’d had to agree that she only seemed to come to family gatherings if they coincided with a funeral or a wedding. But now, as you made your slow, steady climb up to the address of what was now your cabin, you couldn’t help but wish she’d decided to be a hermit somewhere else.

“You couldn’t have chosen a beach house,” you huffed. “Or a sensible condo in the city. You had to live up in the boonies with black bears, coyotes, and the ghosts of lost hikers.”

But finally, after a long and tumultuous journey, you were able to see the outline of a building from between the trees. A grin spread over your face and a triumphant exclamation escaped your lips, and as soon as you found yourself parked in front of your aunt’s former home, you threw yourself out of your car and threw your arms up.

“Finally!”

You languidly stretched your limbs, touching your toes and then bouncing a bit on your heels before stiffly retrieving your suitcase from your trunk; you’d been stuck behind that wheel for several hours, and if you ever drove again, it would be too soon.

You had to admit, though, that the property was lovely. Your aunt had lived in a charming little A-frame cabin with a green tin roof, and if the chimney was any indication, a cute fireplace would be waiting for you inside. It was currently right in the middle of spring, and the trees sang with the songs of birds and cicadas. Honeysuckle grew in thick bushes along the side of the driveway, and little patches of wildflowers were dotted along the plush green grass.

“No one will be able to hear me scream all the way out here,” you mused to yourself as you walked towards the front door. “But at least it’s pretty.”

You fit the key into the lock and gave it an experimental twist, and the sound of the lock clicking almost drowned out the snap of a twig from somewhere close by. Almost.

Feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, you turned around, scanning the forest for the source of the sound. You suddenly felt, distinctly, as if you were being watched, and you set your suitcase down before taking a step forward.

“…Hello?”

You didn’t receive an answer, and your ears strained to pick up on any other suspicious noise. But, after waiting for several seconds, your shoulders finally slumped, and you turned back towards the door.

“Must’ve been a squirrel or something…”

After nudging the door open, you struggled to pick up your heavy suitcase, oblivious to the pair of blue eyes watching your every movement. Your admirer closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, catching a waft of your scent on the breeze as you finally managed to shove your case passed the open doorway. A quiet growl escaped his chest as he opened his eyes once more, just in time to see you turn and close the door behind you. His ears registered the sound of the lock sliding back into place, but he knew that it wouldn’t be able to keep him out.

It never had been able to before.

______

You didn’t even know where to begin. You knew that you were supposed to go through everything of your aunt’s and decide whether or not you were going to sell it, but you hadn’t expected the act to feel so…wrong. Even though she was long gone and had left everything to you, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were throwing away someone else’s things without their permission.

And so you put it off; instead, you spent your first day simply taking inventory, going through the house and trying to learn more about your aunt in the process. You sorted through her storage room, finding old, dusty boardgames and random little trinkets lining her bookshelves. Your favorite things were the pictures, though – she had so many hanging up on the walls of every room in the cabin, all of them containing photos of her, her wife, and their families. You were shocked to see your high school graduation photo among their ranks; you’d had no idea she’d even been sent a copy.

After your little self-guided tour, you went through her refrigerator and threw everything within it out, plugging your nose as you did; she’d been dead for only two weeks, but the food your aunt had left behind had already, for the most part, spoiled. The only things that were still in date were a half pack of bacon, six eggs, and a few frozen pizzas tucked into the freezer. From there, you went upstairs to the loft-style bedroom and washed the sheets on her bed, and then you unpacked your things until the sky started to turn the pink and orange hues of a sunset.

Luckily, your aunt had a huge supply of canned goods, and so after opening and microwaving a can of Chef Boyardee, you retreated to perhaps your favorite part of the entire cabin – the back deck.

Your aunt had built her house on a piece of land that sloped steadily downwards from the driveway, and so the deck was situated on stilts that allowed it to overlook the ravine several feet below. It gave you a panoramic view of the forest, with the sloping peaks of the Appalachian Mountains rising in the distance. Down at the bottom of the valley, a creek trickled by, and the soft sound of its babbling served as soothing background noise for your evening meal.

After you were finished with your pasta, you sat back and closed your eyes, inhaling deeply. There was something blooming nearby that smelled intoxicating – like cedar and sandalwood and musk. Your mouth watered at its sweet, masculine scent, and you found yourself wishing that you had a candle that smelled like it.

You jumped when, once again, you heard a twig snap, followed by the sound of bushes rustling from somewhere close. You sat up, peering over the deck’s fence to try and pinpoint its source.

“Hello?”

Setting your empty bowl to the side, you stood up and walked closer to the edge, peering out over the woods. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; maybe it had been a possum. Or a skunk. Or…whatever else that lived in the mountains of North Carolina.

You were ready to turn away when you saw it – a flash of movement to your left. Frowning, you leaned over the side of the rail, and your eyes widened when you caught a glimpse of blue from between a patch of brambles.

“Hey! Hey, are you ok?”

You watched as whoever it was froze in place, and you glanced back towards the sky; you could just make out the outline of the moon, and the pinks and oranges had faded to red and violet.

“Hey, are you lost? It’s starting to get dark out; I would head back if I were you.”

Slowly, the person stood up and picked their way out of the brush, and when they turned towards you, you realized that it was a man. A very tall man. A very tall man with a beard, a gun strapped to his belt, and two very impressive biceps.

Shit.

“Uh… Hi,” you called out once again, this time sounding significantly less sure about yourself.

“Hi,” he called back, raising his hand in a wave.

“Um… Whatcha doing over there?”

“Oh, I was, uh… I was hiking,” he explained. “But I think I got lost somewhere along the way. Could I borrow your phone?”

You hesitated, watching as the man started making his way up the hill, covering a large amount of ground with each of his long, confident strides.

“Mine died a while ago,” he went on, lowering his voice as he grew closer. “I was debating whether or not to disturb you; I know meeting a strange man in the woods probably isn’t what you were hoping to do this evening.”

Finally, he was standing directly in front of you, though the ground was about six feet beneath the floor of the deck. You looked down at him and chewed your lip, debating whether or not to help him. He looked nice enough, and he sounded genuine, but you’d said it yourself earlier – no one would hear you scream this far out.

You opened your mouth to answer him, but that was when it hit you – the smell from earlier. This time, it was much stronger, and it was then that you realized why the scent had hints of musk in it.

It was the scent of an alpha – an alpha about to start a rut.

Your blood ran cold, and you backed away from the deck’s fence as if it had burned you.

“You need to go,” you told him, watching as his smile abruptly faded away. “Right now. Or I’ll call the police.”

“Look,” he sighed, holding his hands up. “I know that this looks like; but I promise I don’t wanna hurt-“

“I don’t believe you,” you interrupted, and a cold flash of annoyance crossed his handsome, somehow familiar features. “Please, just go. I don’t want any trouble. But I will call the cops.”

The alpha sighed, setting his hands on his hips, and for a long moment the two of you were silent. The sound of the crickets that pervaded the forest seemed to rise up in a crescendo as he studied your face, but his voice seemed to drown them out as he spoke next.

“I wonder how long it’d take the police to get all the way out here.”

Your eyes widened at that, and you stumbled backwards when he suddenly jumped, pulling himself up onto the deck as if it were the easiest thing in the world. You let out a squeak and turned around, dashing to the door and yanking it open. You were just barely able to get the door shut and locked behind you before the stranger was standing in front of it. Your heart sank as you stared at him through the glass, and he arched an eyebrow, tapping his fingers against it as he stared you down.

“This doesn’t have to be hard,” he called out, his voice muffled but just loud enough to make out. “I really don’t want to hurt you. Just let me in and we can talk – I promise.”

“Is it really that surprising that I don’t believe you?” you yelled back. “Please, just leave. My alpha will be here any minute!”

You knew that was a lie – you’d never even had sex before, and you definitely didn’t have an alpha in your life. But maybe this man didn’t know that; maybe he wouldn’t call your bluff.

But all hopes of that flew out the window when he let out a laugh, shaking his head.

“You’re a horrible liar,” he remarked. “You’ve never even been with an alpha before; I’d be able to smell your innocence from a mile away.”

Your cheeks burned and you turned away, reaching into your pocket for your phone.

“Last warning, shithead,” you called out. “I’m calling the cops right now.”

Finally, the smile dropped off of his face, and he let out a deep sigh. Holding his hands up in surrender, he took a step back from the door, bowing his head in mock-respect.

“Alright,” he conceded. “Alright; I guess I’ll go ride this rut out with a more receptive omega.”

His eyes flashed as he turned away, and you watched as he walked to the other side of the deck. He leaned over the rail despite the fifteen foot drop just beneath it, and you watched as he turned towards you over his shoulder.

‘See you soon,’ he mouthed, and then he threw himself off the deck.

With a surprised cry, you stared blankly at the spot he’d just been standing in, and after a pregnant pause you tentatively opened the screen door, stepping out cautiously. You had 911 pulled up on your phone with your thumb hovering over the dial as you stalked towards the fence, and after swallowing thickly, you leaned over its side, searching the forest floor for any signs of the creepy alpha.

But there was nothing – he wasn’t, as you’d suspected, laying there with two broken legs from the fall. No, in fact the only sign that he’d ever been there at all was the frantic beating of your heart and the lingering scent of his oncoming rut.

__________

You woke up three times during the night. The first time, it had been right before midnight, and it had been for no reason at all. No sound had awoken you, nor had a bad dream. After several minutes, you’d gone back to sleep, tossing and turning until waking up a second time.

It had been around 1:30 in the morning at that point, and it had taken you over an hour to sleep again. You kept thinking that you’d heard something from downstairs, but your late night paranoia told you not to go down and investigate.

The third time you woke up, it was a few minutes before 5, and you immediately knew that you weren’t alone. You felt a presence leaning over you, could hear his soft breathing. You froze, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to keep breathing at the same pace you had been while sleeping, but then you heard a soft, gravelly chuckle from close by.

“I know you’re awake, omega.”

Fuck.

You already knew that it was the alpha from before, but still you opened your eyes and sat up, clutching the covers to your chest as you looked up at him.

He was wearing the same clothes from before, except his gun holster was nowhere to be seen. Your phone, too, was gone from its usual perch on your nightstand, and your blood went cold as you breathed in his warm, overpowering scent.

“…Please,” you heard yourself whisper. “Please, don’t do this. I-“

“You shouldn’t have been so rude earlier,” he remarked, lowering himself down to sit on the side of the bed. “I would’ve rather not had to break in, but you left me no choice.”

You swallowed, tensing up even more when his eyes flashed down to your throat to track the movement. He looked so familiar now that you were so close to him; you just couldn’t put your finger on where you’d seen him before.

“Who are you?” you asked, and at first you thought that he hadn’t heard you. He made no reaction, and you opened your mouth to voice your question once more.

“I said who-“

“My name is Steve,” he interrupted you. “That’s all you need to know.”

You bit your lip and nodded, glancing over to the stairs, and then to the window. You knew, though, that you had no chance of running. He was standing between you and the staircase, and the window wasn’t even open. By the time you’d be able to pry it up, it would be too late; he’d be on you in a matter of seconds.

“Listen, Steve,” you started, forcing yourself to make and maintain eye contact with him. “I… I know this probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but… you were right earlier. I’ve never…been with anyone. And I don’t have an alpha. I’ve been waiting to find the right one for so…so long. Please, I’m begging you, don’t take that choice from me. I promise I won’t tell anyone I saw you, and I won’t make any trouble. Just…please don’t do this.”

He seemed to consider your words, and for a few moments you felt a spark of hope rise up in you. He tilted his head as he regarded you, and you silently willed him to leave you alone, to forget any of this happened.

“I didn’t think there were women like you around anymore,” he eventually murmured. “Some omegas these days don’t even settle down with an alpha, which was unheard of back in my day. And if I had a dollar for every time a cockhungry bitch in heat had thrown herself at me only to leave once she’d had her fill, well. I’d never have to work another day in my life.

“But then you show up in my life – innocent, pure, and loyal to an alpha you haven’t even met yet.”

Your eyes widened when he leaned towards you, and you squeezed the sheets as he cupped your cheek.

“I can see so much potential in you,” he breathed. “You could be such a good girl.”

He leaned toward even further, and you realized that he was going to kiss you. For a moment, all you could do was watch as his face got closer and closer, frozen by your fear and his suffocating scent, but as soon as his lips touched yours, your body leapt into action.

