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inuiiwonderland · 1 hour ago

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PARENTS?!

You knew something was off the moment you woke up a few minutes before your alarm went off and how you and grim were able to have a peaceful morning without chaos.

Words: 2k

Heartslabyul x gn reader!

I just combined the word mama + papa and got MAPA so yeah…..

Something about today didn’t feel right

For starters, you woke up a few minutes before your alarm went off, you and grim were able to shake off the sleep and actually got out of bed without a fuss for once!

And then, the two of you actually got ready on time and even had time to eat some breakfast before heading out to class. For the first time in forever!

Then, the whole walk to class was peaceful and no one came by to disturb the peace. In fact, you two barely saw anyone on your walk to class.

Which was….weird

You and grim for once made it on time to class, 10 minutes early to be exact!

Okayyyyy…..maybe the sevens are finally giving you a break!

As you and grim chatted, you couldn’t help but look around.

“Hey, where’s Ace and deuce?” Grim also looks around before shrugging.

“Don’t know and don’t care! Anyways, we should definitely have tuna salad for dinner-“

Suddenly the door slams open with a loud BANG

Both you and grim yelp and turn to see who the culprit was behind the loud noise.

There by the door stood a boy who seemed to be a student at heartslabyul huffing and puffing as he tried to catch his breath.

“What is the meaning of this?” Crewel says sternly. One perfectly trimmed eyebrow raised as he waits for the poor student to explain why he nearly knocked out his classroom door from its hinges.

“S-so *GASP* S-Sorry - professor *GASP* crewel!”

“Mind explaining?”

“T-the p-prefect! We need the prefect!”

Ah, there it is

You knew it was too good to be true

“Why?” You asked. Both confused and a little annoyed.

“It’s urgent! The housewarden has requested you to come to the dorm!” The boy says. You look at crewel, the man just sighs as he gives you the go ahead. You pick up grim and walk down to where the student stood.

“Lead the way…”

Every step you take as the boy leads you to the chamber of mirrors causes the pit in your stomach to grow worse and worse than before. You have absolutely no idea what type of trouble awaits you in the heartslabyul dorm.

Was it another overblot?

Did someone accidentally lose all the hedgehogs and decide to put the blame on you???!

Did Ace and deuce do something that caused the whole dorm to be in ruins and have riddle ask for you specifically because you’re their friend?!?!?!

You don’t know, and you’re not ready

Upon arriving at heartslabyul, you were confused by how calm and peaceful the dorm was in. No ruined hedges, the roses are painted red and aren’t dead or ripped apart, the maze or anything isn’t on fire, no one is running around with a lost head!

The dorm looks to be fine

What’s the emergency?

You turned to the first year, confused.

“Uhh….the dorm seems to be fine? What is the emergency-”

“Follow me!” He quickly grabs ahold of your hand before YANKING you inside the maze. You and grim both yelp and you quickly try to match his pace as he expertly moves through the maze.

Jeez this is one of the more confusing mazes in the whole dorm and this first year already knows it like it’s the back of his hand!

You noticed some muffled voices in the distance, the closer the three of you got the more clearer it became. You could make out both Ace and deuce! Seems like they were running after something or… someone by how loud they were and the sound of “stop!” And “get back here please!” Left their mouths.

Oh sevens help you

“I brought them!” The first year shouts.

You could not believe your eyes

It was like a scene from a cartoon. Ace running around after what seems to be a- KID?!

Wait wait wait-

EVERYONE IS RUNNING AROUND TRYING TO CATCH MORE THAN ONE KID???

You see Ace chasing after a 8? 7? Year old boy while deuce seems to be holding something- wait no he’s holding a freaking baby!! Deuce is holding a baby in his arms while he chases after another little kid.

And then there’s cater. He’s busy running around trying to catch the two little girls who currently have his precious phone in their hands. The two giggle while cater prays to the sevens they don’t drop or break his phone.

Trey is busy listening to the little girl yap about the different baking techniques that even HE didn’t know existed and you swear he’s taking notes.

And riddle? Actually you don't see riddle anywhere. But you do see two children awkwardly standing near a corner as they watch everything unfold before their very eyes.

“What the actual fuck is going on” Everyone stops at the sound of your voice. The first year that was standing beside you gulps before BOLTING out of there. Not before whispering a small “good luck” on his way back to the maze.

Now with everyone’s eyes on you, you feel uneasy.

“Henchmen….I think we should also run back inside the maze” Grim whispers as his eyes don’t leave the scene in front of him.

“Yeah…good idea” You whisper back. You take a couple steps back, ready to also bolt out of there but was stopped when all the kids screamed and RAN their way towards you.

“MAPA!!!” They all scream. Both you and grim also scream but in terror as you both were tackled straight to the ground by the little mob.

“Mapa mapa! Where were you?!” One of the kids screams excitedly. She has bright orangish hair that reaches her back along with very interesting eyes. Both her and what you assume is her twin sister because of how eerily similar they look, they each have different eye colors. Similar to the leech twins.

One of them, her right eye was a beautiful green and her left was a nice e/c, while her sister's right eye was e/c and her left was green.

Yep definitely twins

“W-what? Mapa? W-what’s going on?”

“Mapa! I'm so hungry! Can we go home and eat?”

“Mapa, I’m tired. Can we go home?”

Mapa mapa mapa

Sevens you are going to go crazy!

And then when you think it can’t get worse, you hear a loud and whiny cry.

You turn to deuce who yelps and quickly tries to calm down the crying baby in his arms. One of the kids that was one of the reasons you got tackled quickly got up and ran towards deuce. She made little grabby hands signaling him to give her the baby. He gently gave her the baby and she was able to calm down the poor little boy as she rocked and hummed him a lullaby.

Yep that’s older sister right there

“Okay….seriously what’s going on, who are these kids, and where is riddle because the only reason I’m here is because of him who rudely requested me!”

“Yeah! Also where did that freshman go? He’s about to get a good a-”

“You’re a parent now”

“WHAT?!” Both you AND grim screech.

You look down to one of the kids. He eerily resembled Ace but the one thing that made you pale was the sight of his eyes.

Then you turned to the two more quiet children. They both had the same striking red hair along with the cute heart shaped strand on top of their heads.

Okay…

You then turned to the last one. She had short green shoulder length hair and the cutest dimples ever. She stared at you worriedly.

“Mapa are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost”

“I-I think I did”

After a very long and confusing conversation, from the kids and the others. You have come to terms that you are now officially a parent.

Eh you were hoping to wait until you were 26 but I guess it’s okay.

From what the other have told you, you now know who the kid’s fathers are.

Ace: one 8 year old son named Aiden

Deuce: two kids, one 7 year old daughter named Evelyn and a 3 month old son named Luka

Cater: two twin daughters named ruby and Amelia, age: 9 years old

Trey: one 7 year old daughter named Emma.

And lastly, riddle: two kids. One 9 year old boy named Felix and a 7 year old daughter named Alice.

“Mapa, have you seen father?” Felix asks quietly. Alice stands behind him with the same look.

“Ah! Uh no I haven’t….where is riddle?” And just like that, the housewarden was summoned.

He looks puzzled to say the least. His eyes scan the area before stopping to look at the kids that were in the room.

“What in the great sevens is going on here?!”

“Father!”

“Papa!” Both Felix and Alice say. They were excited to see their father and quickly jumped to hug riddle.

“F-father? What-” Ace whistles as he watches the flustered housewarden.

“Fatherhood is looking real nice on ya housewarden” he teases. The housewarden face turns a bright red as he tries to form simple sentences.

“I-I w-what?!”

“Father, when are we going home?” Felix asks curiously.

“Yeah when? I’m starting to get hungry!” Little Alice chirps.

“I think we should feed them something first. Half of them have complained that they are hungry” You suggest. You carefully took baby Luka from Evelyn as you could tell she was getting a little tired. You smiled down at the small cute bundle in your arms.

He had the same bluish hair and cyan eyes just like his father. While Evelyn was the exact carbon copy of you.

Cute

“So you’re telling me you have no clue on how they got here?”

Crowley stood behind his desk with the biggest grin ever as you, crewel, and everyone from heartslabyul gave him the most deadpan look.

“Wellllll I do have a small theory! Oh look how cute they all look! This one looks exactly like you my dear!” Crowley beams. You rolled your eyes.

He has no clue

“Is there any way to get them back home? I’m sure their parents are freaking out” Riddle says.

“We all know you are” Ace mutters. Deuce nudges him with a small glare as Ace just shrugs.

“What’s your theory?” Trey asks the headmaster. He tries not to sigh in annoyance as Crowley begins to coo and play around with his quote on quote “grandchildren”.

“Ah! Didn’t the kids say they all saw a bunny before waking up here?” You frown.

“Bunny?”

“Rabbit!” Emma corrects.

“All the kids have mentioned seeing one” Trey says.

“Do any of you guys remember what else happened?” You ask. All your kids turned to you. Some think and others just as confused.

“I-I remember” You all turned to Felix who slowly went a bit red after seeing everyone’s attention on him.

“Oh now thinking about it, the bunny did lead us somewhere!” Young Alice chirps.

“Where did it lead you my dear?” You ask softly. She smiles as you caress her hair.

“The bunny led us to a hole!”

“A rabbit hole” Felix adds.

“Ah! So some sort of portal!”

“Did all of you also get led to a hole?” Deuce asks curiously. Emma's eyes light up as she nods.

“Yeah!”

“The rabbit had my ball! So I went after it” Aiden says. Slowly all the kids tell their side of the story before being transported here.

“But I don’t get it, how do they go back?”

“Mm, seems like there must be something else to this” Crewel says. Brows furrowed in deep thought.

“For now, I think it’s best that you guys take them in and care for them while me and Crowley find a way to return them safely at home” He says.

“So we’re babysitting?!” Ace screeches. Deuce smacks him upside the head as he scoffs.

“That’s your kid! Maybe you should’ve wrapped it before tapping it”

“Deuce!”

“What? It’s true!”

Now then…..these next few days are gonna be interesting.

To be continued?

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streamafterlaughter · 2 days ago

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Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter XVII: Am I Making You Feel Sick?

songs for this chapter: erase me by lizzy mcalpine, true hardcore (ii) by fiddlehead, strangers by ethel cain

chapter tags: hurt/slight comfort then more hurt haha hehe sorry!! angst, swearing, drinking, hurt feelings, insults, misunderstandings, everyone's kind of a dick in this one sorry??? | cw/dead dove, do not eat: mentions of suicidal tendencies/ideation such as intrusive thinking, making light of own death. bee has horrible coping mechanisms. also trauma! | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | REMINDER: THIS FIC IS RATED EXPLICIT. 18+ mdni.

a/n:... tee hee? :p it's a long one buddies! strap in!

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites unless otherwise stated. THIS WORK IS BEING REPOSTED TO MY AO3! Feel free to check it out! Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. I am satiated by reblogs and comments, so please! Interact with my work! It motivates me to write more, and it helps to know someone out there is reading.

taglist (open!): @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r @justalotoffanfiction @bl0ssomanddie @eddiesgirl1944

“Here it is!” You pull into the parking lot of the duplex, located only ten minutes away from your own apartment.

“Bee, you don’t have to come in. It’s gonna be boring, and probably kinda pathetic. Not like I can afford much on a prisoner’s salary.”

“Hey. You know, you don’t have to move out right away. I kinda like having you around.” You nudge your brother as the two of you climb the front porch steps. “Unless it’s what you want.”

“Crashing at my little sister’s place is kinda harshing my vibe, truthfully.” He snickers as he says it, unable to keep up the act. “Let’s just see it. Who knows, maybe it's a hidden gem?”

“What the hell, sure.”

—

It is not a hidden gem. In fact, the place is a fucking eyesore, far too visible for your liking. The wallpaper is ancient and garish, yellowed likely with the previous owner’s cigarette smoke, and peeling along the edges. The kitchen is tiled with fake linoleum, clashing immediately into the den’s unfinished hardwood. The appliances are ancient, from the mid eighties if you had to guess. Furniture was sparse and tacky, and the whole place smells like mothballs.

“Rent is twelve hundred a month.”

You gape at the landlord. “Including utilities?” The old, sweaty man shakes his bald head. “You can do whatever you want with it, but I’m not payin’ for it. Planner on takin’ that wallpaper down for years.” You try to catch your brother’s expression without giving yourself away. If you know Chris at all, he’s not gonna take this place. There’s no way.

“You know I’m a felon, right?”

The guy shrugs. “Me too, kiddo.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Chris!”

“Great! First, last, and security deposit can be paid to me on move-in day.” He offers his fat, greedy hand to your brother, and you have to fight the urge to swat it away. Chris takes his hand, shaking it once, and accepting the contract to sign.

“Chris. You really do not have to move out.”

“Yes I do, Bee. I love you dearly, but I need my space. So do you! We aren’t kids anymore, we can’t share such a small space without jumping down each other’s throats.”

You feel blindsided. Up until this very moment, you thought you’d been getting along swimmingly with your brother-turned-roommate. “Are you sick of me already?” You try to play it off, like you’re teasing him, despite dreading his answer.

“Of course not. But it’s not fair of me to not only walk back into your life after six years, but your home? The physical place where you exist? And, on top of that, I’ve had a roommate for six years, I could stand to have a place to myself.”

You sigh, surrendering your argument. “Okay, I get it. You need to spread out. But, you wanna live here?”

“‘Course not, but it’s what I can afford right now. I’ll work my ass off at the bar and fix it up next summer. Get you and your friends to help me out for pizza and beer.” You can’t help but smile at the thought: you, Steve, and Robin peeling off the old wallpaper while Chris and Eddie haul a gently used sofa inside to replace the stained and shredded couch currently sitting in the den.

“Remember, this doesn’t have to be your forever either. You can leave Hawkins.”

“Yeah, one day.” He muses, staring at the wall in front of you.

—

“Should we be drinking if we’re about to get called in to work?” You pick at the label of your beer bottle as your brother takes a swig of his own.

“Eh, does it count as work if I’m in the band?”

“You guys don’t go on ‘til ten, you’ll be slingin’ drinks with me until then.”

Chris shrugs. “One drink’s not gonna hurt us.”

You respond by taking a sip of your own, enjoying the hints of pumpkin in the seasonal ale. As soon as you feel it sliding down your throat, both your phone and your brother’s buzz.

“Welp,”

“Speak of the devil.” He shakes his head.

The Family Ties: mama (to you, crispy): Hi my darlings! So so sorry to ask you this… > Actually, no im not!... You put me thru a combined sixteen hours of labor… > Will you please come save your poor mother and help run the bar tonight?? > Kevin would also appreciate the extra hands…

You catch your brother’s gaze and snort. “This woman, I swear.” He quickly types out a response.

crispy: we’ll be there in 20 mama: thx =)

“You wanna drive?” You dangle your car keys in front of his face, and he attempts to snatch them from you, but you pull them away at the last second. “And let you pick the music? Fuck, no!” You cackle, skipping past him and into the driver’s seat of your car, immediately plugging your phone into the fraying aux cord, and shuffling your playlist.

“We cannot listen to this the entire way there, I’m begging.” The song blaring through your speakers is not Chris’s taste at all: a horribly depressing indie pop song usually meant for playing while staring out a train window while your mind goes somewhere else entirely. Before you can stop him, Chris snags your phone from the cupholder and taps the skip button. “That’s more like it! Knew you had it in ya!” The new track is louder, more drum heavy, and a lot more upbeat than the first, and you have to wonder why you’d put your whole library on shuffle and chance such a drastic contrast.

“My taste is vast and expansive, dear brother.”

“Gee, wonder where you got that from.” He means himself, you know that, but most of your taste in music has been despite your brother. Sure, you love punk music, but his musical knowledge starts and ends with “post-hardcore” bands. He’ll indulge you sometimes, letting you explain the story of Ethel Cain’s character to him in detail, but he’d never seek that out for himself.

You pull into the parking lot still bickering about who has better taste when you’re both silenced by the sheer amount of cars. “We are so fucked.”

“So, totally, fucked.” You nod, craning your neck to look for an empty spot. You pass Edie’s van in the back, pulled up to the stage door as Jeff is hauling in his amp. You pull up next to the vehicle. “Go help your friends, I’ll try to find a spot that isn’t a million miles from here.”

Chris nods, throwing your car door open and stepping out, greeting his friends and already lighting a cigarette.

Before you even put your car back in drive, the door is yanked open again, and Eddie slides into the passenger seat. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’s up?”

You can’t help the scoff you let out. “I’m uh, about to go park?”

“Mhm, cool.” He nods, like he’s fascinated by this fact. “You gonna drive, or…?”

“Why are you in my car, Edward?”

“Pullin’ out the government name, huh? Well, ‘scuse me for intruding!”

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes, trying to stifle the smile threatening to break on your lips, and shift your car into drive. “Probably gonna have to park across the street.” You muse, still having no luck in finding an empty spot.

“You guys don’t have employee parking?”

“We’re a bar, not an office building. First come, first serve.”

“Damn, tough times.” His face stretches into a cartoonish frown, and you bite your lip to keep from giggling like a middle schooler. “Wait!” His outburst causes you to slam on the brakes. “Sorry! Thought I saw a spot but there’s a fuckin’ clown car parked there.”

“That is definitely Robin’s car.” You nod at the bright red VW Bug, decorated with bumper stickers reading “Baby on Board! (I’m Baby)” and “I Brake for Lesbians!”

“That… tracks, actually.” Eddie chuckles, and you nod. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

“No promises. Ooh, this guy’s leaving.” You flick your blinker on and slow to a stop, but before you can even get the chance to turn once the truck’s pulled away, the spot is swiped from you, a bright white BMW screeching into place.

“Oh, fuck you!” Your voice is rising above an acceptable level for inside a car, and you can feel your face getting hot as you let your foot off the pedal, rolling away from the spot that could have been, fuming.

Before you can stop him, Eddie rolls your window down and climbs halfway out, leaning toward the back of the car. “Hey, fuck head! We were here first!” He cups his hands around his mouth as he yells, loud enough to startle any passersby.

A familiar voice calls back, a few seconds later.“Sucks to suck, asshole!”

“Hold the fuck on.” You slam on your brake and throw your car into park, jostling Eddie around in the process. “STEVEN!” You’re also yelling now. “That was my fuckin’ spot, dick head!”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, Bee, I had no idea.” His apology is weakened by his giggling.

You stand there, arms crossed as Eddie jogs up beside you. “No fuckin’ shit.” Eddie shakes his head, now also laughing. “Of course it was you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“You, with your fancy car and stupid hair, thinks he’s fuckin’ entitled to everythi-”

You wave your arms between the boys. “Okay, enough! Here’s what’s gonna happen. Steve, since you’re so fuckin’ good at finding parking, you’re gonna park my car. I am gonna take Jackass Number Two here–” You jab your thumb towards Eddie, “inside to start setting up. Then, I am gonna bring my ass behind the bar, and likely not leave that spot for the next six hours, considering the abnormally massive amount of people here tonight. Sound good?” They each mumble unconvincing noises of agreement. “What was that?”

“Yes, Bee.” They drone in robotic unison, a bit they’ve long committed to as a response to your scoldings.

“Great! Fantastic! Steve, I will see you inside. Eddie, let’s go, my brother’s gonna be fuckin’ pissed at you.”

“Shit. Must be Tuesday.” He’s still grinning, and you can’t figure out if he’s charming or irritating you. He yanks the bar door open, gesturing for you to go inside first, before skirting behind you like a dog on a short leash.

–

“Mom?” You call her as you yank your apron off the coat hook, tying it haphazardly around your waist before sliding behind the bar counter. “You doin’ alright?”

