#wrote this on my work break. couldn’t get the idea out of my head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skyguytoast · 2 months ago

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Swipe Right for Trouble - Dilf!Anakin x you

SYNOPSIS: Dilf!Anakin joins a dating site and comes away with more than he bargained for.

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: +18, infidelity, cheating, age gap (Anakin is in his 40s and the reader is of legal age), sexting, both masturbating over video call, daddy kink

A/N: Hello everyone, this idea came to me out of nowhere and kept on hammering in my mind until I wrote it. I hope you like it, comments, reblogs and suggestions are always appreciated, kisses ;) Dividers by @cafekitsune

Sexting isn’t cheating.

Anakin repeated the thought like a mantra as he filled out the registration form. Technically, this wasn’t even a dating site. From what he’d read, it was more of a… transactional arrangement—an online space where men could chat with young women, spoil them with gifts, and, in return, receive whatever favors both parties agreed upon.

It wasn’t as if his marriage had collapsed overnight. That would have been easier to accept. No, it had been a slow, agonizing unraveling, a gradual drift until the distance between him and Padmé felt impossible to bridge. He couldn’t only blame her long hours at work or the way exhaustion made intimacy rare. He was just as guilty—guilty of giving up, of letting the silence stretch between them for too long, of resigning himself to wanting more but never asking for it.

Regret was useless now.

He exhaled sharply, scrolling through the feed. Most of the profiles were deliberately vague—faceless photos, silhouettes, glimpses of lips, collarbones, and hands. The usernames were just as cryptic, an endless parade of Kitten, Doll, and Baby designed to keep things impersonal.

Then, one caught his eye.

The photo showed nothing but a cascade of silky hair and a princess tiara perched atop it. Something about it—the soft, innocent playfulness—made him pause. Bunny. The name made him smirk. Cute.

A second later, the screen blinked. MATCH.

Anakin’s lips parted slightly. That was… fast. His stomach twisted, fingers hovering over the keyboard. What the hell was he supposed to say? How do you start a conversation like this?

A sharp ding cut through his hesitation.

You had messaged him first.

Anakin rubbed his jaw, still slightly in disbelief that he had actually gone through with this. It wasn't like him to engage in such... base activities. Especially not now. But his marriage had grown so distant, and he needed something—someone—to fill that void.

Just take a deep breath and respond, he told himself as he clicked on your message.

Bunny: Hi there, stranger~

Anakin blinked at the casual greeting, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Stranger? He chuckled softly to himself, realizing that, in this context, that was exactly what you were. Two anonymous figures behind a screen, playing a game neither of you had fully defined yet.

Hi yourself, he typed back, trying to match your easy tone. I like your tiara. It suits you.

The response didn’t come immediately, and in those few seconds, doubt crept in. Was he being too forward? Too personal? Was this a place for compliments, for flirting—or just for transactions?

Bunny: I like shiny things… and pink.

Short. Coy. Playful. The way you phrased it made something tighten in his chest. A flicker of amusement, curiosity, something dangerously close to interest.

I’ll remember that, he replied, his fingers moving with a newfound ease. Do you have a favorite shade of pink?

It was a simple question, innocent on the surface, but it carried weight. He wanted to keep you talking, wanted the conversation to stretch just a little longer. This was a break from reality, from work, from duty. A moment that felt light, free.

Bunny: Uhm… mostly pastel colors… ballerina pink, bubblegum pink.

He was about to type a response when another message popped up.

Bunny: Do you want me to send you the color hex so you don’t get my gift wrong?

Anakin laughed softly at the dig, shaking his head. So you had a sharp wit. He liked that.

No need for that, he typed back. I have a good eye for color. And I’m not planning on buying you a gift just yet.

There. He had said it—acknowledged the possibility of yet, of something more. It was a dangerous game, but one he was suddenly very willing to play.

Unless… He hesitated just long enough to let anticipation build. Unless you’d like to earn one first?

The reply came quicker than he expected.

Bunny: And what exactly do you want from me to deserve it?

A slow smirk spread across his lips. He had a feeling this conversation was only just getting started.