You threw yourself away from him as if he were on fire and scrambled to the stairs, your feet stumbling as you ran down them. Towards the last step, your ankle twisted beneath your weight, sending you crumpling to the ground.  You cried out as your head hit the banister hard, but you ignored the ringing in your ears, forcing yourself to stand up again.

Movement caught your attention out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped dead in your tracks as you watched Steve calmly approach the staircase. Instead of starting to walk down, though, he hoisted himself over the rail and dropped to the first floor, landing in a crouch before standing up and sauntering over to you.

And that was when you realized why he looked so familiar. No normal person would be able to just do shit like that. And if you were to take away the beard, he would have the exact same face you’d seen in museums, textbooks, and newspapers throughout your entire life.

“…Captain America?”

Steve rolled his eyes and marched towards you, and you were so surprised that you didn’t even try to retreat.

“I used to be, doll,” he growled. “But I’m way past trying to be a hero for a world that doesn’t even want to be saved.”

You finally began to struggle when he set his hands on your hips, but he ignored your protests as he effortlessly picked you up.

“I understand,” he huffed, starting to carry you once more up the stairs. “Really, I do. You’re scared, and I’m a stranger.”

He dropped you onto the bed before shucking off his shirt, and you clambered backwards when he started to crawl over your body.

“But I’ve made my decision; you are my omega.”

The sound of fabric ripping coaxed a startle cry past your lips, and you tried to cover your chest when Steve tore your shirt away.

“Please-“

“Quit with the complaining, doll,” he huffed. “I’ll treat you right if you just let me-“

A sob escaped you when he took hold of your wrists and pinned them to either side of your head. Tears were running down your cheeks, and Steve’s knee between your thighs made it impossible to close your legs no matter how hard you tried to. For a moment, both of you simply looked at one another, one with terror in their eyes, the other with pure lust.

Steve’s nose skimmed your neck as he leaned down, inhaling your scent and nuzzling your mating gland. The sound that he made could only be described as a purr as he drank in your essence, and his hips started to lazily grind down against you.

“Fuck, you smell so sweet,” he groaned. “How haven’t you been mated yet?”

His tongue darted out, tracing the gland languidly. Shocks of pleasure coursed down from your neck to your spine, and you found yourself arching up of your own accord; you’d thought that it was a myth that more nerve endings existed in a person’s mating gland, but Steve was proving that theory wrong despite how much you didn’t want this.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he breathed. “Imagine how good it’ll be when I fuckin’ sink my teeth into you.”

“N-no-“

Your voice cut off into a stuttering moan when he nipped at the skin, not hard enough to pierce it but enough to make your hips buck upwards of their own accord.

“That’s my girl,” he praised. “Let yourself feel this; you deserve it. You’ve waited so long for a good, strong alpha to take care of you, haven’t you? My good little omega…”

Under any other circumstances, you would’ve preened under his praise, ever the stereotypical, eager-to-please omega, and you fought against the urge to lean into his touch. His scent had an almost dizzying effect on you, and your struggles were slowly growing weaker and weaker.

“I’ve heard that an alpha’s rut can sent their omega into an early heat,” he mused, letting one of his hands trail up to cup your breast. “I think we should test that theory.”

You whined when his thumb started circling your nipple, and an amused grin overtook his features.

“Good girl,” he praised, and you momentarily had enough clarity to glare at him from under your lashes.

“Fuck you,” you grunted, but he only chuckled.

“Well that’s the idea, sweetheart,” he remarked.

Suddenly, you felt the world spin around you, and suddenly you were on your belly.

“But if you use that language with me again,” he purred against your ear, “I’ll fuck your throat until I knot in that dirty little mouth of yours. Are we clear?”

Hurriedly, you nodded your head yes, and Steve’s hand slid down the curve of your spine.

“Good.”

You gasped when his arm snaked under your hips, pulling up on them until you were on your knees and elbows. You felt as if your cheeks were burning when he spread your ass cheeks, and you squirmed as you tried to close your legs.

“You’re already wet for me, omega,” he noted. “Your body wants this; why can’t you just give in?”

Despite his earlier threat, you were about to say something along the lines of ‘because fuck you, you star spangled asshole’, but then something cool and wet licked upwards from your clit to your entrance, and all of your thoughts faded to white noise.

Steve’s tongue slid into you slowly, stretching your hole in ways that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and the groan he let out at your taste was pornographic. At a slow, even pace, he started tongue fucking you, and you couldn’t control the moans that were spilling out of your lips. You reached out, gripping the nearest pillow and digging your nails into it as pleasure started flowing through you.

You whined when, all too soon, he pulled his tongue out, but when he slid it over your clit and started tracing quick, tight circles against your bud, you nearly screamed. A finger slid inside of you as your hips started rocking; it was obscene, and wrong, and humiliating, but you’d never felt anything like this before. Steve’s moans urged you on, and despite your fear, your hatred, of him, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your climax.

“S-steve,” you squeaked, “w-wait, fuck-“

You buried your face in the pillow as, all of a sudden, your orgasm came over you, but Steve’s free hand snapped up to your head and pulled it back by a handful of your hair, making you arch your back as you screamed his name. His finger curled inside of you as your pussy clenched around it, and he was murmuring soft words of encouragement as you came down from your high.

“There you go,” he purred. “You did so good for me. See how good your alpha takes care of you?”

Your head was still spinning when Steve pulled away, but your eyes snapped open when you heard the slide of fabric against skin. You looked over your shoulder and felt your blood ran cold when you saw him toss his jeans to the side, and immediately you looked down at his cock, already fully hard and leaking a bead of precum.

"N-no," you gasped, trying to crawl away. “Steve, no, please-“

But he only gripped your hips and pulled you back to him until you felt his hardness grind against your ass.

“Calm down, baby,” he murmured. “It’ll only hurt for a second.”

Before you could beg him anymore, he started pushing into you, and nothing could have prepared you for the stretch. It burned, so bad that all you could do was bite down on your hand and trying to hold back your tears as he impaled you.

“Fu-uck,” he groaned. “Oh, my god, baby. So good, so fucking good-“

He paused only when his head pushed painfully against your cervix, and for a long moment he stayed still, allowing you the small kindness of adjusting to his thickness.

“Shh, it’s ok,” he cooed, pressing his chest flush to your back. “The worst part is over, baby. We can take our time from here.”

He nuzzled your mating gland and cupped your tits, rolling them in his palms as he pressed kisses over the curve of your shoulder.

“This is the tightest little pussy I’ve ever felt,” he whispered. “You’re making your alpha feel so good, doll.”

And as twisted as it was, as much as you hated it, his words actually helped. Slowly, you let your muscles relax, and he rewarded you with an open-mouthed kiss to that sensitive spot in your neck. One of his hands snaked its way beneath your body and began toying with your still-sensitive clit, rubbing it until your hips squirmed against him.

He took your movements as a sign to move, and a surprised moan escaped your lips when he pulled back, nearly pulling out completely before thrusting forward. Your pussy made an embarrassingly loud squelching noise, but you found yourself grateful that you were wet enough to make the stretch that much more bearable.

Steve slowly began to find an easy rhythm, and despite his rough treatment of you, he was gentle as he took you. At least, as gentle as rape could be. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself; despite every sweet word that left his lips and despite every moan he managed to pull from yours, you still didn’t want this. You didn’t want him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he breathed. “Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had…”

You whined as he kept rubbing your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers to the rhythm of his hips. Your body betrayed you as it started aching for more, and as he started speeding up you found yourself moving your hips back to meet his thrusts. Steve’s moans grew louder, and you heard a loud crack as his palm smacked your ass.

“Good girl-“ he panted. “Taking your alpha’s cock so well…”

Suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you empty and dripping and wanting, and you felt him shift upwards onto his knees. Roughly, he shoved your knees further apart and entered you again, immediately snapping his hips at a hard, brutal pace. Every thrust drew a moan out of your parted lips, and your arm and leg muscles were starting to shake.

The bed beneath you creaked loudly as he fucked you into the mattress, and your scents had mingled into something heady and warm and intoxicating. The founds of skin slapping skin was as intimate as it was erotic, and your moans became deeper, throatier as his pace suddenly shifted, slowing down as he bucked his hips harder. Each movement drew a strangled moan from your throat, and Steve’s fingers found your clit once again.

This was somehow even worse than the erratic, frantic claiming. This had somehow become more intimate, less frenzied, but the pleasure dulling your senses remained the same.

“Knew it from the first moment I smelled you,” Steve whispered, his voice strained and husky. “I knew that you were gonna be mine. ‘ve never met anyone like you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together and you let out a low whine as the head of his cock brushed against a sensitive, delicious spot inside of you. Without thinking, you pushed back against him, silently urging him to move faster.

“Oh? Right there?” You nodded your head, mewling as he hit your g-spot again. “Right there, little omega?”

“Y-yes,” you gasped, resting your forehead against your arms. “Please…”

“Please what, little one?” he grunted, slowing down until he was only just barely grinding his hips. “Tell me what you want.”

You whined, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head; you wouldn’t say it out loud – your pride wouldn’t allow you to.

“Say it,” Steve urged. “I won’t give it to you until you do.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the fluttering in your pussy, urging Steve’s cock in deeper, but after a few seconds you snapped. With tears in your eyes, you looked over your shoulder at him, taking in the rapid rising and falling of his hips, the way his lips were parted as he watched you.

“…Fuck me,” you finally whispered, bowing your head as your defeat washed over you. “Please, fuck me…”

Your eyes widened when he pulled out of you completely, but you understood when he flipped you over onto your back. You stared up at him as he positioned himself at your entrance once again, and your back arched up as if you’d been electrocuted when he shoved himself inside of you once more.

His pace was no longer kind nor was it unhurried as he fucked you; you were both so tantalizingly close to your release, and now it was just a matter of chasing it. His moans escaped from behind clenched teeth as he gripped your thigh in one hand, hoisting it up and bending it until your knee was almost touching your chest. But from this angle, you felt him so deep inside of you that you didn’t care; you laid back and took it, clawing at his biceps as you got closer and closer.

All too soon, your body tensed up, your pussy clenching as you came. White exploded behind your eyes as the pleasure overtook you, and not even the ringing in your ears could drown out Steve’s names as you screamed it. You glanced up through your lashes to find the alpha’s eyes already gazing into your own, until he grit his teeth and threw his head back.

Your name was a prayer on his lips as he grew closer and closer, until he lunged forward with a growl. His tongue lapped at your mating gland in ways that had your pussy fluttering even after your release, but time seemed to stand still when you felt his teeth sink into your flesh.

You were vaguely aware of the heat of Steve’s cum as it painted your walls, and even your own, second, orgasm faded into the background. Your eyes were unseeing, your body unfeeling; the only thing you could focus on was your mating gland being bitten, being claimed, by Steve Rogers. It was a permanent mark of who you belonged to; a milky white scar would forever be left behind, as would the memory of who put it there.

A broken, distressed moan escaped your lips when he pulled away, but you immediately understood what he wanted when he bared his neck to you in a rare sign of submission, especially from an alpha like himself. As his knot swelled inside you, locking you in place, you leaned forward, licking your lips.

Later, you would blame it on your hormones, on your body’s natural instinct as an omega who had just been claimed. But whatever the true reason was for your actions, you latched onto his neck and bit his mating gland in return. The piercing of teeth against skin felt amazing in an explainable, primal way, and you both moaned as you marked Steve in the same, permanent way he’d marked you.

You stayed there until you’d both caught your breaths, reveling in your ability to hurt him, to wield control over him in the way he’d forcibly done to you. When you finally tasted his blood on your tongue, you let go, licking it off of your lips and wincing at how far his knot had stretched you.

Looking up into his blue eyes, the reality of it all came crashing down onto you; you’d been raped, claimed, by a total stranger. You knew of him only from history books and news reports, and now he was inside you, the mark on your neck a permanent part of him that would follow you for the rest of your days.

A sob wracked your shoulders, and your hands flew up to cover your face. A sad, almost pitying look swept across Steve’s features, and he gathered you into his arms as he rolled you onto your sides.

“Shhh, it’s ok,” he cooed, running his fingers through your hair. “I know, I know… It’s ok, omega. I’ve got you.”