“Hi, honey! Yeah, I’m alright. Kev just happened to go on lunch five minutes before we got absolutely flooded with people.” She gestures to the crowd clamoring in front of her, and it’s then that you notice what you’re dealing with. These patrons are clearly all a part of the same subculture, clad in leather and denim, with long and unruly locks of unbrushed hair. Simply put, they all look like Eddie Munson.

“These guys all here for the band?” You shout over the noise of the music, paired with the unintelligible shouting of the customers.

“Think so! Chris was talkin’ about putting some of the songs on the internet. Maybe he finally did!” Your mom’s words give you pause, Chris never mentioned wanting to share the songs to you. It’s a second slap in the face when you’re forced to acknowledge that Eddie didn’t either.

“Good for them!” You plaster what you hope is a convincing smile, and direct your attention to the patron in front of you. She’s short, petite, and probably wearing twice her weight in metal chains clipped to her clothing. Ink covers both of her arms, and you fight the urge to study what the shapes could possibly mean as she orders a rum and coke. You make her drink quickly, without an attempt to make conversation like you normally would, considering the noise level. She slides you a twenty and smiles, snatching her cup off the counter before the condensation has the chance to sweat. As you continue making drinks, your eyes wander to the stage, where the guys are still plugging wires into various pedals and amplifiers. Eddie approaches the mic, where he says something unheard by anyone except him and their sound “engineer,” Gareth’s friend from college fiddling on the small sound board in the back of the room. Finally, Eddie gives a thumbs up, and pulls his in-ear speaker out to rest

on his shoulder before crouching to tape the setlist to the floor in front of him.

“Bee!” You’re pulled back into reality with your mother’s fingers snapping in your face. “Where’d you go just now? I need you here, making drinks with me! You can think about your boyfriend later.” The last part is said more lightly, and you feel your face flush.

“Mom, you can’t say that here. Every girl in this room wants that title, I sure as hell don’t need them thinking I’m standing in their way of that!”

“Hey, definitely not every girl. I already know a few of them play for the other team.”

You roll your eyes. “Should I let Robin know?”

Your mother’s response is cut by the piercing sound of feedback, stabbing through your ears like a kitchen knife. On stage, the guys wince, frantically searching for the source of the shrieking before yanking a wire, successfully silencing it.

“Sorry!” Eddie says sheepishly into the mic, evoking a buzz of awkward laughter from the front row. “We’ll be back, uh, soon!” There’s a scattered applause as Eddie hurriedly follows the rest of the band backstage.

“Bee!” You hear her call your name over the noise.

“Hey, Rob! See you found my parking spot stealer.” You nod to Steve, and he pouts at you.

“Oh, did he piss you off tonight too?” Robin elbows the boy in his ribs, causing him to wince in pain. “Because dingus here decided to invite his old buddies from Hawkins High School here tonight.”

You gape at her, then at Steve. “Come again for Big Fudge?”

Steve opens his mouth, closes it, and repeats the movement twice more before speaking. “Listen, it’s just a couple guys from the team. I will make sure they behave themselves.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about.” You glance to the stage behind you, which is empty now, save for Kevin making sure everything is properly placed. “If Eddie finds out his high school fuckin’ bullies are here, he’s gonna lose his mind.”

“Oh, c’mon, give Eddie some credit.”

“Steve, do I need to remind you what happened when I got stood up? What do you think he’s gonna do if he sees the guy that used to shove him into lockers here? On the night his band plays!” You don’t know why you’re so pissed off, you’d never had a direct problem with Tommy. Carol Perkins, however, was someone you’re praying Steve didn’t think to include.

“I think he’d be a perfect gentleman!”

You snort, pouring a beer from the draft for a very thirsty biker. “Right, Eddie’s a gentleman and I actually can fly.” You nod as you speak, the sarcasm dripping from your lips like acid. “Let’s get real for a second. He’s gonna lay the kid out if he even catches a glimpse. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

But Steve isn’t looking at you anymore, he’s looking behind you, but when you turn around to see, there’s nothing there. “Hello? Earth to Steve?”

“What? Sorry, thought I saw someone.” You cock an eyebrow at him. “Must’ve imagined it. Anyway, don’t worry. I’m driving tonight, so I’ll be sober enough to keep everyone in check.”

“Oh, Stevie. Ever the babysitter.” Robin coos mockingly, patting his shoulder. “I, however, cannot relate. One dirty shirley, pretty please!”

“I wouldn’t have ever guessed.” You tease her, already preparing the drink she always orders. As you pour the sprite, the house lights dim around you, leaving only the overhead bar lights beaming through the dark room. The crowd gets impossibly louder, a cacophony of shrieks and shouted obscenities as the boys take the stage. Chris comes first, waving his arms to get the crowd hyped up, followed by Jeff swinging his bass around his shoulder. Of course, there’s a gap between Jeff and Eddie. You see Gareth on the side of the stage, shaking his head as he talks to someone you can’t see. From where you are, he looks… worried?

Finally, Gareth grabs the mystery person by the shoulders, spinning him toward the stage. Eddie walks out, barely registering the crowd in front of him. You lean over the bar to ask Robin, “Is he alright?” But she only gives you a shrug. Eddie approaches the mic, adjusting it to his height despite the fact that it had been perfectly set already. “What’s up, Hawkins!” He practically shrieks into the mic and is rewarded with the hysterical screams of almost everyone in the room. “We are Corroded Coffin, thanks for comin’ out!” He steps away, and Chris taps his sticks together to count them off. It takes all of a minute before something goes wrong.

You notice before anyone else, but Eddie’s a whole count off, coming in an entire measure too early. Luckily, you can tell that Chris and Jeff have caught it, and work with Eddie’s slip up.

It doesn’t stop there, though. You’ve never seen Eddie so… off before, definitely not while performing. He’s not giving the crowd the show he normally would, lacking the theatrical stage presence and banter between songs. There’s no personality, and it confuses you to watch. You’d assumed Eddie would be ecstatic by the turn out for his band, but to you he seems anxious.

“What the hell is wrong with Munson?” Gareth appears beside you, causing you to jump.

“What?” You shout over Eddie’s slightly off-key singing.

“He was freaking out before they went on, said something about the Dark Side being here? Some weird shit?”

Oh, no. “Did he say anything else?”

“Yeah, he was raving about how he’ll never be a ‘gentleman’.” Gareth raises his fingers in quote. “Do you have any fuckin’ clue what any of that means, or why he’d be so fucked up about it?” He looks at you with suspicion, like somehow he’d heard you say all that not ten minutes ago.

“Wh-” Then you pull your eyes from Gareth to look at Steve. “Fuck.”

“You need to fix whatever is going on there,” He points at the stage, where Eddie has seemingly broken a guitar string and is trying to play around it. “Because I tried, and he wouldn’t fuckin’ listen to me.”

“Shit, yeah. Okay. Give me a second.” You push away from the counter, over to where your mom is punching orders into the computer. “Mom, we need to shut this down.”

“What the hell are you talking about, honey? We’ve never made this much on a Tuesday in our lives.”

“Yeah, and we never will if we don’t do something right fucking now.”

“Okay, listen, sweetie. I know you don’t love Corroded Coffin, and frankly I don’t either, but they’re apparently very well liked–”

“Mom! Would you listen to this for a second?” You gesture for her to shut up and actually hear how the band currently sounds: Awful. Somehow Chris has lost the count, likely from the way Eddie seems to be rushing through their second song, singing way faster than the song actually calls for. “He’s crashing out, I need to talk to him before he embarrasses himself even more.”

Luckily, your mom has a heart, and seems to want to help you get Eddie out of this. “Okay. What can I do?”

–

When the second song comes to a clattering end, your mom rushes onto the stage before the band can dig themselves further into mockery. “Sorry, sorry!” She scurries up to Eddie and whispers something in his ear, her hand over the mic to make sure no one else hears. He nods, then moves forward.

“Hey, really sorry guys. We’re gonna take a beat for some technical difficulties. Talk, dance, drink amongst yourselves. We’ll be right back.” And just like that, the house lights are on, and the band is setting their instruments down before walking off stage.

You call to Kev. “Hey, you got this, right? My mom’s coming back, I gotta go take care of something.”

“Yeah, no worries! Go help your boyfriend!” He means it, you can tell by the grin on his face, but it doesn’t stop your flinching. You slide out of the bar as your mom returns, and weave your way through the sweaty crowd to get backstage. “Hey!” You call out to the guys’ backs as they enter the green room, watching as Eddie throws something at the wall. “Whoa, hold on!” You jog to catch up before Eddie can slam the door, shoving it open. “I need to talk to your frontman. In private.” The guys groan, but exit without more of an argument. You turn to Eddie, who’s practically shaking in front of you, fists clenched, jaw set.

“What the hell do you want?”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem? This is who I am, Bee! You of all people know that, know where I come from.” His tone is drenched in venom, you can feel each word stinging behind your eyes. “I’m not nice. I’m not, how’d you put it? A gentleman?” You freeze. “That is what you said, right?”

“Is that what this is about?” You dare to take a step toward him. “Is that all you heard?”

“Why? Did I miss you hurling more insults at my character?” He’s practically shouting, and you do your best not to cower.

“No, but you might have missed some important context. For your information, Steve had informed me that your high school bullies are here. I told him not to be surprised if you lay them out for daring to show their faces on your band’s night. I never meant for you to hear that. I shouldn’t have said it.”

He doesn’t respond right away, studying the floor instead of looking at you. “Oh. That would have been some pretty useful context.”

“Mhm,” You nod, rolling your eyes. “Now you definitely need to go back out there and show that crowd who Eddie Munson actually is. Because whatever the fuck that was, wasn’t him.” He looks up to meet your eyes, but you avert your own to his shoes. “The Eddie I know is way more metal than that.” You can hear him chuckling, tension fading from the air. “I am really sorry, I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Especially that part. For the record, I think you’re pretty gentlemanly generally speaking.”

“Do you now?”

“You always open the car door for me.” You state mater-of-factly.

“That’s ‘cause it’s you.”

Before you can ask what he means, your mom calls from behind the door. “You almost ready to go? These guys seem like the type to get violent if they don’t get what they came for, and I can’t afford a new front window right now.”

“Yeah, we’re coming!” You call back, and turn back to Eddie. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Even if I’m not, I’d rather not owe your mom a new front window.”

“That’s the spirit!” You reach your arms over your head, exaggerating a cheerleader pose. Eddie scoffs, shaking his head as he walks past you, and out the door. You trail behind him, shaking his shoulders as the two of you walk back to the side of the stage, where the rest of the band waits for their frontman.

They redo their entrance, and luckily for everyone the crowd is willing to give them a second chance. Eddie’s second time approaching the mic is much more in character, addressing members of the crowd with points and devil horns, amping them up before snatching the mic from the stand.

“Let’s try this shit again, huh?” He growls, and the crowd goes completely nuts. Your ears ring with the volume, and you have to plug them until you’re safely back behind the bar. “My dearest apologies for… whatever the fuck that was!” Eddie exclaims, and it pulls a roar of laughter from the fans. “We are Corroded Coffin, thanks for comin’ out!” He starts in on their first song again, this time on the correct count. It’s like night and day, Eddie on stage now compared to before. He’s moving, thrashing around as he nails every chord he plays, vocals strong and perfectly pitched, without a single sign he’d ever struggled to hit them. You move despite yourself, swaying to the rhythm as you pour a beer every couple of minutes. Before you know it, though, you’re not taking orders because the whole room is on the dance floor, a circle pit forming in the middle as Eddie slices through a guitar solo. You can’t help but be entranced by his presence onstage, drenched in sweat and shining as a spotlight hits him, eyes squeezed closed as he screams into the mic, and you feel each note in your bones.

Sooner than you hoped, the show is over. Eddie’s shirt has been tossed into a gaggle of shrieking girls, and you watch as they pathetically fight for the piece of fabric. Eddie tosses his pick back, and Chris hurls his sticks behind it before waving as he exits the stage. Eddie lingers to hand the setlist to a particularly excited looking guy in the front row, dapping him up before needing to be pulled away by his friend. You can’t seem to unglue your eyes from Eddie as he walks off stage, sweat dripping down his bare back, jeans clinging to his slim waist as his hips swing side to side.

Someone clears their throat, snapping you back to earth. “Bee? You okay?” Robin is in front of you, with Steve next to her looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You’ve been zoned out for like, five whole minutes.”

“I have not!” You huff, definitely guilty of the accusation.

“Uh huh. Okay. What happened?” Robin collapses onto the barstool directly in front of you. “I want details!”

“What do you mean?”

“What did you say to Eddie? I saw you go backstage.” You catch Steve sitting too, trying really hard to look disinterested, and still failing.

“He overheard us talking about Steve’s friends. Well, partially.”

“You’re telling me that shit show was because of us?” Steve chimes in, offended.

“More like because of me. He heard what I said about him being nice.”

“And that threw him so far off his game he had to start over.” Robin deadpans, blinking rapidly. Interesting.”

“It is?”

“Yes, dingus. Extremely.”

Steve huffs. “I don’t get it.”

“You wouldn’t, you’re a guy. Bee, you get it, right?”

“I mean, I think so? I get what you think you’re saying, sure.”

“I don’t think, I know!”

“Can someone please tell the stupid man what the hell is going on?” Steve is practically pleading with you now.

“Eddie’s in love with Bee.” Robin states, crossing her arms over her chest in challenge.

“He is?”

“He is not!” You might as well throw a tantrum, the way you whine the words at your friends.

“Why else would that affect him so badly?” Steve doesn’t have an answer to that. Neither do you. “See! Like I said.” Robin bares her teeth in a taunting smile.

“Get out of my bar.”

“What?”

“Leave! Last call! You’re cut off, whatever! Just get out.”

“I’m drunk! I can’t drive!”

“Steve, you too. Out.”

He gasps. “What did I do?!”

“You brought Little Miss Know It All over here.”

“See, Robin? This is why no one likes us.”

Robin rolls her eyes, sliding off the stool. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” She points at you, and you sigh. “I promise, no more very clear observations. At least for your sake.”

“Fine. I will see you tomorrow.” With that, you wave your friends away, and watch as they dodge leather clad arms on their way out the door.

–

The bar is trashed. Plastic cups litter the entire floor, along with peanut shells and assorted garbage. You huff as you walk around the bar with a trash bag, sealed into latex gloves as you pluck piece after piece of trash off the floor.

Your mom slides the cash deposit into a poly bag and sighs. “What a fuckin’ night, huh?”

You giggle at her candor, and Chris joins you with the mop bucket rolling behind him. “You guys are really gettin’ your voices out there.” She muses, scribbling a half dead ballpoint on the deposit slip.

“Yeah, we finally finished the music video we started before I went away. Posted it last week and I guess some really popular punk podcast gave us a shoutout. Super dope.” You’re happy for your brother, but something deep in your chest cracks as you picture him getting signed, packing up, and leaving you behind, and taking Eddie with him. Again. The edges of your vision blur the more the thought takes on a life of its own: Corroded Coffin to perform at Superbowl LXIII 2029, the biggest stage in the entire world. In other news, sister of Coffin’s drummer and washed up author and journalist, Bee Last/Name, was found dead in her apartment this morning. More at eleven.

“Bee, sweetie?” Your mom calls out to you, voice wavering with concern. “You alright?”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.” You physically shake the thought from your head and return to litter patrol.

“Chris, the boys still here?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Tell them to come help you.”

“Mom, they don’t work here.”

“I will give them each a beer.”

Chris lets out a loud “HA!” before disappearing backstage to grab his bandmates. When he returns, it’s with Jeff, Gareth, Gareth’s sound guy, three very pretty, very sweaty girls, and Eddie. “They all said they’d help for a free beer.”

Your mom shrugs. “Don’t go unionizing on me, this is a one time thing.” The group disperses, snatching spray bottles and rags and feverishly cleaning the tables and booth seats.

“Huh.” You take in your surroundings, hands resting on your hips. “Can’t even do my fuckin’ job without some bullshit.”

“Bee, they’re helping.” Chris attempts to console you to no avail.

“No, it’s cool. Can’t be in the band, can’t be the bus boy. Can I at least be the one that goes the fuck home?” You have no idea why you’re so on edge suddenly. You know it definitely is not because the same girl that ordered from you earlier this evening, the short one covered in tattoos, is about to climb Eddie like a tree. She barely reaches his shoulder, having to get on her toes to whisper something in his ear, causing Eddie to toss his head back with laughter. And you watch the whole thing unfold in your own mother’s bar. Nope. That definitely isn’t the reason.

“Yeah, actually. Bee, go home. You’ve done enough tonight.” The words don’t come from your mom, nor do they come from your brother.

They come from Eddie. He doesn’t even bother to look at you while he says them.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve had a long night. You should go home.” He shrugs, and you feel something in your chest crack.

“Fuck you, man.” You brush past him, into the back room to grab your keys. There are no footsteps following behind, chasing you down to apologize. You leave through the emergency exit, setting the security alarm off. In the now empty lot, you can see your little corolla across the street, illuminated by the lights of the overflow lot. Alone. You walk to your car alone, drive back home alone, and enter the apartment where you live alone. You don’t bother turning the lights on as you enter, tossing your keys and bag onto the front table before trudging to your room, tossing your beer-soaked clothing to the floor. Before you can think too much about it, you throw your fist into your bedroom wall.

“FUCK!” You retract your hand into yourself, cradling it with your uninjured one. The wall is fine, but one look at your knuckles tells you that you’ve mangled them at least a little bit. “Fuck. Shit, god fucking DAMN IT!” You’re in hysterics, hand throbbing as you frantically dig for your phone in the chaos of your discarded clothing. You find it, and immediately drop it on your bare foot. “Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna put a goddamn gun in my mouth.” The words tumble out, spoken for no one except the knick knacks on your bureau. When you’ve retrieved your phone a second time, you scroll through your recent messages and realize just how screwed you are.

You have somehow managed to piss everyone off tonight. Steve and Robin, for kicking them out. Chris just wants to keep the peace, and you can understand that. But Eddie…. You can’t see how that one’s your fault. You apologized, and you really thought everything was okay up until the end there. So, as if suddenly a fiend for self sabotage, and once you’ve wrapped an ice pack around your bruising hand, you send the text:

> i dont think being friends with you is working for me.

And turn your phone off before collapsing into bed.

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livingdeadmlm · 2 days ago

Note

you’re singlehandedly feeding the gay rdr2 community AND protecting the lesbians??? hell yeah!1!1!

my first time requesting something… how would the men react to a single father user with a mischievous kid? Probably someone new to the gang or just a stranger they bump into who they find interesting!! :)) i crave domestic life sighhhh.

I adore lesbians! I’m friends with plenty and growing up there was the same amount of lesbian couples as straight couples around me lol! I think my town has a concentrated amount of lesbians tbh can’t walk two feet without seeing a pair of Butches or Studs walking together hand in hand, it’s beautiful.

VDLG with a Singer Father Reader

But to headcannons! I made the reader a dilf cause I'm weak and here is some background :P!

In the story of Red Dead Online, Sean gets separated from the gang for a little bit. One day, he wanders into some woods and finds your cabin. He considers robbing it, but when he sees that not only do you have a kid, but you are a looker! So he needs to play his cards right and not fuck this up.

He gets to know you, saying that he's lost and needs some help! You let him stay in the area, allowing him to set up camp outside, but to your surprise, he ends up being sorta handy around the cabin. He is mostly doing chores to impress you, which your kid has picked up on and decided to mess with Sean.

You asked him to sweep up the cabin while you worked in the basement. When your kid suddenly comes running in with muddy shoes, now it looks like he did nothing! Your kid also thinks it's funny to dump out his beer when he's not looking, so he goes through it much faster than normal.

But he's willing to deal with it because when you're around, the kid is a sweetheart. And eventually, you let him stay inside later and later, but one night, as he's setting up camp by the fire, a familiar face approaches.

