#puzzles gone wrong au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starmapz · 11 months ago

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shame on me || chapter one || vessel

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. will have a happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later. wc || 6.2k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || next chapter

The sobs wracking your body were a small window into the pain you felt as the sounds of the sterile room began to fade, replaced by ringing in your ears. The warmth leaving your father’s body as you sobbed over his hospital bed, begging him to cling to life although your pleas were met with silence.

Doctors and nurses began to trickle out of the room, leaving you the space to mourn. A curtain was pulled around the small hospital bed, separating you from the young boy sitting alongside his mother in the bed behind you. You could only hope the dread you felt in that moment as your father’s presence faded, to be replaced only by memories, wasn’t a feeling the young boy would experience at such a young age.

“I miss you, dad.”

The silence following your weak and broken words was louder somehow than the commotion of trying to keep him with you only a few minutes ago. A silence that weighed you down and threatened to drown you with every waking moment.

“I’d give anything to have you back,” you whisper through broken weeps.

Leaning over the bed, you were oblivious to the sudden commotion restarting in the room outside the curtain. The deafening ringing in your ears, the tears blinding you, your world crumbling around you, it was all too much and you almost didn’t notice when your father’s finger twitched beneath you. Blinking away your tears, you slowly sit up, shaking hands staring at his fingers, which grew warmer. Your eyes trail slowly towards the monitor hooked up to your father as it beeps and all you can do is stare in disbelief. How could it even be possible what you were witnessing? He remained still, but warmth flooded his body.

As hope floods your grief-filled body, you become suddenly aware of the noise around you, the nurses and doctors flooding the room behind you in an effort to save the boy’s mother behind you, but she was gone already, as quickly as your father had returned.

Your emotions felt like a physical weight dragging you down as you dared to poke your head through the curtain that cordoned your father off. As the commotion died down around the family behind you, it picked up again where your father was now that his monitor had restarted.

Puzzled, you found yourself unable to do anything but stare at the poor young boy, clinging to his mother and weeping helplessly. What left you puzzled was the strange residue that lingered both in the air and around the woman’s body. It was indescribable, like some sort of smoke, yet it clung to her like a net.

That is cursed energy.

Startled, you flung yourself around to face- no one? Nurses worked tirelessly around your father as they tested and monitored his status, but none of them seemed to be paying you any mind.

I apologize, I did not intend to scare you, the voice, one of a calm and gentle demeanor, spoke one more. Your eyes scanned the room again, but you couldn’t identify the source no matter how hard you tried. You weren’t even certain where the voice had come from.

Holding your head in confusion as it began to pound in pain, you stumbled back to the chair beside your dad’s bedside, groaning as it felt someone was pulling your consciousness from your own body. Opening your eyes in an effort to make a desperate plea for help to one of the nurses, your vision blurred, a white light blinding you before you could so much as think, and you found yourself whisked away from the waking world.

You stood now on a massive wooden ship, creaking wood beneath your feet. Sat atop the bridge of the ship was a large serpent-like dragon with ethereal white scale, silver hair and long, slender horns. Its appearance was almost angelic, with the way its scales shimmered in the dim lighting of the cave that surrounded you. The ship swayed slightly as the creature’s tail twitched, pulling along with it a ghostly humanoid figure that fell back outside the boat. You found your eyes trailing to the edge of the ship, met with a river of apparitions, all human in appearance though they lacked distinctive features. A lowly hum reverberated through the cave from the river as they lapped against the side of the ship as though they were waves, causing a gentle rocking motion of the ship.

Stumbling backwards, your breathing quickens as you attempt to take in the sight. A dream, for sure. It had to be.

“Y/N,” the creature’s voice echoes through the cave, glowing red eyes ripping away the veil of what you had once thought of as an angelic creature.

Your words fail to reach your lips and all you can do is gasp as the creature slinks forward, moving as though the ship is a part of it.

“I do apologize for startling you,” the creature’s voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the red eyes that bore into you, leaving you paralyzed in fear as the gentle breaths of the creature waft over you.

“What are you?” You whisper in disbelief, your eyes flickering between its massive glowing eyes.

It doesn’t move as it responds very simply. “I am a curse,” your furrowed brow tells it to continue in its explanation. “I am a being caused by the negative energy of humans. Very few people know of the existence of us.”

“I don’t understand,” you shake your head, shuffling back to try to put any amount of distance between yourself and the monster.

The serpent straightens its long neck, towering over you menacingly, though it seemed to hold no malice towards you. “It would appear I have laid dormant within you for a few years,” it seems to say more to itself than to you. “When your mother passed during your birth, she requested I look after you.”

“My mother… cursed me?” You ask in disbelief, wide-eyed. Surely this was all just some sort of weird dream after the day you had had.

“I would like to think she didn’t,” to your surprise the creature seems to rumble as though it’s laughing, although it comes out more as a guttural noise, nearly a growl. “You were meant to die in childbirth. She asked me, as her companion for many years, to save you, at the cost of her life. It took a great deal of energy to transfer myself and it would appear I have laid dormant since then.”

Trying to take in all the information, you blink, slowly nodding. “So this isn’t some sort of sick dream, huh?” The dragon doesn’t answer. It knows you’re smart enough to answer your own question. After a short silence, it speaks once again, returning to its place on the bridge as it does so.

“Whether you intended to do so or not, you utilized my powers today.”

You examined the creature’s expression from where you sat below it, its majesty towering tall over you. Did it have the power to bring people back as it had done for you so long ago? Did you somehow call on it to save your dad? Your jaw slacks as a realization hits you and you barely manage to choke out the question that makes your stomach churn.

“That kid’s mother-?” Your voice betrays you, breaking before you can finish your sentence.

“Yes.” The creature doesn’t miss a beat as it responds, its voice unwavering.

A lump forms in your throat as your body begins to feel weak. Not only was this real, but you were now responsible for the death of a little boy’s mother. A weak whimper escapes through your lips as you feel your elbows weaken and you collapse to the floor of the ship. Your skin paling as your breaths grow ragged, you grip at your chest, clawing desperately in search of air, but nothing comes to you.

“I recognize I cannot offer much comfort, but you should not blame yourself for this.”

You can’t do anything but stare at the monster before you, tears trailing down your face as your shaking body betrays the panic coursing through you.

“What the fuck are you?” Your words are a desperate plea, a question you can only hope the dragon understands.

“I am death,” the dragon’s head lowers to meet your gaze with its own. “And you are my vessel.”

– 10 years later –

“Shoot,” you mutter to yourself, scratching at the back of your neck. You were nearly finished with the flower arch that had been ordered by your latest client for their wedding, but you were missing the twine necessary to complete the order. The arch was meant to be picked up tomorrow with the wedding coming up on the weekend, leaving you no other choice than to make your way into town.

Pushing yourself up from the ground, you dust your flower dress off, grab your bag and sunglasses, and make your way out the door in the direction of the outskirts of Tokyo. A walk couldn’t hurt anyway, it had been a bit since you had been in town. Your little cottage was located on the outskirts of Tokyo, hidden away in the trees with only your father knowing where it was located.

It was a lonely life, but it was safer. Safer, away from anyone you could hurt.

Is that a veil?

Your steps falter as you pause upon hearing Miriko’s voice, your eyes scanning the line of trees until you see the veil in question.

You grimace, debating whether it’s worth it to make your way to Tokyo later, but figure you can slip by unnoticed if you simply mask Miriko’s cursed energy, shutting her out. To anyone capable of seeing cursed energy, you knew your energy stood out, Miriko had told you that you were strong, stronger than most with her at your side. In addition to that, you had been shocked to find your eyes had become a dull crimson, replacing the color your eyes had been when you had grown up, but it was easy enough to hide behind the pink-tinted sunglasses you wore everywhere.

Pushing along the path, you shut Miriko out completely, masking your cursed energy. Continuing along the gravel and dirt path, you find yourself kicking at a pebble along the path, your eyes flickering up to the pile of rubble that stood where your neighbor’s house had once been, the veil now dispelled. You didn’t know your neighbors well, but still a pang of sadness pulled at your chest. They had been kind.

To your surprise as you stared at the pile of rubble, a pair of kids no older than sixteen were making their way out of the rubble towards you and the limousine car parked on the other side of the gravel road. They were loudly bickering over something to do with a curse, hopping over the rubble of the house. A girl holding a long weapon with deep green hair pauses as she hops down from a piece of splintered wood.

“Y’alright?” She frowns, grabbing your attention, as well as that of the blonde-haired boy beside her.

“Yeah, um,” you hum thoughtfully, a shiver running down your spine as you suddenly feel like you’re being watched. “The couple that lives here, are they alright?”

The girl nods slowly. “There was only one person here. Our friend took ‘em to the hospital.”

“Right, um, thank you!” You say in an effort to slip away unnoticed as the growing unease within you begins to itch uncomfortably within you. Turning to leave, you lock eyes suddenly with a white-haired man leaning against the limo behind you that you hadn’t noticed before. He’s smirking, but you’re unable to read his expression otherwise, his eyes covered by a black blindfold. You feel relief wash over you as you realize he can’t see you or more specifically your eyes as you were certain you would have accidentally locked eyes with him through the edge of your glasses. Your shoulders relax as you begin to make your way again to Tokyo.

“Why don’t we give you a ride?” His voice sounds behind you and you turn back to him, shooting you a smile he can’t see.

“That’s kind, but I’m good. Thank you,” you tell him, bowing your head and turning back towards the city, picking up the pace as your unease began to return, despite the offer sounding kind. Except-

You let out a sharp gasp as you turn around and are met with the sight of the tall man facing you, mere inches in front of you. Your heart falters and you jump back, blinking in disbelief at him. Could he see you after all?

“I insist.” His voice held a much darker and firmer tone despite his smirk.

“I’d rather not get into a car with a man I don’t know,” you stand your ground despite the voice within you begging you to get out of there.

“I’d get in the car if I were you,” his voice is lower yet as he crosses his arms over his broad chest, his muscles pulling the fabric of his black jacket taught. His smile doesn’t waver as he silently awaits your response. You straighten, about to stand your ground but before you have the chance to argue with him, he brings a hand up to pull one side of his blindfold down. His eyes are a brilliant and bright blue. They’re so bright, you almost wonder if they’re glowing, a horrible jolt of fear running straight up your spine, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

Even with your cursed energy blocked, you recognized immediately that his eyes were like yours. He could see after all. He had seen your crimson eyes. Your lips pressed into a thin line, you slowly nod and let him corral you into the back of the limousine. Closing the door behind you, you watched from within the car as the white-haired man spoke to the two boys with a beaming grin.

“Ijichi, the school please,” he calls as he hops into the car, pressing a button on the console that separates the seats you both sat in, facing one another, from the seats the two boys and the driver were in.

“So,” he begins, leaning back with arms crossed behind his head in a deceptively relaxed manner. “A curse-user with no cursed energy? Seems a bit unheard of, no?” The playful lilt to his tone was unnerving and grated. Your jaw clenches and your eyes scan your surroundings as you debate whether it’s worth it to simply throw yourself out of the moving vehicle.

Staying silent, you steel yourself as you meet his gaze, although you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew very well that he could see you now.

“More the silent type, hmm?” He hums playfully, leaning forward until his face is barely a foot from you. Your breath hitches in your throat at his close proximity to you and he smirks as your control wavers, your cursed energy slipping through the cracks. “That’s what I thought,” he chuckles lowly, leaning back again. You swallow hard at the menacing cadence his voice held despite his simple smirk.

Get out of here.

You grimace at Miriko’s words, your eyes scanning your surroundings once more. The stranger chuckles as he watches you scan your surroundings. Your anxiety rises as your cover cracks, your cursed energy growing more and more apparent. As your composure cracks, the white-haired man across from you pulls his blindfold down to lay around his neck. You swallow hard as your gaze locks on to his.

He is the user of the six eyes technique. A member of the Gojo clan. You’re in danger.

Her words in your mind did you no favors as you take a breath to steady yourself and keep your composure. Regardless of how strong your cursed energy was, your abilities came at a great cost and you couldn’t afford to get into a fight with someone that even Miriko considered a danger.

“Listen Gojo-”

“So you do know who I am?” He interrupts with a smirk, his blue eyes shining as though he’s proud to know that you know him, despite the fact that in truth you were lying. You nod slowly before he continues, leaning forward. His electrifying blue eyes are close enough to you that you can feel his breath warm on your cheeks. “In that case, let’s do this the easy way.”

Your eyes follow his actions as he lifts a hand, his fingers pulling your sunglasses down off the bridge of your nose. You stand your ground, your jaw clenching visibly. Gojo’s fingers brush your temple as he pulls your glasses away, moving them to hang off the collar of his black jacket in one swift movement.

“So let’s go over this, huh?” He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “A low cursed energy output, and yet you’ve got red eyes that you’re hiding. Now what kind of technique could you possibly have?” His blue eyes narrow, his smirk widening. “But that’s not the case at all, is it?” His voice is dangerously low, coming out as a near-purr. He didn’t seem angry, but rather curious. He was teasing you, playing with his food.

You stay silent, not daring to answer. Let him play with his food, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, nor lashing out at him and giving in to his questions.

“So,” he leans forward with a grin. Your brow twitches at the close proximity as you feel his minty breath on your face, earning a satisfied hum between his words. “Care to tell me ‘bout yourself?”

Do not speak.

You had no plans to admit anything to him, your eyes flickering down to your glasses hanging off his collar, wishing he hadn’t taken them from you. Though they were fairly translucent, they had felt like a line of defense against his questioning that you now lacked.

Gojo’s eyes narrow when you don’t answer, clearly not satisfied that you weren’t cooperating with him. “Let’s look at your options, shall we?” His hand rises close to your face and your eyes flicker towards the digit he has raised. “One, you tell me everything. Two, I drag every last detail out of you. Or three,” he pauses, his smirk disappearing. “I kill you under the guise of an uncooperative curse-user.”

Your mouth opens to try to defend yourself, but your words die in your throat. You swallow the lump that formed in your throat, trying desperately to think of some sort of secret fourth option. When nothing comes to mind and you remain silent, Gojo sighs and leans back with a groan.

“You curse users are never any fun,” he grumbles. To your surprise, he seems oddly bored. Was this all a game to him? Something he couldn’t lose? You grit your teeth, jaw clenching in response to his childish reaction. Who the hell did he think he was?

If he tries to fight, I’ll take over. Do not let him scare you. The Gojo clan has a good reputation, he shouldn’t be unreasonable.

Miriko’s words in your head were the closest thing you had to hope as you watched Gojo lock eyes with the driver. It wasn’t long before the car pulled over and you both stood on the side of a road in the outer edge of Tokyo, the side opposite of where your cabin resided.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” The eerie grin spread across his face. “Or did you want to do this the hard way?”

You take a step back from him. “I’m not here to fight you.” You’re thankful you’re able to keep your voice steady as you speak, but you aren’t sure how long your resilience will last.

“If that’s the case, then let’s start with names. Mine’s Gojo Satoru, but you knew that already,” his sly tone doesn’t do much to ease the tension in that air that could be cut with a knife.

“I’m y/n,” you introduce yourself uncertainly, eyeing the way he holds himself with a sort of nonchalant confidence. “And I’d like my sunglasses back,” you tell him, but he clicks his tongue at your words.

“These?” He asks, unhooking them from his collar to hold them an inch in the air above his hand. Your gaze narrows at the display.

He has the Limitless technique.

The what? You dare to ask Miriko, as though you knew anything about cursed techniques.

It doesn’t matter. Regardless, we won’t be able to do anything to him even if we were to fight. He is our natural counter.

Your eyes had drifted off to the side as you listened to Miriko, returning to face Gojo as you examined the way he curiously eyed you.

“Spacing out at a time like this?” He cocks his head to the side, his frustrating smirk not leaving his lips. “Unless you were talking to someone?” His voice is an octave deeper, a knowing look in his glowing blue eyes.

Your resolve didn’t waver and for that you were grateful. “Talking to who?” You countered, pushing down the growing feeling of anxiety.

“If you don't care to tell me, I’m sure the curse you were talking to will.”

You don’t make a move, standing stiff as a board. Surely he wouldn’t attack you, would he?

You regret blinking, as only a moment later he’s no longer in front of you. Miriko’s instincts kick in, turning and holding your arms up to block the fist full of cursed energy meant to hit you. Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight of your eyes, glowing a deep and eerie red, your hair now silver as your forearms are strengthened with cursed energy nearly as immense as his own. His punch still hits you hard enough to send you flying back into a tree, fracturing wood puncturing your back as you collide with the trunk.

“So she was talking to someone,” he laughs, clearly amused. From where you watched from within your own body, you could only scoff, Miriko’s words of the Gojo family being reasonable enough to make you roll your eyes. “So if she’s a vessel, who does that make you?”

Miriko pushes herself to her feet, rolling her shoulders as she effortlessly heals your wounds. “Who I am will mean nothing to you,” she calmly explains, red eyes burning into Gojo’s. He raises an eyebrow in response. “However I will give you the answers you seek if you cut a deal with me.”

“A deal? You talkin’ a vow or a handshake, Curse?”

“A deal, as you humans do. I do not wish to enter any kind of binding vow with the likes of you, Six Eyes.”

“Ouch, is that all I am to you?” He feigns hurt at the name Miriko had given him, but she doesn’t react. He sighs, clearly no longer amused with the situation. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

“You will leave us alone. You will not speak of us. You will not mention our existence, and I will give you five minutes of our time.”

Gojo crosses his arms, smirking slyly. “That’s it? What kind of curse wants to be left alone?”

Miriko is unphased by his question, standing her ground. “A curse that has been around for far too long.”

If you weren’t paying attention, you may not have noticed the way his smile falters for a split second, doubt flashing in his eyes, but it’s gone before you can think too hard about it.

“Deal,” he agrees, taking a step forward and outstretching his hand. Miriko takes his hand, shaking it. She glances momentarily down at his hand, his Limitless ability off. For a split second, she thinks about using her technique, but the trouble it would cause you both dissuades her. Regardless, it was an awfully reckless move for a sorcerer as strong as his presence alone felt to Miriko. She couldn’t help but wonder what his reasoning behind it was.

“Ask your questions, Six Eyes.”

“What’s your name?” He leans back against a nearby tree, putting a foot up against the tree’s trunk.

“Miriko,” she responds, giving him no more than exactly what he was asking.

“Miriko, nice to meet ya,” his grin returns. “What’s your technique?”

“Death,” she responds, her lips pressed into a thin line. Gojo’s brow twitches as if in disbelief and he straightens himself.

“Awfully strong technique, no?” He questions, his eyes now narrowed and his stupid grin wiped from his lips. It was a somewhat welcome sight over the frustratingly cocky smirk he so loved to display.

“Perhaps,” Miriko agrees. “No more than yours, Six Eyes.”

“Right,” he hums, narrowed eyes observing your features, however Miriko’s expression is unchanging. “Why have I never heard of a curse with your technique?”

“You have,” Miriko says confidently, observing the way a muscle in Gojo’s jaw works and eventually clenches. “Your kind know me by a different name.”

“Care to enlighten me?” He rebuttals quickly, blue eyes boring into your features as he searches for the answer. Miriko’s short and concise responses weren’t everything he had hoped for when he had agreed to her deal, but he had chosen to make a deal with the devil and would live with the consequences.

Miriko took a moment to consider her answer, the wind blowing through your now-silver locks as she eyed the sorcerer in front of her. “Your kind know me as the Grim Reaper.”

“Ha?” Gojo huffs questioningly, grinning at the response. “And here I thought that was just a story.”

“All stories come from somewhere originally, Six Eyes.” A silence falls between the sorcerer and the curse, sizing one another up through the tension that thickened the air between them, but Miriko had no intention of fighting a sorcerer capable of using the Limitless technique. She knew her limits, and she knew you were no fighter regardless. “Your five minutes are up,” she informs him, the glow of your eyes fading as your hair returned to its usual hue.

Gojo’s brow twitched at the sight of your return but as promised, he let out a deep sigh and pulled out his phone to call a cab for you.