You wanted to throw your fists against his chest; you wanted to slap the pitiful look off of his face. You wanted to throw yourself off of the deck just as he’d done hours earlier.

But instead you closed your eyes and let him whisper empty words of comfort to you until sleep finally, finally, came.

_____________

If it weren’t for the soreness that had spread all over your body, you would’ve thought it had all been a dream.

You woke up with the sheets neatly tucked around you. You were still naked, but your clothes from last night had been tucked away into the laundry hamper in the corner. You heard faint noises coming from the kitchen – the occasional clang of two plates clinking together, the sizzling of something on the stove – but there was nothing out of place in the bedroom.

Wincing, you pushed the covers back and stood up swaying unsteadily on your feet. You glanced in the mirror, feeling your blood run cold at the sight that greeted you. Your reflection was covered in bruises and bitemarks; you hadn’t even been aware of Steve biting you that much during last night’s activities. Your hair was a mess, but there was no dried cum along the inside of your thighs. He must have cleaned you up after his knot allowed the two of you to separate.

Gulping, you tilted your head and leaned forward, feeling a fresh wave of tears sting your eyes when you saw the red, irritated bitemark on your mating gland. Soon enough, the puffy flesh would calm down, and the crimson would be replaced by a silvery scar that would remain there for the rest of your life. Every look in the mirror would be a fresh reminder of what Steve had done to you.

Clearing your throat, you arranged your hair until it covered over the mark, and you reached into the dresser to pull out a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You didn’t really think that you could escape the famous Captain America, but you still crept down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky ones you’d discovered yesterday as you made your slow descent.

Upon reaching the first floor, your eyes focused on the side table next to the front door, but your keys weren’t resting on it like you’d left them yesterday. A disappointed sigh left your lips, and you tiptoed closer to the door. Maybe you could make it on foot-

“I made breakfast,” you suddenly heard Steve call from the kitchen. “Come and get it before it gets cold.”

Your heart sank, and you immediately knew that there would be no use in trying to leave now. Squaring your shoulders, you cautiously made your way to him, your abused pussy aching with every step you took.

Steve was standing over the sink, washing a pan and wearing only a pair of sweatpants. You weren’t sure where he’d gotten them; you doubted he could have fit into any of your aunt’s clothes.

“Go ahead and have a seat,” he instructed you, not looking up from the pan. “I’ll bring over our plates. Do you like coffee?”

You bit your lip and did as he said, lowering yourself into the seat with a wince. Steve finally looked up when he heard your sharp inhalation, and guilt flashed across his face.

“I’ll get you some pain killers,” he said. “Can you take ibuprofen?”

You looked down at the table, wringing your hands in your lap.

“…I’d prefer Tylenol,” you murmured. “And yes, I like coffee.”

The alpha nodded, and you continued resolutely staring at the table, even when he set down a plate of steaming eggs and bacon, a mug of coffee, and a bottle of pain killers. You mechanically took four of the pills, washing them down with the black coffee. You jumped when Steve settled down into the chair across from yours, but you refused to look up at him as he began devouring his meal.

“…You should eat something,” he remarked, but you ignored him, only taking another sip of your coffee. With a sigh, he set down his fork, swallowing a bit of eggs before addressing you again.

“I mean it,” he insisted. “I haven’t even started my rut yet; you’ll need the strength.”

A tear slipped out of your eyes, and you looked down at your food. With shaking fingers, you picked up a slab of bacon, but when its smell hit you, you felt bile rise up in your throat. You immediately dropped it, taking another gulp of coffee to help push down your nausea.

“Hon,” Steve huffed. “C’mon. At least try.”

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered.

“Just one bite, then,” he persisted. “Please.”

You shot him a glare from beneath your lashes, but he only raised his eyebrows expectantly. You stared until you couldn’t stand the sight of him, and your resolve crumbled as you finally looked down. Picking up your fork, you shoveled a bite of scrambled egg into your mouth, not tasting it as you chewed and then swallowed.

“There,” you grumbled. “Happy?’

Steve once again sighed through his nose, but he only shook his head and went back to eating. For a long moment, the two of you were silent, until he finished his plate and slid yours over towards himself.

“So,” he started, picking up the piece of bacon you hadn’t been able to stomach. “You obviously don’t live here. Who does? A relative – sister, maybe? Is she the one in all the photos?”

You didn’t answer him, and with a frustrated grunt he reached over, grabbing your hand.

“I know that you probably hate me,” he mumbled. “And I can understand why. But we’re together now; you might as well make the most of it. Tell me about yourself.”

Your chest ached with unshed tears, and you looked down at his massive palm as it engulfed yours.

“…I always dreamed about falling in love,” you finally spoke. “I didn’t care who it was with – an alpha or a beta. I just knew that I wanted to love the person I shared my first time with. They didn’t have to be my mate, and I never expected it to be perfect. But I wanted it to mean something.”

You looked up, clenching your jaw as you pulled your hair away, showing him the bonding mark still fresh on your neck.

“You…took that from me,” you growled. “And you stole so much more than just my virginity. You took my choice; you made the years that I’d waited for someone special mean nothing. And I’ll never be able to forget it because of this fucking scar you left behind. So no, I’m not going to make the most out of a shitty situation, because no matter how nice we play, no matter how much I try, it will always and forever be a shitty thing that you did.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, and you flinched when he abruptly stood up from his chair. You pressed yourself against the back of the chair as he towered over for you, and you feared the worst when you saw his hands clench into fists at his side.

“…I’m going out,” he growled. “If you try to run, I’ll find you.”

With that, he stormed out, nearly yanking the front door off its hinges and letting it slam shut behind him. For the next several seconds, the only sounds in the room were the muffled birdsong from outside and the ticking of a clock from the hallway.

Eventually, you stood up, bringing your still-full plate into the kitchen and scraping its contents into the trash can. Your mating gland throbbed, but inside you felt nothing but numbness as you went about your cleaning.

After everything was spotless, you futilely searched for your keys, but Steve must have taken them with him. And despite your earlier desire to try and flee on foot, a gut instinct told you that he’d meant it when he said he would find you. You were miles away from a road that wasn’t made of dirt or gravel, and even the nearest highway was even more miles from any signs of civilization. You were well and truly stuck here.

Not knowing what else to do, you went outside onto the back deck, where it had all started. You sat out there until the sun was high in the sky, and it must have been hours until you heard the screen door open. You kept your eyes focused on the forest around you as Steve sat down next to you, and you remained still as a statue even as you felt his eyes baring into you.

“…I first came here two weeks ago,” he started. “No one was here, so I used it as a safehouse. I’ve been on the run since…since the Avengers split apart.”

The only response you gave him was a nod, and he took that as a sign to continue on.

“It had been a while for me. Since I’d…been with anyone. Ever since I was given the serum, my ruts have been more intense. At first, I tried to ignore them, fight ‘em off, but eventually that just stopped working.

“When I first saw you, smelled you, I knew that I wanted you,” he sighed. “Everything else kind of…faded into the background. Your scent was enough to send me spiraling towards a rut. Hell, I haven’t even started it yet, but it’s gonna be one of my most intense ones yet.

“I’m not saying that I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Because I know we’re way past that. And I’m not gonna say I’m not gonna do it again, cuz even now it’s taking all of my willpower not to bend you over the side of the balcony. But I guess I’m saying that… I get what I’ve done to you. I know it’s…heinous. And a younger me would’ve been disgusted with it. But now that we’re bonded to each other, I’m going to make this work.”

You turned to him, feeling your blood go cold at how determined he sounded.

“Make this… Steve, this can’t… There’s no future for us,” you stammered. “We don’t know each other; you, you raped me. There is no ‘making this work’.”

“Yes, there is,” he insisted. “I waited for someone special too, you know. I let the only woman I ever loved slip out of my fingers; when I woke up after the ice, I knew I wasn’t gonna just spend the rest of my life with anybody. And even if we don’t know each other, it doesn’t mean it’ll always be that way. We can learn-“

“I don’t want to learn!” you exclaimed, rushing to your feet. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you! If you’re bound and determined to ride out the rest of your rut with me, then fine. I’ll hate it, but I’ll get it. Use me like a glorified sex doll like you did last night. But don’t turn this into something it’s not. Just leave me the fuck alone once you’ve had your fun.”

“No.”

Steve stood up, towering over you, and you stumbled backwards as he advanced towards you.

“You don’t want me to be your alpha? Well tough shit,” he spat. “You should’ve thought about that before you bit me back.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but then your eyes fell onto the side of his neck, and your mouth snapped shut. It was a perfect mirror of your own scar, and you gulped when Steve tilted his head to the side so he could get a better view of it. Your teeth were perfectly imprinted in red right over his gland, and sick shame washed over you as you stared at it.

“I’m going to carry around a piece of you for the rest of my life,” he continued, starting to walk towards you again. “So you’d better be damned sure that I’m not going to let you go anywhere.”

A gasp escaped your parted lips when you felt your ass press against the deck’s railing, and you looked over your shoulder to see a fifteen foot drop just on its other side. Gulping, you turned back around, and once again Steve was towering over you, his scent wafting to your nostrils as he caged you in.

“I’m yours just as much as you’re mine, sugar,” he growled. “I’d get used to it if I were you.”

One of his hands tangled in your hair, and then, before you knew it, he was pressing his lips to yours, His other hand trailed up the side of your neck, tracing his bitemark with his fingertips in ways that shot tingles all the way down your spine, to your toes, and back up again. Your whole body twitched at the sensation, and a laugh that sounded more like a purr sounded from his chest.

“I’ll always love how responsive you are,” he murmured. “And eventually, one day, I’ll love the rest of you. Even that bratty little mouth of yours.”

You whimpered when his hands moved down to your hips, picking you up and setting you on the rail. You gasped and grabbed onto his shoulders, leaning towards him and away from the drop behind you.

“Steve!” you exclaimed. “Wait, I don’t-“

“I’m tired of waiting,” he interrupted. “You’ve been walking around in those tiny shorts all fucking day. I’ve held back for long enough.”

He reached down and roughly yanked your shirt up, tearing it down your arms and tossing it behind him. Your nipples pebbled as your breasts were exposed to the slight chill in the spring air, and goosebumps rose up all over your torso.

“I fucking love your tits,” he growled, dipping his head down to suck on one of your nipples. His hand roughly rolled and groped your other breast, and you fought not to arch your back, already feeling off balance as you tried to remain seated on the thin rail.

“Steve, can we please go inside-“

“No, baby,” he grunted. “I need you right here, right now.”

He did, however, pull you forward, and you let out a huff of relief when your feet met solid ground once again. Your relief was short-lived, however, as he turned you around and pushed you forward with a hand between your shoulder blades. You bent down, clutching the top of the low fence and staring at the forest floor below as he ground his erection against your ass. He was already half-hard, growing harder by the second as he rubbed himself against you.

“At least I chose the best pussy I’ve ever felt,” he mused, and you whined when two fingers suddenly plunged into you.

Your slick sounds were obscenely loud, and despite the cabin’s isolation, you felt a fleeting stab of fear that someone would hear him as he fingered you. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the top of the rail, and you clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your moan when Steve’s thumb found your clit.

“No, no, no,” he chided. “I want to hear you, little one. Let me hear those cute little noises you make.”

He reached down and grabbed your wrist, pulling it away as his thumb traced quick, tight circles against your bud. All the while, he was still grinding his clothed erection against the curve of your ass, and your thoughts swam as he added a third finger inside of you.

“I did make you feel good last night,” he breathed. “Didn’t I? You came…I think it was three times? Fuck, I think you were just as desperate as I was.”

He chuckled, pulling his hand away.

“But who am I kidding? I’m still desperate for you.”

Without warning, he spun you around and sat you on the rail once again, shoving his sweatpants down before lining his cock up with your entrance. It all happened so fast; you had no time to prepare yourself as he slid into you in one fluid, fast motion.

“Oh, god-“ you gasped, hands flying to his shoulders. “Steve, please, it hurts-“

“It’s gonna hurt these first couple of times, babygirl,” he sighed, as if he were an exasperated teacher trying to explain a difficult problem to you. “But if you just, fuck-“

He was cut off by his own moan as he started thrusting, not pausing to give you any time to adjust before starting to pump his hips forward.

“If you just relax,” he continued, “then it’ll feel better.”

You clung to him as he started pounding into you, letting your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. There was nothing else you could do as he snapped his hips; you were powerless against him as he used you for his own pleasure.