"English, what the hell are yew doin' here?!" Arthur had heard about a cabin far into the woods that allegedly was sitting on gold. He and Sean bickered for a bit before you came out with a shotgun and demanded to know what was going on.

Arthur was out there because he was told you were a moonshiner, and the gang wanted to form a bond with you. And a bond was formed from that day on!

You'd now and then stop by the camp with moonshine to sell, letting your kid join you to make friends with Jack and feel less alone as a child.

You made them a good chunk of change, and man, did they like having you around.

A great piece of eye candy, and you were a good dad. Nothing more attractive than that.

Hosea and Dutch love watching the kid, if you ever need someone to look after them. If you look at the right time, you can see Dutch crouched, whispering to the kid about prank ideas to pull on the people in camp. These are usually harmless things like moving someone's belongings or chasing Sean around with a bug or a lizard.

Your kid learned that if they were caught red-handed, if they ran behind Dutch or Hosea, whatever adult was chasing them would relent and let it go.

Hosea teaches them how to read if they don't already know. He also often spoils them with treats and small toys when he's around.

He really admires your efforts to make a good life for the kid, even if your ways of making money aren't the safest, but he wasn't one to talk.

Arthur also really admires you. If anything, he sort of avoided getting close to you at first because it hurt his chest to see the sweet moments you had with your kid.

Like when it got late and the two of you were due to head home, and you'd pick up your kid, and they'd fall asleep in your arms. But when he's stopping by your cabin one day, and his hat goes missing, he worries. But he hears your kid giggling, and some part of him melts.

He thinks it's so cute that your kid feels safe enough to mess with him, even if it drives him crazy to chase the little monster around after they've stolen his hat for the 3rd time while you weren't looking.

You stepped in when your kid was messing around, like when your kid and Jack were throwing little pebbles at Kieran. You didn't know his past, but you were stern when you told your kid you never throw rocks at anyone, and they had to apologize.

Kieran's heart nearly burst when you also said sorry and offered a hug. All the older men he knows are mean, but now here you are, with salt and pepper hair, crow's feet around your eyes, he's swooning.

Javier and Charles don't take to you as fast as everyone else, never really getting the chance to know you until your kid falls fast asleep by the fire, and they're the only two around.

Both of them have a similar heartache to Arthur, but it's because their own fathers weren't good men. You dance around with your kid and cheer them on when they're practicing handwriting with you and Hosea.

You join them and bring them bottles of shine that you specially made. They think it's adorable how you genuinely try to make good-tasting shine and practically beam with joy as people try new flavor fusions.

John pretty much loves you from the start.

Providing moonshine for free for the gang, making it taste not like straight rubbing alcohol, and being willing to listen to his complaining, he's holding back getting on you right here and now.

But your kid drives him insane. You're so calm and pleasant, but your kid likes to pick a fight and then act like nothing happened. It's dumb things as well, like filling his pockets with rocks while he's passed out drunk on your shoulder.

Occasionally, they all stop by your cabin for a day or two to just rest.

They all like to pretend that when they wake up on your couch, you make them coffee in the morning, that this is their normal now. They don't have to leave and be back on the run soon

#male reader #m!reader #x male reader #red dead redemption x male reader #arthur morgan x male reader #kieran duffy x male reader #dutch van der linde x male reader #dutch x male reader #hosea x male reader #charles smith x male reader #javier escuella x male reader #sean macguire x male reader #john marston x male reader

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beetleskeleton · 10 months ago

Text

augh my back

but i have a vent thing so here ig/lh

(if the wording doesn't make sense, it's basically a hopeful plea that said friend is there, with the provided context that I’ve already lost a family member and a multitude of furry and feathery friends, it would only stand as a somewhat reasonable hope that he is with them too.)

#but in all honesty #I can't tell which is worse;#A friend who is still alive yet I have no chances of ever seeing again #or a friend who's dead and has already moved on without me #I just don't understand why it bothers me so much when it shouldn't be.#It's nothing I'm not used to. I've been left behind and tossed away when no one wanted me anymore.#And any hopes of that changing is a distant fantasy at this point.#The idea that this person who made up my whole world was gone before I even had the chance to properly say good bye. It haunts me.#It torments me every day that passes and the longer I've spent bearing this knowledge the worse it seems to get.#I'm definitely going to be talking to my therapist next week about this. I need to figure this out.#lots of grief and big feelings that I wish I didn't have. Or at least didn't have to bear alone.#Their system is being oddly dismissive lately. Especially in our last conversation.#I don't think they want anything to do with me anymore. I'm most likely nothing more than a burning reminder of what once was.#But I don't want to jump to conclusions. They have their reasons for behaving the way they do. It's just odd.#vent #ramble in tags #lots of it #tw grief #in tags

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carnalcrows · 2 months ago

Text

LOST AND FOUND - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x top male reader

synopsis: A man starts noticing his belongings disappearing after every visit to his best friend’s house—until he stumbles upon the unsettling truth.

content warnings: 18+, bottom salesman, reader is fucking salesman's son, dubcon, blackmail, cheating, fingering, anal sex, implied stalking, dead dove do not eat.

word count: 1.6k

Dinner at your best friend’s house is always an experience.

Not because of the food—his dad’s a damn good cook, actually—but because of the company.

“Hyung, I’m telling you, this lady at work keeps calling me ‘oppa,’ and I don’t know how to tell her I hate it,” Jiho complains, waving his chopsticks for emphasis. “Like, I get it, I’m devastatingly handsome, but can we have boundaries?”

You snort, reaching for more rice. “You could just tell her to stop.”

“I did! And you know what she said? She said I ‘look like the type to enjoy it.’” Jiho groans, collapsing dramatically against the back of his chair. “I feel violated.”

Across the table, Jiho’s father hums, slow and thoughtful. “Perhaps you give off the impression of someone who enjoys attention,” he muses, sipping his soup.

Jiho gapes at him, offended. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

You chuckle, glancing at Jiho’s father. He hasn’t said much tonight, but that’s not unusual. The man is a quiet observer, the kind of person who listens more than he speaks. You’ve had dinner here plenty of times before, and the pattern is always the same—Jiho chatting away, you chiming in, and his father interjecting with the occasional dry remark.

But tonight… feels different.

Jiho’s father has been watching you. Not obviously—just little glances, the weight of his gaze lingering longer than usual. His face remains unreadable, but there’s something sharp in his eyes, something calculating.

It’s not unfriendly, exactly. Just… unsettling.

“Hyung?” Jiho nudges your arm. “You good?”

You blink, shaking off the feeling. “Yeah. Just thinking about how you probably deserve that treatment.”

Jiho makes a wounded noise. “Et tu, Brute?”

Across the table, his father chuckles. A deep, quiet sound. When you glance at him, he’s already looking away, refilling his tea like he wasn’t just assessing you like a goddamn science project.

Yeah. Something’s up with him tonight.

You just don’t know what.

And that? That should’ve been your first warning.

You should’ve gone home.

Jiho had texted that he’d be late—something about running an errand for work—but you figured it was no big deal. You’d been to his house a thousand times before, and waiting around wasn’t exactly a hardship.

But the house was too quiet without him.

It’s why you found yourself wandering, aimlessly at first, then with purpose when you noticed something odd.

A door. Slightly ajar.

You didn’t remember Jiho ever mentioning this room before. Curiosity got the better of you, and you nudged the door open fully—only to freeze in place.

Inside, the walls were lined with shelves. Not with books or storage boxes, but with you.

Your bracelets. Your books. Your toothbrush.

And—most horrifyingly—your underwear.

Stacks of them, folded neatly. Some draped over surfaces, others tucked away like a grotesque collection. And at the very center, in a glass display case like some kind of prized possession, was a used condom—your used condom.

A sickening chill crawled up your spine.

What the fuck was this?

A shadow moved behind you. Before you could react, a deep voice spoke, low and amused.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to snoop?”

You turned sharply. Jiho’s father stood in the doorway, watching you with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You opened your mouth—whether to demand an explanation or to throw up, you weren’t sure—but he stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a click.

Trapping you inside.

“You’ve been quite careless,” he murmured, trailing a finger along one of the shelves. “Leaving so many things behind. Did you ever wonder where they went?”

Your pulse thundered in your ears. “What the fuck is this?”

Jiho’s father merely chuckled. “Just a collection. I like to keep things that interest me.”

Your stomach churned. This wasn’t just interest—this was obsession.

You tried to move past him, but he stepped in your way, his smirk widening. “Ah, ah. I wouldn’t be so hasty.”

You clenched your jaw. “Move.”

“And if I don’t?” His voice was light, conversational, but there was a razor-sharp edge beneath it. “You could run to Jiho. Tell him. But then I’d have to tell everyone something too, wouldn’t I?”

Your breath caught.

“I wonder,” he mused, tilting his head. “How would your workplace react? Your friends? Your family?”

Your hands curled into fists. You knew what he was implying. Being outed in this country—where tradition and reputation mattered—was a death sentence for your social life, your career, everything.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So, what will it be?”

Oh.

Oh hell no.

You let out a short, incredulous laugh, because there is no way this is happening. “Dude,” you blurt. “You do realize your son and I have been—”

“I’m very aware,” he interrupts smoothly, his gaze flickering down your form. “And I must say… I can see why he’s so taken with you.”

You should leave. You should run. But your legs don’t move. Because the way he’s looking at you—intense, predatory, like he’s testing something—sends a very different kind of shiver down your spine.

The air between you shifts.

He’s close now. Too close.

“You’re an interesting one,” he murmurs, reaching out—not grabbing, just hovering, his fingers barely ghosting over your arm. “Most people would be terrified right now.”

“Oh, I am,” you say, flashing a weak grin. “But I also have really bad coping mechanisms.”

His lips quirk up. “Is that so?”

Then, before you can think better of it—before you can stop yourself—you grab him by the tie and pull him in.

His smirk barely has time to widen before your lips crash together.

The kiss is messy. Heated. Too much, too fast, but neither of you seem to care. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, while yours tangle in the expensive fabric of his suit. He tastes like something rich and intoxicating, and damn it, you hate how much you like it.

Your hands move to his waist as his move up to your shoulders, slightly changing the dynamics of the situation. He groans against your mouth at the friction against his crotch, making you hard.

This is wrong, so wrong, but there doesn’t really seem to be another way out.

You tug at his work pants, bringing them down with a firm grasp while pushing him onto the bed in the corner of the room– more like a shrine.

His cock emerges, hard and leaking. Your thumbs trails at the head-- picking up the precum that builds up at the slit. He shudders; he hasn’t touched himself like this in so long.

Wanting to finish what he wants as soon as possible, you shimmy down your own pants, revealing your own erection. You find yourself feeling ashamed at the fact that your grew hard from kissing your fuck buddy best friend’s father.

Searching through his coat pocket, the older man finds a small packet of lube and tosses it at you. You catch it before it flies past you– glaring at him.

“You're no fun,” he grins, as you rip the packet with your teeth and pour the cool liquid onto your fingers.

You take your lubed digits to his awaiting hole and press them at his entrance, before pushing in. You weren’t going to give this man the mercy of your patience.

His back arched as he let out a loud moan. If your fingers felt this good, how would your cock feel in him?

His thoughts were interrupted by you moving your fingers in and out of him sloppily, not caring if the sudden intrusion hurt (he was a masochist, so you supposed it didn’t matter anyway).

Feeling that he had been prepped enough, you slid your digits out of his hole, and replaced the emptiness with your cock.

The head caught on to the slick of the lube, pushing in slightly– before you slid all the way in. You groaned at how tight he was– even tighter than Jiho if that were possible. You chided yourself for thinking like that before you pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in.

The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head– your cock hitting the right spot with every thrust. You felt so, so good inside him, and his hole involuntarily clenched around you at the thought.

You held tightly onto his waist as you practically abused his hole, profanities leaving your mouth every now and then.

“Hah– never thought you would get of to being fucked by your son’s best friend, hm?” He could only mumble incoherently at the jab, his brain just too full with being fucked dumb.

He had been waiting so long for this to finally happen, for you to take him like this. He was aware of the relationship between you and his son, and he chose to exploit it instead of doing what a normal dad should do.

But it wasn’t like he was a normal person anyway.

At that thought, he felt himself clench around you more, fucking psychopath. You groaned, feeling his warmth, thrusting into him even further as though you were an animal in heat.

Soon, you felt yourself close to a climax, so you pressed your cock into him all the way, letting yourself come undone– painting his insides a pearly white, before whispering in his ear.

“You can throw away that condom now– you have the real thing in you anyway”, he came, almost violently, when he heard you say that– his semen staining his pristine suit.

You were going to pull out of him, when a sharp knock suddenly echoed through the house.

“Dad?”

You both freeze.

Oh. Oh, hell.

The door creaks open, and there stands Jiho —his son—staring at the two of you like he’s just walked into the world’s worst nightmare.

Silence.

More silence.

Then—

“What. The. Fuck.”

You sigh, forehead dropping against the older man’s shoulder. “Welp,” you mutter. “Guess I am gonna start screaming now.”

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chleem · 4 months ago

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Mistletoe

One shot: bf drew starkey x gf yn

Summary: In which your secret relationship with drew gets exposed due to a quick kiss beneath the mistletoe.

Genre: fluff (making out wdrew)

⋆.˚ please dont copy or translate my work!

♡⸝⸝ happy xmas! | halloween | mr & mrs starkey

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You thought no one would say yes to a Home Alone marathon, but here you were—with seven friends huddled on your couch the week before Christmas.

You were prepared for rejection from them; watching the entire trilogy alone - well, not alone. With Drew, of course.

Your boyfriend, of three months. Secret boyfriend.

No one knew about you and Drew. And you both planned to keep it that way. The moment anyone found out, the teasing would be relentless. The questions would come. And honestly? You weren’t ready for that invasion of privacy.

It was easier this way. Just the two of you. Even if Drew was laughing along with everyone else, sitting across the room, his gaze on you would linger longer in a way only the two of you understood.

What did Taylor Swift once say? Romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours.

Maybe, the best thing she’s ever written.

You stand up from your seat, carrying your empty cup. You needed a refill of hot chocolate, the only thing (other than Drew) that’s keeping your sanity alive in this cold weather.

When you walk past where Drew’s sitting, the heavy weight of his stares makes your heartbeat uncontrollably speed up.

Entering your kitchen, you immediately reheat the milk using the coffee machine, then pouring a bag of the instant chocolate powder into your cup.

It feels like hours has passed waiting for the coffee machine to stop.

Luckily, you weren’t alone while waiting.

Before you can even react, arms snake around your waist, caging you between his body and the kitchen counter. His chest presses lightly against your back, and the warmth of his body sends a shiver down your spine.

Your heart already knows who it is: Drew.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing.

He kisses your temple, and you sneak a look past his shoulder. The kitchen had a wall separating itself from the living room; but you could never be sure.

“No one saw me,” he says, reading your thoughts. You look into his mischievous blue eyes with your skeptical ones, trying to suppress your smile.

“Well, you can’t just sneak up on me like that,” you say, leaning into his touch. Without thinking, you let your nose drift near his neck; because why not?

And as expected, he smells nice.

“Mhm,” he’s never going to stop sneaking up on you. Drew’s eyes avert themselves down to your lips, before licking his own. “When are they going to leave?”

“You know what a movie marathon means, right?”

Your words causes Drew to frustratedly groan, and throw his head back dramatically. You laugh at his reaction, finding it cute. “And we’re only on the second one…”

“Patience, baby, okay?” You coo at him, a smile appearing on your face.

You reach for the hot milk, pouring it carefully into your cup. As you finish, Drew’s hand moves up, effortlessly reaching the cupboard above you. Without a word, he pulls down the jar of marshmallows and hands it to you, his fingers brushing against yours.

“We should just send them all home,” he whispers in your ear, seductively and annoyingly so, knowing that no one’s in here but the both of you.

You send him a glare, shaking your head at him. “You mean I should send them all home. No.”

You try to step away, cup of hot chocolate in hand, but before you can make it to the door, Drew pulls you back toward him again. His grip tightens around your waist, his hands feeling like they've found a permanent spot there.

You stumble slightly, not expecting the sudden pull, and end up having your chest tightly pressed against his. The heat from the mug in your hands is nothing compared to the warmth radiating from him.

One hand goes and takes the hot drink away from you, putting it back on the counter. “C’mon, I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks, undeniably teasing you.

“Seriously?” you mutter, eyes narrowing at him, but the way your lips twitch betrays you. You like how he impatient he is; how he acts as if he can’t spend seconds away from you.

You watch as Drew straightens up, his eyes gleaming with excitement, hand still firmly around your waist. The other slips into his pocket, and you raise an eyebrow, already bracing yourself for whatever this latest move will be.

“What now—” you start to ask, but your words die in your throat as Drew pulls something small out of his pocket.

The smallest sprig of mistletoe possible.

Your breath catches as you look up at him, eyes wide in disbelief. You expected anything but that.

He holds the mistletoe above the both of you, now expecting you to kiss him.

Then…“With you~ shawty with you,” the familiar tone of Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe leaves Drew’s mouth, but completely out of tune.

You snort, unable to hold it in, the goofy sound escaping your mouth before you can even stop it. Romantic moment? No, maybe the complete opposite.

Drew’s grin widens, and before you can even get a word out, he continues to sing the last chorus of the song.

Your soft giggles encourages him to sing even more dramatically, adding in ad-libs. And when the song comes to an end, he attempts a high-note on the last lines, “kiss me underneath the mistletoe.”

“You dork,” laughing, you hit his shoulder lightly in attempt to push him away.

“C’mon, kiss me,” he leans down closer to you, “especially after that performance.”

You look up at him, eyes still gleaming with laughter, but something shifts. The playfulness in his gaze deepens, the smile slipping into something a little softer, a little more serious. He’s still holding the mistletoe above your heads, but it no longer feels like a joke.

And because it was such a good performance, you wrap your arms around his neck, pull him even closer, and kiss him.

You pour your emotions into it; kissing him soft and slow. Drew immediately melts into it, kissing you back with the same tenderness.

He drops his hands to wrap around your body, the rough leaves of the mistletoe tickling the skin your top doesn’t cover. You giggle into the kiss, leaving the invitation for Drew to thrust his tongue deeper into you.

His hand slips lower and cups your ass, giving it a tight squeeze.

Moaning into his mouth, you know this kiss is escalating. Escalating, rather fast.

The pulse that speeds up in your lower stomach can support your thoughts.

You pull away from him, breathless and slightly starstruck.

Drew is definitely starstruck, lips plumped, cheeks red, and his blue eyes no longer able to hold a single thought behind them.

He leans down to continue, and when you pull away, a pout is evident on his lips.

“Earth to Joseph,” you giggle breathlessly, cupping his face.

He smiles at the mention of his full name, lazy look in his eyes. “They didn’t notice I was gone,” he murmurs, his voice laced with desperation to kiss you again.

“They will soon,” you gently tell him, before planting a quick kiss to his lips again.

“Fuck,” he groans, biting down on his lower lip. His gaze drops down between the both of you, and you follow his trail of line.

Sure enough, the crotch area of his jeans is slowly emerging, a line evident.

“Forgot how easily aroused you are,” you tease, patting his shoulder as you walk past him.

Your gaze flickers to the doorway, and when your mind confirms it, you freeze.

“Shit.”

Your eyes lock with Madelyn’s. She’s standing there, mouth opened in a gasp, eyes wide with shock. She doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she’s caught you in the act.

Her eyes flicker between you and Drew, who immediately turns his back to face her (obvious reasons why). Her opened mouth turns into a full-wide grin, before raising a finger to point between you and Drew. “Oh! Oh-“

Madelyn’s loud remarks echoes through your apartment, making herself heard to the rest of the group in the living room. You embarrassingly bury your face into your hands, hearing the footsteps of your friend group entering your kitchen.

Great. So much for keeping this relationship a secret.