–

Drops of water cascaded over the leaves of the plants you so carefully nurtured for your wedding flower business, each one thriving in the environment you had crafted on the outer edges of Tokyo.

The sense of relaxation and ease that the action of watering your plants brought was one that had become very welcome after the encounter you’d had with Gojo Satoru eight months ago. That encounter had changed much of the way you lived. You had moved to a more remote location, a property with a larger yard, a tall fence, and a big and well-trained dog.

Taro, your Rottweiler, you had trained with the express purpose of warning you about Gojo. You had left your sunglasses mostly untouched after the day of the encounter until you’d had the chance to train your new dog to search for him.

Aside from being a great guard dog, you were thankful for his company as well. You didn’t often visit your father due to the danger of your curse, and while Miriko was generally agreeable, you didn’t make a habit of trying to make friends out of fear. Maybe it was cowardly, but you knew Miriko preferred such a life.

Taro didn’t bark. He was a very quiet dog, so when he did begin barking, you knew exactly why. As if on queue, Miriko spoke in your mind to warn you of a cursed energy user nearby. Your gaze followed Taro to the front gate, where you didn’t yet see any figures. He wouldn’t dare after your encounter all those months ago, would he?

Telling Taro to sit, he did so as you opened the gate though his growls never ceased. The sight before you was one to behold. The white-haired sorcerer’s bloodied figure carried the corpse of a face all-too familiar to you, though a face you hadn’t heard tales of for a long time. Long, raven hued hair cascaded from the figure’s head, draping past Gojo’s arms. Blue eyes bored into yours, sending a chill down your spine at the eerie expression he displayed.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone,” your voice was small, but you were grateful you remained firm in your words.

Gojo’s mouth opens, but the words seem to die in his throat. The man you were staring at was not the same man you had met eight months ago and even if for only a split second, you feel a pang of sympathy. Taro’s growls and the growing feeling of anger from Miriko within you swayed your feelings back to one of resentment as he fails to respond.

Before prodding him again, your eyes flicker down to the man in his arms. Quietly observing the figure of none other Geto Suguru, whom you knew to be responsible for more than one incident, including one in Shibuya only a couple of nights ago, hung limp in his arms. His head was split open in such a manner that caused a shiver to crawl up your spine.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, hostility dripping from your voice like water slipping off a flower’s leaves. Gojo’s face is hidden by his hair as he stares down at the man in his arms, his expression hidden.

“I wouldn’t be here if I had anywhere else I could go,” his voice is strangely hoarse, giving you pause as your knuckles turn white as your grip on the gate increases. In another moment of weakness, your pang of sympathy returns, the strange vulnerability he showed tugging at your heartstrings, but Miriko dissuades the thought quickly.

Do not humor him, he holds a very dangerous curse-user. Do not trust him.

Miriko’s reminder causes your eyes to flicker back down to Geto Suguru and your brow furrows. “Get off my property,” you hiss, steeling yourself finally as the reality of the situation sinks in.

“I know we made an agreement, but-” his voice falters as he searches for words. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you go to close the gate but his foot kicks out in time to keep it open. “Wait, please,” he begs, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he was left with no other option but to physically beg something of you. To think this man had played with you like a toy and now he was here asking something of you, it made you as sick as he looked and likely also felt.

Pushing harder against his foot, your eyes locked with one another and you pause. The usual look of mischief and amusement was gone from his eyes, replaced with a very genuine vulnerability, mixed with anger, and even desperation. With a sigh, you finally opened your gate to him.

You could feel displeasure spreading through your body, clearly Miriko’s own emotion being mixed in with yours, and Taro continued growling in small fits. You had trained him to do so, you couldn’t blame him really.

“Are you able to reverse your cursed technique?” Gojo asks, his lips downturned into a frown as he stood uncomfortably within your garden.

“No,” you lie, taking one look at the man in his arms and resolving to being unwilling to do what he was asking.

His blue eyes narrow for a moment, examining yours, before he sighs. “Right,” he hums, swallowing heavily. “But you’re-” he pauses, “Miriko’s the Grim Reaper right, can you at least let him rest?”

Blinking in disbelief, you let out a bitter laugh. “Peace? Gojo he-” you shake your head, “he killed thousands of people.” Your jaw hangs open in disbelief at the request.

“He didn’t-” Gojo stammers over his words as he watches your eyes widen in confusion. “It wasn’t-” he sighs finally, his head hanging. “I know.”

Again you find yourself with your brow knit tightly together as you eye Gojo cautiously. If you agreed, you would be left extremely vulnerable. Very rarely did Miriko enact on her role as a reaper anymore, there were so many curses these days that her mercy was rarely required, but the one moment where you had used her ability to lead a soul to the afterlife, it had left you in an extremely vulnerable state.

Was Gojo someone you could trust with such a thing? Surely not, and yet… Your mind flashed back to when Miriko had noticed he had shaken your hand with no barrier between you. Was that some sort of act of goodwill to ensure he’d have an opportunity like this now? Was he using you? You had no way to be sure.

The only reassurance you had was the genuine look of vulnerability that shone in his azure eyes.

“Is that something you can do?” You sigh, staring off to the side as you wait for Miriko to respond. Holding out your palm, you stare at the mouth full of pointed teeth that appears.

“Yes,” she responds eloquently, though her tone is less than amicable. She knew you had asked aloud to force her into a corner to agree, as she otherwise would have declined.

“Please,” Gojo’s voice is serious and small, uncharacteristically so.

You allow Gojo to set Geto Suguru, who you can only imagine was at one time a friend, on the ground before him as you kneel down opposite Gojo. You shoot him a cautionary glance before setting your hand on Geto’s robed chest.

Gritting your teeth, you shut your eyes as a familiar pain surges through your mind. Being dragged into Miriko’s domain within you held a familiar sight. The dragon’s scales shone in the dimly lit cave as the familiar lapping of souls against the wooden ship broke the silence of the air. Red eyes shone in acknowledgement of your arrival, before turning to face your visitor.

To your surprise, the soul of Geto Suguru didn’t look as you had expected. He looked younger, his hair up in a bun with only a couple of stray strands of hair falling down over his calm features. He had a much thinner build than Gojo, and tired eyes. He looked… kind. Uneasily, you shared a glance with him. He didn’t seem confused, and he was unable to speak in such a state, but still he shot you a smile.

All you could do was blink and watch as Miriko’s tail ushered him towards her, the ship lurching forward. You managed to catch your balance before you could fall over from the sudden movement, only able to watch as the ship approached a light from a hole in the usually dimly lit cave. Quietly standing at the rear of the boat, you observed as Miriko ushered his spirit towards the light as the ship lurched to a halt. The light from above shone for a moment, forcing you to shut your eyes. Blinking them open once again, you were able to see little more than the familiar shape of a ghostly spirit, not the one you had seen before. It was the residuals of Geto Suguru, which collapsed into the river beneath you.

Bright red eyes shone as the serpent turned to face you once again. Locking eyes with her was something you didn’t often do, however her calming and familiar presence wasn’t unwelcome. Despite her title of a curse, you had never considered her as such. Life was lonely, perhaps, but her company made it bearable.

Her silver mane sways at the hint of a breeze as her long muzzle towers over you for a moment. She takes pause before her breath cascades over your figure and you’re blinking as you take in the sun filtering through the leaves.

Removing your hand from Geto Suguru’s body, you lean back and blink to try to reorient yourself within your surroundings. Finally beginning to come to, your gaze rests on Gojo before you, staring at you intently. His blue eyes are filled with questions that you have no intention of responding to.

“It’s done,” you tell him, pushing yourself to your feet as you brush your knees and dress off.

Gojo took a moment to stare at Geto’s remains. You could see from the sadness in his eyes that he had a connection to the man, but you didn’t intend on questioning him and extending this encounter with the Limitless user any longer than you needed to.

The research you had put time into after your initial encounter with the sorcerer had told you all that you needed to know about him. That he was the strongest. The last thing you needed was him showing up at your door any more than he already had.

Slowly, Gojo picks up the body once more and makes his way to your gate.

“No coming back,” you tell him, your voice firm although you had some amount of sympathy for him after the vulnerability he had shown you.

He turns back to you for only a moment, his blue eyes searching yours from over his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Gojo Satoru.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || next chapter

a/n || hello!! this is the first time i've ever posted a fic despite writing dozens of them. i've actually got the first several chapters written but need to do some heavy editing but at the very least you can expect the early chapters relatively quickly. i hope you like it and appreciate any support ♡ also i feel it's worth mentioning because i think it's very funny - i began writing this fic before i read the manga so the fact that reader is similar to another particular character is a complete coincidence lmao. not really sure how that happened but it is a fun little fact.

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mapofsouthdakota · 1 month ago

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The Maze

Synopsis: In a future where war and technology have blurred the line between man and machine, Caleb was resurrected—not as who he was, but as who he was programmed to be. With only 3% of his original self left intact, the latest reboot of his chip has reshaped his logic, his purpose, and his understanding of his emotions towards you.

Bound by his own design, he has built you the Maze—a flawless, shifting sanctuary meant to protect the one person he refuses to lose. But protection and captivity are two sides of the same coin, and inside the Maze, freedom is just another unsolvable puzzle.

Will you escape, or will Stockholm Syndrome take hold before that day?

Details: 3100ish words. Some kind of spin off AU, but corresponds with in-game canons. Obsessive Caleb. Yandere Caleb. Controlling Caleb. Colonel Caleb. Crazy hot Caleb. 18+ due to psychological thriller/drama/angst galore (and a prelude for p0rn with plot). You are warned. Heavy kissing. Sexual tension. Angst, love, lust and a lil’ smut.

Chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight (final chapter)

Tags: @gavin3469 @mcdepressed290

Acceptance | Chapter three

The Maze, the bedroom, you

12.

Today makes twelve.

You don’t know why you still do it—why your fingers still find the headboard.

It’s a habit. Edge. Drag. Count.

Your body aches, the dull throb at the base of your skull a reminder of yesterday’s obstacle run gone wrong. The concussion was minor, but enough for Caleb to ensure the Maze adjusted—doors to training areas stayed locked, obstacles mysteriously inactive. A silent command: rest.

And him?

He doesn’t mention it.

Not the way his body had collapsed into yours, muscles twitching, his breath ragged. Not the way he had clung to you, fingers shaking, voice breaking as he begged—

Don’t go.

You hadn’t left.

You had held him, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, feeling the tremors wreck through him as his system fought against something neither of you could name. He had cracked—just for a moment—but when he came back, when his violet eyes finally opened, something inside him had closed off again.

But something lingers in the air, something that wasn’t there before.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the kitchen, you

Tonight’s dinner was dangerous.

Not in the way it had been before—not in the way the Maze had made it, with the chase, the war of control and escape. This was something else entirely. A different kind of danger. One that curled beneath your skin, slow-burning, insidious.

Because Caleb had been soft.

Too soft.

He had looked at you like that again. Like he had in the past, before everything—before the Maze. Like he hadn’t collapsed into your lap a day ago, his body failing him, his mind unraveling. Like he hadn’t whispered apologies into your skin in Morse code, the faintest pressure against your hand, as you drifted in and out of consciousness, too weak to respond.

And yet—he had still been Caleb. Still teasing, still cocky, still smirking when you rolled your eyes at him over your plate, as if this was just another night. As if the world hadn’t cracked beneath his feet.

Still pressing his foot against yours under the table—not by accident, not a fleeting touch, but deliberate. Intentional. Holding it there, like he was testing something, pushing just enough to see if you’d push back.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you acknowledged it. But the weight of him, the heat of him, settled against you, pressed into the moment like a silent confession.

And it was dangerous.

Because you felt it. The way tension coiled, stretched tight, like something waiting to snap. The way his gaze flicked to your mouth when you took a sip of wine. The way he exhaled just a little too slowly when you shifted in your seat, like the movement was a touch he could feel.

Like you were both skirting too close to the edge again.

And now, in the kitchen, it’s still there.

Lurking, waiting, pressing against the space between you.

——————————————————————————

Caleb is at the sink, washing dishes like nothing has changed.

Like you aren’t still watching him, remembering the way he looked at you from the chair beside your bed, hands trembling, breath ragged, lips parted like he was about to say something real.

So you push.

Test the edge.

You grab the soda can from the counter, fingers curling around the slick metal, condensation trailing against your skin. The cool weight feels solid in your palm as you tilt it slightly, shifting your grip.

“Use your Evol.”

Caleb doesn’t even pause, his hands still submerged in the sink, sleeves rolled up, forearms damp. He exhales—long, slow, unimpressed.

“Pip-squeak.” It’s barely a sigh.

But you catch it.

The flicker. The smallest tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers hesitate, gripping the edge of the sink just a little tighter before stilling again.

Your lips twitch.

You shake the can lazily, swirling the liquid inside, feeling the shift of weight. “Come on. You do all these grand displays of power, but can’t even open a soda without your hands?”

Silence stretches between you.

Then, without a word, the can jerks in your grasp—snapping open with a sharp, punctuated hiss, the aluminum denting slightly beneath invisible force.

Caleb smirks. “Lazy.”

You lift it to your lips, tipping back for a slow sip, letting the carbonation fizz sharp against your tongue. Then, just as deliberately, you shift closer, tilting the can toward him.

“You, too.”

Caleb doesn’t look at you fully, not yet. His posture is still casual, still composed, but his voice dips lower—just a fraction.

“Trying to feed me now, Pips?” It’s teasing, lazy, dangerous. The kind of danger that hums beneath the surface, unspoken. His head tilts slightly, eyes lidded. “I thought you wanted to escape, not take care of me.”

Something tightens in your chest.

Because you remember.

The pressure of his fingers tapping against your hand while you drifted in and out of consciousness. The quiet I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry. I love you. pressed into your skin in Morse code. The way his breath had hitched when you stirred, the way he had waited for you to wake up.

You swallow against the thought, stepping in, pressing the chilled rim of the can to his lower lip.

“Just drink.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move.

Then—his lips part.

Slow. Deliberate.

He lets you tip the can just enough for the liquid to touch his tongue, his throat moving as he swallows, jaw flexing, the faintest shift of his Adam’s apple.

Your breath falters.

Violet eyes flick up—pinning you.

And suddenly, everything changes.

It happens too fast.

One second, he’s still, controlled, composed.

The next—his hands are on you.

Fast. Desperate.

The world tilts. The soda can slips from your grasp, clattering somewhere out of reach as his fingers dig into your waist.

Your back hits the counter.

The air vanishes from your lungs.

And Caleb is right there.

Chest against yours, breath hot, eyes dark—hungry.

And God help you—

You want him to devour you whole.

——————————————————————————

Before you can even register the shift, he lifts you.

A single, effortless motion—strong hands gripping your waist, hauling you up like you weigh nothing, like you belong there. Your breath stutters, the cool surface of the counter pressing against the backs of your thighs—and then he’s there, between your legs, close enough to steal the air from your lungs.

The heat of him seeps through the fabric of your clothes, solid and unyielding, the press of muscle and restrained strength beneath his skin a sharp contrast to the cool marble beneath you. His mouth finds yours in a clash of hunger and desperation, all teeth and heat, and this time, you don’t hold back.

You meet him with equal force, equal need, fingers tangling in his hair—soft strands slipping through your grip as you pull, hard. He groans against your lips, deep, raw, wrecked, like something inside him is unraveling in real time, breaking apart and reforming just for you.

His hands move with purpose, trailing over your thighs, gripping your waist, sliding up your sides in a feverish rush. Like he needs to memorize you. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The friction between you is unbearable, the heat of his body pressed flush against yours making it impossible to breathe, impossible to think.

Your moan is swallowed by his mouth, lost in the pressure, the weight of him, the sheer desperation in every movement.

And then—his voice.

Rasping against your lips.

“I love you.”

His fingers tighten at your waist, pulling you forward, dragging you against him, making you feel exactly how much he means it. Hard. Solid. Unmistakable.

“I want you.”

The words scrape against your skin, sending a shudder through you so violent you barely realize you’re moving—reaching. Your hands slip beneath his shirt, hot skin, firm muscle, the perfect shape of him beneath your fingertips.

Lower.

Your fingers find his belt, grip the leather, start to tug.

And then—

Something shifts. Small. Barely noticeable. A hesitation in the air, a moment too quiet, too still.

His gaze drops.

Lower.

To where your hands are just starting to pull at his zipper.

His breath catches.

His chest rises, falls—too quick, too sharp.

For a second, he’s right here. With you.

And then—

He’s gone.

The hunger in his eyes flickers. Darkens. Not with need, but with realization.

His body locks up, stiffening so fast it’s like a door slamming shut. His breath pulls sharp, too sharp, his grip on you still firm but no longer pulling you closer—holding you at a distance instead.

Like a wire pulled too tight, straining under tension.

And then—

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the kitchen, Caleb

This is wrong.

He knows it the second he looks down.

The second he sees your hands fumbling at his waistband, fingers curling around his zipper, your breath hitching against his lips as you reach for him.

Heat pulses through his body, a wildfire coursing through his veins, tearing through every rational thought left in his head.

And fuck—

He wants it.

God, he wants it.

He’s already hard against you, already aching, throbbing beneath your touch, his body screaming for more.

He wants your hands on him, wants to feel your fingers around his cock, wants to hear the way your breath stutters when you realize how much he needs this.

How much he needs you.

The desire is blinding.

Overpowering—

It feels human.

It feels real.

And his chip knows it.

A warning pulse fires through his skull, a sharp, searing sting—not a shutdown, not yet, but a brutal caution.

A reminder that he isn’t allowed to have this.

That he isn’t allowed to want this.

But it’s too late.

He’s already lost.

Your mouth is hot against his, feverish, desperate, your tongue teasing at his lower lip, coaxing, pleading.

He gives in.

Of course, he gives in.

His hands grip your waist too tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he grinds against you, rolling his hips into yours with slow, deliberate friction.

And the sound you make—

A sharp, breathy moan, muffled against his mouth, trembling and sweet and utterly intoxicating—

It’s too much.

Too much heat, too much sensation, too much of you.

The hunger in his gut claws at him, unbearable, insatiable.

“I love you.”

His voice is hoarse, wrecked, nothing but frayed edges and pure, unfiltered need.

He kisses you harder, deeper, losing himself in the taste of you, the feel of you pressed against him.

“I want you.”

His hips press forward again, grinding, pushing, needing.

Your fingers shake as they work at his zipper, tugging, teasing, slipping beneath the fabric.

He shudders.

His muscles lock, breath faltering, body tightening—

And then—

The chip fires.

A violent spike of static tears through his skull, ripping through the haze of lust like a jagged knife, like a system failure warning, like a fucking restraint pulling tight around his throat.

A brutal, punishing error.

His breath catches, sharp, broken.

He seizes up.

Not because of you.

Because of it.

Because this isn’t calculated.

This is real.

Too real.

And his system cannot allow it.

The pain is immediate, like white-hot wires threading through his brain, forcing him back, forcing him to stop.

But fuck, he can’t.

Not when your hands are still on him, still touching, still moving.

Not when he’s so hard it’s painful, so desperate he feels like he might fucking die if he doesn’t get to sink into you, claim you, make you his.

Not when his body is pleading for more while his mind is forcing him to shut down.

His grip tightens, nearly crushing, as if holding you closer might let him override it, might let him win.

But he won’t.

He never wins against the chip.

His breath comes ragged, strained, his fingers twitching violently against your waist.

And then—he makes the decision.

He pulls away.

It’s not gentle.

Not harsh.

But full.

A complete, absolute withdrawal, his body going rigid, locking every muscle in place as he forces himself back.

He sees the way your eyes flicker with confusion, frustration, with something else—

Something devastating.

And that kills him.

That fucking kills him.

Because he wants to explain.

He wants to fix it.

He wants to finish what you started.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

Because if he stays in this moment for even a second longer—

His system will fail.

So he does the only thing he knows how to do.

He locks himself away.

He shuts down.

He shoves the want, the need, the unbearable ache into some cold, unreachable part of himself.

And then—he turns.

And he leaves.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the kitchen, you

Caleb pulls away.

And for a second—just a second—you don’t react.

Because you can’t believe it. Because he was there. Because you felt him give in. Because he wanted it.

And then—he turns.