Oh, and you’re not getting anything out of this? A treacherous voice whispered to you in the back of your mind, and as you started to feel the same pleasure as you had last night, it grew louder and louder. He’s right – it does feel good. Just give in; it would be so easy to just enjoy it.

You couldn’t bite back a moan as the head of his cock brushed against your g-spot, just as it had last night, and Steve rewarded you by snaking a hand between your bodies and rubbing your clit with his thumb once more. The stimulation to your bud made your thighs tremble, and you found your hips rolling forward as you felt that familiar knot start to tighten in your belly.

Your eyes opened, and you found yourself face to face with your bite mark. In your pleasure-addled mind, you couldn’t help but admire the impression that now marked his flesh; you thought back to how it had felt to bite him, to sink your teeth into him as he’d made you cum a second time with his cock buried deep inside of you.

As if reading your thoughts, Steve leaned downwards, and you cried out when he fit his teeth into your fresh scar once again. It hurt like a bitch, but it also felt perfect, as if a puzzle piece you hadn’t realized you were missing had finally found its rightful place in your body. You let your instincts guide you as you opened your mouth, first licking at Steve’s mating gland before sinking your own teeth into his bond mark.

Steve’s hips stilled, and you felt him growl as he pulled you tighter against him. He removed his teeth from you and squeezed your ass, picking you up.

“Keep biting me,” he commanded, his voice huskier than you’d ever heard it. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

You whined and nodded, biting harder as he pressed your back against the screen door. Once again, he started pounding into you, starting out at a punishing rhythm as he held you aloft. You could tell he was close, and you weren’t far behind him.

“I’m gonna fill you up again, omega,” he grunted. “Gonna make your belly round and – fuck – and swollen with my child. Gonna cum in you again and again and again, just like I know you need.”

A moan escaped your throat, and you let go of his neck to let your head fall back against the glass. Your eyes met his pleadingly, captured by those intense, terrifying blue irises as you both approached your peak.

“You gonna cum?” he murmured, and you nodded wordlessly, whimpers and groans spilling out of your open mouth as he snapped his hips harder.

He thrust one, two more times before you both snapped, and your screams of release mingled together as you came. His knot pushed past your entrance, swelling inside of you as his cum filled your pussy, and you let out a low groan at the strange sensation. Your nails were biting into his biceps, but neither of you cared as you rode out the aftershocks.

Last night, you’d been able to find respite in falling asleep, in not having to deal with the immediate consequences of what Steve had done to you and of what you’d done to him in return. But now, you were wide awake, watching in horror as the alpha, your alpha, caught his breath.

“…How long does it take for your knot to go away?” you asked in a quiet, almost timid voice.

“Um…” Steve thought about it. “Typically about twenty minutes.”

You sighed, closing your eyes.

“Fuck.”

“You know, now would be a good time for us to talk, since you refused to earlier.”

You shot Steve a withering glare, and he only chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re not like any of the other omegas I’ve met,” he murmured.

“If you’re seriously going to tell me I’m not like other girls,” you quipped, “I’m going to throw both of us off this balcony.”

Steve chuckled again, tightening his grip on you and walking you over to the outdoor couch. You were feeling a medley of confusing, conflicting emotions, and you looked away as you fought to process all of them. It was true, what they said – you did feel more vulnerable after having sex with Steve. You refused to cry, though. You’d wasted enough time and energy on tears.

“I meant what I said, you know,” the alpha suddenly said. You pulled back enough to meet his eyes, arching an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“When I said I wanted to get you pregnant,” he clarified. “You would look beautiful with my child growing inside of you.”

Your eyes grew comically wide, and you had to look away.

“I… I’m not ready to have kids,” was all you said, and Steve nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m not really in a position to have them, either,” he sighed, letting his head fall back. “I’m still on the run from Tony until everything blows over. It’s not a situation to bring a child up in.

“But one day, omega,” he said, his voice dipping low in its timber as he grew more serious, “I’m going to fuck a baby into you. I don’t want to hear any lip about it, either.”

You bit your trembling lip at the thought of being pregnant with this man’s child; if that ever were to happen, you really would be well and truly stuck with him.

You couldn’t think about that, though. You wouldn’t let yourself think about it. As Steve rubbed your back, waiting until his knot released you, the only thing you could think about was getting from one moment to the next. You didn’t know how or when you would manage to do it, but one thing was for certain.

One day, you would find a way to escape Steve Rogers. After all, it was like your aunt had said in her letter – you were strong. Even stronger than Captain America. And the only thing in life you needed was you.

[myelocin]

To Let A Good Thing Die | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Synopsis: In which you reminisce on your journey of healing, and the other, was well, Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Characters: Sakusa Kiyoomi, You, Iwaizumi Hajime

Warnings: Infidelity. Genre: Angst, Slice of Life

Word Count: 1.8k+

a/n: This was supposed to be for Tsukki, but I read it again and decided I wanted to mess with your Kiyoomi feelings so <3 Also! This was inspired by Bruno Major’s To Let A Good Thing Die, so PLEASE listen to the song!

Thank you to Angelo for pitching in your idea bc without it, the ending would have been completely different but as I wrote it like this, I wouldn’t have it any other way. <3

-

 “Congratulations.”

He was blunt and straight to the point but that still had you stop in your tracks to find space to sit down on the wooden floor. Pushing a half filled box to the side, a sigh would occasionally escape from you as you let yourself lean on the box.

“Congratulations.” You read out loud. “He’s as boring as usual.”  A small chuckle found its way out of your throat as you set your phone on top of one of the taped off boxes.

Sakusa Kiyoomi had appeared in your life in a mirage of colors. In your youth, he was yellow. A yellow sweatshirt worn by a boy who’d grumble when his cousin showed him affection but the way he blushed pink you swore to your six year old self that he was the boy you’re going to spend the rest of your life with. And so you saw him in the yellow sunflowers your mother grew in her little garden. Little Kiyoomi would routinely scowl when you plopped down next to him and tuck the flower you secretly plucked from the garden behind his ear. He’d scowl and tell you to knock it off, that the flower was dirty, but the rosy blush on his cheeks told you that he didn’t mind.

Then in high school, his presence danced in subtle shades of blues. Baby blue, like the sky he stood under during the opening ceremony where he stood across you, one arm stretched handing you your favorite bread, the writing in the package inked in a deep navy hue. By this time, your friendship had long matured from playdates and childlike antics to study sessions and the occasional heart to heart conversation. From an outsider’s perspective, it would have been a no brainer to conclude that the two of you were best friends. And at first, to you, that had been the case. Kiyoomi was the one who despite still scowling at you, would go the extra mile to take out the cheese on your burger before handing it to you, or would leave practice early to visit you if he noticed your uncharacteristic silence throughout the day. And if he couldn’t, he’d leave a parcel of your favorite snack inside your locker, the words “eat it and stop being like that” neatly written on a sticky note in deep, blue ink.  

And so on your third year, your smile would only widen as you scrolled through the same five selfies you forced Kiyoomi to take during your graduation. The sky being that same soft blue as that day during the opening ceremony, though only this time his head leaned against the top of yours (he always made it a point to emphasize his height), and a smile resting on his lips, his signature mask nowhere to be found.

After looking through the photos, you laid back in bed raising your right hand to look at the bracelet he silently clasped on your wrist. A blue butterfly charm hanging next to a yellow sunflower. He was never public or too showy about his affections, but you never bothered to care. He found ways to always get the message across.

During your final years of university, Kiyoomi became red. Red, like the color his cheeks never failed to bloom into when you kissed him in the mornings. Red, the color of the cherry tomatoes he always asked you to include to pack in his bento box that he took with him on the days he had to go to work. It had become your favorite color, because red meant it was the season where you’d see the Christmas stockings hanging over the fireplace next to the tiny Christmas tree that you and Kiyoomi had decorated together. Red, like the love that bloomed in your heart when he clasped a rose charm on the same bracelet he bought you years ago, the petals on the flower painted in deep red.

And then after that one Christmas season, you began to hate it. Red was the shade of the lipstick you saw smeared on the collar of his dress shirt. The color that made you begin to doubt yourself. The color that made you sneak to the bathroom in the middle of the night, because maybe, just maybe, you still had that red lipstick your friend had gifted you a year ago. Except every time, you didn’t. You always hated how red looked on you.

So you sat him down the next day, the same dress shirt with the same smeared red on the collar set on the table in between the two of you and asked him a silent “why?” And then Kiyoomi responded to you at first in silence, his head hung low, then eventually a silent sorry murmured from his lips.

You decided that you hated red, but you kept asking him the who, the when, and again the why. He sounded apologetic because you knew he was like that. You knew Kiyoomi was sorry for being caught as he explained it was a classmate he’s known since his first year in university, that it’s been happening for a little over two months, but paused before answering your question of why. You sat across from him and nodded once, lips clipped shut, because you do know that girl. You knew she always wore red lipstick because it looked great on her. But you never would have guessed Kiyoomi looked at her like that. And then he cleared his throat a little awkwardly before meeting your stare.

“I’m sorry. I just felt like we were missing something.”

This became the part where for a brief second, all you saw was red. You watched the man sitting across from you, bubbling with seething anger, your cheeks flushed and red, your lips bitten raw and red from containing yourself. Slapping him was definitely considered, but instead you reached for the clasp on your right wrist and took off the bracelet. Setting it next to the crumpled dress shirt, with the fucking red smear, you stood up said “Fuck you, Sakusa.”, turned to grab your phone and wallet, and left.

Red, was the color of the stoplight when you glanced at your phone for a quick second, your eyes automatically watering upon catching the ‘I love you, can we please talk?’ written on the screen. But green was the color the sign switched to as your resolve suddenly solidified. And you were sure, as you took a shaky breath and let the tears fall. You took it upon yourself to remember green. As you pressed on the gas pedal, and just fucking moved. Moved forward into a future without Kiyoomi. And you’d come to love the color green, because it reminded you in that standstill where all you saw were flashes of red from the anger and love that had been lost, that all you could really do from then on was just to go.

And so now, years later, as you looked at the half filled boxes littering the apartment you were moving out of you felt okay. Because two years ago, you had met Hajime at an intersection where the pedestrian lit up green. And because of him, you let go of the man who used to shine to you in colors. Let go of the red that had cut you open and left you to bleed out as an aftermath. Hajime looked at you with patience in his eyes that never faltered as he walked with your healing. The soft green in his eyes, mirroring the color you’ve grown to love, and teaching you to forgive.

You stood up after taping the final box close and labeling them correctly. Hajime pulled you closer to him as he pecked the middle of your forehead. “You ready? Oikawa wants us to drop by his place and get the housewarming gift he was talking about. Something about how it’s supposed to mean joy or some shit.”

“What’d he get?”

He shrugged as he picked up the box and headed towards the door. “I don’t know. You know how unpredictable he can be.”

You followed his actions and picked up another box but not before pocketing your phone, “He means well, Haji.”

And you know Oikawa means well as you sit on the passenger seat of the car while Hajime drives to the house you two were moving into. You know Oikawa meant that he wished the two of you joy as you held a small flower pot with a budding sunflower peeking out. Hajime looks over at you when the stoplight blinks red as the car rolls to a stop. He looks at you, green eyes gentle and patient and reaches over to squeeze your hand. “This time, this flower will mean our joy.” He says as the lights turn green and the car begins to gain momentum.

You look down at the flower pot, then back at Hajime, an honest smile on your lips. To you, twenty something years ago, yellow sunflowers meant afternoons in sunny playgrounds where you’d put flowers in Kiyoomi’s hair. And in that snapshot in time, it’s undeniable that it had given you joy. And so you let yourself exhale, because Oikawa means well, and Hajime is right. This is your joy. In the green eyes, patient smiles, and warm touches that was Hajime.

-

And later that night, Sakusa Kiyoomi found himself seated at a bar stool that had become familiar to him over the years. His first order of a whiskey sour sat in front of him as he stared into the open window to his right. His phone vibrated softly and the screen lit up against the dim lights of the quiet bar.

His eyes were quick to read the, ‘Thank you. Hope you’re doing well :)’ reply you texted him. The deep brown of his eyes stayed fixated on the screen, rereading the texts over and over again until the screen turned black.

He quickly downed the liquid that was left in the glass before he turned to the bartender. The man behind the bar nodded in his direction, “Another one? Same thing?”