“What happened?” You hear JD ask, worry in his tone.

“They were making out! And- and Drew’s hard right now!” She practically yells it, leading to a chorus of gasps and laughs. You’re pretty sure Rudy laughs the hardest, his laugh full of amusement and disbelief.

You groan in embarrassment, your face burning as you sink to the floor, hands instinctively covering your face like a shield. "Fuck," you mutter under your breath.

“You owe me fifty bucks!” You hear Chase happily chirp to someone.

Everyone takes advantage of you and Drew’s discomfort, just like how you expected them to do once they found out.

You then feel hands cupping your face, forcing you to look up.

You meet the familiar blue, Drew now kneeling beside you with an embarrassed smile that matches yours. He rests his forehead against yours, his chest vibrating with laughter, “guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

You giggle at his capability to joke along, hitting his shoulder lightly. “You’re so annoying.”

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Drew says, brushing off your comment with a playful shrug.

You shake your head, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable. With a quick move, you grab the collar of his sweater, pulling him close. You tilt your head just enough to meet his lips in a kiss.

It’s soft. Brief. Sweet. Just enough to drown out the noise, to remind you of the quiet between you two amidst the madness.

When you finally pull away, your breath mingling, you murmur softly, “Merry Christmas,” your voice a gentle whisper that only he can hear.

Drew’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, his smile warm and genuine. “Merry Christmas,” he repeats, as if this moment—this simple kiss—is exactly what he needed too.

-------------------------------

word count: 1.6k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: merry christmas!! hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! i love writing these little holiday specials, bc it gives me the opportunity to write something fun & weird! last one i wrote was hallow's eve, and i just wanna say thxs for liking it. that is, im currently writing another christmas oneshot, so look forward to it!

elevator | other | mr & mrs starkey | hallow's eve

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #x reader #drew starkey x you #oneshot #fluff #relationship #romantic #christmas #xmas #mistletoe

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traveler-at-heart · 22 days ago

Text

Stuck together

Wanda Maximoff x F! Super Soldier R

Summary: Canon divergence after Wandavision... what if Tommy and Billy are alive and stay with their mom?

Only a handful of people have this number.

So, when the phone rings, you know it’s trouble.

“We need a favor” Hill says. That we means Fury and her, as they constantly operate outside of the government’s rules.

The world has been too messy since everyone came back from the dead, making it easy to slip through the cracks.

You only say yes because Natasha was her friend.

The ride to the rendezvous point is quiet, only interrupted by the engine of your motorcycle. Throughout the road, you cross paths with one other driver who couldn’t care less about you.

“Sorry for the short notice” Maria says when you park outside the warehouse, walking up to you. “We didn’t know who else to call. There’s a safe house ready, food for a couple of days… that’s all we can offer for now”

You nod, walking up to the car.

The last thing you’re expecting is Wanda Maximoff, fast asleep in the back seat, a kid on each side of her.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Keep an eye out” is all Maria says and you sigh.

For a moment, you wish you had ignored her call. Leave someone else to deal with whatever this is.

“It won’t be long, right?”

“Couple of weeks, tops”

Again, it gives you the impression she’s either lying or leaving out a big chunk of information.

But you’re here, and you won’t back out. She hands over the car keys and a burner phone, which you accept with a nod. Neither Wanda nor the kids notice the car moving, and you drive in silence for a couple of hours.

You’re still two hours away from the safe house when there’s a shift in the environment. The first thing you notice is how the radio malfunctions, changing stations randomly. Out of instinct, you look out the rearview mirror, eyes meeting bright red orbs.

It’s as if something stabbing your brain, pain blinding as you feel your mind unravel. It stops abruptly, but you’re too stunned, shaking your head and almost crashing against a tree.

Some outside force keeps the wheel steady, parking the car on the side of the road. The minute it stops, you open the door, breathing heavily. The throbbing pain begins to subside, and you can hear and see again.

“I’m sorry, I woke up and didn’t... didn’t know if we were safe” Wanda says, her voice small. You didn’t even hear her get out of the car.

“Ask next time, instead of trying to kill me” you turn to look away, to hide your confusion.

Even if you knew her for a small time, you don’t remember the Maximoff girl having this kind of power.

“I was just reading your mind” she defends herself. You’re about to argue again when she turns to the car, looking at the kids who are wide awake.

“Boys…” she begins, but looks your way and stays quiet. “Is there a restaurant nearby? We could have some food and a bathroom break”

“The safe house isn’t that far away” you say. You really don’t want to stop, considering Maria didn’t tell you anything specific.

“Please” Wanda says when you clear your throat. With a sigh, you nod. But before she can open the car door, you put your hand over it, looking straight into her green eyes. “Don’t ever do that again, Maximoff”

It annoys you that she doesn’t answer, only glaring at you until your hand drops and she gets in the car, smiling at the kids.

Luckily for them, there’s a small diner by the side of the road, along a gas station and a couple of old restrooms. Open 24 hours, probably to cater to truck drivers and other people who have to go miles without seeing another soul, never mind a place to eat.

Food probably sucks.

“Stay in the booth over there” you point to the back of the restaurant, sitting at the counter where you can see anyone walking in or driving by.

Within minutes of entering, you have already found any weapons you could use, emergency exits and potential obstacles.

But there’s nothing, no one seems to care about your presence.

The kids eat pancakes while Wanda watches them, making small talk. You wonder who are they.

Then again, the bleep brought a shit load of troubles with it. Maybe they disappeared five years ago and their parents are nowhere to be found.

So many people disappeared, aside from the ones that turned to dust.

“They just have to use the bathroom and we’re ready to go” Wanda says, frowning when she notices your empty cup of coffee. “Did you eat anything?”

“I’m fine. Don’t take too long” you leave a couple of bills on the counter, more than enough to cover for the food and your cup of crappy coffee.

The sun is starting to rise and you really wish you could get moving. It’s always better to go when it’s dark, even if enemies can hide in the shadows.

What’s taking so fucking long?

Walking away from the car, you find Wanda trying to stop a man from approaching her any further. He must have come from the other side of the road, as you didn’t see him until now.

“Just wondering what a cute girl like you is doing all alone down this dirty old road” he says.

“None of your fucking business” you say, making the man jump out, scared. “Leave her alone”

“You her guard dog? Be a nice mutt and go dig up some bones” he says, pulling out a knife.

With a roll of your eyes, you reach for it, twisting his hand and punching him in the face. It takes you five seconds to knock him out. Just for fun, you spit next to his motionless body.

“Told you to make it quick” you say to Wanda, pretending to be annoyed.

“We’re done” she says, walking back to the car. The kids share a look as they walk past the unconscious man, giggling when they pretend to be fighting each other.

Wanda smiles when you open the back door for her, while you pretend not to notice her eyes on you.

“Thank you”

Luckily, the rest of the ride to the safe house goes smoothly.

—

Maria didn’t lie about one thing.

This place is a shithole.

Wood pannels are broken, there’s dust everywhere and you’re gonna have to cook and get heat the old fashioned way.

“Yikes” one of the kids says as you walk through the door. You have to agree.

“It’s going to be fine. We’ll make it work” Wanda promises, feigning excitement.

“Can’t you just…?” you make a movement with your hands, and she frowns at you. “Abracadabra the place?”

“I’d rather not use my powers unless it is strictly necessary” she says, closing the front door. That falls off its hinges.

“Home security doesn’t strike you as a necessity, Maximoff?”

The tilt of her head is all the answer you get. With a sigh, you walk up to the shed, hoping there are some tools you can use to fix the door.

Well, at least there are weapons, cash, and all the essentials to make sure the door doesn’t fall again.

Home chores are not your favorite thing in the world, but at least it’s distracting you. Wanda is inside, cleaning the second floor while the two kids come up and down, carrying things and laughing.

“Do you need any help?” one of them approaches you.

“It’s fine. Sorry, I don’t know your name”

“I’m Billy, and my brother’s name is Tommy” the boy says, smiling. Though his brother seems reluctant to give out that information so freely.

“Well, Billy, like I said. I’m almost done. Thanks anyway”

“Oh. Ok”

The disappointment in his voice annoys you.

Kids.

“Fine. Nail that for me”

You hand over the hammer, holding the nail between two of your fingers. The first time he hits your hand, and you barely flinch. You encourage him with a nod, and he crashes the hammer against the rotten wood, adding another task to your workload.

“Sorry”

“That’s on me” you say, inspecting your hand. No damage.

“Are you bullet proof?”

“Not quite. Just harder to kill, that’s all”

Wanda clears her throat and you turn to look at her, frowning.

“Boys, come help in the kitchen” she asks and they both nod, walking past you. Before you can go back to work, Wanda approaches you, hissing. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention things like killing in front of two kids, Y/L/N”

With a glare, you stand up, and Wanda doesn’t back down when you tower over her.

“And I would appreciate it if you could make jazz hands and save me the trouble of fixing this shithole. But alas, we’re both stuck, aren’t we?”

“Brute” she spits out. You give her one last glare, and kneel back next to the door, fixing the wood.

Spoiled brat.

You hear a gasp and a small ball of red magic hits your side. It barely hurts, and it feels more like a warning.

You’re pretty sure you didn’t say that out loud.

“You thought it very loudly” Wanda says.

“Oh, for that you don’t mind using magic” you mutter. Wanda turns to glare at you, and you decide to shut your mouth.

You don't want to push your luck.

—

The better part of your day is spent securing the house. You’re a soldier and an agent, not a handywoman. Still, you hope this won’t take long and pretty soon you and Wanda can be on your separate ways.

After showering, you go out into the porch and open up a beer, taking a large gulp.

“Where’d you get that?” Wanda appears out of nowhere and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Someone left a secret stash”

And thank God, because you’re gonna need it if Maximoff will be breathing down your neck for who knows how long.

“Beer on an empty stomach? There’s food inside. Not my best, but with the groceries we have is what I could do”

“No offense but if I don’t make it, I don’t taste it” you mutter, taking another sip of your beer.

“Yeah, well, you’re no use if you’re drunk” she complains, crossing her arms.

“Do you really think this gets me drunk? I’m a super soldier, remember?”

“You’re a pain in the ass, that’s what you are” she says before going back inside.

Well, she’s not wrong.

The sounds coming from inside the house tell you the kids are getting ready for bed. Once you notice the lights upstairs are off, you decide to go to the kitchen.

Wanda’s right, whoever got the provisions is an idiot. There’s canned food, some cereal, but nothing that can actually work if you put it together.

Unless…

Could there be another hidden stash?

You examine every inch of the kitchen thoroughly, knuckles testing the wood to find an empty panel. After a few minutes, you stumble upon one and smile.

“Bingo” you say, lifting the pannel and finding a cabinet full of cookies, chips and candy.

You pick a bag of chips, and go back outside, drinking another beer. As you look at the woods surrounding the safe house, your mind can’t help but go back to what little you know about Wanda Maximoff.

Natasha had told you she was just a terrified kid, that HYDRA had taken advantage of her and her brother to conduct experiments and turn them into weapons.

You could definitely relate to that.

You barely spent time with her, as shortly after the entire Avenger initiative went to shit and well…

Best not to think about what happened after that. The nightmares are enough reminder.

The night goes by slowly, but you refuse to sleep. One, you are supposed to be looking after them, no matter how much Wanda annoys you. Second, if it were up to you, you’d never sleep. So, you struggle to stay awake, even if it’s freezing outside.

Around five in the morning, you begin to doze off, and decide to take a walk around the house to make sure everything’s in order.

By eight, the lulling sound of birds chirping relaxes you enough, the way it always does when you’re back home, so you begin to drift off…

Until you feel a little flick hitting your cheek. It’s annoying, like a bug, but you think nothing of it as you settle in the chair.

But then it happens two more times. You huff, smacking your own cheek hoping to catch the bug. You look at your empty palm, skin stinging with the force of your own hit.

For a few minutes, you close your eyes, pretending to be asleep. Alert to any change around you, you finally manage to reach and catch the little culprit.

“You little shit” you mutter, but are surprised to see Tommy right next to you, struggling with the hand that is holding to his shirt.

“Mom!” he begins to yell, scared out of his mind.

What the fuck do you mean mom?

You don’t have time to ask out loud, as a burst of red magic throws you out of the porch and into the front lawn.

The sight of Wanda levitating, eyes glowing red makes you crawl back, terrified. It’s been a while since you’ve been scared shitless by something, that’s for sure.

“I will kill you” she states, her accent heavy as a hand reaches forward, red magic curling around your throat and lifting you up in the air.

Oh, well. You had a nice run. It’s very clear that nothing you do will overpower her. It doesn’t matter how strong you are, Wanda’s magic can hold you down, throw you around, choke the life out of you like she’s doing right now.

There are worse ways to go.

“Mom, stop, please!”

The lack of air is probably making you hallucinate, but a second later you’re dropped to the ground, coughing violently and rubbing your neck.

“Tommy, don’t” Wanda pulls him to her side when he tries to reach you and you see fear in her eyes.

She thinks you’ll hurt the boy.

Now, that stings more than the murder attempt she just pulled off.

When you feel like you finally caught your breath, you stand up on shaky legs, and walk away from the house and into the woods.

You don’t stop until you find a small clear and drop against a log, panting.

Maria picks up immediately.

“You’re gonna tell me the fucking truth”

“What…”

“She’s more than capable of taking care of herself. Why the fuck did you call me, then?”

There’s a pause that extends for longer than you’d like and you’re about to tell her how Wanda almost killed you when Maria sighs, giving up.

“Her powers are… unstable. Or rather, she is. I don’t have clearance to tell you everything. But we want to know if she can be a threat”

“To whom?”

“To the world”

You feel like throwing up. You should have never answered the call, you’re way over your head.

“I’m not someone who should be making those decisions. Find anyone else”

“We don’t trust anyone else enough to…”

“Call Barton”

“He’s retired”

“Well, unretire his ass. He knows her better than I do, Hill”

You have a feeling this is is an argument you’re not gonna win, unless you just pick up your shit and leave. Which you could very well do considering what just happened.

A scream that tears throw the quiet of the forest makes you look up.

“I have to go” you say, discarding the burner phone and running back to the house.

Billy’s the one screaming, but you can’t tell why until you reach the edge of the property, looking between Wanda and a strange woman, piercing blue eyes and wild brown hair making her look deranged.

“What…?”

Then, you notice the dagger she’s holding against Billy’s throat.

“Don’t pull any tricks, Wanda. I’m done playing nice”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

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neeeooon · 3 months ago

Note

I liked your stalker ask, maybe part 2 for the rest of boys? Like Michael, Isagi, Barou, Reo, Nagi, Ness, Chigiri, Hiori and Kurona?

okay!! these aren’t as long since there are more characters, but i hope you enjoy and ty for the request!

when you have a stalker pt 2 ;

bf blue lock x gn!reader (some scenes may be unsettling, but are all sfw!)

michael kaiser

-> he’s already always on edge and aware of his surroundings because of his past, so dating you just means he now looks out for you as well

-> because of this, he’s pretty quick to notice the discomfort in your stance when he picks you up at your place

-> he’d get the door for you and still at the hand on his chest. “don’t make it obvious, but do you see that guy in the black hat? he’s been following me for the past twenty minutes…”

-> “stay in the car.” “wh.. kaiser, i said don’t make it obvious—!” he just kisses the back of your hand and closes the car door behind you, making sure to lock it

-> you can’t make yourself watch as kaiser approaches the hat guy, but he’s back three minutes later with a few specks of blood on his cheek. “you good, sweetheart?” “mhm.. are you?” “oh, i’m fine. it’s not mine :)”

isagi yoichi

-> isagi, your cute little boyfriend who never so much as cusses when he’s around you, becomes a loose cannon

-> he was walking you home from one of his games when someone started catcalling you. when you ignored him and tightened your grip on isagi’s hand, the guy started following

-> he doesn’t get very close, though, because you feel isagi tensing up beside you. he shoots you an almost sheepish look, as if asking permission to defend you, and you step to the side

-> isagi immediately whirls on the guy, insults flying as he shoves his finger repeatedly against the guy’s chest. “who raised you? who told you it was okay to speak to people like that? are you dumb or something? fucking dead and blind? helen keller has more manner than you, dipshit. my god. get the fuck out of here before and die i kill you myself.”

-> you are thoroughly impressed and delight in the sight of the guy sulking away. isagi shoots you a bashful look. “too much?” “nah, that was perfect.”

barou shouei

-> people don’t usually mess with you when barou is around (i mean, look at him), but usually isn’t always

-> contrary to popular belief, barou is actually a gentleman. he’s super sweet to you and would do any and everything for you without complain if you asked. so imagine your surprise when your sweet natured boyfriend catches someone eyeing you a bit too comfortably

-> barou gently takes your hand in his and asks if you’re okay with moving to a different table, telling you he’ll be right back

-> after a minute of waiting, you go looking and find barou trapping the guy from before against the wall, his forearm on the man’s neck. “look at them again. i fucking dare you. look at them and see what happens.”

-> when the guy gets the message, he’s released and books it out of the store. barou’s eyes widen almost shamefully when he sees you, but you wrap an arm around his and kiss his cheek. “thank you, love.”

mikage reo

-> he’s used to spoiling you and flattering you and making you feel pretty. he isn’t used to having to physically protect you, but he isn’t about to let anything happen to you, either

-> the two of you were at a karaoke bar with some friends when you were cornered by some older guys with smiles that unsettled you

-> they were being rowdy and pushing you around a little to tease you, but before anything serious happened, reo suddenly shoved himself between you and the guys, his arms outstretched almost comedically

-> “you alright, y/n?” “i’m alright.” “good. okay! we’ll be leaving now. you lads have a terrible night!” and he grabs your hand before kicking the middle one between the legs and running off

-> “that was so stupid!” you scream as you both run away from the guys, but you know they’re too far away to catch you. “probably. but it was funny, right?!”

nagi seishiro

-> the boyfriend who lets you drag him around while you shop despite complaining to go home within ten minutes of arriving

-> it was one of those days, nagi holding all your clothes, nodding along when you asked if certain things looked good, when nagi suddenly grabbed your hand

-> before you could ask what happened, he shot you a distracted look. “let’s leave.” “hm? but we just got here—“ “we can order everything online. i’m tired.”

-> usually you’d convince him to let you shop a little longer, but you could tell by his voice that something was wrong. instead of asking, you played along and returned what was in your hands. “okay. let’s go home.”

alexis ness

-> ness would be a little scared, but he’s willing to put on a brave face for you when he needs to

-> he was showing you around his favorite spots in germany, telling you all about the fabled magical properties, when you realized someone was behind you

-> you stood closer to your boyfriend, asking him lots of questions about his interests to try and distract yourself from the person rapidly approaching

-> ness freaks out when you scream as someone grabs you, but he can’t let anything happen to you. not while he can do something

-> so, ness grabs a very scary looking stick and uses it to whack the person until they let you go. he throws rocks and other random things he finds at them as they run away

-> “are you okay?!” “yeah, i’m… you just beat him off with a stick..” “oh… um, yeah, i—“ “that was so cool, lex! you saved me!” and he gets all blushy and happily hugs you back

chigiri hyoma

-> your stalker isn’t that smart, because his interest immediately shifted when he saw the pretty redhead sitting next to you at a cafe

-> he waited until the two of you were leaving before striking. that is, following you and using his large status to rush and overwhelm you—“you” being chigiri. and he was in for a treat!