Your heart lurches violently, panic clawing its way up your throat. “No—”

Your voice is raw, uneven, breaking apart at the edges. You lunge, fingers curling around the thick sleeve of his jacket, yanking hard before he can leave completely. The fabric is warm from his body, rough beneath your fingertips, the worn leather creaking under your grip.

He stops. But he doesn’t turn.

His entire body is locked up, shoulders drawn tight, breath too shallow, too controlled. Like he’s restraining something inside him with everything he has.

You step closer, your grip tightening, nails pressing into the glove covering his wrist. “Caleb, please.”

Finally—he looks at you.

And fuck— it’s worse than you thought.

His violet eyes are wild, pupils blown wide, almost swallowed by the darkness creeping in. His jaw is clenched so tightly the muscle in his cheek flickers, breath unsteady, caught somewhere between ragged and silent.

His hands twitch at his sides, gloved fingers flexing—curling into loose fists, like he’s physically holding himself back.

“Don’t do this,” you plead, voice shaking despite the steadiness in your grip. “You don’t have to do this. Let me help you. We’ll get through this together. You know we can.”

His breath catches. It’s barely audible, but you feel it—the smallest hitch in his exhale, the way his throat works around the breath like it’s stuck there.

His eyes shut for a second too long.

And when they open again, they’re just a little more distant.

“You don’t understand,” he grits out, voice rough, like it’s scraping against something raw inside of him. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

You step closer. He steps back.

A tiny movement. Barely there.

But you feel it. The retreat. The hesitation. The way his body is already pulling away from you, even as his breath shakes with the effort.

His fingers drag sharply through his hair, gripping at the strands—desperate, almost frantic.

“This isn’t—” His breath stutters, voice dropping lower. “I’m not—”

And then you see it.

Something you weren’t sure you’d ever see.

Fear.

Not for you.

For himself.

He’s not afraid of losing control. He’s afraid of what happens if he gives in. If he lets himself feel this.

Because this isn’t the hunt anymore. This isn’t about power, or dominance, or control.

This is real.

And it’s terrifying him.

“Caleb.”

You lift a hand, reaching for him.

He flinches.

Not from fear. From pain.

A sharp breath escapes him, barely a sound, but you feel the tremor roll through his body—the way his muscles stiffen beneath his clothes, the way his fingers twitch like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

He’s shaking. A deep tremor, a battle inside him, something clawing through his system, demanding that he retreat.

His breath is ragged, uneven, his entire frame pulled tight, so close to snapping you swear you can hear the tension crackling in the air.

The fabric of his jacket is warm beneath your touch, but he feels distant—like his body is here, but his mind is somewhere else entirely, fighting a war you can’t see.

And you know—if you let him go now, you might lose him completely.

So you don’t.

You pull him in.

Not forcefully. Not desperately.

But fully.

And you kiss him.

Not with lust. Not with hunger.

But with a promise.

Your lips press against his, firm, steady, unshaken. Not trying to seduce him. Not trying to trap him.

Just anchoring him. Holding him.

For a second, his whole body locks up.

Like it doesn’t know what to do, how to react, how to handle this kind of touch.

Like it’s trying to reject it, to refuse it.

And then—it cracks.

His fingers twitch against your waist, hesitation shaking through them before they flex, gripping onto you.

His whole body leans into you, something raw and shattered in the way he exhales against your mouth.

But he doesn’t kiss you back.

Not yet.

He fights it, fights himself, fights the thing inside him that’s telling him to let go.

And you feel it.

The way his breath shakes. The way his hands flex, tremble, hesitate—like he wants to hold you, but can’t trust himself to.

The way his body leans in while his mind begs him to pull away.

So—you make the choice for him.

You kiss him deeper.

You let your lips linger, fingers curling into his jacket, holding him there, refusing to let him run.

Because he’s not alone.

Because this isn’t his burden to carry alone anymore.

And then—

Finally—

He kisses you back.

Not in desperation.

Not in fear.

But in acceptance.

——————————————————————————

Chapter four

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: That was intense to write, not gonna lie. Their dynamics are so layered, and I really hope that came through. I can’t wait to dive into the next chapter. It’s coooookin’. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

#sooo yeah #caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lads caleb #lnds caleb #fanfic caleb #fanfic love and deepspace #you x caleb #reader x caleb #mc x caleb #love and deepspace fanfic #fanfiction caleb #the maze #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace smut #caleb smut #Spotify

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kuj0goth · 8 months ago

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ngl that evil fiddleford au is amazing, i want more of it so much (THOUGH NO PRESSURE). what would happen directly after him getting his memory wiped? like would he be the one to take him home and take care of him or would he try and keep it distanced with a build up to the misery stephen king situation? and what would stan do when he found out?

Hello! Thank you so much for showing interest in my au. It makes me very happy.

Although I’m still working out the kinks of how the story would be put together, I do have some ideas I can share.

I am basing the way Ford acts on the way Stan acted when the same thing happened to him during Weirdmageddon. As such, he has no memory, but his personality is intact, and he has retained his base instincts, muscle memory, and things of the sort. The way I imagine the memory gun to work is that it targets specific cells to kill. Braincells can be regenerated, but as precise as the gun is, there are still side affects to killing off braincells, as you would imagine.

Ford’s head is full of puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit together, stairs that don’t lead anywhere, doors that won’t open. Although he does eventually get better, he is unable to take care of himself properly directly after his memory has been wiped, and Fiddleford takes him back to the shack.

The Misery dynamic is established pretty much immediately, but Ford is not capable of realizing it initially. Fiddleford isolates him to keep him safe and to watch over him, and as a result he becomes a little brainwashed. He has no other source of information and everything he knows and believes is influenced by Fiddleford’s word.

My idea is that he eventually has a realization that something is wrong. It needles at his psyche but he cant click the pieces together and it’s frustrating for a guy like Ford who is desperate to know things, especially in a state like that. Fiddleford is slowly mentally devolving and having outbursts so he starts using those to his advantage to gain information and draw some truth out of her.

As for Stan, I’m still working out the kinks, but I imagine he’s doing some detective work around town to figure out where his brother has gone. I’m currently uncertain if I want him to interact with Fiddleford right off the bat, but I have a lot of ideas of how some of their conversations would go.

#gravity falls #blind eye ford au #evil fiddleford au #bad ending #gravity falls au #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #society of the blind eye #my art #ask

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purpdrawsthings · 2 months ago

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Are We Still Friends In Every Universe? 💜💙

Of course we are.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Hihi everybody have this low effort edit lmao

This just floated around in my mind during school a few days ago, decided just now to make the vid.

SMG43 AUs are wild man. You can find a whole variety of them in all shapes and sizes 💥

Truly astounding ✨

Srry for the first and second image being low quality after I was not holding my camera properly and I do not want to do a retake

Anyways I'm just boutta yap about the vid because yes and yes.

First image - If you don't know, those two are my versions of SMG4 and 3! They both belong in my Purp's Crew AU. I cannonically make them lovers ofc, they so cute together I love them. Funni 4 thoughts while 3 tries his best to answer the question lmao.

Second image - This is from my Brainwashed AU! An AU where they work under Mr Puzzles as overworked employees 💜 4 is the most tired out of the crew, so he can break down easily. Thankfully, there's 3 to always keep him warm even in the dark. They consider them both as just friends but maybe it's more than that teehee

Third image @michaelscorneroftheinternet @dorriostareyes - The first featured AU in the video! The au belongs to both Micheal and Dorriostareyes =3 you can depict this as either the Change In Script AU or The Fallen! Wasn't really intended to depict two AUs but hey depicting two AUs by the two same people who make it is cool ig. This just shows how complex their relationship is hehe, I love angst.

Fourth image @theartistisme43 - THEMMMMM oh wait COUGH- gotta act professional... I had to add ✨them✨ cuz it's ✨them✨ ofc. We had to take a break from the depressed/angsty ones so have adorable couple. This is just to show that they can love each other in another universe [which was real lmao 💜]

Fifth image @grinnames - Godbox bois 💥 it's them, yes them ✨ guh I love them. Anyways, they're just there to show how they can be not necessarily friends but more or so frenemies.. Very complex bois... Tbh I think they lying /silly /jk anyways uh... Shoot my brain juice is running out AIYSIAHSIHX

Sixth image @jovialoddity - HELP I WAS AT SCHOOL WHEN DOODLING THIS SO I DIDN'T REMEMBER THEIR EXACT DESIGNS GUH. Anywaysssss I see them as being neutral together. No gay bois sadly /silly though I'm not really sure about that one sidhidhsudgdihxi it's not me who made the AU Jovi did so uhhhhh yeah if I got it wrong sowwy =D

Seventh image - Now for the last image, it's the two bois from my Circus Showman AU! Their relationship does go the same like my Purp's Crew AU but since SMG4 changed his direction to focus more on his circus thing 3 thought it was just weird and just didn't feel like joining what 4 was doing. That's where the relationship stopped. But ever since 4 came in back to personally invite him and persuade him, their relationship and gone back and slowly rising as the story continues. Their relationship is progressing much slower than the other AU, but they doin fine together hehe =3

Anyways I apologize if any of you couldn't understand a thing I said cuz as one of my traits I have the wonderful trait of not being able to explain stuff clearly without making it more complex than it should be.

Anyways I'm going to disappear before I start being lazy again so byeeee yeetus =3 💥💥💥

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

#smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #smg4 au #change in script #the fallen #scarred au #scarred smg4 #scarred smg3 #godbox #godbox au #meme academy au #smg4 circus showman au #video #edit #animation #trend #fanart #smg4brainwashedau

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daechwitatamic · 11 months ago

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Vice;Grip || chapter 1 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!! //

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out. Section Specific Warnings: casual drinking, piv sex, , nip stim, reader on top, drunkenness to the point of blacking out, vomiting due to overdrinking (mentioned very briefly), dirty talk, implied drug use / vernon is high, heavy themes in regards to mental health - allusions to unspecified mental illnesses in the realm of depressive and anxiety disorders

wc: 5800

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

Now

You’ve been used to seeing his face only in puzzle pieces, triangular fragments of glass beside a fallen picture frame. Mostly in flashes of light that are gone too quickly to process the whole picture - as the car he drives passes under a streetlight, as the flashing lights from a dj booth sweep over you before moving on, as the moon crosses over the gap on your window’s blinds that your cat broke two years ago and you never replaced.

Despite this, you know everything about it: how he keeps it carefully flat, but when it breaks it’s always to jump to extremes. How he laughs so hard his features distort and shatter, how his eyebrows nearly meet when he’s breaking and pressing fingers to his eyes, how his eyes squeeze shut when he mouths your name against your neck and presses his fingertips tighter against your skin before letting go. You have it all memorized. You know it by heart, even in the dark.

That was how you met - in the dark. You were dragged to a bar by your best friend Chan, determined to drink until you weren’t annoyed by the existence of everyone around you, until the music and lights seem to flow over and around you, like you’re experiencing them through a thick pane of glass.

He’d been invited, too. He and Chan had friends in common. You’d noticed him early in the night, sometime before things got foggy. Of course you did - even in the dim lighting you could see how good-looking he was, all sharp points and edges. You made note of how he stayed quiet, a tiny smile on an otherwise unchanging face, but his eyes had darted around, following the conversation sharply.

Sharp is your favorite word for him. It fits everything about him, top to toe, inside and out.

Sharp, sharp, sharp.

He looked how you feel inside, even now.

You’d gone back to his place, that night. You still remember him leaning back against the wall of the bar, arms crossed against his chest, mostly in shadow until a pink light passed over you both before leaving you in shadow again. As your eyes adjusted again, pieced his face back together in the dark, one of those eyebrows had lifted in question.

You were surprised at how clean his place was; he was surprised by how cluttered yours was, the next time you’d come together, maybe a week later.

This was almost two years ago; you’d both gotten used to each other since then.

It wasn’t a surprise, each time, when he gasped and then whined when he came, when his grip tightened like he had to make sure you stay put until his heartbeat starts to slow again. Not a surprise when he’d pull his ripped jeans back on less than ten minutes later. Not a surprise when he’d reach out to wiggle your foot through the blankets to make sure you were awake to hear him mutter, “See you,” on his way out. Nothing surprising about how you’d go four days without talking and then send him a wyd?, nor about how he’d come to pick you up, his car idling outside your building within the half hour.

You’d been doing things this way for ages. It was practically a routine. This was just what you two did, in the dark.

You weren’t sure what he did during the day. You and him, you only existed when the sun went down.

You didn’t know what he looked like in the golden hour, or at a restaurant table, or hurrying through a rainy afternoon. You didn’t mind; he belonged to you like this - only in the dark, only in pieces, only in too-quick flashes of light.

It was enough.

Or, you’d pretended it was, for as long as you could.

1 yr 11 months ago

The first few times were simple. You both knew what you were there for. You’d text, he’d come get you. You’d watch his hand on the gear shift as he drove you back to his place. You’d undress each other across his living room, a breadcrumb trail to follow back out when it was over. He’d order you a ride when it was done, you’d get home and shower, sinking into your own bed just as the light started to shift outside, warning everyone that dawn was imminent once again.

Or, conversely, he’d text instead of you. Or he’d drive to your place and stay, pressing you against your entryway wall before even closing the door behind him, threatening all your neighbors with a show. He’d slip out, after, leaving the smell of his cologne on your skin, on your sheets, even - somehow - in your kitchen, where you’d gone for water while he got dressed.

You both knew why you were there. You both knew what you needed out of it: just sex, just fun. You couldn’t even call it friends with benefits because you weren’t friends from dawn to dusk.

The just of it failed to last.

You know precisely the first time it was different, the first time you needed him. You needed the same things as always - his mouth hot on your skin, his hands alternating between sparks of pain and soothing caresses, the stretch of him emptying your mind and pushing every bad feeling out like there wasn’t room for them anymore. But for the first time, you didn’t want those things for enjoyment.

You wanted them as a salve.

Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose.

You did ask him, in your own way. With your tongue, with your hands, with your hips. You didn’t know if he could tell that something was different, that you were using him to hide, that your urgency was because you wanted to feel something else. As you moved together under the fairy lights above your bed, the motions were the same as always.

It was after, that was different. Before he got dressed, he’d rolled to face you across the few inches of dark. His statue-like face wasn’t blank, now. Instead, his brows knit just slightly, his lips frowning on the hint of a pout.

“You okay?” he’d asked.

You’d looked back at him, goosebumps rising up and down your arms as your skin cooled. Should you lie? That was the best way to keep him at arm’s length, the best way to make sure this didn’t get too deep, the best way to ensure you didn’t scare him away.

But something made you tell the truth.

“A little better, now,” you admitted, quiet, your voice creeping through the dark like it was avoiding landmines as it tiptoed over your mattress.

He’d nodded, slipping back into the silence he wore best. Then he’d stayed just a few minutes, breathing quietly beside you, before getting up and sliding back into the routine. A few extra minutes of not being alone, like he knew you needed it even if you couldn’t ask for it.

In the silence he left behind, the truth had ballooned into the empty room: something had shifted. Now, on the nights when you hurt, when you weren’t sure you wanted to keep clawing your way through, you had another vice to pick from for distraction. More or less destructive than your other, older vices? You weren’t sure.

Almost two years later, you’re still not sure.

1 yr 10 months ago

The levels of separation were just enough that you didn’t cross paths at a lot of social events. But it was always a little thrilling when the circles did converge, when he appeared at the edge of the group, when the game became act normal in front of everybody.

You like games.

Vernon does, too.

The first time he showed up unexpectedly at the bar, your stomach swooped, and you hid a sneaky smile by tipping back your glass, draining the rest in one go and announcing that you needed a refill.

A game, knowing he’d watch you walk away. A game, knowing he’d have to look away again quickly, before anyone caught on. A game, pretending when you return to the group that you don’t remember his name. A game, knowing that at the end of the night, he’d come home with you and make sure you didn’t remember anything but.

You had too much to drink, too caught up in the fun, in the promise of later, in the thrill of feeling like you were harboring a secret like a precious plant, cupped in loose soil between your muddy fingers.

The alcohol made you lose track of your friends, of the time, of directional stability. You stumbled to the hallway you thought held the bathroom, one sweaty palm slapped against the wall to help you get there.

You’d only been sleeping with him for two months, but his hands on your waist were familiar. So was his mouth, near your ear, asking a familiar question - “You okay?”

“Should probably go home,” you muttered, still present enough to know you were a mess. That others could see your mess.

“Can you get yourself out front?” he asked, and there was something gentle in it. It made your stomach turn; or maybe that was the vodka. It made you want to run, to put distance between you, to remind him that you weren’t his to take care of. It made you want to hiss and spit to remind him that you’re an outdoor cat.

“Why?” you asked, turning in place to face him, something hard riding up in your chest.

He shrugged one shoulder, like it didn’t matter to him if you listened or not. “If you go out now, I’ll order a ride. Then I’ll head out in a few, when the car is here. It’ll look like you left already when I go.”

You narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re being awfully strategic.”

He lifted that eyebrow again. “You want Chan to know we’re fucking?”

The word sizzled through you like an electric shock. But you took a breath and considered the question. “No,” you answered, once you muddled through your soupy brain enough to find the word. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay,” he said, as if that settled that. “I’ll order the ride. Your place okay?”

“Mhm,” you said, distracted, suddenly aware of your lack of equilibrium, nausea making its presence known. You might not have told him goodbye before pushing your way back into the crowded dance floor, weaving around people and squeezing through impossibly tight spaces until you find Chan again.

“My uber’s out front,” you said in greeting.

“What?” he cried, looking betrayed. “It’s not even one-thirty!”

“If I stay,” you told him seriously, “I will hurl. Talk tomorrow?”

He pouted a little but nodded, waving goodbye as you turned and struggled towards the front door.

Stepping from the loud, crowded bar into the quiet street was almost dizzying in itself; you struggled to adjust as you took a few steps away from the door. The lit-up signs from the nearby businesses swam around the edge of your vision, and you swallowed down a fresh wave of nausea.

It seemed like only seconds later, though it must have been at least five minutes, when the car pulled up and Vernon appeared from out of nowhere to usher you into the backseat.

You don’t remember the ride home. You don’t remember Vernon supporting you by your elbows to keep you from toppling sideways (or backwards) down the stairs. You don’t remember dropping your keys so many times that he’d taken them from you, let you both into the apartment. You don’t remember him helping you remove your heels, or placing a glass of water by your bed.

You do remember waking up somewhere in the bright hours of early morning, still in your tight dress, head pounding and stomach rolling.

Your apartment was empty; you hadn’t expected him to stay, but you’d checked the couch anyway, just to be sure. You drank the whole glass of water, sat on the floor of the shower and let the hot water punish you for your bad decisions, and then crawled back to bed. You texted Vernon - the first time either of you had texted while the sun was up - and apologized, thanked him for getting you home.

You expected an answer as reserved as he normally plays things. You were surprised when, instead, he sent you back, “i think i’d be good at rodeo”, followed quickly by, “rodeoing???”

Frowning, you sent back a line of question marks.

His answer made you laugh through a groan, pressing your face into your pillows in embarrassment - “corralling you was NOT easy… but i did it 🤠”.

Face flushed with embarrassment, you sent another apology.

You sank into quiet after that, unsure if you’d messed things up, made it too real, became a thing of responsibility instead of a thing of attraction. But he’d texted you the next weekend, those three little letters sending relief through your system: wyd?

“Not drinking,” you said, and he wasted no time in sending back, “want to not drink at mine?”

1 yr 9 months ago

come over?

you come here?? ill order ur ride

ok 👍

“You seem weird.”

Vernon kept his expression even, though hearing the words made him want to grimace at being called out so immediately. He’d been spiraling for at least an hour; had at one point gotten so worked up that he’d slammed his laptop on the desk, causing it to show a shuddering blue screen before restarting on him.

If it hadn’t stumbled back to life, he honestly thought he would cry over it.

He might anyway. Fucking shit.

“I’m a weird guy,” he deadpanned instead.

“Weirder than normal,” you volleyed. “Everything okay?”

Vernon sent a dark look over his shoulder, where the textbook he’d been burying himself in still sat open on the page he’d been on when your text had rolled through.