Kiyoomi let his left hand move into the pocket of his jacket, feeling the familiar shapes of the charm bracelet you left. If he closed his eyes he would remember how they looked on your wrist. A yellow sunflower, a blue butterfly, and a red rose. It took him a little while but he finally understood why you associated memories with people into colors. He began to do it after you left. But now all he saw was the black of the phone screen that was staring back at him.

Picking up his phone, he let his eyes look over the text you sent him again, then finally sighed and set his phone back on the table facing down. Remembering his request to order, he looked up at the bartender still waiting for his reply.

“Can I get something a little stronger?”

-

 “Life isn’t like the movies, but it sure will make you cry when it dawns on you that it’s time to say goodbye.”

-Bruno Major

[hawks-supremacy]

Ghostly Roommate

After moving into a small home you begin to notice some weird things that have been happening.

Warnings: Swearing, that’s about it. There’s an alcoholic beverage at the end.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This was something I wrote for Halloween but only had half of it done when Halloween got here lol. Let me know if you want a part 2. I think the beginning is a little rough? But after that it gets better I hope.

Living alone at the age of 28 wasn’t something you imagined yourself doing when you graduated from school. You and your roommate from college always talked about moving in together after school, but things change. In this case she got a boyfriend and wanted to move in with him instead. So here you were moving into a small rented home with your cat instead of her. The house wasn’t super small but it wasn’t big either. You didn’t need much, just a place to eat and sleep and lounge about on your days off. You got the house for cheaper than what you would’ve expected. It's not falling apart or in a super terrible place either, but you weren’t going to ask questions. As the months went on you learned that maybe sometimes you should ask questions.

The first month came and went with no issues that concerned you. Sure you had to call your landlord twice because your heating system was broken. It’d be one temperature in one room and in the next it’d be colder. It wasn’t a huge difference but it was enough for it to bug you. You also noticed a few things out of place when you’d get back from work, but you brushed that off as your cat messing with things while she was alone in the house. 

The second month was a little weirder to you, but you brushed it off as the stress of living in a new area and starting a new job. There were times where you’d leave your room at three am and see something move out of the corner of your eye. You had originally brushed it off as your cat moving about at night, but one night you realized that she had been in your room the whole time. You decided to push it to the back of your mind and mark it off as you being paranoid. 

You had a day off and you decided to have your old roommate, Nemuri, over for a small hangout so you could catch up. It was an hour before she was supposed to come over and you were cleaning up your home when you came across a cat toy you were 80% sure you put away. You glanced over at your assumed culprit and back at the toy before speaking, “Seriously Saturn what am I going to do with you. Every time I put away a toy it seems like you drag it out again.” You sighed and placed the toy over with the rest before finishing the little cleaning you had to do.

You were finishing up cooking when you had heard the knock on the door as it opened. “Knock knock I’m coming in darling.” You had heard Nemuri let herself in and chuckled softly to yourself before taking everything off the stove. “Oh there you are. For a second I thought I walked into an empty home.” Nemuri stated as she gracefully strided into the kitchen.

“How was the commute over here? It wasn’t too long was it? I said we could meet somewhere, you didn’t have to come all the way here.” You moved around the kitchen getting out bowls and cups for you two, “What do you want to drink? I have tea or I have some coffee from this morning, it’s still warm.”  You heard her say that tea was fine before wandering around the front area of your home.

“This is a cute little home you have here Y/n. However, it is a little chilly. You should get your heating checked out, I’m nipping out over here.” You rolled your eyes at the fact that she still has no filter when it comes to more crude topics. You thought for sure she’d mellow out, but it’s not Nemuri if she wasn’t the definition of “TMI”. 

As you set everything on the table you called out your response, “I have, twice. They have no idea what’s wrong with it. It’s not like it’s terrible, I just put on a sweater and call it good. Anyway, the food is ready so come eat. I made dumplings because I remember you saying you were going to miss them when we graduated.” 

As you both ate you had some light conversation about where you were working and how the move for both of you went. Finishing up the meal and setting the dishes in the sink to wash later you turned to Nemuri, “So how’s your little boytoy?” You asked as you walked over to the couch where she had decided to make herself comfortable and find something to watch for background noise.

She laughed as she gave you her response, “He’s fine I’m sure, but we broke up a little while ago.” Before you could ask what happened she had let out a deep sigh, “Men these days are so vanilla. You wanna spice things up a little bit and all you get back in response is “That’s not going to fit” or  “what the hell are you doing with that” I swear it’s so hard to find a man who wants to experiment, yanno?” 

Upon hearing her reasoning you started choking on the drink you started taking before she talked. After calming down from your sudden near death experience you looked at her with both your eyebrows raised, “Uhm, no I can’t say that I do know. Honestly Nemuri sometimes I wonder if you were just born without a filter or if you got to a certain age and it broke.” 

She replied with the fact that she’s never had one as she laughed at your reaction, “We should get you a man...or woman...You know I just realized I never asked about that. So like, Girl in Red? Sweater Weather? Or?” You just gave her a look that said you were confused before she sighed, “I’m asking if you’re gay.” 

You made a face of realization before you felt your face get a tinge warmer. “I’ve never really been in more than one relationship but I do know that I like both. Actually I don’t think it matters, yanno? If I like someone, I like someone. I don’t care what they are.” She squealed excitedly before jumping straight into a plan of going out on a weekend and finding someone for you before you cut her off, “Nemuri! I’m not really looking for a relationship right now. Between work, and still trying to figure things out I don’t really want to throw a relationship into the mix.” She nodded in understanding before moving the topic to something else. Even though she had to filter you were glad she respected your boundaries and didn’t push anything.

You spent the next hour or so catching up before she said she had to leave for some appointment. You walked her to the door and watched as she put on what looked like six inches of death in shoe form and left. You walked into the kitchen to clean everything up and noticed that the dumplings you had left on the hot plate were gone and the hot plate turned off. You laughed and told yourself you’re just being silly and you probably put them in the fridge for later. You quickly did the dishes and put everything away before going to grab a drink from the fridge. As you glanced in there you had noticed that the dumplings weren’t in the fridge like you thought and they had just disappeared. You quickly glanced around the kitchen to make sure you weren’t crazy. You realized they weren’t there and quickly made your way around the house. You decided before you checked all the rooms in your house that if there was indeed someone in your house you were fucked. You went to the living room and found a weapon, not that you had any that were useful. You grabbed an exacto knife from your various supplies and decided it was better than nothing.

Heading over to your bedroom first you slowly pushed open the door before walking in and noticing that no one was there. You checked all of the rooms, leaving only one room you hadn’t quite decided what you were doing with last. As you were checking the rooms you told yourself that this was ridiculous and that no one was in the rooms and I was probably Saturn that ate them. That still doesn’t explain how the hot plate was off, also you haven’t seen Saturn in a while. You lowered your weapon before pushing open the last door. You dropped the exacto knife as you saw what looked to be a homeless man playing with your cat. He looked at you and the exacto knife you dropped and then your cat and back to you. Without saying anything he disappeared. 

After seeing that you screamed and ran out of the room before running back in and snatching Saturn off the ground and running to your room to pack your shit and get the hell out of town. “Oh hell to the motherfucking no! I am not going to be in a horror movie, not today Satan. I prefer to watch them, not live them! Saturn, aren’t you supposed to see this shit! Why didn’t you say anything?! Fucking traitors, just gonna let me get killed by the ghost. You’d like that wouldn’t you you sick fuck.” During your ramble and rant you hadn’t noticed the figure standing in the doorway with his arms crossed watching you. 

In the middle of you scolding your cat you heard a “Are you done yet?” You dropped the pair of sweatpants you were about to pack and let out a high pitched scream. Turning around you looked at the ghostly man and whispered a pathetic “please don’t kill me”. He shook his head in response, “If I were going to kill you, I would’ve done it already. Why would I wait months to kill you?” You paused and narrowed your eyes at the man. You had no clue why he would wait months to kill you, that still doesn’t make this situation any better. You were still scared and now a little creeped out that this dead (somewhat handsome) man had been living in the house and watching you. 

“Okay well if you aren’t going to kill me, what do you want?”  He gave a shrug in response before uncrossing his arms and walking into the room to sit on your bed with your cat. You instinctively took a few steps back when he started walking into the room. “So have you been moving all my stuff around and getting things out.” He nodded in response. You both stayed quiet for a few moments before you slowly started to unpack the suitcase you had thrown on your bed.

After unpacking everything you looked at the man for a few moments. You feel a little bad about the homeless comment, but upon looking at him you can’t really blame yourself. He looks a little gruff. Long hair and some stubble, he also had terrible bags. You coughed a bit before speaking, not quite sure how to start this conversation, “Do you want some tea? Wait, can you even drink things? No that’s a dumb question you clearly can, I’m assuming you ate the dumplings from earlier. I still think we should talk about things whether you want to drink tea or not. I’m having tea, specifically a calming tea because I feel like I just ran a goddamn mile and I’m having a heart attack.” As you talked you walked to the kitchen and put on a kettle.

“I’ll have a cup of tea. Yes I can eat and drink, I don’t need to, but sometimes I liked to just to remember what things tasted like.” You gave a sad smile at that thought and made you both cups of tea before sitting down at the couch. You noticed the exacto knife on the counter and felt your cheeks get warm, what were you gonna do with that? “What questions do you have?”

You thought about it for a moment, “Uh is there anything you don’t want to tell me?” he shrugged in response so you figured that meant he didn’t care. “Well to start off with, what’s your name?” 

“Aizawa Shota.” You nodded, glad you had a name for him and weren’t just calling him ghost. You would’ve felt awkward if he didn’t remember or something and you had to call him ghost. “How did you die? When? You don’t have to answer if it’s like a sensitive topic or something.” You quickly tacked on the last part just in case he got upset and disappeared again, you felt more comfortable being able to see him and knowing where he was.

“I don’t remember how, as far as how long, it’s probably been a few years. They all start to meld together after a while.” Well that’s not depressing, you thought as you took a drink of your tea and thought of another question. “So what was your plan of attack with the exacto knife?” He decided to ask a question while you thought of another. You felt your face get redder than before and you stuttered out a response before he chuckled and told you he was kidding. 

You talked and asked questions back and forth for a few hours before you thought you had a pretty good understanding of your new roommate. He was a teacher before he died and was stuck at the age 30. He likes cats, although you could have guessed that from your first interaction, he also likes sleep but doesn’t need to as a ghost. He could choose when and when not to appear visible. You also learned that he can’t leave the house, so he’s been stuck here for a while. 

As it got later in the evening you let out a yawn and he asked if you wanted to go to bed. You had nodded and thought of something, “Where have you been sleeping?” He silently pointed at the couch as he got up and grabbed the cups from the coffee table. You frowned and gave the couch a few experimental bounces, “Is it comfortable?” You got up and called into the kitchen. You jumped as he walked through the wall towards you, “Jesus I’m never going to get used to that, I can tell you that right now.” 

He silently laughed before responding, “It’s comfortable enough, why? Going to offer your bed?” He quirked an eyebrow at you as you began to stutter for the millionth time that day. “I’m just messing with you, it’s fine you don’t need to worry.”

You frowned once again, “I can set up a ‘spare room’ and that can be your room. I won’t be having guests over often but on the off chance someone does you’ll have to go back to the couch for a night or two.” 

“Yeah you can do that if you want, but you don’t have to buy things for me to sleep on, I’m fine with the couch, I slept on a floor before you got here.” You never thought about it like that, but when you think about it yeah he had nothing to do before you moved here. If you didn’t feel bad before you do now. You let out a fine and went to your room to get ready for bed.

It had been nearly a year since moving into your new home and almost ten months since you found out about your new ghostly roommate. Everything had been pretty interesting. True to your word you still hadn’t got used to him walking through the walls to get to his destinations. You think one of these times it’s going to give you a heart attack and send you into the afterlife with him. You started making extra helpings during your meals, deciding that if he doesn’t eat them you can take them to work with you. You also bought a bed and nightstand for the spare room. You would have left it as just the bed but if someone like Nemuri did stay the night you figured it’d be weird if there was just a bed and nothing else. 