Anakin swallowed hard, a pulse of heat rolling through him at your bold question. He could feel it—something deep and dangerous stirring inside him—but he didn’t look away from the screen. Instead, he leaned in, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he considered his next words carefully.

Well, for starters… He typed slowly, deliberately, letting the anticipation stretch. Tell me more about you.

It was a simple request on the surface, but the words carried weight, unspoken possibilities.

What does a cute little bunny like you do for fun?

His lips curled into a smirk as he hit send, already wondering just how far you'd be willing to take this game.

But you didn’t answer right away.

Anakin exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. Damn it. Maybe that was stupid. Cringe—wasn’t that the word people your age used? The last thing he wanted was to come off like some awkward old man trying too hard.

Before he could spiral further, his screen lit up with a new message.

Bunny: I love going to amusement parks—feeling my hair fly on the roller coaster, the Ferris wheel, the carousel…

Anakin smirked, the tension in his chest easing. There was something so effortlessly sweet about that answer, something playful. Of course you liked amusement parks. He could almost picture it—the wind in your hair, the sparkle in your eyes as you laughed on a ride.

And just like that, he wanted to know more.

Is that so? he typed back, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I'll have to keep that in mind. Maybe I'll take you to a park sometime... among other things.

He paused, letting that statement linger on the screen. Let you wonder, let your imagination run wild. He certainly knew his was.

Tell me, do you have a favorite ride? he asked. One that really gets your adrenaline pumping?

Bunny: Probably the Ferris wheel, I love going there several times... I'm a little scared of the ghost train, however, I might try it if you promise to hold my hand.

A light blush crept across Anakin's cheeks as he read her message, a small smile tugging at his lips. Of course, a Ferris wheel was your favorite. He could picture it now—you sitting beside him, your shoulders brushing as you slowly rotated at the top, looking out over the park and the rest of the world spread out below you.

Don't worry, he typed, his fingers moving almost eagerly across the screen. I'd hold your hand through anything.

He paused, then added playfully, Besides, I think I'm pretty good at killing ghosts. Both the real kind and the fictional ones.

Your response was immediate.

Bunny: Oh, that’s good to know because I think my room might be haunted. Maybe you could come take a look?

Anakin sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. Gosh, you’re being so flirty.

Not that he minded. Not one bit.

Anakin leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to read your flirtatious message again. His smirk grew wider.

Well then, he replied, a playful lilt to his words. It looks like I'll have to schedule an investigation soon.

He paused, letting the innuendo linger for a moment. But he didn't stop there.

Of course, you know that ghost hunting can be quite...intense work. It may require a thorough search of every room. Every surface.

He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. There was something about you, a freshness and boldness that drew him in.

Bunny: in my bed too? even under the covers?

Anakin's heart raced as he read your brazen message, a flood of improper thoughts rushing through his mind. The image of you tangled in the sheets, perhaps already flushed and breathless before he even arrived, was too much to ignore.

Especially under the covers, he typed back, not holding anything back. You never know where a ghost might hide, after all. I'll have to search everywhere, just to be safe.

He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. Then added one final line.

And I'll make sure to check every inch thoroughly. For any...abnormalities.

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

As the days passed, your messages became more frequent, more daring. What started as playful teasing had turned into something else—something charged, something electric.

The flirting was relentless, a slow, delicious game neither of you wanted to stop. Anakin knew he was toeing the line, but God help him, he didn’t care. You were intoxicating—the way you teased him, the way you played innocent one moment and wicked the next.

And every time his screen lit up with a new message from you, he felt that same rush, that same heat pooling low in his stomach.

You had him hooked.

He knew he should put an end to this, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. It was like a drug, a dangerous high he didn't want to come down from.

Tell me... he paused, his fingers hesitating for only a moment. What do you usually sleep in at night? Or out of...

Anakin's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as the image loaded. The dim light of his quarters cast an intimate glow across his face, a face flushed with a growing heat that had nothing to do with the temperature. He leaned in closer, squinting to make out every exquisite detail of the photo, his eyes roaming hungrily over the exposed skin of your shoulders, the way the thin strap of your nightgown clung precariously to your frame.