But you weren’t here to help him study. You weren’t here to listen to him complain that he’d failed his last test, that his scholarship rode on this next one. You weren’t here to help him make flashcards, or even to rub his shoulders while he hunched over the textbook.

You were here so he could forget, for just a little while, that he was stressed in the first place. You were here to help him feel something besides the knots in his stomach, so he could hear a voice echoing in his head that wasn’t his own calling him stupid, stupid, stupid. You were here to melt the edges of his anxiety, the way he could have with a shot or a pill, if he were in a different mood.

He replaced the textbook on the flat surface of his desk with your bare ass, leaning over you to brace an arm next to his sleeping laptop. He let your soft cries take up space in his mind, crowding out his internal admonitions, his mind’s noisy cycling through the list of things he should be doing instead. His stomach muscles clenched because your fingertips trailed over them, not because he was imagining having to tell his parents he’d lost his scholarship. He groaned, long and guttural, because you felt like heaven clenching around him, hot and silky and perfect, not because he’d read the same paragraph three times and retained none of it. His fingers found the back of your neck and gripped you hard, holding you in place as his hips snapped into yours, instead of gripping the pen that refused to write answers that made any sense.

It worked; it helped. It was the first time in days that Vernon felt okay. He wished he could last forever - just so that he didn’t have to go back to reality, to life outside of this.

“Car’s on its way,” he told you, after you were cleaned up and dressed again.

You looked up at him from where you were perched on his desk, the same spot where he’d been drilling you only ten minutes ago.

“Thanks,” you said, then looked down at the textbook in your hand. You’d picked it up absently, but now you turned it over, reading the cover.

“This looks hard,” you observed. “Is this why you’re all…” You trailed off and made a face to indicate that Vernon was the human equivalent of a keysmash. You even mimed the keysmashing, in the air in front of you, with both hands.

The smile he gave you was probably sheepish. “Yeah. Test tomorrow. Flunked the last one.”

And he wasn’t sure why he was telling you, but you nodded slowly, eyes still on the cover of the book.

“Sucks,” you said sympathetically, and that was that. You didn’t make it a thing. You gave him a quick smile as you closed his door, and then you were gone.

Vernon took a shower, dissociated in the warm water until it ran cold. Then he heated up some instant noodles, and set everything back up on his desk to try again.

Maybe he should make fucking flashcards.

He was still at it around two in the morning, literally holding his eyelids up to stay awake, when his phone rattled on his keyboard.

good luck tmrw. hwaiting.

1 yr 8 months ago

“Go talk to him!”

“Chan, from the bottom of my heart, fuck off.”

Your best friend pouted at you over the top of his beer. “You haven’t dated in forever.”

You hadn’t needed to. You didn’t want domesticity, nor partnership. And the parts that were left, Vernon had been handling just fine.

But Chan didn’t know that.

“I don’t want to,” you snapped. “I don’t want to talk to that guy, and I don’t want to date someone. I want to drink with my idiot friend Chan. Is that a problem?”

His pout deepened. “No,” he sulked. “But I’m worried about you, noona.”

“Well, don’t be,” you said, softening. “I’m fine. I’m just not after… all that.”

Still looking a little bit like a kicked dog, Chan glanced down at his beer and then back up at you, timid. “Have you been… working on anything lately?”

You wanted to crawl out of your skin. You wanted to evaporate, slip towards the ceiling in tiny droplets of not-matter, vanish as you got too close to the sun.

“Nope,” you said, forcing a breezy tone.

His eyes on you were too knowing. Your clothes all itched, suddenly. “Nothing, since -?”

“Chan,” you said, not even trying to hide the desperation on your face, in your voice, in the way your hands reach out for his. “Please, can we not do the intervention thing right now? I really, really cannot.”

He went quiet. “Fine,” he said finally, and the timid-younger-brother thing was gone, replaced with something almost angry. Frustrated, at least. “Fine. You need a refill?” He downed the last of his beer and reached for your glass.

“No,” you said, pulling it further from his reach. “I need shots. Let’s go.”

The burn in your throat helped you move on, move away from the uncomfortable moment. You relished the slight sting, closed your eyes as you felt the heat make its way to your stomach. Kept them closed, felt everything tight inside you loosen by degrees, until you could breathe again.

You danced, you drank more. You did tequila shots, licking salt off the back of some girl’s hand, both of you giggling even though you never saw her before in your life and probably wouldn’t again once the shots were done.

At some point, you stilled, realizing you hadn’t seen Chan in a while. You rested your elbows against the bar for balance and pulled out your phone.

where are you? you sent.

His answer confused you. told you goodbye almost two hours ago, you fucking mess.

Then, another, do I need to come back and get you?

Shame engulfed you. You were a mess, always a mess. A fuck-up, a drop-out, a waste of potential. The idea of him having to come take care of you, come back to get you and babysit you, made you want to crawl under the sticky floorboards.

no, you sent back. i’m leaving now.

But the shame hovered over your shoulder. Its breath coated your neck in humid huffs, its claws pressed into the flesh of your arms hard enough to leave little crescents, its tail curled around your leg to hold you in place.

You ordered another shot.

The room was dark, and smelled stale, like a window hadn’t been opened in months.

The room was not the bar.

Your body flooded with adrenaline so fast that you had to close your eyes and force an inhale.

You didn’t remember leaving the bar. You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t know how you got here.

The shame was back, tail heavy over your abdomen, but the spikes of fear were worse. You felt around the darkness until you could find your phone. You used its light to look around - you seemed to be alone on someone’s couch. Hand shaking, it took you three tries to open your maps app. You couldn’t get the screen to focus, couldn’t read to see what neighborhood you were in.

The screen swam before you and you clicked it off, closing your eyes and trying to breathe, trying not to cry.

Who could you call?

Not Chan, the shame whispered to you, lifting its head from slumber and opening its beady eyes, yellow across the dark room.

You didn’t have many other choices. You'd found that a symptom of isolation is that fewer people stick around, waiting for you to come out of it, to be normal again. You'd known this, logically, for years. You still couldn't help it when the urge to hunker down and speak to no one but Chan and your mom took over; you couldn't help when your stupid, broken brain told you that you were bothering everyone but to believe it. Don’t call Chan. You closed one eye and turned your screen on again, determined to make it make sense.

It was almost three in the morning.

You knew one person who might still be up.

Vernon’s hello sounded awake, and that’s what made you crack, tears starting to slide down your cheeks without permission.

“I don’t know where I am,” you admitted. The shame gave a hearty huff and lowered its head again. “I can’t - I can’t get a car because - I can’t see the - the buttons aren’t working -”

“Put me on speaker,” he said calmly, and you clung to his voice like the rung of a pool ladder. You didn’t need to climb up, you just needed to hold on.

“Okay,” you said, when you’d managed it.

“Go to your messages,” he said next, and walked you through each step until you’d managed to drop him your location.

“Thank you,” you’d said, tears dry. Everything dry. Even the shame seemed a bit opaque, the numbness strong enough to push away even this least desirable companion as it came creeping in. “Thank you, I’m sorry, I -”

“Stay on the phone with me,” he instructed.

“Vernon, no,” you protested. “You should go to sleep.”

“Wasn’t sleeping anyway,” he said flatly, and there was no room to argue.

You stayed on the line in silence as you hunted around for your shoes, or a coat. You found neither, though somehow your purse was still strapped to you. You did manage to find a front door. You exited the house, closing the door quietly behind you. You still didn’t know whose fucking house it was.

You threw up next to the mailbox. You collapsed into the grass, wet with morning dew under your back. You shivered, coatless and barefoot. Your phone was somewhere in the yard behind you, the call still connected.

Above you, the shame swam between the stars, twisting and undulating amongst the constellations until it made you so dizzy that you rolled over to throw up again.

When you saw headlights, you pushed yourself to sit, trying to breathe. The driver wouldn’t let you in the car if they thought you might be a puke risk. You looked around the ground near where you were sitting, trying to find your phone, realizing belatedly that you were still on the call with Vernon.

“Sorry,” you said, bringing it to your ear again. “I dropped my phone in the yard. The car's here.”

“I know,” he said simply, which didn't make sense, but you were too gone to figure it out.

“I'm gonna hang up now,” you said quietly. “Thank you for helping me.”

He made a noncommittal noise and you ended the call as the car coasted to a stop. You started to rise, to make your way unsteadily to the back door. Instead, the driver’s door opened.

“Vernon,” you complained, horrified that he'd come out at three in the morning to get you. He was supposed to be home, in bed, while a stranger drove you home - a stranger who you paid in money, owed no emotional labor for this effort. A stranger who could see you like this - a wreck, makeup smudged, confused, lost in multiple ways - and never see you again.

Vernon looked you over, then shook his head. He walked around his car and opened the passenger door, looking at you silently, waiting.

Finally, you stalked over.

“Why are you out here with no shoes on?” he asked, voice lower than normal.

“Lost them,” you muttered, dropping into the passenger seat. Your stomach swam again, but it seemed to be empty enough now that all you got was the suffering.

He drove you in silence for a little. Then, at a red light, looked over at you, that expression as blank as ever.

You were starting to learn his tells, though. His fingers tapped on the gear between you.

You’d made him anxious.

“What happened?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Blacked out,” you said, looking at your knees. “Didn’t mean to. I think some girls invited me along to their place? And then I must have passed out.” The tequila shot girl’s face swam in your mind - this seemed correct.

“Girls?”

You looked at him, surprised. Pieces clicked together.

“You think I called you to get me from a hook-up’s house?” you asked, defensive. “I’m a disaster, but I’m not a bitch.”

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t say that.”

You were both quiet a little longer.

“I’m not… I don’t…” You weren’t sure how to say it. “I know you didn’t ask me not to - and I’m not asking anything from you - but - I don’t…”

“Okay,” he said, stopping your ramble. You looked at him, relieved, so glad he understood. That you didn’t have to say it. “Cool.”

Cool.

If you could without throwing up again, you’d shake your head. He was just so… Vernon.

You were hungover for two days; you even called out of work for one of them. When the headache finally subsided, you told the cat you were never drinking again.

The cat jumped off the bed and trotted away; it might as well have called you a liar.

When the weekend rolled around, you didn’t text Vernon. The shame lay its heavy, clawed foot on top of your phone, leveled you with an even look that said don’t even think about it.

How could you face him again, anyway? Why would he want to see you, after he’d seen the truth so clearly - that you were messy, a mistake, more trouble than any situationship was worth?

Friday night came and went in silence. You were right - he wanted out. You didn’t blame him at all.

Then, Saturday night, a text came through.

you coherent? 😏

You laughed, rolled your eyes, sent back, unfortunately. can we change that?

want to try a different poison tonight?

is that supposed to be flirty?

if you need me to do the hard sell, my offer won’t end you up at a strangers house at 3am

that’s a solid argument

i’ll come get you. need some time?

yeah, gimme 30 min?

cool.

You snorted again. Cool. He was such a dork.

“Thanks for getting me,” you said, when you slid into his passenger seat.

“Can’t let you entertain yourself,” he said, ticking his head to the side like he’d learned his lesson. “You end up without shoes.”

The callback to last weekend made your face heat, and you expected him to lecture you - to tell you to be more careful, that you shouldn’t put yourself in situations like that, that your liver will quit someday.

He didn’t - didn’t bring up anything that happened until -

“Only need me, huh?” he asked, later, pressing so deep into you that you squirm away, delighted when he pulls you back roughly, puts you right back where you’d both rather you be. “No one else does it this good, right?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, half-laughing. “God.” Then he shifted his angle and you repeated yourself, a broken record, god god god, for a whole new reason.

1 yr 7 months ago

Everything was slow and heavy. Vernon’s eyelids lowered and then slid open again, slow… slow. Air army-crawled on elbows and knees into his lungs, slipped out too easily. His blood in his veins trudged; his heartbeat couldn’t whip it into going faster. The ceiling fan above him circled, chasing its tail in an endless loop.

come over.

It must have taken him two hours to type the text. Two hours for it to fly through space - is that how texts send? through space? - to your phone. Two hours for you to get there, to let yourself into his unlocked apartment.

“Took you forever,” he muttered, still watching the ceiling fan.

He was a little out of it, a little bit on another plane. Your hands were cool against his cheeks, thumbs cool as they traced his jawline. For a minute, they felt like the only thing tethering him to earth, keeping him in this room, in this apartment.

“You in there?” Your voice came from far away.

“Yeah.”

He opened his eyes again, and found you hovering above him, light streaming from behind you.

You didn’t mention his red eyes, didn’t tease him for the way his words came out one phoneme at a time. You just pulled your shirt over your head - he may have groaned when the fabric passed your tits, fuck you for showing up without a bra on - and then reached for his hem. Then you lay tight up against him, one hand absently stroking over his chest.

You let him make every first move, let him decide when he’s in his own body again. He kissed you slow, licked into your mouth like it was viscous, marveled in how your skin felt when his hands skated over your back.

It must have been two hours that he kissed you, only that, before finally tugging you to straddle him.

He’d been fucked up when he texted you, but he was feeling clearer now. Clear enough to peel your leggings over your ass, to lift his hips when you tugged on his sweatpants. Clear enough to let out a breath that shuddered embarrassingly when you positioned him at your entrance and sank to the hilt, stilling and tilting to look him in the eyes.

Sometimes Vernon thinks about Giles Corey. He shouldn’t even know about this random piece of American history; he definitely didn’t learn it in school. But sometimes Vernon would procrastinate real work by going to random Wiki articles, and sometimes what he read would stick.

He remembered this one. During the early Salem witch trials, Giles Corey was tried as a witch, but not hung. Instead, he’d been pressed to death - the stones added one by one to the board over his chest. He was supposed to confess.

He’d died that way, had been literally crushed to death, one stone at a time.

His last words had been more weight.

That’s how Vernon felt, most days. One stone at a time, pressing on his ribcage. It was never enough to crush him, just enough to make him feel like he couldn’t take a breath, enough to make him feel like his bones might crack and cave and it’s scary - but they never did. Or, they hadn’t yet.

Every day, Vernon woke up, spit at the feet of whatever church was awaiting his confession, and demanded, more weight.

But the stones had felt heavier, today. Some days were like that. Some days felt like hardly any at all. He tried to remember that - the lighter days would come.

He didn’t feel them at all, now. The only weight on his chest was your hands as you leaned your body forward for leverage, riding him at the pace he set with his hands on your hips, guiding you up and back - slow, slow.

“Fuck,” you groaned, eyes squeezing shut and then opening again, blinking quickly. “It’s too - god, I can feel everything - I don’t know if I can - it’s too -”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured, reaching up to pull you closer, to bring you chest to chest.

“I need you to move,” you whimpered, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Please, I need you to go faster.”

Vernon swore fiercely as his body obeyed without his permission, feet flattening against his mattress and arms crossing over your back to hold you in place against him. You both gasped, equally shocked at the sudden change.

“More,” you begged. “Please, Vernon.”

More weight, he thought, and then he wasn’t thinking anything because you were wailing, fingers twisting in the sheets next to his shoulders, pulsing around him in dizzying, soul-sucking waves.

Sometimes Vernon thinks being alone will be the stone that kills him.

He almost asked you to stay, after, just to keep it at bay. Almost.

He thought that you might be his new favorite vice.

1 yr, 6 months ago

wyd tonight?

uhhh awkward. i’m. on a date?

why awkward? you’re allowed.

thanks for the permission.

i’m generous, what can i say

dont worry though its nothing. we got set up. its… not going great lol

i understand. hes got tough competition.

Please. 🙄

have fun

im not going home with him. i promise.

prove it.

how?

come here after.

ykw?? i think i will. Next ->

my first svt fic ever!!! thank you so much for being here! i hope you continue to enjoy!

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samthecookielord · 2 years ago

Text

silly doodles while i wait for the homies to be available to play more unwound future (insert obligatory "im still at chapter 2" note)

#cookie lords art #professor layton series #luke triton #hershel layton #future luke #professor layton and the unwound future #clive dove #puzzles gone wrong au #not really but it is important

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oscquinn · 1 month ago

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I DONT KNOW HOW I MISSED YOUR SLEEPOVER 😭😭😭 8 minutes until it's over in my timezone so I kindly request a royalty au with quinny (WHO HAS RETURNED!!!)

KATE I LOVE THIS TYSM FOR REQUESTING rated g prince!quinn, tailor's daughter!reader, some shy quinn, pining, pre relationship, friends to lovers :))

you knew the royals well, the benevolent king and queen were good friends of your family, and your mother served as the queen's royal tailor. you grew up around the castle, living with your parents in a small cottage by the border walls of the royal estate. your mother's workshop served as a playground for you and the young princes when their royal duties weren't too pressing.

you’d seen much less of the boys recently though, the past few weeks they’ve been busy preparing for the royal star-shower ball. every year for a few days at the end of the summer, shining streaks fell from the sky in a sparkling display of light. the royal astronomers learned the pattern of the light showers well enough to predict their dates with reasonable accuracy.

thus, the royal family hosted a ball each year on the night projected to yield the most light showers. it was a grand event, guests dressed in deep colors with sparkling accents. as your mother’s young apprentice, you were tasked with fine-tuning a suit for prince quinn. you stayed after your mother most nights, accompanied by the royal composer’s daughter, anastasia, and her fiddle.

the oldest prince steps into the workshop shyly, cool wind from the window caressing his cheek and ruffling his hair. he watches anastasia play, there’s a smile on her face, and quinn is sure the look is mirrored on your face. he imagines the supple curve of your cheek, the flutter of your eyelashes, and your plush lips. he thinks of the latter more often than he should.

“anastasia,” he says after clearing his throat. “the piano in my mother’s study has gone out of tune, would you mind tending to it?”

“of course your highness,” she says with a quick curtesy.

the prince smiles, “theres no need for formality, you may call me quinn.”

anastasia pauses, chewing her lip. “of course prince…” she trails off under quinn’s playful glare. “prince quinn.”

your friend leaves, and you turn to quinn with a puzzled look. “i thought the tuner came a few days ago? the piano shouldn’t be—“

“it’s perfectly in tune,” he admits. his cheeks are flushed a brighter pink than you were expecting, brown eyed moving nervously from your face to the suit you’re working on. “is that mine?”

your confusion is forgotten as pride swells in your chest. “it is, how do you like it? it’s a few days until the ball, if anything is wrong i’m sure i can fix it.” you busy yourself pointing out the areas that are still pinned, thin golden ruffles to be sewed along the seamlines.

“it’s perfect as it is,” quinn says with a soft smile. “i never doubted your work.”

“some princess will be very lucky to accompany you,” you tell him. “do you know who your escort will be?

you watch quinn gulp, wondering why he seems so nervous. “i have, actually. she’s from this kingdom.”

your brow furrows un confusion. “our kingdom? we don’t have any other royals, are you bringing a duchess? or maybe—“

your name falls softly from the prince’s lips, and he reaches out, taking both of your hands in his. you’re silenced by his genuine gaze, brown eyes searching your own. his fingers tremble as they grasp your own, and he manages, “would you accompany me to the star-shower ball?”

your stomach erupts with butterflies, your cheeks flushing as your lips part in surprise. “me? y-your highness, i don’t even have a dress.”

“anything you want from the shops, you’ll have it. and i’m sure your mother would be happy to sew something up for you.”

you shake your head, wanting to pull away, but quinn’s hands on your own keep you rooted close to him. “but i’m—i don’t—there’s no status to my name. would i be allowed to accompany you?”

the prince smiles at you, and you realize how boyish he looks. in this moment he isn’t the crown prince, heir to the thrown of your beloved kingdom. he’s just quinn.

“do you really think my mother cares about that?” he asks you, and you laugh in response. it was a silly fear. “but, i have asked her, and all she asked was that i get permission from your mother.”

you lift an eyebrow expectantly, silently asking for her response. quinn continues, “she told me you look beautiful in navy, and that i’d be lucky to have you.”

your heart swells in your chest as you breathe out, “oh, quinn,” before pulling him close for a hug. “i would love to go with you.”