-> you were holding your boyfriend hand since you both still had your drinks, so you didn’t exactly look “coupley”

-> imagine your surprise when a giant man suddenly appeared in front of you, and imagine when he grabbed chigiri’s chest just to freeze when he realized chigiri is a boy

-> you were busy laughing as chigiri loudly confronted the guy about being a pervert and kicked him before police heard the commotion and detained the guy

-> “did that seriously just happen?” “what part? that you had a stalker, or that he decided to grope me instead of you?” and your laughing at the absurdity all over again

hiori yo

-> he may look like a cute little pacifist in blue, hiori will gladly throw hands with anyone who asks for it

-> you were hanging out together at one of those gaming cafes when some rando decided to stand directly behind your chair and start touching your hair

-> you didn’t want to cause a scene and swatted him away twice before getting angry

-> the third time he tried it, you pushed your chair back, ready to verbally confront him, when a ball of blue flew in front of you. hiori roughly shoved the guy away, causing him to stumble and fall back onto a tray of glass drinks

-> hiori didn’t have to say anything as he grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you out of the cafe, snickering when you stuck your tongue out at the guy on the floor

kurona ranze

-> he’s the type to bite when he feels threatened

-> that said! you were at the beach playing mermaids when someone started swimming a bit too close for comfort

-> you kept ignoring them and drifting away but they didn’t let up. looking around, you grew worried when you couldn’t spot your boyfriend

-> until the person who’d been invading your space suddenly let out a scream and started swimming desperately to the shore shouting, “shark!!”

-> when you turned around, you saw kurona standing there in confusion before pointing from his mouth to the guy’s leg. “what a weirdo.”

part 1

#requested!#bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #isagi yoichi #barou shouei #mikage reo #nagi seishiro #alexis ness #chigiri hyoma #hiori yo #kurona ranze

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arabellasleopardcoat · 3 months ago

Text

Spring (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Slightly less unreliable narrator (Cregan has come to his senses, reader is on the way) Mature language.

A/N: I really thought these two would get their mess sorted out in nine scenes, but I was far too optimistic. Lucky me, I had one season as backup! Also, thank you so, so much for continuing to read this series and your kind comments!

IT IS FUNNY, how wrong can Cregan be about people. He is no longer afraid to admit it. He had been mistaken about you.

The utter viciousness you had displayed, bringing up his dead wife, had only been a source of anger for him at first. He had thought you an evil little bitch, unafraid of exploiting weak spots to hurt him.

Then, he had seen you with Rickon. And his world had just… Shifted. As if every piece of furniture in Winterfell had been moved exactly one inch to the left, and no one had told him, leaving him stumbling around in his own home.

You weren’t evil or jealous. Or, more likely, you were, but not because of some petty reason, it was because you were insecure. The mere idea was laughable, why would a Princess of the Realm be insecure? But it made too much sense for him to ignore.

Each time Cregan had cracked a joke that compared you to Arra, like commenting on the number of packages and dresses you had brought from the South, you had taken it as a personal criticism. You felt unappreciated, so you lashed out and avoided him at every turn.

You were kind, smart, and capable. Just not in the way Cregan was used to women being capable. The northern women were considered capable because they were physically strong, able to wield bows, ride hard and long or withstand the terrible weather.

You, instead, shared Prince Jacaerys’ strength. You were honorable, unable to leave a child in need, and kind, enough that you would comfort them until their parents reached them. But most of all, you had a brain suited for politics.

Cregan had never noticed before because he had never bothered to truly look at what you were doing, but your charities were to make your mother’s cause more popular with the smallfolk. He had heard your mother was doing a similar thing in the capital, delivering food to the starved population due to a blockade of the own Blacks’ making. Not that the commoners cared about the last part. They only cared about those who put food on their bellies.

And perhaps the Queen dowager and Princess Helaena were popular in the South because of their involvement in the Septs, but you were exploiting the lack of those here. Without Septs, there were no Septas or Septons tending to the sick and poor. You were. And the North would remember, when it came time to march for your mother’s banners.

Cregan would bet Ice that you were having tea with the northern ladies not to gain friends. The Old Gods knew you were an introverted creature, painfully awkward at niceties, much like he was. It explained why the two of you were so uncomfortable with each other. You were probably entertaining the northerns to win their loyalties, knowing the combined pressure of Cregan’s oath and their wives would make his lords more eager to drop coin and men for your war.

Oh, if Cregan got you on his side, the two of you would be a force to be reckoned with. He could already see how much security you could bring to the North, how well fed you could be during winter, if you decided to work with him and not behind him.

You were a wonderful woman. Kind and tender to his son, smart as a whip, utterly terrifying when crossed. You would make a fine wife to any lord, and Cregan couldn’t believe how stupid he had been not to see it. You just needed to be encouraged, and Cregan, dumb as a rock, had been doing the exact opposite.

While you hadn’t exactly been trying, Cregan was man enough to admit that part of the blame laid on him. He had been pushing you away without even realizing it, comparing you to Arra at every turn, without considering how that might come across to you.

That ended today. He would prove himself worthy of your love and loyalty, and win you over. Cregan wasn’t a man of half measures. He would woo you or spend the rest of his life trying.

Set in his decision, Cregan walked to your chambers. He waved off the guard’s attempt to announce him, casually strolling in.

You were seated next to the fire, the leather-bound book you usually carried around spread over your lap. It was a heavy tome, bound in brown leather with golden engravings. It was written in High Valyrian, a language for which Cregan had little use, so he had never learned it beyond recognizing the alphabet.

There was a striking beauty to your expression when you were at ease, the peaceful expression you wore becoming you much more than the usual frown you directed at him. Cregan found himself wondering how beautiful you must look smiling, if you looked this radiant when at peace.

You had the sort of face to be lit up with happiness, he could already tell. His heart ached to be the one that finally coaxed it out of you.

“Princess,” Cregan calls, softly. You set your book aside, ready to get up and curtsy, but he halts you. “No need for that, wife. My ego is not so fragile I need my woman to bow to me.”

“Lord Husband.” You reply, for once not frowning. Your face remains carefully neutral, which Cregan considers a victory. He would attribute it to his remark about his ego, but it is more likely due to guilt. He will take it regardless.

“No need for that either, much less today.” Cregan smiles at you. “You may call me Cregan, if you wish. I am here to thank you for caring for my Rickon while I was away.”

You look far more confused than you did before. You look like you want to approach him and run at the same time, your wool gown fluttering as you squirm in place, undecided if you are approaching or not.

“I simply did my duty, my lord.”

Cregan’s smile widens, amused by you.

“Singing him was part of it? By the Gods, I thought I had a wife and not a minstrel?” And the dry, northern humor doesn’t seem to suit you because you frown slightly. Cregan fights the urge to curse, instead making a mental note. You dislike being mocked, even in jest. He wonders what sharp words you had to endure in the South to be like this, and feels a wave of pity. Dark of hair and no dragon to shield you? Perhaps that was why you were far kinder to Sara than to him. He gives a tasteful cough. Or at least, his attempt at it.

“I only meant to say you went beyond your duties, and I thank you for it. You didn’t have to, but it meant the world to him.” Cregan tries again, and you blink at him, as if he were unable to understand anything at all.

“He is a child.” You say, slowly. “No person would leave a child in need.”

“You would be surprised.” Cregan thinks of how his own mother had treated Sara when she had arrived at Winterfell, treatment that hadn’t improved when his aunt took on as the Lady of the household. His sister had only known freedom after Cregan had taken over his seat, and she was still judged by the rest of the North, even though in a much subtle manner.

“Mmm.” Your reply is noncommittal.

“He has been asking me lately why he doesn't have a lady mother.” Cregan attempts again. He is not above using Rickon to have an excuse to spend time with you. And to his amusement, it does work. You pity his son more than him, it seems because you begin to pay him more attention.

“What did you tell him?” You tilt your head to the side, curious. It’s a surprisingly cute gesture for the unshakable princess that you are.

“I do not know. I have not answered him.” Cregan searches for somewhere to sit, but apart from the loveseat in which you are soaking up the warmth of the fireplace, there is none. He grabs the stool by your writing area, and brings it over.

He sits on the stool across from you, wiggling a bit with how uncomfortable it is. It feels like his knees are on his chest, by the Gods. It’s clearly meant for a shorter person. Your rooms are not made for receiving visitors, he should have thought of that earlier. You need a space to receive people that isn’t the sitting room. What if you wish to have more private conversations?

“Surely he knows she is dead?” You are too caught up in your disbelief to protest that he is rearranging your furniture. Good.

“He does, but doesn’t quite grasp what dead means.” Cregan is being honest. Whoever has the heart to explain to a child of two namedays what death is, is a braver man than him.

“Perhaps you could say she is in the Seven Heavens?” Your frown comes back, but this time it isn’t angry. Instead, it’s puzzled. You are trying to help him, and it makes him fight the urge to smile. He doesn’t want you to think that he is mocking your suggestion.

“We do not believe that here.”

“Neither do I.” And this time, there is the barest beginning of a playful smile on your lips. Oh, you minx! Cregan smiles to himself, charmed. It emboldens him to continue.

“Just, I would like it if you saw him more often. With me. Perhaps… He has asked about you, and I am not asking you to replace her but I… He sometimes needs a more feminine touch.”

“Of course.” You agree. And he can see in your eyes you think he might be trying to use you as a stand in for Arra, not truly believing his words, but that is alright. Cregan will show you. Or at least, he is going to do his very best attempt.

YOU MAKE SURE there are enough pastries and hot water available before you stand up.

“I am afraid I must leave you, my ladies. But you are welcome to continue enjoying the hospitality of Winterfell.” The sitting room is filled with northern women. You have begun inviting them for tea twice a moon, trying to ensure your mother will have all the support she needs when she takes King’s Landing.

It has proven to be quite the difficult task. Northerns are often suspicious of outsiders, and from what you have learned through these gossip sessions, they rarely marry southrons. The only ones who do are the most important Houses, like the Starks or the Boltons. It means that most of your ladies are northern by birth, and not through marriage as you are.

“This early?” Lady Mormont asks, bluntly. Her bluntness had discomfited you during your first meetings, but you have come to find it refreshing. “Princess?” She tacks on, remembering she is supposed to mind her courtesies with you.

“This early.” You confirm, with a smile. You have planned the time of this tea with precision for this same motive, knowing it will appeal to their loyalty, but also allow you to escape the socializing. “I have a play date with my Lord Husband and little Rickon.”

One of the ladies coos. Lady Mormont barks out a laughter.

“Ah, to be a young woman with that many suitors.”

“Only the very best.” You smile, and leave them to feast on the pastries.

You make your way to Cregan’s solar at a leisure pace. The crushed velvet gown you are wearing is in a blue so pale it almost looks like the gray of House Stark. It is one of your old ones, meant to evoke House Velaryon’s colors. It fits you again, having gained a bit of weight during your time in the North. You hope it is a gown suitable for playing with a toddler.

As you enter, you notice Rickon is arriving as well, tugged along by a maid. He chirps a greeting to you, a mix of your name and title that sounds more like gibberish. Yet, you are helpless to him.

“Rickon!” You kneel by him, as he runs to be picked up. You indulge him, smelling his hair as you lift him. He smells of sweet innocence, and a bit like Cregan. You hate that you cannot hate him or be indifferent any longer. The little boy has stolen your heart.

Rickon gives you a toothy smile, his hands clumsily going to cup your face. Who can resist him? Not you.

“I see you found each other.” Cregan leans against the door, smirking. He holds two cups. “Warm milk with honey. For the cold.”

You cannot help but smile a little.

“Our knight in shining armor!” You tease, more for Rickon’s benefit than him. “Let us in, good Ser. So I can place my little wildling down and he can drink it.”

Cregan laughs and moves aside to let the two of you pass. As you do so, you cannot help but notice how much space he takes up, tall and wide. Your eyes linger on his shoulders. You have not seen him wield Ice yet, but you have seen the sword. He has to have considerable strength to do so.

The thought is strangely thrilling. Your stomach does a somersault, but before you have time to analyze it, Rickon begins to squirm in your arms.

“Down! Down! Doggie!” He pleads. You look to see what has caught his attention and notice that Cregan has moved the rug so it lays by the fireplace, and placed some of Rickon’s toys there, including his more favored one: A soft cotton white wolf.

You set Rickon down and take one of the cups from Cregan. Both of you sit down on the rug as well, and watch Rickon play with his wolf, ignoring his cup of milk. You have come to learn that playing with an only child is much different than playing with your younger siblings, Rickon mostly plays alone and wants you there to show you things.

It forces you to keep conversations with your husband, if only because the silence would be too awkward otherwise.

“I have arranged for us to have tea when Rickon tires.” Cregan informs you, a bit stiff.

“Oh, I already had tea with the…” You start, before Cregan interrupts you.

“You are far too thin still. Besides, I know your tea spreads are made of mostly northern sweets. I asked the cooks to make one of your favorites, Prince Jacaerys was kind enough to set up correspondence for me with the cooks of Dragonstone.”

It’s awfully thoughtful of him, and you will examine it later because your mind is still stuck on one tiny detail. One that infuriates you.

“You are corresponding with Jace?” You ask, trying hard not to sound violent. After all, he has been very kind to you as of late, and guilt has begun to creep in for your careless words about his late wife. Not that you will apologize or anything. You intend to pretend nothing happened and be extra nice to Cregan, indulging Rickon and him on all the tea and play dates in the world.

“I am. He would be very pleased if you stopped burning his letters.” His tone is chiding, though gentle. You take a deep breath in. Jace, the traitor. Cregan keeps his tone kind. “He still grieves your brother, Princess. Do not make him mourn a sister in life.”

“Does he think I shall never forgive him?” You ask him, baffled. Rickon begins building a tower with blocks on the rug, insisting that the two of you aid him in building Winterfell, so Cregan’s answer is delayed. As you place some blocks to make the entrance, you have time to think over his words.

All alone in Dragonstone, Jace must be feeling as lonely as you are. Only more because he has no Cregan and Rickon to stand with him.

What he had done was a deep betrayal in your eyes, but was it truly? You had known you would have to marry eventually, and it probably wouldn’t be a love match. Jace had done the best he could in the terrible circumstances you were in. Moved by his fear of losing another sibling, he had entrusted you to Cregan because he thought you could be happy here. Safe.

And you were. There was no fiercest protector for you apart from your husband. After marrying him, no one had dared even to breathe the rumors of your bastardy, and he even worried about what you ate, by the Gods’ sake!

“You can hold a grudge.” Cregan says, cautiously, when Rickon is distracted by his cup of milk and begins to attempt drinking it. Usually, drinking his milk is followed by passing out, so he is careful to support him in his lap. The sight makes your chest feel oddly warm.

Oh.

This was bad.

You were falling in love with Cregan.

“Perhaps I don’t want to any longer.” You say, looking into his eyes. You are no longer speaking of Jace.

Cregan seems to catch on your meaning because he reaches forward and takes your hand in his. Fixated on how big and warm his hand feels against yours, you almost miss his soft words.

“Neither do I.”

SARA’S EYES, GREY and so much like his father’s, are fixed on him. Cregan tries to ignore her, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of appearing uncomfortable. But before the hour passes, he is squirming in his chair, unnerved by her silent stare.

Sara continues to stare. Cregan refuses to speak to her. After a while, she sets down the book she has taken from his shelves, a dreadfully boring account of the battles fought by the Kings of Winter, and perches her chin in her hands.

That way, her staring is much more obvious. She is comfortably laid back in one of the armchairs he has in his solar. Cregan likes company when he works, and it’s easier to ask for her opinion if she is right there. Unfortunately, it also means she can stare at him for hours on end if she so wished.

“What?” Cregan asks, when he can’t take it any longer. He pushes away the reports about the safety of Wintertown and how prepared they are for winter, and looks up at her. She still doesn’t speak. “Sara!”

“Apologies, brother.” By her smile, she is anything but sorry. “I just find it fascinating.”

Cregan sighs. He doesn’t really want to bite, but if he doesn’t, Sara’s teasing will get worse and worse.

“What is fascinating?”

“How you have managed to turn into a spineless southron in less than two moons.” Cregan can only gape at her. What is she going on about? “Not only have you turned timid, you are also a moron. And cunt struck. Well, are you? I know you are not getting any, does one need to actually be bedding the woman to be cunt…” She doesn’t even finish her words, cackling with laughter.

His face grows hot, burning with embarrassment.

“I should have married you to an Umber and be done with it.” He mutters, under his breath, which only makes her cackle further. Both of them know that Sara would never be married off as if she were some cattle. Cregan loves her too much for it, and she is a deeply independent woman.

“Who would advise you, then?” She asks him, brazenly. “Your sweet little wife? While she is great at wrangling lords and ladies, I doubt she has the stomach for warfare.”

“There is a certain innocence to these Velaryons, yes.” At his words, Sara glares. She hates to be reminded she had not been as immune as she liked to think she was to Prince Jacaerys’ charms. “But if the worst comes to pass, I actually intend to have her hold Winterfell alongside you and Rickon.”

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Sara approves. “Shall you march south, Rickon and I will suffice.”

“I wish to begin teaching her, when she no longer seems willing to murder me.”

“I think she isn’t willing to murder you any longer.” And it is as good of an endorsement he will get from Sara.

“She still seems to think I do not love her.” Cregan whines.

“Because you mention Arra all the time. I have heard it’s in bad taste, but what would I know?” Sara rolls her eyes. “I am just some bastard girl.”

“Are you simply going to complain or will you help me?” Cregan looks at her and tries giving her his best pleading look. Then, he decides to stroke her pride. “You know I always seek your council, even above other lords.”

“Even above Lord Cerwyn?” Her mouth purses in a dubious pout. Fuck. His sister or his best friend? In the end, the choice is easy. Sara is here now, after all.

“Of course.”

Sara positively beams.

“You should tell him so.” Her rivalry with him had never made any sense to him, they had known each other since childhood, too. The man didn’t even care about who her mother had been and never took insult with her… Well, insults. Plural. Always thrown at him by Sara. Now that he thought of it, his friend always sought excuses to see Sara. Odd. “Loudly. But I am feeling generous and not demand that you do so immediately. I shall gloat in my victory, and it will be even sweeter if he doesn’t know.”

“Your advice?” Cregan asks, tiredly. The Gods knew that she would talk circles around him if he let her. She was honest, but she also had a gift for courtly speech that Cregan despised.

“Women like gifts. Or I do. And I am a woman.” Sara shrugs. “She is a Princess, of course she does too. And don’t just gift her anything.”

“I would never be…” That stupid, Cregan wishes to add, but Sara is still speaking.

“Gift her something special. Something unique, tailored to her. And especially, something that you wouldn’t gift practical Arra.”

Cregan stares at Sara. Sara stares back. Then, very pointedly, she picks up her book and continues to read. The message is clear. He will not get any further help.

Still, her advice lingers. In the coming days, Cregan cannot shake the thought, regardless of what he is doing. As he inspects his men, as he reads during his spare time, even as he bathes. All Cregan thinks of is you, and a gift that would please you.

He even dares ask Rickon. His suggestion of a direwolf isn’t exactly bad. It’s just difficult on its execution, and not something Cregan would choose when thinking of a gift for you.

He discards many more ideas, from rolls of myrish lace to donations to your charities. You ran far too cold to wear the former, and the latter wouldn’t truly be a gift to you. He wastes nearly a week coming up with a suitable idea, and two more corresponding with the Prince, the Maester at Dragonstone, and securing the goods he needs.

It’s all worth it, when he takes a look at the finished present and can know that you will love it.

#cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x y/n #cregan x you #cregan x reader #cregan x y/n #hotd cregan #cregan stark #cregan stark fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf/got #cregan x oc #cregan stark x oc #hotd reader insert #seasons of my love series

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steddieasitgoes · 3 months ago

Text

Eddie helps Jeff and Grant move into their freshman college dorms. Eddie's not going to college; it took him six years to graduate high school. He's not about to put more time and now money into a dead-end education, but he respects the guys' decision.

They're upset the university's stupid roommate questionare didn't pair them together. They answered everything exactly the same, and yet they still got split up. It's bullshit. Eddie knows it, they know it, everyone knows it. But it is what it is. Jeff doesn't want to make waves with the school, and Grant's just happy they accepted his sorry ass, so they'll have to live with it.