You two had gotten pretty close over the months you’ve lived together, you talked everyday and learned more about each other. You would consider him one of your three friends. You didn’t have many people you considered friends, so yeah he’s one of them. You had hoped that he considered you a friend as well. Nemuri had come over a few times where you forgot to tell him and he almost walked into the room with her. Not that you think she would care, but you definitely thought she would lose her shit if the way she found out was him walking through the wall. You just haven’t found out how to tell her. I mean how do you bring that up in conversation, “Hey I have a roommate, but surprise! He’s dead!” that didn’t seem like it’d get you thrown in the loony bin at all. You talked about him pretending to be alive, it’s not like you can tell he’s not alive anyway. For now you just haven’t told her, it hasn’t caused problems yet.

Tonight Nemuri had finally convinced you to let her set you up with someone. You didn’t necessarily want to but she had been bugging you about this for a while so you figured if you let her do it this once she’d finally leave you alone about it. You had been getting ready when you realized you weren’t sure what you were doing. You didn’t know if she meant going to a bar and her trying to find someone there or if she had already found someone. You started to look for your phone in your room to text her when you realized it was in the living room. You sighed and walked over to the coffee table when Aizawa had looked over and saw you were dressed up.

He gave you a once over and raised his eyebrows, “Where are you going tonight? You never go out.” You laughed at the question and the comment.

You sent Nemuri a text asking what the hell was going on because all she told you prior was “look hot”. After sending the text you looked at Aizawa, “Nemuri is setting me up tonight, but I don’t know if she means on a date or finding some random guy in a club.” Aizawa paused for a moment before letting out an oh and turning to the tv. You looked at him with a confused look on your face before walking back to your room to finish getting ready. 

Nemuri had texted you back saying you were going to a club to find someone and you rolled your eyes. You had been hoping for the other option, she also sent you a text stating that she had been here. You went to leave and say goodbye to Aizawa but saw that the tv had been shut off and he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. You shrugged and left the house, you got into Nemuri’s car and buckled your seatbelt when you sat down. You were all for “living on the edge” as she called it, but when it comes to Nemuri and driving you weren’t taking chances. She was a driver from hell.

“What club are we going to? Also what do you hope to accomplish tonight? I’m not a one night stand kind of girl, I’ve been in one relationship that ended in a disaster.” She told you that you guys were just going to look and you didn’t have to have a one night stand, but at least talk to a few people. The rest of the way to the club was just you two listening to the playlist that she had decided for the night. Upon arriving she parked the car and walked straight up to the bouncer. You were already wary of tonight because she had just cut in front a lot of people. You didn’t know much about the clubbing scene but you guessed that was a big no no. She had told the bouncer her name and was immediately let in. You quickly followed her in careful not to make eye contact with the people who were in line.

“I know the dj that works in this club so I get let in for free.” You nodded in understanding and continued to follow her to the bar. You both ordered your drinks, while you waited for them to get done Nemuri started scoping out the room and looking for god knows what. You had no clue what her standards for men were anymore, or what she thought your standards for men would be. You thanked the bartender as he set your drinks down in front of you. As she continued to look around you started at your drink taking a hesitant sip, you weren’t big on alcohol. 

Nemuri tapped your shoulder and you turned around, drink in hand, as she pointed in a direction. You tried following her finger but failed miserably, it was so packed in here. You gave her a questioning look before she decided on describing them instead, “That blonde guy in the black and gold tank top. He kinda looks like he’s wearing eyeliner.” You found who she was talking about and squinted trying to see him better from here. You didn’t like this clubbing idea so far. 

Upon looking at him you gave her your answer, “No.” she let out a ‘why, he’s cute’ to which you responded with, “Yeah and looks about ten years younger than us. Nemuri, all of the people in here look way too young for me. You might be into the younger generation but I’m not. Thank you and all, but I’m just going to go home.”

“Y/n it’s only been like fifteen minutes come one.” She whined as you paid for your drink and thanked the bartender.

“Nemuri I shouldn’t have even come out tonight. The lights are hurting my eyes, the sound is giving me a headache, my claustrophobia is going to kick in, and I can already tell that none of these people aren’t my type, because my type wouldn’t be at a club. I’m sorry but I’m going home.” After saying that you walked outside and called a cab to take you home.

Twenty minutes late you arrived home and sighed as you kicked off your shoes. You went to take off your make-up but left your clothes on as you decided to make yourself a snack. You kneeled down to pet Saturn as she joined you in the kitchen while your food was heating up. Jumping in place as you saw Aizawa come out from the wall. You let out a small hey as you stood up and took your food out of the microwave and began to eat.

He leaned against the counter with a glass of water in hand, “Have fun? Meet anyone you liked?”

You laughed in response, “Uhm no, I hate clubs and everyone there was way too young. I don’t think she realizes we have two completely different tastes. Besides, my type wouldn’t be at a club anyway.”

He nodded in understanding, setting his glass in the sink and turning to you again, “What is your type?”

You finished eating as you thought about it. You’ve never really thought about it before, you definitely know they wouldn’t be at a club though. “I’m not sure to be honest. I’m going to bed though. G’night Aizawa.” You gave him a brief hug before going to your room.

After you got ready for bed you thought about what your type would be some more. You stared at the ceiling as you thought, they probably wouldn’t be loud. They would probably be quiet, but not like a pushover quiet. They’d have to like cats, if they don’t it’s not gonna work out. Probably a homebody who you can nap with. But also someone you can joke around with. That’s when it hit you. Fuck.

Aizawa is your type.

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Lightning in a Bottle | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: None :)

Time/Era: Modern AU

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Music is Edmund’s love language, apparently. 

Request: Hey! Could you possibly do a cute high school au with Edmund? Maybe they’re both crushing on each other and everyone knows except themselves, anything you wanna do really haha 😂 thanksss :)

A/N: Thanks for the request!!  God, I love Edmund so much. And here, we have indie boi Ed. This oneshot is inspired by  Electric Love by Børns. (Specifically, the video linked) This is one of my favorite songs, and I thought it fit the indie-main-character-high-school vibe :) I didn’t really nail the “everyone knows but them” thing, but still crushes! Enjoy ~

masterlist | here is a playlist of the songs in the mixtape mentioned | read on ao3

Edmund Pevensie was obsessed with listening to music, particularly with old musical technology. While it wasn’t uncommon to have a fascination with cassette tapes or vinyl records, it hit a special chord within Edmund’s heart. Something about listening to music, old and new, on the outdated tech made the music sound better, hit harder, and stick in his mind better. He was the type of guy who took the AUX on long car rides to play one of his thousand Spotify playlists. 

Another notable thing about Edmund was that he was very intelligent with very high standards for himself. He was a natural at academics, having been in advanced classes since he was young, and he was the guy everyone hated in math class. After dozing off in class, and mouthing off to the teacher every now and again, he still came out as the teacher’s favorite and a straight-A student. 

The majority of the time, though, he tended to keep to himself. While he was genuinely liked by his peers and was rather charming, he didn’t really consider anyone his friend. Unlike his older brother, Peter, he liked to remain closer to the shadows with earbuds in his ears. He knew he could never fill his brother’s shoes; Peter had basically come into Cair Paravel High School to be captain of the soccer team. He was so good that even though his grades were subpar at best, he received a full-ride scholarship to Archenland University to study sports medicine and play on their soccer team. 

Then there was his older sister, Susan, who won her Student Body President campaign by a landslide. Everyone liked Susan; she was patient, gentle, and got along with pretty much everyone. She too got a pretty large scholarship to Beruna State College and is double majoring in child education and European history. 

Finally, there was Edmund’s little sister, Lucy. She was only a freshman at Cair Paravel, and very into student council. Edmund thought she was practically made to be an ASB kid; she was excited, friendly, and much too kind. Lucy made the switch to high school seamlessly and had a big group of friends by the time the final bell rang on the first day. 

Edmund was a senior now and he couldn’t wait to get out of high school. The people were unintelligent, he was constantly compared to his siblings and he was ready to start his life. Edmund had high ambitions to become a lawyer, specifically criminal law. He didn’t really have much to leave behind at this school, so he was just trying to get through it as soon as possible.

One thing he would miss was the quiet girl that sat behind him in his music appreciation class. Edmund didn’t really want to take the class, but at the last minute, he discovered he needed to fulfill an arts credit to graduate. He appreciated music and liked easy classes, so he chose this one. Little did he know it was mostly analyzing classical pieces. 

Y/N was super cute in Edmund’s eyes. She always mumbled sarcastic comments whenever their easily excitable teacher, Mr. Tumnus, would stretch when over-analyzing a stanza of music. By the time October passed, Edmund had grown quite fond of the girl. She almost always was reading a comic book of some sort instead of paying attention in class. Y/N even ended up lending Edmund a few for his viewing pleasures; he always made sure to return them in the exact condition he received them. Batman seemed to Y/N’s favorite. 

Y/N loved watching Edmund write. He held his pencil wrong and always had ink smudged all over his hand. Maybe it was because he was a leftie, or maybe it was because he wrote too fast. Probably a little bit of both. His handwriting was also weirdly slanted to the right, which didn’t make any sense to Y/N. He was left-handed but his letters slanted to the right? Not the mention how half of it was in cursive and half of it was in print. It was definitely messy but, oddly enough, still intelligible. 

“What are you listening to?” Y/N asked Edmund. “Better not be Christmas music. Christmas was last month.”

Edmund pulled an earbud out of his left ear and turned so he was sitting horizontally in his chair. He leaned an arm on the top of her desk and grinned. “Currently, I’m listening to Can I Call You Tonight? By Dayglow. What are you reading?” 

“Currently, I’m reading Volume 1 of The New Teen Titans,” Y/N copied Edmund. “I’ve never heard of Dayglow, are they good?” 

Edmund smiled, offering her his earbuds. “Listen and see for yourself.” 

As she listened Edmund searched her face for any clue to what she’s thinking. Her face housed a small smile so he concluded that she enjoyed it. Once the song ended, she took out one of his earbuds and placed it on her desk. 

“I like it,” She concluded, listening to the next song. 

“Good, so do I. It fits my mood for today.”

“What’s got you so happy today? You have a great way of showing happiness, by the way.” Edmund was dressed in all black with his hood up. Edmund rolled his eyes. 

“What I can’t be in a good mood?” 

“I never said that, Pevensie. You just look very Edmund-y today.” Y/N pulled the other earbud out of her head and held them out to him.

“No, keep listening. I’ll play some music for you throughout class and maybe you can tell me what you think at the end?” He pulled his hood off of his head and smoothed out his hair. “And what do you mean Edmund-y?”

“I don’t know, all black, hood up, dead look in your eyes.” 

“I don’t have a dead look in my eyes!” Y/N giggled at her own joke. “Just for that, I’m going to take this.” He snatched the open comic book that laid open on her desk. 

For the remainder of the class, Edmund dictated what Y/N listened to from his phone. He played everything from The Beatles, to The 1975, to COIN, to Duran Duran. Every now and then, Edmund would peek his head back to see her eyes glued to the back of his head. Her body swayed to the music almost lazily, and a smile graced her features. For some reason that made his stomach feel fuzzy. 

She returned his earbuds at the end of class, and he returned her comic. 

“That was fun,” Y/N complimented, shoving her materials into her bag. “I like the get better song you played.”

“I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers,” Edmund corrected her as they left the classroom. Music Appreciation was the class of the day for them, seeing as they were seniors who left at lunch, so the two started making their way towards the parking lot. 

“You have to meet your sister right?” Y/N asks, pulling out her I.D. so she could leave campus. “The really sweet freshman girl? Honestly, you two are so different I wouldn’t have guessed you were siblings.” 

“Oh, Lucy, yeah. We grab lunch every Thursday before I drop her back off for the remainder of her classes.” The two showed their I.D.’s to the campus aid and walked into the parking lot. 

“That’s sweet. We should grab lunch sometime, or something. It could be fun! We could do our analysis questions about Bach.” Y/N started to walk in the opposite direction and Edmund felt his cheeks warm. Luckily, Y/N’s back was now towards him. 

“Yeah, sure. Don Giovanni, right?” 

Y/N’s laughter could be heard as she grew further away. “That’s Motzart, Pevensie!”

Edmund shook his head and met Lucy. She was leaning against his car looking bored. 

“Who was that? Is that your girlfriend?” Lucy asks, opening the door once Edmund unlocks the car. This made his cheeks flush more. 

“No, she’s just the girl that sits behind me in Tumnus,” Edmund puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine. 