#quinn hughes x reader #qh43 x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes au #quinn hughes fluff #maggie's musings [blurbs]#maggie's spring sleepover 🌸

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ravenrothstr · 1 year ago

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I SHOULDN'T HAVE MET MY IDOL

summary. y/n chasing her dreams of working as a graphic designer at SM to meet Jaehyun, just to find out expectations are different than reality

genre. idol! au, fluff

words count. 12.0k

disclaimer. the story is fully fictional. other names mentioned are just for the story and pure imagination, with no bad intentions

tags. @dulyrana

-- ★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ --

You have been living in Seoul for almost five years now. Well, it wasn't the best thing that ever happened in your life but when you opened the email today, every bad day just flushed down the toilet in your brain.

Congratulations! I am writing to formally offer you the job for the trainee program on Graphic Designing and Creative Media for SM Entertainment Co. We strongly believe that your skills and expertise will help our company to reach great heights...

You read it twice, thrice, quadruple, quintuple and millions of times. It is just too good to be true. Tears stung your eyes like shards of glass, slowly recalling the hardships you had gone through throughout the journey.

It was cold when you finally left to finish your work on a Friday night during her first job in Seoul as an intern at a small firm. You looked at the phone to check the temperature immediately regretting how thin she dressed that day.

-11

The cold wash over your skin repeatedly as you freeze in front of the company. You threw your arms around yourself to hug, hoping to feel warmer. Just then, you heard footsteps approaching out of the company door in which you immediately recognised the person. It was your supervisor and head boss. You quickly gave them a warm smile and a gentle bow, although you were unfamiliar with that culture.

"Hello", you greeted. The head boss just grinned at you as he replied in Korean which made you struggle to understand but lucky enough to have your supervisor translating it for him.

"He's asking if you wanna join for a drink"

"Oh sorry, I can't drink"

"Ah it's okay, I'll let him know", just then the supervisor translated it to the head boss but a different meaning.

"Sir, she's not going. She's not like us", leaving a remark.

You definitely understood that, you managed to learn some Korean before she came here. The head boss gave you a side eye, looking down at you as he scoffs and heads off with the supervisor. You stared blankly towards their direction, hearing the supervisor continue to speak to the head boss. With the knowledge of the Korean language you knew, you mixed the puzzle of words to understand why the supervisor was complaining about you.

The supervisor had the right to complain, though, you thought.

You messed up big time that day. You had the design wrong again this time because you misunderstood the client during the meeting. It was hard for you to catch what they were talking about, every word seemed too fast for you and no one bothered to help or clear it out. By the time, the supervisor presented the new design, they were too furious. You had to remake the design repeatedly for the client until they were satisfied. They suffered a lot that day.

The emotions caught you as she looked down at the ground that is now turning into white snow. You dragged your feet to the studio she lived in, making your way to the bed. Thinking to yourself.

Have I made the right choice to come here?

This thought came up again when you was working as an assistant graphic designer at another firm when you witnessed the design that you spent sleepless nights on it to not be selected for the presentation. Your coworker, who had the simplest design, smiled widely when they presented hers in front of the client.

The unfairness killed your confidence as you grew smaller and smaller in the community. Sinking in the pile of majorities. With you timid attitude, it makes it easier to bully her at work. You did most of the editing, the hard ones, and the complicated ones and you never complained. Because deep down, you knew this work was what put the food on the table.

You closes the lights at the desk, making your way out of the office. You were again the last person to leave the office. Lifting up your face, you saw the snow falling to the ground. Significating another year's end. You took out the earphones you plucked them into your phone and brought it to your ear. Looking at your recent playlist, you picked a song for your walk back home.

Timeless - NCT U

You start walking back home as the song starts, it reminds you why you came here in the first place. It was no surprise to anyone that you would be moving to Korea since you were very influenced by the Korean industry ever since you were in high school. You loved everything about it.

Food. Music. Drama. Outfits and of course.

Idols.

Throughout the years, you stan a lot of groups but never beats NCT. It was everything to you. Your happiness, comfort, sadness. You named it. Nothing cures you more than them, same goes for other fans out there, you feel connected with them. Despite of being very immersed in fangirling, you is too just an average girl out there living her life.

“You really think I can have my internship in Seoul?”, you questioned your friend sitting in front of you.

"Of course, a lot of our seniors did it. You can apply for that program since you like kpop so much, you should go"

You shrugged your shoulders, even if you wanted to your confidence wasn't thick enough for you to crush all the obstacles you imagined and your friend was quick to notice that.

"Come on, y/n. You'll have fun there, and who knows you might meet Jaehyun. He's your bias right?", you smirked at her comment.

"He's everyone's bias. Besides that's too impossible to happen. You know fans and idols are separated by reality"

"And you know fans are dreamers, and you can't go into reality without waking up"

You didn't say anything. It was true that meeting up and being close to your bias is very delusional but as a fan who dreams for it to become true, you hold onto something called hope.

This memory was definitely a core reason for your hope to work somewhere near Jaehyun. The greatest thing about it is that you really loves your job and you love kpops. Therefore, you always find yourself pushing through the hardships of living there alone.

You stretched your neck from side to side as you relieved your tiredness from your work. It has been almost three months since you worked at SM as a trainee, and you like working there. Most of your colleagues treated you nicely, not to mention the bossy seniors but overall it was alright. However, it does dishearten the fact you haven't met any idol yet. You were starting to believe that trainees don't get any opportunities to meet any idols. Just then, you heard someone tap your shoulder softly. It was no surprise to you this time when you saw a familiar figure standing behind you. Your face immediately lifted up a smile.

It was your trainee partner, Beom Seok.

"Meet me at the pantry", he mouthed. You nodded as you headed to the pantry after him.

"Are you still working on the mood board for the new group debut concept?", Beom Seok asked leaning his back on the countertop and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah, you know how fussy Daeun can be", rolling your eyes back as you stir your coffee next to Beom Seok.

He smiled.

"It's amazing, isn't it? You get involved in concept ideas for the new debut as if they are letting us decide what's the new trend-"

"Or our supervisor is just not that up to date with the latest edit trend of Photoshop so she's asking her little minions to explore it for her"

"Well, if you see it in that light. I can't stop you from being a pessimist, just like how you can't stop me from looking at how great you are"

You chuckled, Beom Seok is definitely a 'words of affirmation person' and he has a lot to share with you. The days go on as you continue editing your work, reconsulting it and repeating. She looked around the office to see who was still available. She felt relief when she saw Daeun and Beom Seok at their table. It was really a hectic week for them.

They decided to call it a day not long after, Daeun offered them to have dinner together saying she had to get rid of some nervousness for a crucial presentation but Beom Seok politely declined as he headed home straight away. Although you couldn't drink, you figured it wouldn't hurt to accompany Daeun. Besides, it was going to be at her apartment so you didn't have to send anyone home or worry about how to get back.

Your eyes widen when you enter Daeun's apartment. It was so white-coded, with the minimalist interior it makes the place warmer. Daeun opened her coat and tossed her keys at the table. Your eyes were scanning the room when you caught on something to your liking.

Regular-Irregular

"Unnie, I didn't know you liked NCT 127"

"Oh that?," Daeun responded while setting up the table.

"I was involved in their comebacks a few times before. Also, for the upcoming next year", she continues. "Tomorrow's presentation is about their comeback. It might be a bit tense even if they approved the concept",

You could only nod to her statement, not ignoring the jealousy you felt inside. In fact, you did come here with the hope of getting close to Jaehyun. Daeun showed you the ring book about their concept as your eyes read the title.

2 Baddies.

Daeun continued to show and explain to you about the concept, with the thought of her practising for tomorrow. You were all ears for it. With the cars and race suits, they're definitely gonna look amazing. As time passed by, Daeun took a sip from the glass. It was the fifth bottle of soju. Your eyes pulled closed at separate times as they fought to stay awake, the sleepiness was getting into you.

You squeezed your eyes shut due to the tiredness. The next thing you knew you were witnessing the sunlight rays through the sliding door across Daeun's living room. Your body shoots upright in the chair as your mind tries to deny the reality the sun is up.

"Daeun, you have to wake up or we will be late for work", you aggressively shake Daeun, hoping you shake her off from the drunkness.

But it was no use, she was still completely wasted from last night.

"Unnie you have a presentation today, get yourself together!"

Daeun begins to groan as she tosses and turns her body around. She was clearly not ready to go to work. You grumble in frustration.

"Daeun, I'll get going first. I am so sorry", you apologise. You quickly made your way out of Daeun's apartment and you headed to your house at the speed of light. Luckily, your apartment wasn't that far from Daeun's.

The clock on the wall of your office was showing you 15 minutes late. Your heart started pumping with the calves burning, breath forming clouds in the air from your face. Your feet fly over stones and leaves. The clock on the wall of your office was showing you 30 minutes late. when you entered. You tried your best to look calm in front of the others as you made yourself comfortable at your desk.

"Are you okay?", Beom Seok mouthed from his desk, next to you.

You just gave him a small nod and started to work as usual.

Daeun was nowhere to be found when they began to search her for the presentation. The voice of your senior teammate's roses as they called decline again. The clock struck near to 2pm, and the team got more and more restless of Daeun missing in action. You and Beom Seok kept your head low, trying your best not to get involve in this matter.

You secretly prayed for Daeun's appearance. You would be in great trouble if they knew you were with her last night. Just then, you heard one of your senior teammates answered a call.

"Daeun, where the fuck are you?!"

Your shoulders pulled back to the chair, letting out a long relief when you thought Daeun coming to the office anytime soon.

"What do you mean you're not coming? Did you drink last night?!", the senior scolded.

You could the shivers under your skin, making you turning into white. Daeun has always been a pain in the ass to the team but you didn't expect her to bail out on work last minute just like this. You tried your best to ignore the conversation and remind yourself it wasn't your fault for Daeun's action but you couldn't help when you heard the senior mentioning your name.

"You passing y/n to present because she revised the presentation with you?", the senior turned her head towards your direction.

Blood drains from your skin, and your entire body becomes impossibly still. There was no way they were letting you do the presentation just because your drunk supervisor said so.

Just before you can protest, you find yourself standing in front of the door meeting room with your other seniors rehearsing the presentation with them. They make sure to tell you all the ethics of the meeting and also remind you that the meeting will be recorded for their content.

"And also, there will be the members in the room so don't go throw yourself at them. Remember you are the concept creator and you must stay professional"

The comment made you stand rigid with terror, too overwhelmed to move. You're not ready for this, not in this way. But if you told your seniors now you couldn't do it, you felt like you were passing the burden instead of lifting it up for them. It's indeed your job and you are here for that.

You entered the room with your seniors and other teams. You assume they were all working together too for this comeback. The more you scan the room, the more nervous you get. NCT was definitely there at the end of the room with all cameras directing to them. What's happening was so surreal to you but you kept yourself composed as you focused on the meeting.

The presentation went well for you, although most of the time you were just filling it with compliments on how the members would look great with the concept because you had no idea what the presentation's content was. As soon as the director gave the cut queue, everyone started bowing at each other. The sight of NCT approaching you caught your eye and you immediately went into panic mode, making sure of a good impression.

You gave a smile and quick bow as soon you made eye contact with Jaehyun, the first member approached you. Feeling the butterflies in your stomach and your heart fluttering. Luckily he replied with the same smile before he spoke.

"Are you new here?"

"Yeah, but I'm just here to give the presentation on behalf of Daeun sunbaenim"

"Ah I see, I wonder too where was she"

He knew Daeun?, you scoff at the thought in your head as Johnny gets in your view.

"Well, hope to see you around. It was nice meeting you"

You again smiled uncontrollably at those words as you brought it to the dinner table with Beom Seok.

"I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE I NOT ONLY SAW THEM IN FRONT OF ME! THEY WERE CONVERSING WITH ME!", you said excitedly at Beom Seok. He only continued to grill the meat for you, just before you could continue fangirling Beom Seok raised his voice at the owner of the restaurant.

이모, 소주 주세요

"One bottle of soju, please". You took a hint he might be having a hard time at work today.

"Feel like drinking today? Should I invite Daeun?" you try to lift up the mood.

"No, it's okay. Just wanna have a drink with you"

"Beom Seok, let's get you home. You are really drunk now", tapping gently at his shoulder who's now putting his face down at the dinner table with a hand on the soju glass.

“You’re being… ridicu-lush… ’m not that drunk…”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Beom Seok was totally wasted too at the other end of the table. And here you are, struggling with how to get him home after paying for the meal.

"Beom Seok, we need to get you home now", you said, trying your best to lift him up. Just as you made it to the door with Beom Seok, you caught into a familiar person covered in long black coat.

Oh my god

"Oh, it's you again", said Jaehyun.

"Hi-"

"This is really bad timing actually", you tried to laugh off the embarrassment.

"Are you okay? Do you need help?"

"Actually yes, he's quite heavy"

Is it really Jeong Jaehyun helping me?

He took Beom Seok's arm from you and continued to carry him.

"So do you know where he lives?"

"I- I don't actually too", Jaehyun laughed, clearly you guys weren't that close yet. Nor friends with benefits.

"We can take him to my apartment first, then we can search for his address"

"WHAT?! I don't think we are allowed to do that. Besides, if you know me, I should be the last per-"

"You're a fan, aren't you?"

The question caught you off guard, you could only stare blankly at him before Beom Seok's sudden nausea hit you back to reality. Seems like bringing him to Jaehyun's apartment was a good option.

You tried a few times to unlock Beom Seok's phone, while Jaehyun went out of the room to take off his coat. It took longer than you expected to unlock his phone. Apparently, the fingerprint or face ID wasn't working and now you had to figure out the passcode.

"Hurry up what's your passcode", you clench your hands in frustration, wanting to throw the phone away.

You closed your eyes, letting you a long sigh. This was one of the reasons you hate the idea of drinking. It brings you back to your childhood.

The image of your alcoholic father drunk on the sofa flashes before your eyes when you peck through the door of your room. Again today, he came in with another woman wrapped around his arms.

"Mom, are you done at the restaurant?". you said as soon as your mom picked up the call.

"I'm sorry dear, we're almost done. We're just closing, I'll be back soon I promise"

She said that every time.

And every time you called, you hoped for her to enter the house to witness this messy affair herself. Little did you know, the day your mom found out about the affair was the last day you ever saw your mother. If you knew she couldn't handle the news, you would have brought the affairs to grave. She must been having a tough time with her life.

"Hey, are you okay?", Jaehyun gently placed his palm on your shoulder, bringing you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm just really tired"

"That's okay. You really should spend the night here-"

"NO", you quickly protest.

"I'm sorry, we should leave. I think his wallet is here somewhere and we can get a taxi from her-"

"I think it'll cause more trouble if you leave my apartment at night. I saw some sasaeng on our way back here"

You felt bad, this is your first time encountering your bias and you have caused much trouble for him. Seeing how persistent Jaehyun were, you decided to stay. Besides, he really didn't seem uncomfortable leaving the house at the moment after mentioning the sasaeng.

You opened your iPad as you made yourself comfortable on the sofa and started studying the repackage concept after the upcoming comeback for 127. Thanks to the impromptu presentation, you have the slides for the next comeback. You were focused on studying when suddenly Jaehyun went to you with a pair of white tshirt and a plaid sleep pants.

“Here, you can change into these if you want too and it’s okay too if your not comfortable doing so”

“Thanks, I’ll just stay in this outfit for a bit until I finish studying”

He smiled at you at your gesture, looking at how immerse you are at your job.

“So what are you studying?”, he asked as he sits besides you at the carpet.

“Well, from what i know this is the repackage concept for your comeback. You wanna have look?”

“Yeah, sure. Gotta make sure I look good in it”, he jokes.

You laughed at his actions. The night continues with both of you sharing experiences with each other, you share your concert experiences and how you ended up in Seoul while he shares TMI during their trainee's day. Both of you shared the warmth of the conversation together that cold night.

Later that morning, you left the apartment with Beom Suk once he was sober enough to walk. You made sure to thank Jaehyun for the night before you left.

—

As another Monday comes in, another chaos comes around. You and Beom Suk sat quietly at your desk, listening to the argument between Daeun and the rest of the team. Apparently, SM decided to sack off Daeun due to her inappropriate attitude lately.

It's been weeks since the Daeun incident. With no supervisor around, you and Beom Suk had little task to do and seems like everyone was just too busy for you guys. You question how the system and organisation really works. Regardless, you still try your best every day.

You sat in front of Beom Suk at the lunch table, your appetite was long gone along with your motivation. Beom Suk lets a sigh as he looks at you playing with your food. He saw 127 members entering the cafeteria. He thought it might be a good chance to lift up your mood, knowing how much you like them.

"Y/n, look it's 127", Beom Suk shakes your little hand, making you turn towards them.

"What's the use of that? Our work is not even close to that. We are to be sacked off too like Daeun unnie"

Beom Suk answered nothing, as both of you returned to your lunch quietly. Just as you entered the lift together with Beom Suk, you met the senior who was with you during the presentation.

"y/n it's been a while", she said, smiling at you.

"Hi, it's nice to see you too. This is my coworker, Beom Suk"

She exchanges bows with Beom Suk.

"I heard about Daeun resigning, it must have been a tough position for both of you"

"Yes, it is, do call us if there's any work we can help you with", you answered politely.

"Actually, we do have some work if you like. Do you have some time?"

You give it a look to Beom Suk, unsure if it's a good idea for both of you to jump at another team's work but you figured out Daeun used to be a part of another team as well and you guys had extra lunchtime so you decided to stop by. They showed you around with the NCT team, the album photo shoot, the fashion line and the choreography for the upcoming tour. It never fails to make you feel more proud of them.

Once the lunch hour was over, you and Beom Suk made your way back to your office floor and of course, you could not stop talking about how much you liked the concept and you had already imagined the fans (you) would react. His tender smile naturally reflected his genuine feelings, he was happy for her.

"But don't you think the youngest fashion designer looks familiar to you?", you asked Beom Suk.

"Well, I really couldn't tell. There were too many people back there"

Your mind went puzzled, you were so sure you'd made some of them somewhere but none of your memories rang the bells. You shook the thought off when the lift indicates the office floor.

"You think this colour suits him more?", Yun Hee asked.

"Hm yeah, Johny really suits any colour though but black does matches his hair"

"If then, let's go with shirtless! We can add more accessories", you were stunned.

"Suit yourself"

You have been visting 127's team lately with Beom Suk, the team also love that you were there often. They really appreciate your idea. You were there again with Beom Suk during their album photoshoot, lucky you, your design team allowed you and Beom Suk since there were not much work for you guys for the time being.

As you entered the room with Beom Suk, you can see the car in the middle of the set, covered with white wall around. When Yun Hee and the rest of the styling team entered the room, you knew the members was ready for the shoot.

"I think they look great!", Yun Hee whispered to your ear as she dash next you and Beom Suk.

You turn over your sight towards the members entering the room after Yun Hee.

You froze with your muscles locked in a momentary paralysis, surprise with the visual in front of your eyes. You felt your inner fangirl could scream any moment now, just like when they first appear at any concerts.

"Hey, didn't expect you here", Jaehyun said when he pass by you.

He was the last member to enter the room. It quickily snap you back to reality. Reminding you are here as a stuff at SM.

You were unable to think, you wanted to answer him perfectly that you eventually missed the chance. You just replied to him with a smile, as he made his way to the set.

The photoshoot went smoothly, you observe how they started editing the pictures as they also started shooting for the individual photoshoot.

Jaehyun started talking to you now and then whenever he was free, you were glad he did not ignore you completely after the incident at his apartment yet you can't help noticing youngest member of the fashion line had been eyeing you and Jaehyun all day. It definitely felt weird, more like she was stalking you.

"Are you feeling uncomfortable?", Jaehyun asked, he was quick to notice the situation.

"I am a bit uncomfortable actually, maybe it's because of the cameras", you lied.

"It's okay, just ignore them. You'll get used to it soon"

"You're saying it like I'm the one who is an idol", you joke.

"Well, if I would want to talk to you again, would it be in a situation like this too?"

Your mind went puzzled again.

"Do you mean you wanna talk to me more often?"

"Yeah, I would like to. It's nice to have a conversation like this once in a while"

A soft smile played on his lips, you stared at the in front of you. It cannot be more perfect.