Jeff, Gareth, and Grant are currently figuring out how they're going to smuggle a microwave into Grant's room. Eddie leaves them to it, already holding a box marked for Jeff in his hands. He saunters out of the elevator and down the hall toward Jeff's room, nodding his head at anyone who does the same to him.

College is weird, he thinks. No one has sneered at him -- not even the frat dude bro type who checked Jeff and Grant in earlier. Maybe it's true what they say, college is full of open-minded people. He'll let the boys be the guinea pig on that one.

Jeff's door is half shut when he gets there, which is weird because he knows they left it wide open. They still have to bring in his record collection, and even though he ditched hundreds at home, the box is still way heavier than it should be. Having to put it down to open the door is a no go.

Thankfully, the box Eddie is carrying now is rather light so he turns and uses what little ass he has to bump the door open before sliding inside.

He stops dead in his tracks as Jeff's roommate turns to meet his gaze.

Eddie doesn't believe in God, doesn't believe in angels -- he likes to think Demons exist, but that's more of an aesthetic thing than anything else -- but he's pretty sure he's in the presence of an angel.

No, he's certain he is.

The large window between the beds shoots rays of sunshine through the horizontal blinds, painting the guy in beautiful shades of yellow and orange. And jesus h. christ the shadow gives off the illusion of a halo around his gorgeous, lush, perfectly styled hair.

He's wearing a sweater -- how he's wearing a sweater in the sweltering heat, Eddie doesn't know, but he is -- with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Eddie can't help but let his eyes take in the miles and miles of sun-kissed skin, unmarked with ink like his own but decorated with freckles and moles that Eddie wants to trace, connecting them like constellations he spent decades staring at on the roof of the trailer back at home. And, okay, maybe a few other unholy thoughts also pop into his head -- sue him.

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at that. Of course Eddie's first thought upon stumbling on an angel is to wreck them.

"Hey, I'm Steve," the man says, extending a hand out to Eddie.

Jesus H. Christ, it's bigger than any hand has any right to be. Eddie's mind immediately wonders what else might be bigger than most. He can't help it.

"You must be Jeff," he smiles. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Yep, that's me!" Eddie says without thinking it through. He scrambles to put the box down and reaches out to shake Steve's hand.

It's a firm handshake, what Wayne would call "business-like," but it sends a burst of electricity coursing through Eddie's body. It's silly, really silly, but Eddie doesn't think his hand has ever fit so perfectly in someone else's before.

Maybe they're soulmates. He doesn't believe in those either, but he could if this Steve guys is his.

Steve smiles and drops his hand a second later and Eddie tries his best not to buckle under the loss of touch.

"What do you think of the place?" Steve says. His hands shoot to his waist, settling there as he gives the room a bitchy glance over. "It's a lot smaller than I was expecting."

"At least it's only a double," Eddie says. "My friend's stuck in a triple."

Poor Grant. As if losing out on rooming with Jeff isn't enough, he really got fucked.

Steve whistles lowly. "Damn, man, that sucks."

He squats then, digging through an already unopened box, and Eddie feels faint. His jeans were already tight, but with his new angle, they're stretched to the max, leaving very, very, very little to be imagined. And Eddie has no problem imagining anything, much less what the skin under those pale blue jeans looks like.

Steve's shirt rides up a bit as he leans over more, really sifting through the box now, and the tiny sliver of skin above the waistband of his boxers is enough to send Eddie into full-blown gremlin mode.

Maybe he should have applied to college.

"So, Jeff," Steve says, standing again and glancing between the two beds.

Neither has seemed to claim them yet. Jeff -- the real Jeff -- didn't want to be rude, and judging by the single box Steve's been looking through, he's only just started the move-in process.

"Got any bed preferences?"

Sharing it with you.

No, no! he scolds himself.

"Nope, have at it," Eddie says, casting his arms out wide and bending at the waist. He's not sure why he's done it, but by the time he registers how weird it might be, it's too late. So he commits to the bit, and it's worth it when Steve chuckles.

"Cool, cool," he nods. "I'll take this one, then." Steve shuffles over to the bed farthest from the door and tests the firmness with his hand. It gives just enough to make Steve smile. "I can work with this, if you know what I mean."

Eddie thinks he's really gone and died then because Steve honest to god winks at him.

Winks!

At. Him.

Eddie!

What the fuck.

"Yeah," he croaks, a little awkward and a whole lot aroused. He needs to get out of here before he jumps Jeff's roommate and accidentally gets him kicked out. Better yet, he needs to figure out how to get enrolled and kick Jeff out of his room himself. "Alright, well, I've got more shit to bring up, so I'll be back."

"I'll be here."

Eddie nods then bolts, ditching the elevator altogether and taking the three flights of stairs two at a time. Jeff's still arguing with boys when he gets down there, sweaty and out-of-breath.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Gareth snaps.

"Oh no," Jeff winces. "Is my roommate a dick? Did he chase you out?"

"No," Eddie pants, shaking his head widly. He reaches out with both hands and slams them down on Jeff's shoulders way harder than he needs to. "Your roommate, Steve-- he's-- I think I'm in love."

The guys burst into laughter.

"Here we go again," Gareth says, rolling his eyes.

"You just met the guy," Grant adds. "How could you possibly be in love?"

"You can't be in love with my roommate," Jeff scolds, shaking Eddie's hand off of him.

"Jeff, Jefferson, Jeffery," Eddie rambles. "I am in love. He is the man I am going to marry. The one who will father my children. The one to tame this wild horse--"

"You've slept with two dudes, Eddie. I don't think that makes you a wild horse," Gareth scoffs.

Eddie ignores him. He doesn't have time to deal with Gareth. Not when Steve is upstairs waiting for him.

"I need to go back to him."

Eddie moves to step around the three, eager to grab another box with Jeff's name on it and get back to Steve. Back to the love of his life. But Jeff blocks him.

"No. No. Absolutely not," Jeff says, reeling Eddie back in. "I have to live with this guy for a year. You are not going back up there and making it weird."

"Well then I have good news for you," Eddie says, wicked grin already breaking out onto his face.

"This can't be good," Grant mumbles.

"You don't even have to go up there. He thinks I'm Jeff."

"Okay, but you're not Jeff," the real Jeff says, crossing his arms. "I'm Jeff and I'm going to go to my room and introduce myself to my roommate and you're going to stay far, far, far away from him."

Eddie shakes his head. "You can't do that! He'll think I'm a liar."

"You are a liar," Gareth butts in.

"Eddie," Jeff groans. "I have to go up there! I live here. I'm Jeff. He needs to know the truth."

"Or, or!" Eddie shouts, full of frantic energy now. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, mind reeling a million miles an hour as the plan starts to form in his head. This could work. It could totally work. "How about I pretend to be you for the next year and you can be me."

"Dude, no!" Jeff scoffs. "I worked my ass of to get here. I'm not trading lives with you so you can try to fuck my roommate."

"Oh, I won't have to try," Eddie says. "He might have already offered."

"Oh my god. My roommate thinks I want to fuck him."

"Your roommate doesn't even know you exist," Grant corrects.

"What were you thinking?" Jeff shouts.

"He clearly wasn't thinking with his head," Gareth says.

"This is a disaster."

"No," Eddie says, shaking his head. He doesn't know why they're being so catastrophic about this. It's fine. It's all going to be fine. "Okay, new plan, I'll pretend to be you but only in your dorm. You can still go to class and do all the college shit. I'll only be Jeff to Steve."

"And where am I supposed to live?"

"With Grant."

"Asshole! I'm already in a triple! We can't house another person."

"And you're not even enrolled!" Jeff adds. "What happens when the RA finds out? I'll get kicked out and you'll--"

"Go to jail."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I don't think people go to jail for impersonating college students, Gare."

"They might!" Gareth says, throwing his hands up. "Are you really going to risk going to jail just for a chance at fucking Jeff's roommate?"

"Well, I hope it would be more than fucking. I did say I was in love."

Gareth doesn't get it. The only thing he's ever loved is his drum set -- and he can't marry that. Not even in bumfuck Indiana.

He goes back to ignoring Gareth and focuses on Jeff. He braces his hand on his shoulders again and slinks down to his knees. He's not above begging. Not for this. Not for the angel that is Steve who is probably wondering where he is right now.

"Jeff," Eddie says, hitting the pavement. He retracts his hands from Jeff's shoulders and clasps them together in prayer. He's making a scene.

"Get up, you're making a scene," Jeff hisses, yanking him back to his feet. Eddie goes willingly and Jeff huffs. "Alright, alright. Let me think."

"You can't seriously be considering this," Grant chimes in. "Eddie's plan is shit. It'll never work."

"I know that!"

Eddie watches as Jeff paces in a circle with his eyes closed. If he wanted to, he could bolt right now. Grab a box and make a run for it. Lock himself and Steve in the room and not come out until he's sure Jeff won't rat him out. Holding Steve hostage might not be the best impression to give Steve though, so he stays put.

"Okay, how about this," Jeff says and Eddie gives him his undivided attention. "The two of us are going to go back to my dorm and we're going to set the record straight--"

"No! That's--"

"Eddie," Jeff says, firmly. "If you really do love my roommate or well, you want to eventually love him. You have to tell him the truth."

Jeff's right. He's always right that's why he's going to college on a scholarship and Eddie's not. But he doesn't like it. Steve's going to think he's a total weirdo and he'll never get a chance to see what's actually under those tight ass pants.

Still, Jeff's right.

"Fine."

Steve really is an angel because he doesn't even bat an eye at the truth. He does laugh, but Eddie doesn't mind that. He wishes he had his cassette recorder and a mic so he could record it. It's music to his damn ears, and he knows a thing or two about music.

Jeff and Steve hit it off and Eddie tries not to pout about it as he continues lugging in box after box. When Eddie's van is finally empty, Grant and Gareth meet up with them in Jeff's room. Steve introduces himself and Eddie can tell they're both silently judging him.

Yes, this is the dude he would risk going to jail for, Gareth. Eddie thinks, he hopes Gareth gets the message in the glare he shoots his way. He thinks he does.

It turns out Steve also has a best friend who just moved in, too. She's in a different building than them, but he's meeting up with her for pizza at the parlor down the street. He invites them all to go and Eddie says yes on behalf of all of them a little to quickly.

When they get there, Steve introduces them all -- Jeff, Gareth, Grant. He gets all their names right, even Gareth, but when he gets to Eddie, he smirks. "And this," he says, smiling as he slings an arm around Eddie's shoulder. "This is not-Jeff my not-roommate."

"Hi, Not Jeff," Robin says.

Eddie laughs and introduces himself to her with his real name and Robin nods before her eyes lock on with Steve. He can tell they're non-verbally communicating with each other. It's not unlike the way he is with the boys. One look is all it takes sometimes for them to know what he's thinking.

It's weird watching it happen from the outside and especially difficult when he's still stuck under Steve's arm. Not that he minds that part not at all.

Finally, her lips quirk up into a smile and she pulls her gaze from Steve, letting it land on Eddie. At the exact same time, Steve's name gets called and he excuses himself to get pizza, leaving the two of them alone.

Robin's smile falters just a bit as she takes a step closer to him, replacing the spot where Steve just was. "Just so you know, I'm obsessed with Murder, She Wrote. If you hurt him, I know where to hide your body."

Eddie doesn't have time to even think of a retort before she's scampering off to help Steve with the pizzas.

He might not be enrolled in college, but he has a strange feeling he's going to spend a lot of time up here from now on.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #gareth emerson #unnamed freak #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #college au #stranger things #stranger things fic #and they were NOT roommates #dani writes

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kinichval · 26 days ago

Text

kinich normally doesn't get jealous.

his history of that sharpshooter type of glare at someone who thinks they can have a slot in your contacts is literally just twice.

the first being a member of a group project, he wasn't blaming you for being oblivious to the flirtatious advances, but it was making him uncomfortable. although, it was around the early stage of your relationship, so kinich finds it hard how to voice it out without seeming like he's too possessive.

the second time was when you were spending a bit too much time with this new friend of yours, now kinich beats himself up for thinking that this new person has some malicious intent, but he just can't brush off the side glances and intentionally close proximity whenever kinich is in the same picture as that new face. good thing, this time kinich knew how to work around his jealousy and communicated it with you!

kinich fears this will be the third time.

it's ridiculous.

unlike the aforementioned circumstances, this one holds no third party. not a living one at least.

(no, we're not talking about the dead)

"can't you just move in with me? we go to the same university, my apartment is closer too."

you raise a brow at your boyfriend, it was early in the morning on a sunday when all your responsibilities are checked off the list and finally, finally, you can rest without the consequences knocking at the back of your head.

"my love, i would love to live with you, but where is this coming from?" you giggle, cupping his cheek. the blanket draping over your cuddled bodies drifts down as kinich repositions to sit up, towering over your face. "just because..." his cheeks flush the color of fresh roses displayed on your wall, except he wasn't really blushing at the intimate moment, especially with the way you find his gaze momentarily falling your line of stuffed toys beside you.

"kinich, what are you on about?" you tease him, the government name pulls his attention back to your gorgeous morning face. oh god, if living with you means seeing your pretty face every day, he'll go find the best ring and propose right now.

"you should kiss me first thing in the morning," kinich mutters as he retreats to your neck. "i kiss you every day, my love." you try to detach him from the depths of your neck, yet he resists and tightens his hug around your waist. "i said every morning." he emphasizes, still his point is nowhere to be seen.

"we see each other in the morning before classes start."

"no, i don't mean that."

kinich rolls over to his back, dragging you with him. you lay flat on his chest as he peppers your face with soft kisses: cheeks, nose, jaw, and a lasting kiss on your lips.

"i'm jealous," his admission further twists your brain, where is this conversation going? as far as you know you do not kiss anyone—

wait, hold up.

"are you jealous that i kiss my teddy bear?"

kinich is quiet, embarrassed, and mentally throwing himself off a cliff.

"i want to be the first one you kiss in the morning." he admits, and before he can find a hiding spot, your caress locks him to face you. "you want me to live with you because you're jealous of my stuffed toys?" you chuckle, heightening his already flushed out face.

"marry me first."

"will you marry me right now?"

#kval — spike rush.#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact kinich #kinich #malipo kinich #kinich x reader

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wendichester · 2 months ago

Note

Hello, could I please request a enemies to lovers with dean where reader is close friends with Sam but her and Dean hate each other, and they always rant about it to sam and same just fed up and knows they are in love with eachother.

ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ not it,

summary. sam is done listening to you and dean argue

pairing. dean winchester x reader ft. sam winchester

wordcount. 379

notes. love love loveeeee this! thank you for requesting love 🩷

Sam Winchester is so done.

It was funny at first, the way you and Dean bickered like an old married couple. How you’d roll your eyes the second he opened his mouth, how he’d mock your every move with that insufferable smirk. It was amusing—until it wasn’t. Until every car ride turned into a battlefield, until every hunt became an excuse for you two to see who could get under the other’s skin the fastest.

And the worst part? You both constantly dragged him into it.

“Sam,” you huff, barging into the bunker’s library, arms crossed. “Control your brother before I kill him.”

Sam doesn’t even look up from his book. “What’d he do now?”

“He exists,” you snap. “And, oh my God, if he calls me ‘princess’ one more time, I will introduce him to my knife.”

Dean’s voice rings from the doorway. “What was that, princess?”

Your head whips around so fast it’s a miracle you don’t get whiplash. “I hate you.”

Dean saunters in, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. “Sweetheart, if I had a nickel for every time you said that, I could buy myself a real nice bottle of whiskey.”

You groan, turning back to Sam. “See? Infuriating.”

Dean flops into the chair across from you, kicking his boots up on the table. “You love it.”

“I loathe it.”

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose. “Would you two just kiss already?”

Dead silence.

Your jaw drops. Dean actually looks caught off guard for once.

“What?” you sputter.

Sam sighs, setting his book down. “You heard me. This has been going on for months. I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but it’s not me.”

Dean scoffs. “You’re insane, dude.”

“Yeah,” you chime in, cheeks burning. “Insane.”

Sam levels you both with a flat look. “Alright. Then prove me wrong. Go one day without arguing. One.”

Silence.

Dean shifts in his seat. “That’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “Why would we do that?”

Sam just smirks, standing up and stretching. “Because if you can’t, it means I’m right.”

You and Dean exchange a glance, something tense crackling in the air.

Sam walks away, muttering, “Idiots,” under his breath.

And you pretend not to notice the way Dean is still looking at you.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @bamboobooshark ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ( continues in the comments )

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req

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luvbinnies · 2 months ago

Text

i made a promise, to distance myself

A boy who kept his feelings locked away and someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. When he walked away, it was without warning, without reason. And they refused to wait for an explanation. Now few months later, forced to work together on a project neither can escape, old wounds resurface. Silence turns into stolen glances, resentments bleeds into something dangerously familiar, and the past refuses to stay buried.

Genre: fluff, angst, exs to lovers, el oh el.

warnings: swearing, isaac newton mentioned, could be sad ig (?), i can't think of anything else

a/n: im back from the dead, recently fell under a moving car and got dumped el oh el, some parts in here are inspo by like my actual life, i have a list of all the similarities if anyone is curiosu at the end of the story. basically wake up from a dream where me and my ex got back together and wrote this.

wc: 9.6k (longest fic ever el oh el)

Jumping off a flight of stairs was probably not the best idea, but it was the only thing you could think of at the moment.

Reluctantly moving down the stairs and following the loud clunk sounds of your stupid bright neon green water bottle. Books and papers of drawings and blueprints that won't fit into your messenger bag without getting damaged. Maybe you should’ve listened to when people said getting a regular backpack was much more convenient than the bag you had now, but it was much more fashionable.

Landing at the bottom of the staircase, take a moment to breathe and prepare yourself for having to go back up five flights of stairs to get to class. Because even though the school is one of the prestigious in the country, they refuse to have any sort of elevators to ruin their “dark academic” aesthetic of the building.

Eyes traveling on the old cobbled stoned flooring, trying to locate a neo-coded water bottle, your mother insisted on getting since she read somewhere green is this year's lucky colour. Probably found in some ridiculous article, really got to get her off social media.

Bright neon green slipped through your peripheral vision, turning to face the still rolling bottle and walking towards it before it makes you late for your next class. It stops in front of a pair of solid black shoes, one that looks all too familiar. The figure stops at the feeling of the ratchet bottle that wants to ruin your day even more than it already has.

A recognizable pale hand, with a silver ring on the index, hesitantly drops down to pick up the bottle that led you down a path to the literal pits of hell for you. Eyes not dare looking up from the ground, taking your somewhat free hand and extending out your pinky to the now stranger you have a bitter taste in your mouth everytime you come near. Once the feeling of your pinky is weighted down by the feeling of the water bottle’s hook, you take off up the stairs with energy that you didn’t think you had anymore left of, as it’s your third time climbing these stairs in the past ten minutes.

Not a care in the world if a stranger walks by and deem you as a rude bastard who can’t even say thank you, because you can;t even say a word to the “nice stranger” who handed you your water bottle. All you can do around him now is just run and avoid. That’s what you continue to do until you reach your class, probably looking a little weird as you were also cursing at your bottle and gravity, mainly isaac newton, he’s usually the bane of all your problems lately, besides the man you used to call yours.

—

His friends would sometimes joke to him that the world is too fast for him at times, usually when he doesn’t get a joke right away or for him zoning out, especially as it has been worse in these past few months.

But that happened so fast, he has no idea what to do, or how to react but just to stare at your figure rushing up the stairs. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens as you fade away up the many flights of stairs. Acting like he is some contagious virus, even afraid to touch him, much less look at him.