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not, Lucy. It’s just hot in the car, it’s been sitting out here for ages.”

~

 One day in the middle of March when Y/N walked into Music Appreciation, she noticed a small rectangle box on her desk. Upon opening it, she found a cassette and a note. The note looked as if it was typed using a typewriter. 

Y/N,

I’m not very good when it comes to words, but I’m good when it comes to music. Hopefully, this says it all. Enjoy, my love. 

Side A //

Electric Love / Børns

I Love You So / The Walters

Fallingforyou / The 1975

Your Song /  Elton John

Someone To You / BANNERS

Side B //

Babe, Can I Call? / The Hunna

Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy) / The 1975

Luv, Hold Me Down / Drowners

love somebody like you / joan

TV Dream / Larkins

Y/N didn’t recognize most of the songs, but just reading the titles made her blush. 

“Mr. Tumnus? Did you happen to see who left this on my desk?” She held up the cassette so he could see. He shook his head. 

“No, sorry.”

Other students started to trickle in and soon the bell rang, no trace of Edmund. It wasn’t uncommon for him to skip this class, it was basically pointless, but it made Y/N sad every time he wasn’t there. 

The door swings open and a drenched Edmund steps into the classroom. Without even looking up, Mr. Tumnus addresses him. 

“You’re late again, Mr. Pevensie.”

“Sorry, I got stuck behind a group of Sophmore girls who wouldn’t move.”

“In the rain?” Mr. Tumnus raised an eyebrow.

“No, if it was in the rain I would be wet right now, sir.”

He plopped into his seat and started raking his hands through his wet hair. His cheeks were slightly rosey, as were his nose. His lips were pinker than usual and they stayed slightly parted. Hair stuck to his forehead as he ran his fingers ran through it and the hair on the nape of his neck dripped down his back. Y/N had to stop herself from staring at him with her jaw unhinged. 

“What’s that?” He whispered, noticing the open present on Y/N’s desk. He had taken up sitting horizontal in his chair at all times so he could more easily talk to Y/N. 

“It’s a mixtape. It was left on my desk when I got here,” Y/N responded and handed him the note. Edmund took it and began to read; his eyes scanned the paper and his lips moved slightly as he read. Y/N couldn’t help her this time, so she allowed herself to stare. His lips were always so pink and so puffy. She fantasized about how soft they must be. 

“Wow, looks like someone really likes you,” He comments, placing the paper back on her desk. “Do you have a cassette player?”

Y/N didn’t even consider that. Who the hell has a cassette player in the year 2020? Apparently, her answer was evident on her face, and Edmund chuckles. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a walkman and a pair of earbuds. 

“Here, you can have mine. I got a new one last month and I don’t really use this one as much.”

Oh, Edmund has a cassette player in the year 2020. 

Y/N smiled, taking the player from his hand. “Thanks, Ed.”

“Wouldn’t want you to miss out on those songs. Whoever made that has good taste, you’re lucky.” 

~

When Y/N got home tonight, she took out her walkman. It sat easily in her palm, just big enough for the cassette to fit inside. On the bottom, “E.P.” was scratched into the plastic. She smiled and put her mixtape inside. 

As she listened, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Edmund. They had grown much closer in the past few months, even going lengths to hang out outside of school. Y/N learned that not only was Edmund extremely intelligent, but he was the funniest person Y/N had ever met. He always had a sarcastic comeback or joke to offer her, no matter the subject. He had also let many of his walls down, letting Y/N get to know him better. It all felt so comfortable and natural. No longer was he just the cute guy from Music Appreciation, but he was the pain in the ass that Y/N had fallen for. And Y/N had fallen hard. 

Against her first impression of the mixtape, Y/N had actually heard all of these songs. After the first day in January, Edmund had lent her his earbuds near-daily and she would listen to whatever he played for her. Her eyes widened. 

Why would Edmund carry around a cassette player he didn’t use? And to school for that matter? And the note; it was typed because Edmund had such distinct handwriting! Y/N rewound the cassette and listened to it again. Why didn’t she realize in the moment?

~

“Hello, Y/N,” Edmund greeted in the parking lot the morning, he happened to park next to Y/N. He gripped the coffee in his hand and got his backpack in the trunk. “How are you on this fine morning?”

“Tired, I stayed up, like, half the night listening to that cassette I got yesterday.” Y/N slung her own backpack over her shoulder. He closed his trunk and locked his car. 

“Yeah? And what did you think?” The two started walking towards the building. 

“I thought that the songs all sounded oddly familiar.”

Edmund took a long sip of his coffee. “Like you’ve heard them before?” 

“Mmhm,” Y/N hummed and walked onto campus. She held one of the straps of her backpack as she walked. “Almost as if this dumbass guy I know played them for me a while back,” Y/N’s voice was teasing and light. 

“Yeah? Who is this guy?” Y/N stopped walking and looked up at Edmund. 

“Thanks for the mixtape, Ed.” 

“Whaaaat...just because this guy has great taste in love songs doesn’t mean it was me. I’m flattered though, really,” Edmund took another long sip of his coffee. 

“Oh, what a pity. I actually got excited when I figured out it was you. Considering normal people don’t just carry cassette players in their backpacks. Especially not ones they don’t use anymore.” Y/N’s voice was thick with sarcasm. 

“Excited?”

“Yeah. I’ve kinda liked that Edmund guy for a while, but he doesn’t like me back so…”  

“You like me back?” Edmund was grinning from ear to ear. 

“Yes, babe, I like you back. I have since October since I started letting you borrow my comics,”

Edmund placed his coffee on a bench and pulled Y/N closer to him by the hips. 

“October, huh?” Y/N smiled bashfully at Edmund’s tone but nodded. 

“What? You’re cute, I couldn’t help myself. Plus, now you make me cute mixtapes.”

Edmund leans down and places his lips against hers. They were just as soft as she had imagined. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers quickly finding the hairs at the nape of his neck. He pulls away and leans his forehead against hers. 

“Be my girlfriend, then?”

“You nerd,” Y/N took a small step forwards and pecked his lips again. “I would love to.”

[lightupmyass]

Pairing: Professor! Namjoon x College Student! Reader

Genre: smut, slight angst, comedy and some fluff I think?

Warnings: unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, mentions of masturbation, slight soft dom Joonie, semi public sex, cream pie

Summary: Being the class clown is all fun and games, until you take things a little too far...

Word Count: 4218

You’ve been waiting for this for months. After a boring summer back home, you finally get to come back to school. Most people dread going back, but you loved it. Your hometown was so boring. You loved being at school, seeing your friends, meeting new people. It was exhilarating to you. You fix your hair one more time before grabbing your bag and heading to your very first class of the semester.

As you walk in, you smile wide when you notice a familiar face, and when you catch his eyes, he does the very same. “Yooo, no fucking waaaay.” You laugh, going up to your friend and high fiving him. “That’s my bitch! You didn’t tell me you had this class.” Taehyung laughs, pulling the chair next to him out for you. “Well you didn’t tell me either, man. Bro this is gonna be fucking great.” You smile. Taehyung has been one of your best friends since you started uni, sharing your sense of humor. He was the class clown everywhere he went, and you thrived together. You looked around, seeing a few other familiar faces, but no one you really talked to.

As you and Taehyung caught up, telling each other all about your summers, something else caught your eye. A man walked into the room, his blonde hair slicked back with a small strand falling onto his forehead, round glasses perched perfectly on his nose, and a dark blue button up shirt tucked into black slacks. He looked young, older than any other student, but too young to be the professor. You Tried to ignore him, but watched him out of the corner of your eye, seeing him set his things on the teacher’s desk and grab a marker from the white board.

“Alright, good morning everybody.” He turned to face the class, a small smile on his face, his dimples prominent, giving him an even more youthful look. “My name is Mr. Kim.” He says, writing it on the board. “I am your professor for English 3. Are their any questions before we get started?” He asks. One of the girls raises her hand, and he points at her. “Sorry if I’m being too forward, Professor, but how old are you?”  She asks, smiling at him. “Ah,” he chuckles, “I’m actually 27. I just graduated last year actually so this is my first year teaching.” He explains. Damn, he’s pretty young. “Any other questions?” When he asks that, you get an idea. You nudge Taehyung, smiling as you raise your hand. “Yes?” Mr. Kim asks, pointing at you. “Um yes, I have a question. Do you think busses in medieval times were just very long carriages, Sir?” You ask, Taehyung bursting with laughter the second you stopped talking, a few of the other students chuckling as well. Mr. Kim raised an eyebrow at you, putting his hands behind his back. “Do we have anymore questions about this class?” “Ooh, I have one Sir!” Taehyung raises his hand, a big, wicked smile on his face. “Can we do magic tricks in here?” Mr. Kim looked at him, a small part of his soul leaving his body as he realized what he had gotten himself into. Why did he become a professor? He may never know the truth. “Yes, you can absolutely do magic. In fact, if you keep asking me questions that waste my time and the class's, I’ll do one myself and make you disappear.” A round of ooohs echoed off the walls, Taehyung slumping down in his seat. For once in his life, Taehyung might’ve met his match. This made the young, handsome teacher all the more intriguing to you.

Over the next month you and Taehyung had stuck your claim as the class clowns, as you’ve been doing since the two of my met. You were a chaotic duo that made the best out of any boring lecture. You did ask a few more stupid questions in Mr. Kim's class, but he never acted upon that little “threat" he made on the first day. In all honesty, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. He was funny, sweet, and still super attractive. He was also very philosophical, always bringing up discussions in the classroom that were open for debate, which you gladly joined with complete seriousness. His face when you first spoke without making some joke for comic relief was one of shock, to say the least.

You enjoyed his class very much, but it wasn’t until one night that you really saw Mr. Kim for who he was. It was a night where you and Tae had decided to go out to a little bar that was off campus you two found during your second semester of school. It was quiet, relaxing, and intimate. Not many people from your school come in, so you don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of fellow classmates (which you never worry about anyway but, you know). Tae had left you alone in favor of going home with a girl he had met, meaning that you were sitting at the bar, alone and bored. As you wave the bartender over to ask for another drink, you see a familiar, tall figure slouched on the bar, a big difference from his usual perfect posture, his normally slick blonde hair falling onto his forehead, looking as soft as a cloud.

Curious, you get down from your stool, making your way over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Kim?” You ask, grabbing his attention. He turns on his stool, his cheeks slightly pink as he straightens himself up. “Ah, Y/N. Didn’t expect I’d see anyone from school here.” He mumbles a bit, a slight slur in his voice. He must’ve been here for a while. “Yeah, uh, Tae and I come here a lot. Mind if I sit?” You ask, Mr. Kim nodding. Taking the seat next to him, the bartender brings you your drink. “Are you alright, Mr. Kim? You don’t look like yourself.” You ask. He stiffens up a bit, running his fingers through his hair, the action making his button up shirt tighten around his biceps and back. “Yes, I’m fine. Just kinda, drowning away the work week, you know?” He answers. “I’m sure being a professor isn’t easy. Especially with idiots like Tae and I.” You chuckle, Mr. Kim doing the same. “Nah, you guys aren’t that bad. I actually enjoy some of the things you two come up with. I mean, ‘who would win in a fight between a manatee and a praying mantis?’ like what?” He laughs loudly, making you feel good at the question you asked him just last week.

“I thought we annoyed you. You’re always so serious in class.” You admitted. “On the contrary, you guys brighten my day. Since this is my first year of teaching, I have to try and maintain a strict classroom in order to feel as if I’m actually doing a good job, but its always good to have a laugh every now and then.” He smiles at you, his dimples making your heart flutter. “Why did you become a teacher so early?” The question sneaks up on you, and you’re not sure if it was a good one or not, but you’re curious. “Honestly, I just needed something that would give me money while I wrote my book.” He answers. “Book? You’re writing a book?” He chuckles a bit, taking another sip of his drink. “Of course I’m writing a book. I’m an English major, its not like I can go get a CEO position in a big business with a paper that says ‘I know how to read and write good'.” He jokes, putting a smile on your face. “Well, Mr. Kim, I never expected you to be such a jokester.” You chuckle. “Please, we’re off campus. Call me Namjoon.”