His heart pounded in his chest as he watched, almost in slow motion, the strap slipping ever so slightly. He felt his mouth go dry, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as anticipation built inside him like a palpable force. And then, like a revelation, he caught sight of the swell of your breast, the tantalizing curve that promised so much more if only he could see just a little further.

Bunny: do you like to see more?

Fuck, he breathed, his voice low and rough with desire. I'd love to see more.

You send another message.

Anakin's heart raced as he stared at the image on his screen, his breath growing ragged. The sight of you kneeling there, clutching at the fabric of your nightgown, teasing him with a glimpse of the lace barely covering your butt, sent a jolt of lust straight to his aching cock.

Sweetheart, you're playing with fire, he typed, his fingers trembling slightly as they flew over the keys. Keep this up and I might just burn in the flames.

He palmed himself through his pants, unable to ignore the growing bulge that strained against the confines of his clothing. The urge to touch himself was overwhelming, but he resisted. He wanted to savor this moment, to draw out the delicious torture of anticipation.

What else do you want to show me? he asked. Where else would you like my eyes to wander?

Bunny: Uhm, I don't know, maybe you could buy me a lingerie set to wear just for you

Anakin's eyes darkened with lust as he read your suggestion, his mind racing with the possibilities. The idea of you modeling lingerie just for him, a matching set in a soft, delicate shade of pink, was almost too much to bear.

I think I'd like that very much, he replied. What color would you prefer? I'm thinking something soft and sexy, maybe a shade of pink to match your sweet smile.

He palmed himself more firmly through his pants, his cock throbbing beneath his touch. The urge to whip out his length and stroke himself to completion was strong, but he held back, wanting to make this moment last.

And maybe... he paused, letting the anticipation build. You could send me a picture of what you'd look like in it. Give me a little preview of what's to come.

Bunny: you know my address to send

Anakin couldn't keep the grin off his face as he hit the 'Confirm Purchase' button, his heart racing with anticipation. He had splurged on the most beautiful lingerie set he could find—the perfect shade of bubblegum pink, soft and shimmery, with delicate lace detailing. He couldn't wait to see it clinging to your curves, highlighting every inch of your gorgeous body.

I took your suggestion and one upped it, he typed, smirking to himself. It should be arriving at your doorstep tomorrow. I hope you like it as much as I think you will.

He paused, his mind already filling with the filthy images of your modeling it just for him.

Send me a picture as soon as you put it on. I want to see how stunning you look.

The next day, the first message was from you.

Bunny: Oh baby, I love it, give me a minute to put on my lingerie and we can do a video call

Anakin's breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering wildly in his chest as he read your response. A video call—that would be even better than any photo. He could see you, really see you, in the lingerie he had bought just for you.

I can't wait to see you in it, he typed back, his fingers shaking slightly. Meet me on a video call in 5 minutes.

He ended the message with a winking emoji, his mind already racing with the possibilities. The room was dim, the lighting soft and intimate, perfect for a private show. He could already picture you, perched on the edge of your bed, the pink lace clinging to your curves in all the right places.

Anakin took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He had to get his head in the game, had to remember that this was just a bit of fun, a distraction from his marriage's problems and the weight of his responsibilities. It didn't mean anything.

But even as he told himself that, he knew it was a lie. This meant something, even if he couldn't quite put his finger on what. All he knew was that he wanted more of you, and he would do whatever it took to get it.

Anakin locked the bedroom door, exhaling slowly as he leaned against it. He mentally thanked Padmé for the extra shift—how ironic. Not long ago, her long hours had been a source of frustration, the widening gap between them something he resented.

And yet here he was, grateful for the distance.

Grateful for the excuse.

His fingers hovered over his phone, anticipation thrumming through him. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He knew this was dangerous.

But when your name lit up his screen, all reason faded.

Anakin took a deep breath as he tapped the button to accept the video call, his heart pounding in his chest. The screen flickered to life, and there you were—stunning, breathtaking, even more gorgeous than he had imagined.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, clad in the lingerie he had purchased just for this moment. The soft pink lace clung to every curve, highlighting the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the tempting flare of your hips. It was everything he had hoped for and more.

“Fuck, you look incredible,” he breathed, his voice low and rough with desire. “That color was made for you.”