You pushed the thoughts aside when they call Jaehyun for the individual shoot and offered you and Beom Suk to edit the photocards for the album, which both of you gladly took the job.

“Y/N?”

You heard someone calling you as you step out of the company, finally ending the day. It took you by surprise that it was the one was who calling you was the familiar fashion designer you talk about to Beom Suk the other day.

“Hi. I am Rose, I haven’t formally introduced myself to you”, she reach out her hand to you.

“Hi, odd to meet you here. Can i help you with anything?”

“No no”, she quickly cleared the assumption before continuing.

“I just wanted to invite you to dinner, since now we are on the same team”

She sounded very uncanny, but she was indeed really kind to the rest of the team and you wanted to get to know her more so you accept her invitation to dinner. It took you by surprise on how ordinarythe dinner was. Both of you exchanged stories and really had nice conversations.

“Are you 127 fan, y/n?”

“Yes, I am a fan. Although I do love my job as a graphic designer at SM, I won’t lie working with your bias is a good motivation”

“Is Jaehyun your bias? I saw you talking to him on the set today”

“He is, I’ve been a fan since-“

“Is that’s why you go to his apartment the other day?”, she confronted you.

That’s when it hits you. Rose was one of the sasaengs that waited outside Jaehyun’s apartment. Suddenly, everything makes senses to you.

Her gazed immediately changed when her intention was out. It creeps you out the fact she is working for the 127 inside the company. Having a lot of access and information about the members.

“You misunderstood the situation, Rose. It’s nothing like you imagined”

“I know it’s not like that, we know”, giving insight to you that she’s not the only one.

“I have an offer to make. How about you tell me about Jaehyun or what’s is in his apartment and we pay you and release a insight he is dating someone like you?”

You could not believe what Rose was doing. Of course it would be flattering that Jaehyun had a scandal with you but being paid for being in a scandal while you know it’s less that true is really beneath you. You felt insulted.

“I am not interested in selling Jaehyun’s name or to be in your dirty game, Rose. You know this is against the company and idols policy”

“We’re never know, y/n. I can already imagine how heartbreaking it is for you when Jaehyun reveals his true colours”

You remain silents. It is true idols are products of how the company have groom them to be and it will be devastating to know that they might not be the same as what you had pictured them. But you can’t let Rose get into your head, Jaehyun deserve to live as much as you do.

“Nice dinner with you, Rose”, you stood up from the table and leaving some cash enough to pay your portion of the dinner.

“You can always find my number in the group chat, y/n”

“Your just selfish because you couldn’t have your bias to yourself”, your turn your back to Rose, storming out of the restaurant.

—

Not long after, you and Beom Suk joined 127 team. Your previous team had a great conflict on the new upcoming team, where they are considering taking out some members of NCT. The conflict worsen day after day until they decided to discontinue the team for the time being. As a fan, you felt bad you couldn’t defend the members. The best you could do now is wait for the company to decide and give out an official statement before you and Beom Suk could continue your original work.

Today, you focus on editing the cover of the album. It’s due by the end of the week. The nearer the comeback date, the more workload you have. It gives you a lot of pressure, it’s the first time you handle editing for a comeback. You wanted to excel your work, especially for NCT.

Looking at the clock that strikes 10 p.m, you decide to wrap up your work. You search for Yun Hee, hoping she’s still around but she was nowhere to be found at her desk. So you thought she might be with the members for some measurements or final fitting.

You press the button to the practise room floor, you’ve been there a few times with Beom Suk when both of you worked on the content editing during the time both of you were waiting your own desk. Those moments definitely became core memories for you.

—

“Let’s have dinner together, y/n”, Johnny said to you, who was focusing on the editing.

“Pardon?”

“I said, let’s have dinner together. Everyone here is going. It’s hyung’s treat”, he grinned at the choreographer.

During that time, the incident with Rose was pretty recent so you thought it’s better for you to avoid being with them too much. Being at the practise room frequent was good enough for Rose to follow you around.

“I’ll have to rain check this one. I’m really sorry”

“Are you skipping dinner? Again?”, Beom Suk asked worriedly.

“No, it’s just that I really have to finish this editing so-“

“Y/n, it’s we have to finish this editing. Come on, I’ll help you out later”

“That’s not it, Beom Suk”

“Then why are you not going?”

Johnny quietly witnessed the situation, he too wanted to know why you have been skipping a lot of their invitations. At the corner of your eye, you can see Jaehyun was there too waiting for your answer.

It was hard for you to explain, you should told them about the sasaeng situation in the first place so that it won’t be complicated for you. You held back screams of frustration. Deep inside you felt mad at Rose for making you feel obligated to her, at the same time you were disappointed in yourself for being scared of her. It took a while for you to process your thoughts when you finally made the decision.

"You know what? Let's go", you said, closing the laptop in front of you.

Johnny and Jaehyun begin to grin ear to ear at your decision. On your way out of the building, the choreographer starts to counsel you on how you shouldn't stress out and give yourself a little fun along your career until all of you make it into the lift.

"Hyung, I think she gets it already", Jaehyun placed his hand on the choreographer's shoulder.

He certainly has saved you in that situation. You peek over your shoulders at Jaehyun. In moments of bliss, both lips curved into matching smiles.

All of you headed to the restaurant, and you tried your best to not walk closely or look too friendly to the members. You walked at the back of them, looking at the ground figuring out how things around.

"Y/N", you heard.

You immediately lifted up your head.

"Yes, Jaehyun. Is there something wrong?", you were concerned and he let out a chuckled at your action.

"I think I should be the one asking. You seem uncomfortable again"

"There's so much going on right now with the comeback", you tried not to spill out about Rose to him.

"Is everything okay? You know you can talk to me if you want to"

And that statement itself made you flutter, you smiled uncontrollably. Although you tried your best to hide it, it was pretty visible to Jaehyun. He couldn’t help but smile at you.

"I haven't sorted out my mind on this stuff that I'm not okay with, but I really should warn you to be careful with the people around you"

At the end of the day, you wanted Jaehyun to be happy and live comfortably just like a normal person except that you regretted saying that when his soft expression turned immediately to anger and worry.

"Has anyone been hurting you? You were blackmailed?", this was the first time you saw this side of Jaehyun and you wished it was your last.

"No, no Jaehyun. I'm fine. It's just I've been watching a few sasaeng fans videos during my work and it worries me that it's might be you going through"

Jaehyun came back to his normal state as you too tried your best to calm down.

“So your saying you want me to be careful of people around me?”

“Yes”

“Have you seen anyone suspicious around me?”

“Yes”, you spoke honestly, making an eye contact with him. He stared at your eyes, both of you stayed at that position for a while.

“Okay. I was about to tell you not to worry so much about things around and enjoy your times with us. Why don’t you help to keep an eye for me since I don’t know how is the suspicious person-“

You felt bad, you should’ve be the whistleblower and tell the company about Rose.

“And in exchange, I’ll spend more time with you”, Jaehyun continued.

“You mean more conversations? Because that’s the only thing we do”, you giggled.

“Yeah that would do, i can be your listener if you want someone to talk too. Plus, I like hearing you speak”

“Thanks, Jaehyun. I really look forward to that”, both of you smiled at your shared secret, making your way to restaurant to enjoy the rest of the night.

—

Once the elevator stops at your floor, you went straight ahead to the practise room area. You took a peek at the door, making sure it’s 127’s room before entering. You saw Yun Hee at the corner of the room measuring Yuta while the other members were practicing.

“Is everything okay?”, you asked, looking at how intense Yun Hee is.

“Apparently someone lose the measurements for the concert outfits, now we have to measure it all again”, she was so focus she couldn’t bother lifting up her face to you. You understood her actions.

“Was it you, Yun Hee?”

“Of course not. Do you think I take my job lightly?”

You were stunned at the sudden burst, Yun Hee was at her peck moment. Luckily Yuta was quick to address her.

“I don’t think she meant that way, Yun Hee”, he explained.

“It wasn’t her and I’m sure of it. The person who has been measuring us the same person all the time. It’s not Yun Hee”

“If she’s measuring it all the time, doesn’t mean she can use the previous measurements?”

“She doesn’t have all those, she’s new. I assume she lost the whole book or just didn’t bother to keep it”, Yun Hee spoke.

While you try to understand the situation, you heard the door swing open, followed with the sound of small steps close enough to tell they were running.

“There you are. You should be here the moment you lost the book”, Yun Hee said to Rose.

You didn’t like what was happening. Instead of helping Yun Hee, you questioned more Rose intention. Did she really lost the book or she’s just trying to get on people’s nerves? Yun Hee started scolding her, as you can Yun Hee has been in deep stress lately. The members are stop their practise and slowly approaching them.

It made you realise Rose really wanted to be noticed by the members. Regardless whatever it takes.

“Yun Hee let’s not do this here, you need to focus on what to do next”, you quickly reminded her before it gets worse.

Yun Hee looked at you sternly, as she let out a long sigh and looked at the ground.

“I’ll help you. We can get this done by tonight, I’ll call for Beom Suk. He’s always here”, you continued.

“No, we can’t. The members really need to rest tonight. We can’t drag any more time”

“It’s okay, Yun Hee. Yun Hee right, your name?”, Johnny asked.

“You can measure us quickly now, only we’re a bit sweaty now. Sorry about that. Here, measure me now”, he pick up the measuring tape and pass it to Rose.

Yun Hee smiled a little, she was glad to see people are willing to help. You softly put your hand at her shoulder.

“I’ll help too, okay?”, picking up another measuring tape.

Although you are not sure of what to do, but it won’t hurt to help. Jaehyun approach you while you were trying to figure out how and what to measure.

“Please measure me, miss”, he said, opening his arms straight to the side. Indicating he was ready, you laughed at him and played along.

“Okay sir. Please note this is my first time, I might need to measure you a few times”

“As you please, madame.”

You and Jaehyun had fun as you two played around when you measured him. Of course the other could see how the both of you enjoying each other’s company, so they let the two of you have sometime together.

“Y/N, can I check the measurements?”, Rose interrupt the laughter.

“Yeah sure, here is it. Is it okay?”

“Well, apparently there’s a lot weird measurements here. I think I need to remeasure him.”

She immediately took the tape and start to measure Jaehyun, pushing you slightly. Jaehyun didn’t like what he was witnessing, he reluctantly gave Rose a glare. Her intentions were clear to you, but you did not want to make things anymore complicated so you start help measuring other members.

The night was late after all of you finished with the measurements and as to make up to it, all of them decided to have some drinks that night.

You were about to make your way out of the studio along with other, when Jaehyun gently pulled your wrist.

“Hey, let’s walk together. To make up with the wrong measurements”, he trying to taste the water making sure your okay.

“Sure.”

The group disper off in their own direction heading towards home after the drink. Some of them were really drunk, unlike you. You're glad Beom Suk was there to make sure they didn't ask you much about why you weren't drinking.

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you home?", Beom Suk asked.

"Looking at your stand, I'll be the one walking you home. Thanks for offering anyway."

Beom Suk smiled at you as he waved at you before heading towards the opposite direction. Just then, Jaehyun ran out of the bar after you.

"Do you care for some midnight walks?"

Under the cloak of night, the Han River becomes a place of quiet contemplation. The rhythmic hum of traffic fades into the background, replaced by the soothing melody of crickets and the occasional splash of a fish breaking the surface. The city skyline twinkles like a jewel in the darkness and there was you and Jaehyun.

In the dark night, he sure shines bright to you.

You thanked all your bad days that led to this moment shared with him. Both of you stop at the fence of the river, looking down at the gentle waves of the river.

"Have you protected me today?", he broke the silence.

"I have", you said proudly, and he was glad.

"Funny how some of us come here, feeling depressed while some come here, feeling content", you continued.

"So how do you feel?"

"Healed."

He admired how you were able to feel content and appreciate the days, even when they were tiring or difficult. The more he got to know you, the more he could appreciate his own days.

"You are truly the strongest person I know, y/n," sliding his gaze slightly towards you as you did the same.

"I have great motivation here", you said smirking.

"What's your motivation?"

"NCT"

Both of you laughed at the answer. It felt a bit awkward for you to say it in front of a member, maybe because you never had to chance to join any fan meet or win a fan call event. Even though, saying it through fan meet and fan call would definitely be less embarrassing.

"I admire how fans have us as motivation and their pillar strength, making tough times easier. I envy that sometimes", he opened up to you and you listened to him dearly.

"What will shine the brightest to you will definitely come to you during the darkness. You'll find your light, trust me. You're my light!"

Jaehyun felt pleased listening to you. The night ended with you and Jaehyun walking down the street heading home to rest, filled with laughs and giggles along the way.

"I wish we could do this every night, it will heal me", you joke.

"Then let's do it."

Their gazes locked, and time seemed to pause, an eternity encapsulated within a fleeting moment following Jaehyun's heartfelt statement.

You contemplated what to answer him, and in that moment of uncertainty, you simply bid your goodbyes and headed your way, leaving him alone on the street, pondering the depth of your interaction.

“You looked really tired. Do you want to take a day off? I can help you out with the works”, Beom Suk looked at you worriedly.

“No, I’m really okay”

“Do you perhaps still hangover from last night?”, Yun Hee asked.

“No, Y/N don’t drink.”

“Thank you for remembering”, you grinned at Beom Suk.

As the members and rest of team entered the meeting room before they start the short briefing for the comeback and schedules. There will be a tour this time, it will be more work for the team and the members yet you can see how all of them were happy for this opportunity. It has been a while since they had a tour, looking at how much work they will be doing later really shows you how much NCT has grown.

“And that is all”, said the team leader, indicating the end of the meeting.

“Oh and the graphic team, don’t forget to submit the album for printing”, he quickly added.

You and Beom Suk nodded.

The editing team was chaotic that evening. The deadline for the album printing is today, and all of you gave out your last 100% for this.

“Please make sure you check the folder before sending”, the team leader reminded you and Beom Suk.

Both of you struggled with saving and making sure none of the graphic are pixelated. After so much trouble, you check one last time on the folder and clicked send.

“We did it”, Beom Suk reached out his hand for a high five to you as you replied it.

You sank your weak body into the chair, ready to end the day at the office.

The comeback happens smoother than you could have imagined. Everyone's spirits were high, eagerly anticipating the tour and embracing their new schedules with enthusiasm. Your friendship with Jaehyun continued to progress, deepening over time. Well, you didn’t go to Han River every night, but you and Jaehyun find time for each other perfectly. Moreover, you found yourself gradually overcoming your anxiety about Rose. Nothing could go wrong, you thought, as you filled your heart with each passing day.

You were making your way at the bar with Jaehyun, laughing on today’s inside jokes together. As you approach the red tent, Jaehyun automatically rise his hand lifting up the tent for you.

“Ladies first”

“Thank you”, you replied.

It took a while for you to search for the rest of the team and members. Most of the tables were taken by the time you reached. Although in the mid of your search, Jaehyun froze when he noticed Daeun at the table with the rest of them.

“Y/N, Jaehyun, over here!”, they called for you.

The rest of dinner was delight for you, it has been a longtime since the last time you met Daeun. You excitedly told her how well the concept is been going for the team that you. However, you couldn’t help but noticing how Daeun has been exchanging and taking glances at Jaehyun who was beside you at the table throughout the night.

It did made you feel uncomfortable, it felt like you were holding Jaehyun back from something so you decided to go out of the tent for a while with faking that you wanted some fresh air from the smell of alcohol and Daeun did seize the opportunity to approach Jaehyun.

Through the tent, you can see Daeun absolutely hit it off with Jaehyun.

“They really look good together”, Johnny said, taking you by surprise. He went out for smoke when he saw you peaking on them.

Only god knows how much you wanted to scream “NO!” on top of lungs to Johnny’s question. But again, you’ll suffer more living in this imaginary world of yours.

“Yes”, you answered. “They would be a perfect couple.”

Daeun comes over to talk to you when you return to the bar, but is only met with awkward conversation instead of the same boisterous talks you had. You wanted to blame it so much on Johnny’s statement that melded in your mind but deeply you know you was just upset if wasn’t you.

You would be lying if you say you didn’t cry yourself to bed that night.

“At least it’s sends me to sleep”, you thought to yourself when you woke up with puffed eyes the next morning.

Regardless it didn’t stop you from work. With those eyes, you sat on your desk the next morning and continue editing. Shallowing all the pain and heartache you felt last night.

—

The atmosphere among the office workers is tense and fraught with unease as you arrive at the desk that day. Beom Suk and the other colleagues are frantically searching through files or documents, while the team leader is furiously typing emails and making urgent phone calls. Your emotions run high, with feelings of anxiety and perhaps even panic palpable in the air. You aren't sure what's going on in the office.

"Yes, we are very sorry. We will address and amend the cover straight away," you hear the team leader say on the phone.

Your eyes widen in alarm. It was you who emailed the cover for printing. Just then, the team leader calls her out to the meeting room and scolds you about the mistake on the cover. Apparently, SM had printed out the album and released it. Soon, the fans noticed Doyoung was not on the cover, and the situation went viral on the internet.

As hard as it is for you to brush off the emotions, you begin going through the files again and resending the correct folder for printing. Despite the lingering anxiety, you focus on rectifying the mistake and ensuring that the issue is promptly resolved. Once the situation is handled and the correct files are sent, you step out of the office to take a moment to calm down. You sat on the bench on the terrace alone with your coffee when a familiar figure came next to you.

"Hey", said Beom Suk, you felt calm again.

"Can I cry now?", Beom Suk immediately taps on his shoulder and shoves it slightly towards you, ensuring you he'll be there for you.

It made you smile, even with tears rolling down your cheeks. You lean on towards him, putting your head on his shoulders.

"Beom Suk, I have something to tell you"

"What is it?"

"I didn't send the wrong file"

“What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard what had been said.

"I checked the files before sending, in fact, Doyoung was the last person I edited so I remember it clearly," you explain, trying to ease his confusion.

"I'm not sure how, but the email was sent twice, and the second one wasn't from me," you add, feeling a pang of frustration at the situation.

"Well, do you know who it is? You should really clear out your name," he says, his tone edged with frustration as he tries to stand up from the bench, ready to confront whoever is responsible. But you quickly reach out and hold his arm, stopping him.

"It's okay, you'll find out who it is later. Let's just stay like this for a while," you say softly, wanting to diffuse the tension and find solace in each other's company amidst the chaos.

That night, the members invited you out for a drink again. However, halfway through the evening, you begin to feel uneasy about being with them at the moment. You decide to personally apologize to Doyoung for the mistake. Thankfully, he forgives you and offers you some comfort, reassuring you that he didn't take it personally and urging you not to worry about it.

Grateful for his understanding, you thank him sincerely before excusing yourself from the bar. Despite their invitations, you feel the need to retreat and process your emotions in solitude, hoping to find clarity and peace of mind away from the distractions of the night.

At times like this, you can't help but feeling sad, wishing you could stroll along the peaceful Han River with Jaehyun by your side. But ever since that night with Daeun, your once-close friendship with Jaehyun has faded, The silence between you weighs heavily on your heart, leaving you feeling lonely. Despite longing for his company, the unspoken tension makes it difficult to bridge the gap between you two.

“Where have you been? Aren’t you supposed to protect me?”, Jaehyun smirked.

“Oh sorry, Jaehyun. Things got messed up again”

“Great, I like messes!”

You laughed.

“No, you don’t”

“I do, come on tell me what’s going on. You left the bar alone again last night”

The image of Jaehyun hanging around with Daeun flashes back in your mind. It was almost like your still at the bar.

“Nothing that big nor about the comeback, so don’t worry”, you continue to march on with your arms crossed, hoping Jaehyun would scoff off any minute but he caught you arm holding you back.

“Y/N, do you not want to talk to me anymore?”, he looked serious.

“Not today, I’m sorry”, as you push his hands away from you and walk off.

As you expected, he didn't try to stop you from leaving. You glance back at Jaehyun as he walks away, feeling regret. You realise you've become used to getting what you want lately, and now you're feeling greedy for his company.

You forget your thoughts as you see Rose passing by the corridor. Without hesitation, you march towards her and quickly grab her wrist.