For the rest of the night you both sat there, talking about his book, your childhood, pretty much anything that came up until the bartender called last round and you realized it was almost 4 am. “Oh, wow, I guess we should be heading out.” You giggle, the alcohol definitely running rampant through your system. You take your card out to pay your tab when Namjoon pushes your hand away. “Its okay. I got it.” You thank him, smiling warmly at him. “Are you okay to go home? Do you want me to walk you? Or call you an Uber?” He asks. “Well, we’re going back to campus, so I feel that an Uber would be better. Don’t want anyone to see us and get the wrong impression.” You point out, him nodding in agreement. He walks you outside, waiting with you. “You know, I have always wondered something about you, Y/N.” He says, catching you a bit off guard. “What’s that?” He stiffens a bit, putting his hands in his pockets as he props himself up against the brick wall. “You’re an amazing student, always turn in exceptional work, so why do you act out? Why not just go through school like normal and be great? Let your work and your character match?” The question actually surprises you a bit. “Well, I assume it could be related to the constant need for attention due to the lack of it from my parents, growing up as a middle child in a family of five kids.” You give him your honest answer. “That makes sense.” There’s a bit of a silence for a moment before he speaks again. “Tonight turned out a lot better than I expected. I normally drink alone, but having company was nice.” He smiles. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Kim. I had a lot of fun too. I saw you as an actual person for once.” You respond. There’s a moment when you turn to face him, his cheeks still tinged pink from the alcohol and his eyes hazy, his body leaning lazily against the wall. There’s a moment when your eyes meet, and the sounds of the last few people leaving the bar fades away, where its just the two of you, and you can’t help the way your heart races, an urge so strong you want to act upon. However, you don’t even need to, because before you know it, his lips are on yours, heat radiating between you in this moment, this moment of passion, where you forget who he is, what he is to you, where all you can think about is how soft his lips are, how his strong hands grip your waist, and how his chest feels pressed against yours. Before you know it, the moment is over, he pulls away with heavy breaths, leaving you cold with his taste still on your lips. “I-I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. God I’m such a fucking idiot.” He steps back, putting his hand on his forehead as he leans back against the wall. “No, no its okay. I didn’t mind-" You stop when you see him looking behind you, the light from headlights flooding where you were standing. “That’s the Uber.” He clears his throat, straightening himself up again. “Have a good night, Y/N. I’ll see you in class on Monday.” He says, and just like that, he’s gone, walking alone in the shadows in the opposite direction.

Another month passes by. You have to admit, there’s a lot of tension between the two of you ever since that night. However, the kiss has somehow made you even more dangerous to him. Not that he was afraid you’d tell someone, because for someone who was a loud mouth in class, you assured him you knew how to keep a secret. Yet the knowledge that he was attracted to you gave you more power in other ways. You started to dress a little different in class, hoping to tease him a little bit, the kiss making you crave more from him. Short skirts and sundresses were now your typical outfit, and you could tell that he enjoyed seeing them without him needing to tell you anything. Even after your chat that night though, you never slowed down with your stupid questions or remarks, keeping your title in the class. You liked pushing him a bit, trying to see where he’d draw the line. No matter how hard you pushed, he didn’t seem to waver at all.

Class started normally, just like any other day, Mr. Kim calling roll call and Taehyung answering with something stupid. It all changed when Mr. Kim asked “Does anyone have any questions before we start?” and oh boy did you have a great one for today. You raise your hand, the look of false annoyance already washing over his face. You know he loves your jokes, he just has to act like he doesn’t. “Yes, Miss Y/N?” Now is your time to shine. Maybe this’ll be his limit. “Ah yes, Sir, I would like to know, where do babies come from?” You ask, Taehyung immediately erupting with laughter as a few other student giggle, a few others groaning, sick of your bullshit. Mr. Kim nods a bit before responding. “Y/N, I need you to stay after so we can discuss your behavior in my class.” The seriousness in his voice scares you, the only thing able to come out of your mouth is a small “Yes Sir".

The rest of class drags on, the fear of what will happen after class making your stomach hurt. You wonder if you really did it this time, if you pushed him past his breaking point. The moment he dismisses everyone is the moment your heart drops into your stomach, Taehyung patting you on the back before leaving the classroom, leaving you and Mr. Kim alone. “Mr. Kim, I-" “Namjoon. Call me Namjoon now, Y/N. Its just us.” He corrects you, a bit of your worry fading away at the calm tone of his voice. “Namjoon, I’m sorry if I took it too far. I really am.” You apologize, and for once in your life its genuine. “Its alright, Y/N. Come up here.” He says, coaxing you to the front of the room with two fingers. You move quickly, something about the dominance he radiates right now overwhelming you. He gets up out of his chair, walking slowly to the door. “You know how much I enjoy your jokes,” he starts, locking the door, “but there is a limit. However, I do strive to be the best teacher I can be, Miss Y/N, and if one of my students needs help in a certain area of learning, I am willing to teach them.” He says, making his way towards you, the bottom of your ass already resting on his desk. “W-What do you mean?” You stutter, hoping that you understood him right. “Well, you asked me a question, darling. Do you want me to teach you?” He asks, his body now right in front of yours, towering over you as he presses himself against you. You can’t believe this is actually happening. All the tension between you two is at an all time high. You feel dizzy, the need for him to touch you in any way growing with every inhale of his scent, his cologne overpowering your senses. “Yes. Please, Sir.” You whisper.

Without hesitation, his lips find yours, the passion and hunger greater than that night, a newfound ferocity taking over as you wrap your arms around his neck, his hands gripping your thighs to lift you onto the desk. His hips nuzzle their way between your legs, your sundress riding up, making it easier for him to press against your core, your thin panties doing very little to conceal it. Small moans leave your throat, instantly swallowed by him, the kiss growing deeper and deeper by the second. Its not until he places his hands on your lower back, pulling you towards him to grind you against his growing bulge that you gasp loudly, tipping your head back and giving him access to your neck, which he gladly accepts, leaving wet, sloppy kisses all over he expanse of soft skin. You whine, moving your hips on your own in hopes of getting his attention. He hums against your neck, his hand moving from your back to your front moving your dress to cup your heat and rubbing you through your already slick panties. You’re speechless, the only response you’re capable of being whines and moans as he uses his knuckle to trace over your slit, pressing against your clit every now and then. Finally, you manage to form words, a small “please" escaping your lips. He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours as he looks down at your legs, slowly moving your dress up your thighs, your panties on full display for him. “And you’re absolutely sure this is okay?” He asks softly, tilting your head up by your chin to look him in the eyes, his other hand still rubbing your thigh gently. “Please, Namjoon. I need you. I’ve been craving you ever since you kissed me. I need you so bad.” You beg him.

“I know, baby. Me too. Seeing you in class every day dressed like this, wanting to taste your lips again, feel you on me, wanting to hold you and touch you and please you. Do you know what I’ve imagined? Hm?” His whispers in your ear, his fingers gently moving your panties to the side. “I've sat in this chair, teaching you and your classmates, just imagining how you feel. How you taste. Been dying to feel you around my cock, beautiful.” You gasp at his words, pure sin dripping from his lips. You can’t deny that you’ve thought about him too, your hand deep in your panties late at night as his name fumbled from your lips, imagining how nicely he’d stretch you out, how his soft lips would feel on your dripping cunt. Yet, as he slowly slide a finger inside of you, nibbling on your earlobe as he does, nothing could’ve prepared you for the feeling of intimacy you felt from him, the way he carefully pumps his finger in and out of you, twirling it around to make you feel all of it as he kisses your neck softly. This wasn’t the normal fucking you were used to. Even though it wasn’t the most ideal setting, you could tell there was something more. He leaned forward a bit, pushing you down to lay on the empty desk, your back arching as his finger reaches a new depth inside of you. His free hand roams your body, pulling the top of your dress down to expose your breasts, the lack of a bra delighting him. Another finger slips inside of you, his pace quickening as he grabs your breast, occasionally pinching your nipple, earning a needy mewl from you.

The way he curls his fingers in you has you losing your mind, your toes curling as your hips squirm, the slick sound of his movements making your cheeks red. His touch is driving you crazy, but you still crave more, the need to be stretched out even more unbearable. “Namjoon.” You moan, reaching down to grip his wrist. He stops, pulling his hand away from as he leans over your body, his clean hand ousting the strands of your hair out of your face. “What is it, baby?” He asks, concern laced in his voice. You sit up, running your hands over his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt under your fingertips, the rigid lines of muscles hidden underneath tempting you. Curiosity takes over, your fingers moving to unbutton his shirt, his torso being revealed to you with every button. He stays silent, watching your movements as he rubs your thigh again, eager to figure out your next move. As you reach the last button, you pull the hem of his shirt out of his pants, now seeing the bulge in them properly, your mouth watering in anticipation. You’d love to have it in your mouth, but at the moment, you’re not sure if you have the patience for that. There’s always next time, right? “Need you.” You mumble, unbuckling his belt. A groan rumbles in his throat as you cup him through his trousers, his package a lot bigger than you had anticipated. “Well, I did promise to teach you where babies came from, didn’t I? What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t follow through?” He chuckles, moving your hand away so he could pull his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free, the large appendage bouncing as its released from its tight confines. You gulp, wondering if it’ll actually fit inside of you. You’re glad that you’ve been on birth control since you were 15, because right now you need to feel him inside of you.

He kisses you again as he grips himself, positioning himself at your entrance. “Are you ready, beautiful?” He asks, you nodding in response. The second he pushes into you is nothing like you’ve ever experienced. He moves slowly, the burn of your walls stretching around him making you lightheaded, but for him it was completely worth it. You wanted to be consumed by him, happy to let him claim you as his and not caring who knew. He groaned loudly into your ear, gripping the side of the desk as he fully sheathed himself inside of you. You’ve never felt like this before, never been so full in your life, and when he moves to pull back out, you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning loudly. “Ah fuck, you feel so good baby. Better than I ever imagined. Fuck.” He almost growled, pushing back into you as you gripped his shoulders, trying to steady yourself. As he starts to set a steady pace, you can already feel yourself losing control. He wraps his arms tightly around you, holding you as he pistons in and out of you, his gentle demeanor now gone as he fucks into you hard, leaving marks from his nails into your skin as you bite his shoulder, trying not to scream. “Fuck. So fucking tight and perfect. So fucking beautiful. Like you were -mmph- fucking made for me.” He groans in your ear, your whole body jolting with each  hard thrust of his hips. “Mm, fuck Namjoon. Feel so fucking good. Fucking me so good.” You moan into his ear, each sinful word giving him more bravado to give you exactly what you two have been craving since the bar. “Yeah? You like how I fuck you? What do you want, baby? Want me fuck you so hard you stumble out of this class room, huh? Want me to cum inside you so everyone can see the little trail of my cum dripping out of your dirty little pussy?” Holy fuck. You have never imagined that your uptight teacher was capable of such words, yet here he was, moaning them in your ear as if you were the only girl in the world as he fucked you senseless. “Oh, shit, please. I want it so bad. Wanna feel your cum. Fuck, Joonie.’ You whimper, your fingernails scrapping against his back. He lets out a loud moan, the nickname not going unnoticed as he grips your hips, pulling you onto his cock as he continues to destroy your insides. You can feel the heat building inside of you, his cock hitting your sweet spot perfectly. All you need is the small push over the edge. You lean back, reaching down between your bodies to feel your clit, rubbing it as he thrusts into you, the contact making you absolutely lose it. “Ah, shit, ah fuuuuck!” You whine, coming undone. It was powerful, washing over and making you see white. “Shit shit shit shit!” Namjoon grunted, pushing into you once more as you felt a warmth spread through you, his hips stuttering as he released into you. There was so much that with every slow thrust, small drips spilled out of you, leaving you a creamy, sticky mess.

You laid back on the desk, putting your hands above your head as you smiled, chuckling a bit at how good you felt. He leaned over you, resting his upper half on top of you as his cock softened inside of you. You wrap your arms around him, placing a kiss on the top of his head as he uses your breasts as a pillow, completely worn out. “Oh my god. That was, holy fuck.” He said between deep breaths, earning a giggle from you. “I know. Fucking amazing. Can’t believe I ever thought my own fingers could compare to that.” You joke, but he straightens up a bit, leaning on his hands, hovering above you. “Miss Y/N, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?” He asks, a cocky smirk on his face. “Maybe.” You tease, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Well then, I think next time you’ll have to show me how you did it so I can guide you properly on how to do it correctly.”

“Yes Sir.”