He would remember when their friend group was still intact and when they would all hang out, how sometimes the gang would get too overwhelming, even from the other side of the room you would catch his eye and always give him a comforting smile. And the simple eye contact with one another, while the world moves along around them.

But he had lost that with you and it’s all his fault.

—

Taking a little break from the assignment in front of you to angrily tap on your phone so the ads on your music app stop, knowing you aren’t really actually doing anything to get rid of them unless you become one of the apps victims and pay for music. But your stubbornness and being broke, so aggressively hitting your phone is your next best solution.

The little silence after the ad is finally done and the next song is about to start, you can hear a mechanical pencil roll off of a desk. A quiet clatter could barely be noticed in the slight hum of the library. You didn’t hear it at first, the angry high you had because of the ad made you lock out of concentrating from your work— until you noticed the hand reaching for it making you pause.

Long pale fingers. A silver ring on the index.

You know those hands, it's your second time seeing them in… you weren’t too sure the last time you saw those hands when they were wrapped around your water bottle. All you knew was that you were seeing those hands much sooner than you needed to.

Those hands, you remember the weight of those hands in yours, the way they used to hold your face and caress your cheek, the way they tug at your sleeves on your sweater absentmindedly.

And you recognize the pencil.

It’s yours.

Not exactly, but you did buy that pencil.

Something in you starts feeling nauseous, or light-headed, you couldn’t really figure out in the moment because without thinking, you reach out and yank that pencil right out of his grip.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that, because now that gross boy opened his mouth, but you didn’t care.

Sunghoon blinks. “Hey did you just—”

Whenever you were bored in class you would always do fun pencil tricks and even taught him how to do some with this said pencil in your hands.

Spinning the pencil around, inspecting it with feigned interest, not caring about the boy next to you with his mouth open like a fish staring at you. “Huh. I forgot how nice this pencil was.”

Now his mouth is close as he clenches his jaw, his stare sharpening. “You can’t be serious.”

Finally turning your head to look at him, trying to maintain the emotions on your face. Instead of saying something you might end up regretting, in the fear of sounding cringe, you just shrug.

“Give it back.”

“Why?” Resting your chin on your hand. “It’s mine.”

He exhales sharply, the kind of exasperated breath he used to let out when you teased for taking things too seriously. Except now there’s a little bit of an edge to everything.

“You gave it to me.”

You tilt your head “Did I?”

You weren’t sure if he could clench his jaw any harder, but somehow he does. “Yeah. You did.”

Your grip on the pencil tightens. You can’t say you remember everything that was said the night of the break up, but you remember the way you felt, the way he left without explanation— like he couldn’t bear to stay with you any second longer. As if he couldn’t stand to hold on to something that was already slipping away.

He didn’t even let you have a say, you didn’t get the chance to do anything, not even fight for what was yours then.

So now you hold on to that damn pencil.

“Well,” you say, voice light, “technically, it was mine first.”

Sunghoon lets out a humorless laugh, one you don’t recognize in this fever dream daze of nostalgia. Leaning against the table, he’s close now, closer than you could've prepared for. You hate the way your heart stumbles over itself at the lack of distance, at the way he still smells the same— like something clean and sharp, a little cologne you had bought him about a year ago for his birthday.

His voice drops an octave. “You’re seriously pulling this shit?”

Shrugging again, simply just pulling a stare you hope doesn’t reveal how fast your heart is beating stupidly like it used to.

He watches you for a long second, his brown eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to figure out what type of game you were playing. But then, not arguing, instead of pushing back, he just exhales softly.

“Fine,” he mutters, “Keep it.”

And then, right before he turns away— so quiet you almost think you had imagined it—

“It suits you better anyways.”

You blink.

Before you could say anything, maybe asking what the fuck he meant by what he said, he’s already walking off. Leaving you with a mechanical pencil in your hands and this time you watching him as he walks away, with a taste of words you don’t quite understand.

—

Two year ago

Rain pitter patters against the windows, a dull hum in the background in the near-empty classroom. It’s late— too late for anyone to be here— you didn’t care, you were too stubborn. Chewing on your nail, brows furrowed in concentration as you glare at your notebook, completely oblivious to the fact that Sunghoon hasn’t turned a page in the last ten minutes.

He should be focusing. He should be running through formulas in his head, thinking about the test tomorrow, or at the very least be pretending to be studying. Instead, he’s watching you— watching the way you puff out your cheeks when you stop understanding what you were just doing, the way you spin the pencil in your hand absentmindedly, the way you whisper to yourself while doing each exercise when you think no one’s listening.

You’re always like this– loud without meaning to be, pulling attention without even trying.

He should’ve known sooner. That you were dangerous in the kind of way that crept up on him, slipping past his defenses before he had the chance to stop it.

“Sunghoon.”

Your voice snaps him back to reality, he straightens, forcing his face into something neutral. “What?”

Pushing your notebook towards him, sighing dramatically. “Did you do this one yet? I don’t know if I did it correctly.”

He glances at your notebook, eyes widening a little, as to the most he could see on the page was a bunch of scribbles and some incoherent formulas and calculation. Having a hard time reading it , before shifting his chair closer. You don’t think twice about it when your shoulders brush. You never do.

But he does.

He always does.

“Is this your answer, at the corner?” he asks, taking your pencil without thinking, to circle the little number at the bottom of the page. Your fingers graze for a second, and he wonders if you feel the static the way he does. Probably not. You’d pull away if you did.

He attempted to go over your work, commenting on what you have written in a voice that’s much steadier than he feels. You nod along, resting your chin on your hand, eye flickering between his face and page.

“I hate Isaac Newton and that stupid apple.” you grumble.

Sunghoon huffs a quiet laugh shaking his head. “You just overthink everything.”

You groan. “I wish that apple killed that stupid white man.”

He watches as you bury your head in your arms on the table, tapping your forehead lightly with the end of the pencil before setting it back down. “Just stop overthinking and wishing death upon an already dead man.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him, lips parting like you want to argue, but for a brief moment, something passes between the two of you— something neither of you have a name for yet.

And then you roll your eyes, reaching for your notebook. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, idiot.”

Sunghoon watches as you turn your pages to start a new question, completely unaware of the way his fingers twitch against his knee, resisting the urge to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

Yeah.

He’s in trouble.

—

A few months ago

The night air is cold, but not as cold as the space between you.

Your arms are crossed. His hands are shoved into his pockets.

A street light flickers overhead. A car passes in the distance.

Sunghoon exhales, steadying himself.

Then. before he can stop it— before he can think too hard about what he’s about to lose—

“I think we should break up.”

Silence.

The kind that swallows everything whole.

Your lips part, but no words come out.

The look in your eyes— confusion, disbelief, then something else, something that burns—

“What-Why?”

He doesn’t answer. Or maybe he does, but it’s not the right thing.

It’s never the right thing.

The air is heavy, thick with things neither of you are saying.

Then, finally— your voice, quieter this time.

“Okay.”

A single step back. Then another.

And then—

Nothing.

—

The classroom hums with chatter, students moving around and the teacher speaking about some project, but you were barely listening. Your attention is elsewhere— on your notebook, on the scratches of pen against paper, literally anything but him.

He was two rows ahead, resting his chin on his hand, half-focused on his laptop. Almost similar to you right now. Too similar.

You don’t look at him. You don’t let yourself.

But then—

“For the project, you’ll be working in pairs.”

There is a ripple of movement through the room, students glancing around already choosing their partners.

“I’ve assigned them to you.”

Your stomach twists.

You sit a little straighter. Your fingers tighten around your pen.

The professor starts listing off names. One by one, students find their partner. You’re holding your breath, waiting for—

And then—

Your name.

And then, immediately after—

His.

You freeze.

The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick.

Someone nudges your arm, murmuring something about how lucky you are since you get to work with the “hottest guy on campus”, but their voice is distant, muffled by the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lift your gaze.

Sunghoon had turned in his seat.

For the first time in months, you’re looking at each other.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even look surprised.

—

Sunghoon doesn’t hear from you for the rest of the day.

Not a text, not a call— nothing.

And the, at exactly 11:51 pm., an email lands in his inbox.

Subject: Project Task

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Attached is the project outline. I’ve divided the tasks. I’ll handle the structural analysis and concept sketches. You can do the mechanical components. Tell me when you are done.

Sent from my phone

That’s it. No greeting. No unnecessary words. Not even your name.

Sunghoon exhales through his nose, clicking open the file. You’ve already set up everything— titles, labels, even deadlines. You’ve practically built a wall of professionalism between you, as if you were never anything but classmates.

And it pisses him off.

Fine. two can play this game.

He types a reply, short and to the point.

Subject: Re: Project Tasks

Got it.

He doesn’t hit send.

His fingers hover over the keyboard. His jaw clenches.

Then, in a moment of stubborn impulse, he types—

You can’t avoid me forever.

And hits send before he can take it back.

—

“You know, he’s right.”

You shoot a glare over at Sunoo. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, kicking his feet up on the bench. “You can’t ignore him forever.”

“I can, actually.” you sip your matcha pointedly. “It’s called email.”

He snorts. “You sound like a middle-aged professor.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll leave me alone then.”

Sunoo raises an eyebrow. “He literally told you, ‘You can’t avoid me forever.’”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, and? I don’t care.”

The words are barely out of your mouth when Sunoo suddenly stiffens, eyes darting over your shoulder.

“Uh—”

You don’t even have to ask. You just know.

There’s a familiar shift to the air, an awareness pressing down on your skin.

And then, just to confirm it—

“Shit,” Sunoo mutters. “He’s down the hall.”

You don’t think. You just move.

Your hands shoot out, gripping his sleeve as you drag them down the corridor.

“Are you serious?!” he hiss between stumbling steps.

“Shut up, shut up , shut up—”

“Please can we stop running, I don’t think he would be chasing us down for sport.”

You don’t care. You don’t turn around because you know if you do, you’ll see Sunghoon standing there, staring after you, that unreadable look on his face.

And you are not giving him that satisfaction.

Not today.

—

Staring at your laptop screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the flashing cursor blinking back at you in defiance. You’ve been avoiding this email for days— every time you think about it your stomach churns, and you mind races with excuses.

You don’t want to deal with him. Not now. Not ever again.

The project, the meeting, the unavoidable tension. You had hoped, foolishly, that you could really just avoid Sunghoon completely— keep everything strictly professional, send email, handle the assignment without having to face him in person. But that plan was crushed the moment the email landed in your inbox, his name in bold.

“Let’s meet in person tomorrow to go over the project. I’ll bring the drafts.”

Of course, Sunghoon had to take the initiative. You had a suspicion he’d never let you hide behind your screen forever. He was stubborn, too, in a way that always seemed to get under your skin.

You arrived at the library, dragging your feet, already feeling the weight of the situation settle in your chest. The project was an assignment, but the real challenge was having to sit across from him, pretending that nothing had happened, pretending that the last year— no, the last months— hadn’t been a whirlwind of frustration and heartache.

But here you were, faced with reality. You walked into the library, hoping to avoid eye contact, but you couldn’t escape the familiar sight of him sitting at a table with all his papers neatly organized, a slight form on his face as he scanned the documents.

His eyes flicked up when he saw you enter, and for a second, your heart skipped a beat. But you force yourself to remain calm. He was just a classmate now, just another part of your academic routine. Nothing more.

You set your things down at the table across from him, pulling your laptop out with the practiced motions of someone who had done this a thousand times before. You weren;t going to make this more personal than it had to be. No small talk. No catching up. Just the project.

“Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, his voice neutral but carrying the weight of something unsaid. He glanced at the papers in front of you and then back to you. “Are you okay with everything so far? I made some revisions to the outline.”

You didn;t look at him. Instead, you glanced at the project papers and began sorting through them, avoiding his gaze entirely. “I’ll read them over later. Just… let’s focus on getting it done.”

You felt his eyes on you, the tension palpable in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. You had your own part to do, your own work to focus on. Nothing else mattered right now. The project was the only thing that mattered.

—

Sunghoon sighed, and you could hear the edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “Look, I know this isn;t easy for either of us, but we’re stuck with each other for this project. We might as well get it done right.”

“I’m not here to talk,” you snapped back, the words sharp and defensive. “Just focus on your part. I’ll handle mine.”

His expression hardened , but he didn’t push it any further. He opened up his own laptop and began typing, the sound of the keyboard tapping filling the silence between the both of you.

For a while, it was quiet— just the sound of typing, rustling of papers. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn;’t shake the nagging feeling that he was watching you. His presence was like a shadow that followed your every move you made, and you hated how it made your chest tighten. You shouldn’t feel like this. You had no reason to. This wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was just a project.

But then, suddenly, Sunghoon spoke again, his voice quieter, almost reluctant.

“You know,” he said, voice low but insistent, “we used to work well together. Back in high school. Why are you making this harder than it has to be?”

You froze, your fingers still on the keyboard. You could feel the old pain creep up your throat, but you swallowed it down, shoving it away. No. Don’t go there.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice steady but with a hint of something you don’t want to put a name to. And then, with a sigh, he turned his attention back to his laptop, typing in silence for a long time.

—

Two year ago

It had been a late night at the library, the kind where the air felt thick with concentration and the promise of deadlines hanging over every student in the building. You were sitting at the same table as Sunghoon, both of you buried in textbooks, trying to get ahead before the weekend.

It was supposed to be just another study session, but something felt different. Maybe it was the way the soft overhead lights cast shadows over his features or how the silence between you two wasn’t awkward but comfortable. You couldn’t help it— his face was so focused, his lips slightly pursed in concentration, and for some reason, the sight of him studying like that made your heart skip.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.

You blinked and quickly looked away, flustered. “No … it’s just, you look… nice when you study.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He leaned forward slightly, his voice lower than usual. “Nice, huh? That’s a first.”

You wanted to curl up and die from embarrassment, but instead you found yourself smiling despite the heat in your cheeks. Something about being with him felt so easy, so natural.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out. “You look… pretty. When you study.”

There was a long pause, and then Sunghoon chuckled, his smile widening. “Pretty, huh? Well, that’s new.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed too, the awkwardness melting away in the warmth of his gaze. That moment— when you both realized that maybe there was something more there— was when it all started.

—

The silence in the library stretches again. You go back to your laptop, trying to focus on the work in front of you. But the memory of that moment, of those words you’d said so long ago, hangs in the air like a ghost.

Sunghoon’s presence is undeniable now. Every time his shoulder brushes against yours as he reaches for his drink, it feels like a jolt of electricity. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to keep working, to ignore the way his proximity makes your heart race.

“You know, if we just worked together instead of pretending we’re strangers, this would be a lot easier,” Sunghoon says again, his voice a little more insistent now, but still carrying that gentle tone.

You refuse to look up, clenching your jaw. “Just finish your part. I’ll finish mine.”

“I’ve always liked how stubborn you are,” he mutters, but there’s a soft fondness behind the words. “But you’re going to make this harder than it has to be, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. But the reality is that he’s right. You are making this harder. You’re making everything harder by refusing to acknowledge how much you still feel for him.

But you can’t admit that, not now, not when the walls between you two are so high, so insurmountable.

—

It’s late—too late for anyone to be at the library anymore. The harsh overhead lights flicker in the empty room, casting long shadows on the tables where students usually sat, buried in their books. But not you. You’re still here, alone, a stack of textbooks and papers spread out before you. The hum of the fluorescent lights fills the air, broken only by the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard.

You’ve been here for hours, the deadline looming closer with every passing second. Your mind is tired, but you won’t leave until you finish. It’s like a race against time. A way to distract yourself from everything else.

But then, you feel it. A presence.

You look up, and there’s Sunghoon, standing by the entrance, his gaze scanning the room. You immediately look away, pretending you hadn’t seen him. Why is he here? You weren’t supposed to see him, not tonight.

He walks toward you slowly, his footsteps soft but deliberate. You keep your eyes down, focused on the papers in front of you, but you can feel him getting closer.

“You’re still here?” Sunghoon says, his voice low, like he’s not sure what to make of the situation.

You sigh, unwilling to make this a conversation. “I’m working. Is that a problem?”

“No,” he answers quickly, but there’s a softness to his tone now. Something gentler. “Just... thought you’d left by now.”

You don’t look up, but you hear him pull out the chair opposite you. He sits down, but doesn’t speak immediately. You don’t say anything either. It’s awkward. You try to focus on the work in front of you, trying to ignore the feeling of his presence, so close but still so far away.

You keep your head down, but the longer you stay in the silence, the more you feel the walls you’ve built start to crumble, piece by piece. He doesn’t push you. Doesn’t force a conversation. He just... stays.

You try not to think too much about it. It’s just Sunghoon. Just a classmate.

But then, hours later, you’re blinking, your head feeling heavy as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until your eyelids started to flutter. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the exhaustion catches up with you.

You don’t even realize you’ve nodded off until you’re suddenly jerked awake, your head jerking up from the desk. The library is quiet, almost too quiet, and the light from the desk lamp casts a soft glow around the room. That’s when you notice it.

A jacket—dark, heavy, and familiar—draped over your shoulders.

You blink, still groggy from sleep, and turn to see that Sunghoon is gone, his chair empty. You try to shake the fogginess from your mind, but there’s no denying it: He left his jacket with you.

You didn’t hear him come back. Didn’t feel him approaching. But somehow, he’d slipped it onto you while you were asleep, without a sound.

You sit there for a moment, the jacket still warm against your skin. His scent clings to it, and you find yourself unable to take it off. It feels wrong to just leave it behind, but you’re not sure why it feels so important to keep it on.

You look down at your own hands, your fingers grazing the sleeve, feeling the weight of the jacket, both literally and emotionally. You’re not sure if it’s the jacket that’s weighing on you or the memories that come with it. But it’s there. And so is he.

You stay there for a few more minutes, just sitting in the quiet, knowing that it would be impossible to get anything more done tonight. You pack up your things, but you don’t take off the jacket. Instead, you walk out of the library with it on, your heart a little heavier than when you came in.

—

It was dark outside, and the bus was filled with the soft chatter of your classmates. You and Sunghoon were sitting in the same seat, your shoulders brushing as you both leaned against the window, tired from the day’s activities.

You’d always been close, never quite aware of how it felt to have someone just be there with you. But that day, there was something different about it. It was like you both had settled into this quiet rhythm—comfortable, easy.

You leaned your head against the window, gazing out at the passing lights. The bus was warm, and your eyes were starting to grow heavy from the day’s exhaustion. Without realizing it, you drifted off, your head slipping onto Sunghoon’s shoulder.

He didn’t immediately pull away, didn’t complain. He just let you sleep, his body slightly tensing at the sudden closeness, but not enough to push you away.

And when you woke up, it wasn’t awkward. You just rubbed your eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

“You’re comfy,” you murmured.

Sunghoon chuckled softly. “You really just fell asleep on me, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. I didn’t even realize.”

And even though it had only been a few seconds, you both lingered in that moment, your eyes meeting briefly before he gave you a smile that made your heart flutter.

You’d brushed it off as nothing—just a friendly gesture.

—

You’re still sitting in your room, the jacket still on your shoulders. It feels like a weight, not because it’s heavy, but because of the memories it brings. The warmth lingers on your skin, but so does the uncertainty. You can’t figure out why this is bothering you so much.

Your phone buzzes on the table, pulling you from your thoughts. A new email. You don’t need to look at it to know it’s from him. Sunghoon.

The message is simple: “Still need help with the project. Let me know if you want to meet up.”

You close your eyes and let out a slow breath. You want to ignore it. Pretend you didn’t see it. But you can’t. Because part of you wants him to be there. Part of you wants him to still be the one to help you, even if you don’t want to admit it.

You stand up, pacing around the room, the jacket slipping slightly off your shoulders as you move. You pull it tighter around you, almost subconsciously.

You know you’ll have to face him again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe sooner. Hopefully later. But right now, with his jacket still draped over you, you’re not sure if you're ready.