"What are you doing?", she struggles to release her hand from your grip.

"I'm letting you know that the tricks you are playing are not funny anymore and you should stop hacking into someone's computer", letting go of her hand.

Rose smirks at you with a wicked gleam in their eyes. Behind those eyes, she enjoys how agitated you are. She can't wait for the next evil scheme.

"Looks like reality is finally hitting you, y/n", Rose said to you, making you frown.

"You really don't scare me, Rose"

"Of course, I don't. Your job will"

"And Jaehyun's true colours with do it themselves to you", she added.

You strode away from her, your footsteps thundering down the hall. Clouded by a storm of emotions and rage, you feel torn. Protecting Jaehyun means everything to you, yet your job is equally important. Juggling both was taking its toll, gradually wearing you out.

You were about to pick up a tray as you arrived at the cafeteria when Beom Suk approached you.

"Hey, have the team leader spoken to you?", grabbing your attention.

"About what?" you ask, your tired body making its way through the food section.

"The tour, we're coming with them"

You flinched at his words. After Rose hinted at her sinister intentions, you couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with the concert. It seemed like she knew all along that you were going to follow them on tour as well.

"No", you protest.

"Yes, y/n. Remember when you told me you wanted to travel a lot during your 20s? This is a perfect opportunity"

"Perfect opportunity for Rose", you thought.

Beom Suk was right. After returning from lunch, the team leader called for a meeting and announced that you and Beom Suk would be joining 127 on tour to work on the stage graphics. While others congratulated you happily and mentioned it as an opportunity to become a permanent member, your heart couldn't fully embrace the joy. Instead, anxiety crept in, overshadowing any sense of excitement you might have felt.

—

After weeks of sleepless nights, this morning you marked crossed on the calendar at your house, looking at the reminder that you wrote on today's date.

TOUR TRIP D-DAY

The nerves crept in, making the moment feel surreal. It seemed too good to be true, yet you knew deep down that you deserved this opportunity. You and Beom Suk had worked tirelessly for this comeback and tour, overcoming countless obstacles. Through all the challenges, you poured your heart and soul into your work, and now, you found yourself at the top. Despite the anxiety, you wanted to allow yourself to feel proud of your accomplishments.

"Hello, yes, Beom Suk?" you picked up the call, abruptly halting your daydream and bringing you back to reality.

"Hey y/n, sorry to break it to you, but we're having a serious problem with the flight tickets," Beom Suk's voice crackled through the phone.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your heart sinking.

"I'm with Manager Hyung right now, and it looks like our tickets, along with Jaehyun and Taeyong's, were not booked."

"WHAT?" Your disbelief echoed through the phone, mingling with a rising sense of panic.

You made your way to the company straight away after the phone call. As you reached the advertising and promotion floor, you spotted the member gathered on the couch near the entrance, their expressions reflecting a sense of hopelessness. A wave of pity washed over you, stronger for them than for yourself.

The manager went to get their flight tickets earlier this morning when they found out the reservations had been mysteriously cancelled by someone in the company.

The atmosphere filled with frustration and anger grew as they tried to rebook flights at such short notice proved difficult. Hours passed with no solution in sight. Jaehyun and Taeyong sat quietly, tired and disappointed.

In a tough decision, they sent Jaehyun and Taeyong back home temporarily while the rest of the members and team proceeded with their scheduled flight. It was hard, but it was the best decision they could make.

As they bid goodbye, promises were made to keep Jaehyun and Taeyong updated on the situation. With heavy hearts, they watched their friends leave, hoping for new tickets soon.

You remained there with Beom Suk, both of you tiredly trying to sort out the situation and waiting for the staff to deal with the new tickets. Taking a seat on the couch, you let out a long sigh of exhaustion. With your eyes closed, you lean back, resting your head against the soft cushions.

"Are you okay? You've been staying up the whole week to finish this work", Beom Suk asked, he was worried for you.

"I'm a bit tired, I should be sleeping on the plane by now"

"Just hold on for a bit, okay? It will be okay soon", you nodded to him.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting and uncertainty, a sense of relief washed over the room as the staff finally announced that the new flight tickets had been successfully booked.

You and Beom Suk exchanged tired but grateful smiles, your weary expressions giving way to a glimmer of hope. Both of you quickly gathered your belongings.

As you called Taeyong and Jaehyun for the pick-up at the airport, your heart sank when Jaehyun didn't answer his calls. Concern etched into your brow as you tried multiple times, each attempt met with the same silence.

Thoughts raced through your mind, imagining various scenarios that could explain his lack of response. The driver wasted no time and headed straight to Jaehyun's apartment. You and Beom Suk hurriedly made your way to his building, heartbeats quickening with each step. With the passcode provided by the manager, you swiftly punched in the numbers and the door clicked open.

Your eyes widen as you entered Jaehyun's apartment. The smell of the house felt familiar to you, even some of the stuffs seems familiar to you. Although it was hard to recognise where you seen them. Just then you found yourself in front of the master bedroom, the door was slightly open enough to have peek in and the view was a disappointment to you.

Clothes shuttered on the floor, both a man and woman clothes. You gather up all the courage you ever had in you as you lift up your head to the bed. You saw Jaehyun's naked body, sleeping with his arms wrapped around Daeun's naked body.

"At the end of the day, Jaehyun is a man of his own and I am a delusional fan", a bitter realisation settling in your heart.

As your eyes slowly turning into glass, Beom Seok quickily reach out the door knob slamming the door close. Hoping it was enough to wake up the lovebirds inside.

"Hyung, your flight leaves in 3 hours we need to go now", he screamed from the door.

Beom Seok turned his gaze to your stone figure. He knew how much Jaehyun meant to you, caught Jaehyun in bed with someone who is close to you definitely breaks your heart in pieces and Beom Seok can see that through your eyes.

"Y/N, please grab Jaehyun's luggage and passport at the living room. Take it down at the car, okay? Wait for me there", he said as he bends down to catch your eyes.

You wiped the drolling tears across your cheeks and responded to Beom Seok's instruction. The next thing you know, you witnessed Jaehyun and Daeun bid goodbyes. Giving them one last kiss before all of you made it to the airport after picking up Taeyong.

The fans ran everywhere, pushing each other and flashing their cameras and phones at them. Your body was definitely exhausted by now as you tried your best to make it through the crowd of fans following Jaehyun and Taeyong. As you continue walking, you feel your leg trembling like a jelly. With no hesitation, you held on to Beom Seok's wrist for support and whispered.

"I can't stand"

"Hold on to me, we'll find a place for you to sit at the gate", firmly fixing your hand on his arm, both of you continued walking like that until the gate.

Jaehyun watched the scene unfold with a heavy sigh, realising the toll their fame was taking on you. It pained him to see you and Beom Suk caught up in the chaos, especially now that you had witnessed his relationship firsthand.

Finally reaching the gate, you collapsed into a weary nap against Beom Suk's shoulder, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you.

"Y/N, we need to board the plane now", Beom Seok shook you gently.

"Oh really? Thank you Beom Seok, for letting me lean on your shoulder"

"No problem Y/N, you really needed that nap", he replied as all of you made your way to the plane.

"Yeah, I'd love to continue that in the plane. I'm reserving your shoulder again," Beom Suk smiled at your statement as he glanced at your boarding pass.

"But Y/N, your not sitting beside me"

"What?", as you searched for the seat number on your boarding pass.

Your heart skipped a beat when you made eye contact with Jaehyun as both of you boarded the plane. The stewardess asked for your seat, and even Beom Suk refused to believe it.

"I'm sitting next to him", you said to the stewardess.

Jaehyun helped put your bags in the compartment above before both of you made yourself comfortable in your seats. You remained silence at your seat, giving Jaehyun the cold shoulder, still hurt by what you had witnessed earlier.

Jaehyun, sensing the distance, felt the guilt for the discomfort he had caused. He gently reached out to offer you a blanket, and headphones when your's didn't work, and even adjusted the air conditioning, hoping to provide some comfort during the flight as he was determined to mend the strained relationship.

You stubbornly ignored his gesture, your gaze fixed firmly out the window. Jaehyun was unfazed by your actions and persisted, quietly asking if you needed anything or if you were feeling alright.

As soon as the flight dims the lights to indicate nighttime, your emotions overwhelm you once more. Tears welled up in your eyes as feelings of betrayal washed over you, you wondered why Jaehyun had toyed with your feelings if he wanted to be with someone else.

Trying your best to conceal your sobbing, you assumed Jaehyun was asleep. But as you struggled with your tears, a gentle hand reached out to touch your shoulder, surprising you. You turned to find Jaehyun looking at you with concern, his eyes filled with empathy.

"Y/N, are you okay?" he whispered softly, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You longed for Jaehyun's comfort and presence, but the reminder of his relationship status held you back. You missed him, yet you couldn't ignore the boundaries.

You couldn't bring herself to open up to Jaehyun anymore.

"I... I don't want to talk right now." you declined Jaehyun's offer of comfort, your voice trembling slightly.

It pained you to push him away, but you couldn't ignore the reality of their circumstances. With your decision you turned away, seeking solace in the solitude of your thoughts as you grappled with conflicted emotions.

As you reached the destination, you, Beom Suk, and Yun Hee went on an exhilarating tour of the country, exploring its sights and immersing yourselves in its culture in every free time the three of you had aside from work. Every moment was filled with laughter and joy as you created cherished memories together.

Meanwhile, the members dedicated themselves to rehearsals, pouring their hearts and souls into perfecting their performances for the upcoming tour. Their determination never wavered.

Amidst the excitement and busyness of the tour, you found yourself avoiding any mention of what had happened between you and Jaehyun. You pushed aside your feelings of sadness, burying them deep within as you threw yourself into the distractions of sightseeing and work.

One night, you found someone texting you in the middle of the night after work and the second you saw the text you knew who was it from.

‘Glad you found yourself a ticket to the tour. Suprise with his true colours yet? We are ready to have you here’

You were tempted to give out the details. It haunts you that you were tempted. The feeling of betrayal and anger lingers in your mind. Tears starts to gather in your eyes as soon you found yourself typing out Jaehyun caught in bed with ex staff, you couldn’t click send. It kills you to betray him.

He has nothing against you and so do you. Again, you reminded yourself what you use to tell Rose.

“Your just selfish because you couldn’t have your bias to yourself”

As you switch off the phone and tossed it aside. You tried your best to calm down, so you decided to go out of your hotel room and sit by the pool. No longer after, Beom Suk approached you.

At first, both of you shared simple and fun conversations but as time went on his usual cheerful character was replaced by a very serious look. You could feel the conversation getting deeper.

"Y/N, with what happened between you and Jaehyun, I just want to remind you it's okay to be sad and mad," he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But dwelling on those emotions won't change what happened."

You looked at him, each word carrying a weight that resonated deep within your soul. It was as if he had peeled back the layers of your heart, revealing the rawness hidden beneath the surface.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. His eyes looked the same went he first offered you his shoulders, again he reminds you he'll be there with you for anything.

"I loved him," you confessed,

"And it hurts a little too much," your voice trembling with the rawness of your emotions.

The words carry out the heavy burden lifted from your chest. The emotions finally became too much for you to bear with tears welling up in your eyes.

That night, Beom Suk listened you tentatively. You told him everything that has happened between you and Jaehyun, along with the saseng you met along the way.

He comforted you with his words to your wounded heart. But as the night wore on, Beom Suk gently reminded you to focus on the task at hand – the upcoming tour.

"Y/N, I know it's difficult," he began softly, his voice filled with empathy. "But you're not alone. We're all here for you, every step of the way."

"Remember," he said with a reassuring smile, "fans are counting on us to deliver. Let's give it our all, together."

You nodded in agreement, grateful for Beom Suk's wise words and encouragement. Though the road ahead may be difficult, you knew that with Beom Suk by your side, you were ready to face whatever challenges came your way.

Bringing along the lingering tension between you and Jaehyun, you managed to pull yourself together for the tour, throwing yourself into your work with renewed determination. Each performance was a testament to your resilience, a reminder that you were capable of rising above the pain and focusing on the task at hand.

You also you had it enough with Rose after the night she texted. You realised that stooping to her level would only perpetuate the cycle of toxicity and invasion of privacy that had plagued Jaehyun's life.

So with Beom Suk encouragement, you courageously decide to report her to the company, determined to protect Jaehyun and members from the invasive tactics of sasaeng fans.

Soon the truth came to light – one of Jaehyun's stalkers was working at SM Entertainment, a breach of trust that sent shockwaves through the fandom. In response, the company took immediate action, terminating Rose's employment and sending a clear message that such behaviour would not be tolerated.

As the tour came to an end, you found yourself facing a new chapter in your career – working on the debut of a new boy group for SM Entertainment. The opportunity to spearhead such an important project filled you with excitement and anticipation, pushing aside the lingering thoughts of Jaehyun and the unresolved tension between you.

Yet, as the debut day arrived and the new boy group took the stage for their first performance, you felt a sense of pride and accomplishment wash over you. In that moment, all thoughts of the past were pushed aside, replaced by a sense of excitement for the future and the promise of new beginnings.

Years passed, and yet the situation continued to simmer, unresolved and unspoken, until this day. Despite the passage of time, the tension between you and Jaehyun remains an unspoken truth, a silent reminder of the complexities of love and the scars it leaves behind.

Jaehyun arrived at the wedding hall, he was dressed neatly in his black suit with his hair pulled up. An old man greeted him at the hall door which he assume is your father, soon he was escorted to his seat along with the members at the table.

"Glad you made it", Johnny patted his back, welcoming him next to his seat.

The light dimmed as they started the ceremony, all the lights reflected on the crystal chandelier making the hall look dreamy. The band starts playing a lovely melody at the corner of the hall.

"It's just too perfect", Jaehyun thought.

The guests began to clap their hands when they announced that the bride was entering. Jaehyun did not dare to face you, he kept his head forward to the stage while others were already admiring you down the aisle. Tangled with emotions, he knew he shouldn't have missed this moment of you. It might hurt him dearly but he would rather get drunk all night than miss your once-in-a-lifetime moment. He adjusted himself in his seat and turned towards to direction.

Your dress was serenely beautiful and looked ethereal in the soft light. With that smile you put on, it does show you are happier now.

He smiled, reflecting on the joy you brought into his life.

"She's really pretty", Johnny commented on the table.

"She is"

"Didn't you say you had a crush on her back then?", he whispered to Jaehyun.

"I did, it's just I found myself back to Daeun"

"Then, you should have married her!"

Jaehyun's eyes went back to you. How he imagine it was him next to you, instead of Beom Suk. Bitter truth, he was hopelessly in love with someone of the married couple.

"I should", he said while his eyes were serenade by you.

"I should have".

-- ★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ --

#jaehyun #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct 127 #nct scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x you

249 notes · View notes

streamafterlaughter · 19 days ago

Text

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter XV: Right Now It Feels Good Not to Stand

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev. | read bee's diary

songs for this chapter: girl is a gun by halsey, you first by paramore, bloodhound by scowl, wonderwall by oasis, ICU by phoebe bridgers

summary: something compels you to keep exploring this new, friendlier territory.

a/n: strap in bitch (affectionate) this shit is LONG. have fun!

chapter tags: more ridiculous conversations, raunchiness, adult language, explicit descriptions of sex, hurt/comfort, angst angst more angst fluff but also angst. perv!Eddie strikes again, anxious reader, friendly flirting, idiots flirting without admitting it. lore drops, dialogue, cheesy pick up lines and bold statements. lots of fun!! | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI each chapter will have its own content/trigger warnings

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. THIS WORK IS BEING REPOSTED TO MY NEW 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: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r @justalotoffanfiction @bl0ssomanddie

“What’d the waffle ever do to you?” Chris teases, sliding you a glass of orange juice as you continue brutally stabbing your breakfast. “At least let it die with some dignity.”

You just grunt in response, shoving a bite of fluffy buttermilk goodness into your mouth.

“C’mon, what’s wrong? Rough night?”

It’s Sunday, and you spent most of your Saturday off stewing in your thoughts, unable to relax after waking up in Eddie’s arms. Your brain has been going miles per minute, guessing and theorizing about what he could possibly have meant by “making up for lost time.”. “Yeah, you could say that.” You stab your fork into your plate again, barely getting any waffle onto the tines of your fork.

“Anything I could help with?” He leans on the counter, munching on a piece of bacon.

“Probably not. I don’t think you’d be interested in any of it.” Plus, you’re missing massive pieces of this puzzle.

“Try me?” Chris sits down on the stool next to you, his own plate steaming with a pile of fresh waffles and crispy bacon. Breakfast has always been your favorite meal, and it’s sweet that your brother still puts so much effort into it for you.

You fill your brother in on as much as you think is necessary, including the nightmare and how you’d woken up. When you’re done, Chris is gaping at you, half chewed waffle still on his tongue. “Ew, dude. Close your mouth.”

He does, swallowing the bite before speaking. “You slept together?!” “No! That is not what I said.”

“Okay, then why are you freaking out?”

“Because! Since you’ve both come back I have fallen into this alternate reality where Eddie and I are almost friends, and it’s freaking me out. It’s like the anger I’ve been harboring in my heart is just gone, and that doesn’t feel fair. I should be seething at both of you, but mostly I’m just grateful you’re both alive and safe.”

“It sounds like you’ve solved your own problem, Bee. You’re mad for no reason, so you can stop being mad.” He says it so flippantly, and you feel your chest tighten.

“But I’m still mad. I’m pissed off. I lost six years with you both and with no scapegoat to blame it on.” You rub your hand down your face, trying to keep your tears from falling.

“You want my honest opinion?” You nod. “I think you love him.” You roll your eyes, but he doubles down. “I’m serious! I know you love me, but I think this whole thing bothers you so much because you’re wondering what you two could have been if none of the bad shit happened. You’re dwelling on the past because you regret cutting him out, whether you can admit that to yourself or not. You’re coming to see that he’s not the selfish, careless guy you had been making him out to be in your head. I don’t blame you, and neither should you. You created that version of him with the information you were given. I would have done the same thing, probably. You have the right to be upset, but don’t let that prevent you from losing even more time with him. He’s here now. I don’t see him leaving again any time soon, either.”

It pains you, how much sense your brother is making. As much as you want to be angry with him, with Eddie, you know it’s all in vain. “God, I hate it when you’re right.”

Chris’s face breaks into a shit eating grin. “I know.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“I don’t have that answer, Bumblebee. That’s for you to figure out. You’ve made progress, though. Just do what Eddie and I couldn’t. Be honest.”

–

> can we talk?

Oh god. You send the message before you lose your nerve. Then a second:

> like in person?

Eddie (block later): now?

> if ur not doing anything. can i come over? chris is here, otherwise i’d host u

Eddie (block later): course

Eddie (block later): not yet tho come in like an hour i gotta shower

You find yourself stressing over what to wear to Eddie’s when you read his reply, digging through your dresser drawers for a shirt that doesn’t immediately give that fact away. Finally, you find the one you’re looking for: A cropped tank that rests just above your navel, a soft periwinkle color. You pair it with a flannel and a pair of baggy cargo pants, and slip on your shoes before you realize it’s only been fifteen minutes since he’d told you to wait an hour.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” You wonder aloud, frustrated with yourself. As a distraction, you turn your speaker on, your phone automatically connecting to the bluetooth. You scroll through your library until one song jumps out at you, the perfect one to take your mind off the waiting. You shake out your nerves as Halsey’s Girl is A Gun plays, probably annoying the shit out of your brother through your thin walls. You bang your head, two-step, and air guitar your way through the song, out of breath as it fades, and a new song begins. You keep the energy going, this time with Paramore’s You First. You remember fondly when you’d seen them live last year, the way Hayley thrashed to this song as they opened the show. The playlist takes on a theme of angry girls, and you’re not upset about it. Song after song features a woman scorned or screaming, sometimes both, until the alarm you forgot you had set goes off, interrupting your dance break.

Eddie’s front room smells like weed when you enter, and it almost smacks you in the face as you enter. It’s not a scent that’s ever bothered you, but right now it seems to have embedded itself in your nostrils. “You just put that out or something?”

Eddie chuckles, clearly nervous. “Found myself pacing the floor waiting for you. Tried to relax before I put a hole in the floor.”

“Oh.” You’re not sure what to say to that. “Did it work?”

“No. I’m just doing a great job hiding it.” He smiles sheepishly as he nudges his area rug playfully, and you laugh at his discomfort. Maybe it’s mean, but you’re kind of glad he’s as jumpy as your heart feels right now. “So,” Eddie starts in when the giggles have subsided. “What does the princess wanna talk to a layman like me about?” His posture relaxes as he sinks into the couch, letting the buzz of the weed take root in his brain.

“Oh, no. That’s not fair, you’re zoinked out of your mind!”

He frowns, sitting back up. “Shit, you’re right. I’m sorry. You had something really important you wanted to talk to me about, and I’m not taking it seriously.”

You huff. “No, it’s fine. It’s nothing, like, earth shattering.” Well, to a normal person. To you, though? “I just wanted to see you.”

“Really?” It’s adorable, the way his tone lightens as he says it, his dimples deepening as he shows his teeth.

You nod. “I think you had a really good idea, that whole being honest thing. So I’m trying it, too.”

His smile morphs. You’ve given him the upper hand, completely by accident. “How hard was that?” If anyone else had said it, the words would have hurt your feelings. Eddie, though, has such a way about him that you can’t even take his question to mean anything beyond exactly what he’d asked.

“Really, really fucking hard. But it’s harder knowing how much time I wasted because I couldn’t admit it.” It’s too early for such a serious conversation, and you’re starting to wish you’d waited a few more hours before coming over. “I forgot just how much I missed you, man. I got so used to being angry that it started replacing the… fun, important parts of our friendship. I started erasing the origin story of my best friend, and it was for fucking nothing!” You hadn’t planned on crying, but you can’t help it. The tears blur your vision before they fall down your cheeks, and not two seconds later Eddie is swiping them away with his thumb.

“Please don’t cry.” He begs you, his voice low to keep from wavering. “You know I fuckin’ hate it when you cry.”

“I wasted so much time… hating you.” You shake your head furiously, tears still falling freely as he wraps his arms around your shaking shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I was so fucking mean to you.”

“Hey, hey. Stop. You had every reason to be mad at me, okay? I don’t blame you in the slightest. I had all that time to tell you the truth and I didn’t. Please don’t blame this on yourself, sweetheart. This isn’t your fault.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck, taking deep breaths that you begin to match. You can feel him mumbling something unintelligible against your skin. “I have an idea.” Eddie pulls away from you, suddenly his usual, eager self. “You wanna see something cool?”

–

It’s been about twenty minutes in Eddie’s van when you finally crack. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see! We’re almost there.” He cuts the wheel, the force sending your body tilting into his personal space. “We go the rest of the way on foot.” Eddie throws the car in park and flings himself out of his seat and over to the passenger side, where he yanks the door open for you. “C’mon.” He then grabs his tattered backpack and guitar case from the backseat.

He’s brought you to… the middle of the Hawkins Forest. “Did you bring me out here to kill me?”

Eddie scoffs, marching forward into the tangle of trees. “Please. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have a way better plan than bringing you out here. You’re safe, I promise.” He reaches his hand out behind him, wiggling his fingers at you. “You trust me?”

You do, without question, and you answer by grabbing his hand with your own. It’s warm. Strong, his skin rough with all the mechanical work he does. You follow him uphill, through the branches and finally into a relatively clear opening. “I usually come here to write my campaigns, it’s secluded enough while still being easy to find.” Eddie leads you to the far side of the clearing, where a makeshift tent has been propped against the trees.

“This is like, your secret lair?” You question, taking in your surroundings. “What’s the point when you live by yourself?”

“I like being outside. Reminds me of being a kid, playing stupid games in the woods with nothing but sticks and stones as props.” He muses, taking a seat on the rocks surrounding what looks like a fire pit.

“Is this legal?” You kick one of the logs in the ashen pile, and Eddie chuckles.

“Probably not, but I haven’t been caught yet!”

“Careful, your stalker could be right on your tail.”

“Who, Hopper? Please, he wouldn’t have the heart to stop me. He has a soft spot for the freaks.” Eddie doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t feel like questioning him. From his bag, he yanks out a massive picnic blanket and spreads it in the grass. It’s unseasonably sunny for October, bathing Eddie in a soft light, highlighting the strands of caramel in his dark hair. “Come sit down.” He pats the spot next to him, and you obey his request, dropping to your knees on the soft cotton next to him.

“You gonna play Wonderwall for me?”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at you. “You don’t wanna make that joke. I’ll sing that song like my life depends on it.”

You burst into laughter, throwing your head back as you picture Eddie aggressively strumming, voice an exaggerated whine as he wails, “I SAID MAY-BAYYYYY,”

“I might have to take you up on that.” Though definitely a hilarious joke, Eddie’s voice is incredible. You wouldn’t mind him singing to you, even if it was Wonderwall.

“Some other time, I promise. I brought you out here for a reason.”

“Ah, right. The murder you’re about to commit. Can’t believe the town rumors have been right this whole time.”

“You caught me. There’s actually a goat in here I plan to sacrifice, too. Them’s the rules, right? A goat and a beautiful, pure woman?”

Your laugh comes to a halt in your throat, causing you to choke on your breath. “Pure?!”

“Yeah, y’know. You’ve only ever had, like, good intentions. You’re wholesome.”

“Oh, Eddie.” Your tone is condescending, pitiful even. “You have to know that isn’t what that means!”

Eddie bats his giant, pretty eyes at you. “You mean… you’re not a virgin?” He barely gets the words out before descending into laughter.

“Oh, fuck you!” You shove him, and he topples over, rolling dramatically into the grass while he clutches his heart, all still while cackling.

“I’d be honored.” He sputters finally as he catches his breath.

It takes you a second to understand what he means. “Eddie, stop. Seriously.”

“Oh, come on! You’ve never had a problem with my stupid jokes before.” Eddie plucks a joint from behind his ear, flicking his lighter open as he puts it between his lips. He has a point; he’s always been a little, well, inappropriate with his humor. You’d always laughed along, despite missing the joke half the time because you were too naive to understand the innuendo. Now, though, the subtext of his jabs are making your stomach flip.

“Just. You’re such a guy!” You groan, frustrated when you can’t even defend yourself.

“And you’re a prude!” He mocks your tone, exaggerating your whiny cadence.

It’s then that you have what could either be a fantastic idea, or a horrible one. “I’m a lot of things, Eddie, but I promise you that is not one of them.” You lean back on your elbows to soak up the sun rays, exposing your neck to Eddie’s direct line of sight. You squint into the sky, pretending you can’t feel his eyes on you.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. I’ll prove it, if you want.” You swear you hear him gulp.

“H-how are you gonna do that?”

You shrug. “Ask me something. I’ll answer honestly.”

“How will I know you’re not lying?”

“You won’t. You’ll have to trust me.” You wink at him, and he rolls his eyes. “I’ll give you five questions, but you have to answer them too.”

“Fuck. Okay, give me a second. I gotta think.” He grabs his backpack again, digging for a full minute before pulling out his campaign notebook; a thick, leather bound journal falling apart along the cracked spine. He throws the book open to a new page, clicking his pen furiously, tongue sticking out through his teeth. You could tease him for this, call him desperate or pathetic, lighten the mood. Instead, you watch his brain work as he scribbles what you can only assume are the questions he’s about to ask you. His eyes flick across the page as he rereads them, mouth moving silently like he’s rehearsing his lines. it all feels… vulnerable. After what feels like forever, Eddie looks up from his notes. “Alright, I’ve narrowed it down.”

“I’m all ears.” You cross one leg over the other in preparation. “Shoot.”

“Okay, first. What’s your favorite position?”

You snort. “Seriously?”

“Hey, I’m asking the questions here.”

“Sorry, okay. Probably cowgirl.”

“Ah, you like to be on top. In control. Makes sense. Have–.”

“Ah! Hey, you gotta answer too!”

“Oh. Right. Definitely cowgirl.”

“You’re lying.”

He shakes his head. “Fuck, no. I get a perfect view and she does most of the work? Bliss.” The image of Eddie on his back underneath you flashes in your head, and you physically have to shake it from your thoughts. “Anyway, next! Have you ever… sixty-nined?”

You groan. “Yeah, and it fuckin’ sucked. No pun intended.”

Eddie leans over, resting his elbows on his knees. “Really? Why?”

Fuck it, what pride do you have to lose? “He couldn’t get me off. Said I was ‘too good’ at it and he couldn’t focus. Never returned the favor either.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“What about you?”

“Nope.”

“No?!” You’re not sure why it shocks you. Eddie seems so… experienced? Curious? Horny. He’s definitely horny.

“Swear to god. Never. The subject just never came up, I guess.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Is it?” You shrug. “Right… Okay. Next question. What’s your stance on oral?”

You tilt your head. “Like, giving? Or receiving?” This conversation should be way more uncomfortable than it is, and yet you’re more at ease than you’ve been since you’ve come home. Eddie passes the joint to you, one you haven’t hit yet. You can’t even blame it on the weed!

“Either. Both! But it's still only one question. Two parts.”

“Of course, the classic two part question. Giving, yes. It makes me feel in control, y’know? Powerful. Hot. And I love watching my partner melt and writhe at my touch.” Who are you? “Getting, also yes, but only when it’s, y’know, good. And that’s rare.” When you finally look from your lap back to Eddie, he might as well be drooling, his expression blank as he stares through you. “You okay over there?” You wave a hand in front of his face.

“What? Shit. Fuck. No, I’m fine. Fantastic. Jesus christ.” He’s huffing between words, and you can’t help but love what this is doing to him. “Wait, hold on. You haven’t gotten like, good head?”

You frown. “I think it’s my fault. I get too in my head, and worry about what I must taste, smell, look like. I freak myself out of coming.”

You wait for Eddie to respond, and worry when he doesn’t right away. Maybe you’re going too far.

“Anyone lucky enough to be invited between your legs should relish in the way you taste. Anything less is a dishonor to you, and should be publicly shamed.”

You must have blacked out. There is no way he just said that to you. “Wh-,”

“I bet I could make you come with my mouth.” It doesn’t even sound like he’s talking to you anymore, the words said under his breath like he’s weighing the risk of them on his tongue. You pretend you don’t hear it, because you have to. You don’t know what to do with that information.

“Eddie?”

“Sorry, hi. My turn?”

“Yeah, it’s your turn.” You shift in your seat, desperate for comfort, or friction, you can’t tell.

“Well, obviously I love giving head. I talk too much, it’s a great way to shut me up.” You try to prevent the thought of shutting Eddie up by sitting on his face from being sucked to the front of your mind. It doesn’t work. “Getting head’s nice too, makes me feel special and shit.” You have no idea how to respond, wondering what series of decisions have brought you to this conversation. “Bee?” You blink. “We can stop. Sorry, this stuff isn’t, like, taboo to me. I forget some people get uncomfortable-,”

“No! I’m okay. I told you, I’m not a prude. This is fine.” Your face is hot. You’re probably visibly sweating, but you need to see this through. You’re not an awkward teenager anymore. That doesn’t mean you’re not inclined to get extremely riled up, though. “You have two more questions, better make ‘em good.”

“Right, yeah. What was your first time like?”

The question relaxes you, somehow. It’s much easier to talk about, a horrible experience that you can laugh about now.

“It was awful. We were like, seventeen? He took me to Enzo’s and gave his fuckin’ dad’s name. We’d been dating for maybe a month, and we’d talked about it for a week in advance. He promised me it would be soooo beautiful, and that ‘I’d remember it forever.’ Then! He took me to his room, thrusted for, like, three fuckin’ minutes, came on my stomach without asking, then cried. For an hour. I did not get off. Duh. I left immediately, and I cried myself to sleep.” You finish the story with a pout.

“Sure was memorable though, I’ll give him that.”

“Oh, my god.” He’s trying really hard not to laugh, but ultimately loses the battle with his gut. “I’m sorry! I'm not laughing at you, I’m laughing at the situation. Poor fella was so overwhelmed.”

“Oh, boo hoo. He could have at least tried to make it up to me. He broke up with me a week later.”

“Oh, well in that case, fuck him!”

“That’s how I got into this mess in the first place!”

It’s all said between laughs, quick jabs to continue the joke on, comfortable enough to make fun of each other.

“Right, my turn to answer. Do you even care about this one?”

“Nice try, buddy. Spill it.”

“Ugh, okay. I was nineteen. She was a cheerleader. She offered to blow me for free weed.”

“Eddie,” You hate this story already.

“I said no. I told her I’d do it if she could get me a date with her friend. She agreed, for some reason, and we started dating. Well, I thought we were dating. Turns out she’d been told she only had to have sex with me. Which was fine, but it wasn’t what I wanted from her. Broke my heart.”

When he finishes, you don’t know what to say. You sit there, the silence growing past awkward and into territory you’re afraid you won’t come back from.

“I have one more question.” You nod, grateful for him changing the subject. “You ever wish we’d given it a shot?”

Good christ, will you ever catch a break? “Eddie.”

“You said you’d answer honestly.”

“Do you?”

“I asked you first.”

Fuck. Fuck! “I guess you could say that.”

“Oh?”

You pinch between your eyes, squeezing them shut. “Please don’t make me do this.”

He backs off, much to your surprise. “Okay. Fine. I get it. Think about it, though. I’m gonna want your answer at some point.”

And just like that, the tension washes from your body. Eddie grabs his guitar from where he’d rested it against a tree, and unlatches the case to reveal a pretty acoustic, plastered in stickers sporting bands and guitar string companies. “Now, the real reason I brought you out here.” He doesn’t even mention his own answer to the question, and you already feel that gnawing at you.

“I wrote a new song. I wanted your opinion.”

You try to return to the present conversation, shoving his question deep into the recesses of your brain, only for it to slip right back out. “You couldn’t show me at your place?”

He shrugs. “Weather’s nice. Needed a change of scenery.” You could press him for a better answer, but there’s too much information already swimming in your brain to muster the strength it would take. Eddie fills the silence, strumming idly, humming under his breath.

“Either my ears fucking suck, or you’re whispering right now.”

He looks up at you, revealing a pair of blushing red cheeks. “I’m on the spot!” “This was your idea!”

“I honestly wasn’t confident I’d get this far.”

“I’m trying this new thing where I trust you.”

He leans back, as if repelled by your words. “It’s weird.”

“Whatever! Show me the damn song!”

You’re familiar with Corroded Coffin, obviously. The loud, dramatic, metal band, heavily inspired by 80’s hair bands, including elements of modern metal and punk. You’re not certain you’d call yourself a fan, but you can recognize that the music is objectively good. It’s well written, and Eddie’s a powerhouse behind the mic. And he writes it all, from the first chord to the last lyric.

That band, those songs, are his baby, and the rest of the band are there to raise it with him because they believe in it. In short, Eddie is super fucking talented. Usually, he’s the first to admit it, but that version of Eddie seems to have disappeared before your eyes. He’s been replaced with a fantastic dupe physically, but with the mannerisms of a terrified baby deer.

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

You offer out your pinky. “And I keep my promises.” He doesn’t retort, but hooks his pinky around yours. The brief, innocent skin to skin contact still manages to make your brain fuzzy.

He releases you and returns to his instrument, this time without stalling. He’s not using a pick, instead plucking individual strings with incredible dexterity. You like the way his calloused fingertips scratch along the strings, lending an authentic, raw touch to the clean sound of the guitar. You catch yourself watching his hands, the way they flex as he changes positions, stretching to reach a higher fret without any strain, and fight with yourself until ultimately, your eyes drift to his face. Big mistake. Huge. He’s studying you through the wisps of his bangs, but averts his eyes as soon as you catch him.

“I haven’t written any lyrics yet, but I have this line stuck in my head that I wanna use.” He studies his hands as he talks. “It’s something like, Returning to earth sworn to be scorched / wish I hadn’t lit the torch.” The air is thick with the silence that follows. You’re in awe of him, the talent he possesses and the sudden lack of ego.

“You are quite the enigma, Munson.”

His posture seems to loosen. “What?” He chuckles as he asks, placing his guitar down beside him.

“I just had no idea you were writing a bedroom pop song.”

“First of all, absolutely not. Gareth would rejoin the band just to kick me out if I did anything like that. This is all mine. I haven’t shown anyone, and I don’t plan to.”

You blink once, twice, three times. “Why did you show me?”

“It’s only fair that I show the muse what she’s inspired in me.” He shrugs. Like it’s nothing! Like he isn’t charming the pants off you currently.

“Okay, Eddie. What gives?”

“Last I checked, quite a bit.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to this.”

Eddie frowns, repositioning himself to lay on his back, placing his head beside your outstretched legs. “There is no right or wrong way to respond to having a song written for you by the guy that abandoned you out of cowardice. At least, not in the handbook I studied.”

You snort, backhanding his chest lightly. “You know what I mean. It’s not everyday you have a song written for you by anyone!”

“‘Cause that would be weird.” He rolls his eyes up to look at you, lips stretching over his slightly crooked teeth in a big, pretty smile that makes his cheeks look like crabapples.

“You wanna smoke some more before we go? It’s gonna be gettin’ dark soon.”

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, and Eddie raises his head, and you think he's going to sit up right, but he just shifts to lay his head in your lap. “This okay?”

You nod, wordless. You’re much warmer, suddenly. You could sit here for another three hours. Eddie flicks his lighter, cursing as it flickers a few times before it catches, and offers you the half smoked joint. You take it, placing it between your lips quickly as Eddie raises the flame until it catches on the paper. He inhales deeply, closing his eyes while the tip of the joint illuminates as he sucks. He pushes the smoke from his mouth into his nose before exhaling through his nostrils, opening his glassy eyes as he passes you the joint. Plucking it from his fingers, you bring it to your mouth slowly, still unable to pull your eyes away from him. He’s the first to surrender, his eyes drifting from your stare to the sky above him.

–

The sun has retired by the time Eddie pulls into the complex garage. Eddie pulls into his assigned spot, killing the engine and cutting off a blaring guitar solo from his speakers.

“What’re you up to tomorrow?” He turns to face you, throwing his seatbelt over his shoulder. “This might be annoying but I really, really wanna see you.”

“I work tomorrow, but not ‘til five. I have a lot of shit to do around the house…” You trail off, because why would house work be the first excuse you come up with? You do have a lot to do, though. “If you wanna come sit on my couch while I do laundry, be my guest.” You offer pathetically, shrugging.

“Sounds good. I’ll be over by noon.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I know. I just told you, I wanna see you. If you’re not completely sick of this giving me a chance thing. I’ll bring snacks?”

With the way he’s pouting at you, that lilt in his voice, how could you say no? “Okay, fine. Maybe bring some more of that weed, too? The good stuff, not whatever you oversell to the freshmen.” You give him a grin, and he returns it with a shy smirk.

“Anything you want, sweets.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

He throws his van door open and makes his way to your side. You’ve stopped even reaching for the door now, used to his hospitality. To add, he walks you the five feet to your own vehicle. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

“G’night, Bee. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before you can move another inch, Eddie snatches your hand in his own, bringing it to his lips to plant a small, soft kiss on the top of your knuckles. “Drive safe, okay? Text me when you’re home.” He then, to top off this fever dream, opens your car door for you with a grand sweep of his arm. You curtsy, for the second time in the last week, and slide into your seat behind the wheel. He closes the door gently, and gives you a wave that you return, suddenly shy.

Once you’ve pulled onto the main road, now lit every hundred feet with flickering lights, you crank your music. You can’t think about the series of events that took place today, not right now. Right now, you drown the thoughts, the fear, with loud guitars and guttural vocals, screaming along to songs nowhere near your vocal range to expel whatever this weird, heavy feeling in your chest is.

The porch light is on when you get home, but the windows are dark. Chris must be out, thank god. You rush right to your room, tossing your clothes into the hamper before climbing into bed in your underwear with a quickness, like it’s safer under the blankets from the thoughts refusing to cease tumbling around in your brain. Eventually sleep comes, pausing the spiral for at least a few sweet hours.

–

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