But for some reason, you know you’re going to have to take it off.

—

You walk into the classroom, clutching the jacket in your hands. It’s been a couple of days since you woke up to find it draped over your shoulders, Sunghoon’s jacket—a silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could. He hadn’t said anything when you first found it. It had simply been there. At first, you thought it was an accident, but the longer you held onto it, the more it felt like something else. You hadn’t returned it immediately, unsure why you kept it. But now, with the fact the two of you share a class together, it felt like the right time.

You spot him sitting by the window, alone, lost in whatever thoughts occupy his mind. He doesn’t notice you as you approach, and the moment feels strangely... intimate, even though you're still far from the comfort you once shared.

You stand in front of him, holding out the jacket, but he doesn’t immediately take it. His eyes flicker up, and for a split second, something unreadable passes between you. He reaches for the jacket, but as his fingers brush yours, it’s more of a reflex than any real desire to touch.

Before you can pull away, a voice from behind you cuts through the moment.

"Are you two... together or just friends?"

You glance over to find a couple of classmates watching you both curiously. It’s a casual question, but the curiosity in their eyes is unmistakable. Sunghoon’s hand freezes mid-motion, his fingers still hovering over the jacket. He looks back at them briefly, his gaze faltering, not quite meeting yours.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. You notice how Sunghoon looks at the ground, avoiding any real response. His lips press together, his hand still unsure of whether to take the jacket back or not. He’s hesitant, as always.

You, on the other hand, feel the weight of the question, but you don’t shy away from it. Not this time. You stand tall, glancing over at your classmates and meeting their gaze.

“We’re just friends,” you say, your voice steady and clear. “Nothing more.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He just takes the jacket from your hand, his fingers brushing yours again, but this time it’s almost mechanical. You turn away quickly, the moment lingering behind you like an unspoken tension.

Your classmates exchange glances, their curiosity piqued, but they don’t push further. They turn their attention to the front of the room as class starts, but the question still lingers in the air.

You sit down at your desk, feeling the eyes of your classmates on you for a moment longer than usual. You force yourself to focus, pretending it doesn’t matter, but the thought of that brief interaction, the way Sunghoon avoided the question, settles heavily in your chest.

The class continues, but your mind drifts, back to that jacket and the weight of unspoken words. You can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said if you hadn’t answered for both of you.

No, that’s what he should’ve said because you guys were not dating, he broke up with you, and now the two of you were simply forced to work together. That’s it.

—

The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves as the two of you walked side by side down the quiet street. The school festival had just ended, and the distant hum of laughter and music still echoed behind you. Groups of students were lingering back at the event, but somehow, the two of you ended up here, together, away from it all.

It wasn’t planned. It never was with him. It was just how things always seemed to happen.

You hugged your arms around yourself because of the cold, cursing at yourself for not bringing a bigger jacket knowing the weather but wanting to look good for the event. He walked a little ahead, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jackets, his head tilted slightly towards you as if he was waiting for you to say something.

You had always been the talker between the both of you. The one who made friends easily, the one who never hesitated. But right now, the words sat heavy on your tongue, unspoken.

He let out a small sigh, looking up at the sky. “It’s late.”

“You should’ve left earlier then.”

He huffed, a tiny, almost-smile tugging at his lips before he looked back ahead. “You didn’t have to leave, you know.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like staying.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. The festival had been fine, fun even. But then you’d seen him standing by himself, lingering near the edges of the crowd, not quite a part of it. And suddenly, the excitement of it all had dimmed.

He kicked a small rock with the tip of his shoe, watching it tumble along the pavement. “Didn’t think you were the type to leave a party early.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

A breeze picked up, and instinctively, you crossed your arms tighter over yourself. Without a word, Sunghoon shrugged off his jacket and held it out to you.

You blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re cold.”

You scoffed. “I’m not cold.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept holding the jacket out with that blank expression of his— the one that meant he wasn;t going to argue. You hesitated for a second too long, and then, as if deciding for you, he draped it over your shoulders himself.

You looked up at him, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but then you caught the way his fingers lingered just a second longer against your shoulder, the way he swallowed, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

It was nothing.

It was everything.

Your heart did something stranger in your chest, a quiet stutter. But then he pulled away, shoving his hands back into his pockets, eyes flickering elsewhere like it was no big deal.

Like he didn’t just leave you standing there in the middle of the empty street, drowning in the scent of his cologne, trying not to overthink what had just happened.

“Let’s go.” he said, his voice calm, steady. Like always.

You didn’t move right away. You just watched him, this boy who always seemed out of reach.

Then you exhaled and started walking again, side by side, your steps falling in sync.

And if your hands brushed once— just once— neither of you said a word about it.

—

After class, you head out of the room, your mind still lingering on the awkward exchange. As you walk down the hallway, you notice Sunghoon a few paces behind you, his expression neutral. You don’t turn around, but you can feel his presence. It;s the same as always, but somehow it’s different.

The hallway stretches ahead of you both, and you find yourself wondering if it’s the same for him, if he’s feeling the same weight of the unsaid words hanging in the air between you. But then you push the thought away. You can’t keep thinking about it. Not now. Not like this.

The day continues, but it doesn’t feel the same. Something has shifted again. Not a big thing, just the subtle change in the air whenever Sunghoon is around. But for now, you focus on the present. The project. The work. There’s no room for anything else. At least not yet.

—

Sunghoon hated studying in public places. He hated the noise, the crowded spaces, the way it was impossible to concentrate. But for some reason, he was here.

With you.

The library was dimly lit, the only sounds coming from the occasional turning of pages and the soft clicking of keyboards. It was nearly empty at this hour, just the two of you tucked away in a corner, buried under textbooks and notes.

You sighed dramatically, stretching your arms over your head before slumping onto the desk. “I’m going to die here.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his notes. “You say that every time we study.”

“Yeah, and one day it’ll be true. And when that day comes, I hope you feel bad about it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Dramatic.”

You turned your head to look at him, resting your cheek against your arm. The lamplight softened his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his skin.

He was so pretty.

Unfairly so.

You frowned, furrowing your brows. “Do you know you’re pretty?”

That finally made him look up. He blinked at you, pen pausing mid-air. “What?”

“What?”

There was a flicker of something in his expression— surprise, amusement, something unreadable. He tilted his head slightly. “I don’t think about that kind of stuff.”

You scoff. “Oh shut up.”

Sunghoon shook his head, turning back to his notes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Because it’s a weird question.”

“It’s not weird.” You sighed, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “I just think it’s unfair that some people get to be smart and pretty.”

His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “You’re calling me smart too?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just a passing thought, casual observation. But for some reason. Sunghoon kept stealing glances at you for the rest of the night, his fingers tapping idly against his notebook, like he was trying to figure something out.

—

The library is quieter than usual tonight. The steady hum of air conditioning fills the space, and the dim, golden glow of the desk lamps casts long shadows on the wooden tables. It’s late— too late to still be working— but neither of you have left.

At first, you barely acknowledged each other. The project was the only thing keeping you here and even then, you refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. You typed your sections. He worked on his. Simple.

But at some point, between the furious clicking of keys and the scratching of his pen against paper, something shifted.

The silence wasn’t as sharpe anymore. The air between you wasn’t quite so cold.

You were still stubborn, still keeping your distance, but Sunghoon had started to slip through the cracks.

It was in the way he quietly slid your match closer when he noticed you reaching for it absentmindedly. In the way his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary whenever you furrowed your brows at the screen, lost in thought. In the way he wordlessly handed you a new pen when yours ran out of ink, his fingers brushing yours just for a second.

Little things.

Things you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Things that made it harder to pretend that you hadn’t missed this— missed him.

You force yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind is elsewhere. On him. On the past.

—

It had been a long night.

You weren’t supposed to stay out this late, but somehow, time slipped away. It was just the two of you, walking home after an evening study session, the sky stretched out in a blanket of deep navy blue. The air was crisp, autumn settling in with a quiet chill, and your footsteps echoed against the empty sidewalk.

“I can’t feel my fingers,” you muttered, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Sunghoon glanced at you, amused. “Then why didn’t you bring gloves?”

“Because I didn’t know it’d be this cold.”

“You say that every year.”

You huffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “And every year, I am caught off guard.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for your sleeve, tugging your arm towards him. Before you could react, he took one of your hands in his, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket along with his own.

The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver up your spine— not from the cold, but from something else.

Something you hadn’t quite named yet.

Neither of you said anything about it. You just kept walkin, the streelights casting soft golden halos around you.

You reached your doorstep too soon.

Sunghoon stood there, shifting on his feet, his fingers still loosely curled around yours.

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve said goodnight. But instead, you just stood there staring at him.

The light from the porch illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark eyes softened when they met yours. His gaze flickered down— just for a second— before he quickly looked away.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. “Are you gonna keep standing there, or—”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

And then—-

He kissed you.

It was hesitant, barely a whisper of contact. But it sent your heart into a frenzy, your breath hitching, fingers tightening around him without thinking.

When he pulled away, his ears were red, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I— I wasn’t planning to do that.”

You blinked at him, mind still catching up. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated, this time smiling.

Sunghoon exhaled, sometimes easing his shoulders.

“You;re still holding my hand.” you pointed out.

He let go immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Shut up.”

But you could see the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

—

You stare at the screen in front of you, but the words are a blur. The memory lingers, making your chest feel tight.

Sunghoon shifts besides you stretching out his arms. His sleeves push up slightly, revealing the faint outline of veins along his forearms. You look away quickly, annoyed with yourself.

This is ridiculous.

You don’t care. You don’t.

“Take a break,” he says, voice low.

You exhale, rubbing at your temples. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You shoot him a glare, but he’s already looking back at his screen, unaffected. Typical.

Silence settles between you again, but it’s different now. He’s too close, the air between you too charged.

And then—

“Do you still hate me?”

Your breath catches. The question is quiet, but it feels deafening.

You turn to him, meeting his gaze for the first time in what feels like hours. His eyes are steady, but there’s something else there— something raw, something careful.

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

He swallows. “ you won’t even look at me.”

You force yourself to scoff, to roll your eyes. “I look at you all the time.”

“Not like before.”

That makes you freeze.

Because he’s right.

Before— before everything— you had looked at him like he held the universe in his hands. And maybe, in some ways, he had.

But that was then.

And now—

Now you don’t know what to do with this version of him, this version of you.

The air is thick with something you don’t want to name.

And before you can think better of it, before you can stop yourself—

You kiss him.

It's reckless, desperate, a collision of past and present, of things left unsaid and things you don’t want to admit.

His lips part slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in, his fingers grazing your jaw, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

And maybe you are too.

But then—

Reality crashed back in.

Your eyes widen, and you pull away abruptly, breathless, heart hammering.

Sunghoon blinks, still processing, “Wait—”

But you’re already pushing away from the table, standing up too quickly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I have to go,” you say, voice unsteady.

And before he can stop you, before he can say anything else—

You turn and walk away.

Leaving him sitting there, watching you go.

Again.

—

Avoidance has always been your best defense.

You mastered it after the breakup, convincing yourself that if you could just stay out of Sunghoon’s orbit, then none of it— none of the pain, none of the unanswered questions, none of him— could touch you.

But ever since that kiss, it’s been impossible to keep up the act.

You stop sitting in your usual spots in the library. You change your walking routes between classes. You leave early to avoid any chance of running into him. Your emails about the project become even shorter, even more detached.

And still— it doesn’t feel like enough

Because the problem isn’t just him.

It’s you.

It’s the way your mind keeps replaying that night in the library, the way your lips still burn with the memory of his, the way your chest aches everytime you think about how you didn’t pull away immediately.

You shouldn’t have let it happen.

You shouldn’t have wanted it to.

But worst of all— you shouldn’t still want it now.

You tell yourself this over and over again. But nine of it matters when you turn the corner one evening, only to find yourself face-to-face with the one person you’ve been trying so hard to avoid.

Sunghoon.

Waiting for you.

Like he knew.

“You’re avoiding me again,” he says, his voice eerily calm.

You grip your bag tighter and look away. “I’m busy.”

“Liar.”

The word lands heavier than it should.

You take a step back, but he matches it, blocking your way. His eyes search yours, and you can feel how tired he is— tired of the silence, of the pretending, of whatever this is.

“Do you hate me that much?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, something sharp and desperate.

You exhale hardly. “Sunghoon—”

“Just answer me,” he pressed, jaw clenched. “Do you hate me?”

The words catch in your throat.

You should say yes. You should give him the finality he seems to be looking for.

But you can’t.

And maybe he sees it— maybe he sees the way you falter, the way your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag— because his expression shifts.

And then—

The door beside you suddenly swings open. A group of students spills out, laughing and chatting, shoving past both of you.

You barely register it before someone crashes into you from behind, sending you stumbling backwards—

Right into the supply closet.

And of course— because the universe must hate you— the force of it slams Sunghoon into the tiny space as well.

And before either of you can react— click.

The door locks

Silence.

Then—

“You have got to be kidding me,” you hiss.

Sunghoon tries the handle, but it doesn’t budge. He exhales sharply, resting his forehead against the door for a second before turning back to you.

“Great.”

You let out a bitter laugh, crossing your arms. “What, you think I planned this?”

“No, but it’s convenient, isn’t it?” He glares at you, frustration bleeding into every word. “You’re always running away, and now you can’t.”

Your pulse spikes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he mutters. “You left the night. You’ve been avoiding me ever since. You won’t even talk to me—”

“Because there’s nothing to say!” you snap.

“Bullshit!” His voice rises, his patience unraveling. “Don’t act like you don’t care. You kissed me, and then you ran away like it meant nothing.”

You freeze.

Because he’s right.

It wasn’t nothing.

But admitting that? Giving him that satisfaction? You can’t.

So you do what you do best.

You push back

“You don’t get to act like you’re the victim here, Sunghoon,” you say, voice colder now. “Not when you broke up with me.”

Something flickers across his face.

“And not just that,” you continue, the weight of everything you’ve bottled up finally breaking through. “You left me without any warning. You didn’t talk to me about what was wrong. You didn’t even try. You just decided one day that it was over and that was it.”

—

It had been an ordinary afternoon. You remember it oo well— how he wouldn’t look at you, how his hands trembled slightly as he shoved them into his pockets.

And then—

“I think we should break up.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You laughed at first, thinking it was some sort of joke. But then you saw the way he avoided your gaze. The way his fingers curled into fists.

“Why?” Your voice had cracked. “What happened? Did I do something?”

He had only shaken his head. “It’s just…. I don’t think this is going to work.”

“What—”

“I am not sure I am what you really need.”

It was the last thing you expected to hear.

But it was the only explanation he ever gave you.

That's what started it, why you just started running away from him.

—

“You thought it wouldn’t work?” you glare at him now, eye burning. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Sunghoon pressed his lips together, like he regretted saying it. But it’s too late.

“You didn’t even give us a chance,” you continue, voice rising. “You just decided that it wasn’t going to work out for the both of us.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was what you really needed.”

Your breath catches. “Sunghoon—”

“You’re always surrounded by people. You make friends so easily. I wasn’t like that, I am not like that.” His voice is quiet now. “I feel like I was always holding you back.”

You shake your head, feeling something sharp and painful twist in your chest. “That’s what you thought?” You let out another bitter laugh. “You know, I thought that’s what brought us together. That we were so different. That worked because of that.”

Sunghoon looks at you then, something unreadable in his expression.

“There were two people in our relationship, you and me. You made that decision that we don’t work well, for the both of us.” you say, voice shaking. “And now you think it’s going to work now just because you want it to?”

He doesn’t answer.

And you hate how much that silence still hurts.

You exhale shakily, turning away. “I don’t trust you., Sunghoon.”

His jaw clenches. “I know.”

“And I don’t trust myself to let this happen again. Because if you could leave that easily once, what makes you think I believe you won’t do it again?”

This time, he doesn’t try to deny it.

Because he knows.

Because he did leave.

And you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive him for that. You hated yourself for never being able to hate him at all.

The only sound in the tiny space is the faint buzz of the overhead light—

And the deafening weight of everything left unsaid.

The supply closet is cold, but the tension in the air is suffocating. When the door finally swings open, neither of you move right away. Sunghoon steps back first, his jaw clenched, like he’s holding back something he’ll never say. You follow a second later, not looking at him as you walk away.

After that, things are different.

You don’t avoid him anymore. Not really. You still exchange emails about the project, still sit across from each other in the library, still in the same space without outright hostility. But the sharpness between you dulls— replaced by something softer, something sadder.

One night, long after the library should’ve closed, you look up from your notes to see Sunghoon staring at you. He doesn’t look away this time. Neither do you. For a moment, the world stills.

Then you blink, and the moment is gone.

—

The project ends.

So does your reason to stay in each other’s orbits.

You expect things to go back to normal, whether normal is supposed to be. You expect distance to creep back in, the silence to settle.

But somehow, Sunghoon lingers.

He doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t push. But you catch him in the corners of your vision— watching, waiting, hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to decide what happens next.

—

Then one evening, you run into him.

It’s late. The air is cold, thick with the scent of winter. Sunghoon is standing outside the campus gates, hands shoved into his pockets, the street lights casting long shadows around him. He notices you before you can turn away.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You hesitate. Then, “Hey.”

There’s so much unsaid between you, so much left unfinished.

A part of you wonders— is this it? The last conversation before you both fade from each other’s lives completely?

Sunghoon opens his mouth, like he wants to say something more, but you shake your head, stopping him.

“It’s okay.” you say. “You don’t have to.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. He nods.

The streetlamps flicker above you. A car passes, its headlights flashing between you like a border, a final dividing line.

You should say something else. You should tell him you’ll see him around, that you’ll stay in touch, that you’ll find your way back to him someday.

But you don’t.

Instead you step back, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Take care, okay?”

For a second, you think he won’t respond. But then, finally— softly— he nods.

“You too.”

You turn around first. You don’t look back.

Sunghoon watches you walk away, his hands still in his pockets, his lips parts like he wants to stop you— but he never does.

The night swallows the both of you whole.

And just like that, it’s over.

—

The city hums in silence in the distance, but here, on the rooftop, it’s quiet/ the two of you sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge, the skyline stretching endlessly before you. The night is warm, the stars barely visible through the glow of streetlights.

“You’re gonna fall,” Sunghoon murmurs, eyeing the way you lean forwards slightly, hands bracing against the ledge.

You grin, tilting your head towards him. “You’d catch me.”

He doesn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but won’t let himself.

A soft breeze ruffles his hair. You reach out before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing through the strand, smoothing them down. Sunghoon stills at the touch, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You do that a lot,” he says after a moment.

“What?”

“Touch my hair.”

You blink, your hand dropping back to your lap. “Does it bother you?”

He exhales, looking away, down at the glittering streets below. “No.”

That’s all he says. But in the way his fingers clench slightly against his knee, in the way his shoulders stay tense even as the night air cools his skin— you realize something.

Sunghoon likes it.

He likes being close to you.

The thought makes your chest feel warm, something soft and fluttering settling behind your ribs. You don’t say anything about it, don’t tease or push. Instead, you lean back on your palms staring up at the sky.

“Feels like we could stay here forever,” you murmur.

Sunghoon glances at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it—

“Yeah.”

author's note: basically everything in here thats inpso from irl with my actaully ex. the water bottle incident but it was in a classroom. us actually having fucking class with each other the next semester. me running away constantly every time i see him now. me buying him a pencil as a present and him still using it (i really want to steal it back). him asking me if i hate him cuz i keep running away and even dragged a friend as i run away from him. him saying "i dont think it's going to work out" and thinking becuase im very outgoing and him being a big introvert was something that would lead to us breaking up, haha but it was just him and him not communicating with me about his feelings. el oh el.

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x you #enhypen sunghoon #enha fluff #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha

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