He couldn't take his eyes off you, drinking in every detail. The way the lace seemed to shimmer in the soft light, the way it hinted at the treasures hidden beneath. He felt his cock twitch and harden, straining against the confines of his pants.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he instructed, his voice a low command. “Let me see all of you.”

You smiled amusedly. "Like this" you said happily, turning to show every bit of your skin to him.

Anakin's breath caught in his throat as you spun around, putting yourself on display just for him. The way the lingerie clung to your every curve was mesmerizing, the delicate lace accentuating your breasts, your toned belly, the gentle flare of your hips, and the tantalizing globes of your ass. He couldn't look away, his eyes roaming hungrily over every inch of exposed skin.

“Fuck, you're stunning,” he breathed. “I can't believe I bought that just for you. You look good enough to eat.”

He palmed himself through his pants, unable to ignore the ache of his hardening cock. The urge to reach down and free himself was overwhelming, but he resisted—for now. He wanted to savor this moment, to drink in every detail of your heavenly beauty.

“Lie back on the bed for me,” he instructed, his voice low and commanding. “Spread your legs, and show me what's mine.”

"Oh, baby, you're so bossy," you retorted softly, before biting your lower lip mischievously, adjusting your phone before approaching the bed. "But, I kind of like your dominant ways."

Anakin felt a thrill run through him at your playful words, his cock twitching in approval. He loved seeing this side of you, bold and teasing, more than eager to obey his every command. It was intoxicating, addictive, and he knew he could easily become drunk on the power.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice a low rumble as he watched you adjust your phone and get in the bed. “You're going to be so perfect for me.”

He drank in the sight of you settling onto the mattress, the soft pink lace a stark contrast against the white fabric. His heart raced as you slowly spread your legs, revealing more of your smooth, creamy thighs, the lace of your panties riding up to showcase the junction between your legs.

“That's it, sweetheart. Nice and slow,” he encouraged, his eyes glued to the screen, not wanting to miss a single second of your tantalizing display. “Show me everything you have to offer.”

Anakin's breath hitched as he watched you slip your delicate hand beneath the lace, his cock throbbing almost painfully against his pants. The sight of you touching yourself, your eyes fluttering closed in pleasure, was almost too much to bear. He could see the growing damp spot on your panties, evidence of your arousal, and it made him ache to be the one to bring you to the edge of ecstasy.

“You're so beautiful like this,”he breathed, his voice rough with desire. “Don't stop touching yourself. I want to watch you.”

He couldn't tear his eyes away from your hand moving beneath the fabric, imagining how soft and smooth your folds were, how wet and ready you were becoming. His own hand drifted down to palm himself more firmly through his pants, squeezing and stroking along the hard length of his cock.

“Tell me how it feels,” he commanded, his voice a low, urgent growl. “Describe it to me in detail. I want to know everything.”

"I'm so wet for you, my fingers are slipping so easily" you whimpered, touching yourself, sighs of pleasure escaping your mouth.

Anakin groaned as he listened to your breathy words, the sound of your pleasure shooting straight to his aching cock. He could picture your fingers gliding effortlessly through your slick folds, your body responding to your own touch, preparing itself for him. The knowledge that he was the cause of your arousal was intoxicating, fueling his own desire.

‘Is that so?” he growled, his hand drifting to the fastenings of his pants. “I can hear how much you're enjoying yourself. How wet you're getting just from my command.”

He popped open the button of his pants, freeing his straining erection. It sprang forth, thick and hard, the head already glistening with precum. He wrapped a hand around his throbbing shaft, squeezing and stroking himself in time with the rhythm of your breathy sighs.

“Touch your pretty pussy, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, dominating rumble. “Rub those pretty little circles around it, nice and slow. Pretend it's my fingers touching you, pleasuring you.”

"Your fingers are so much bigger than mine, they would feel so good in my pussy," you whimpered.

Anakin's breath grew ragged as he listened to the obscene sound of your fingers plunging in and out of your dripping cunt, your sweet little whimpers and sighs filling the air. His cock throbbed and leaked in his hand as he picked up the pace, stroking himself faster in time with the slick sounds of your touching.

“Fuck, I'd love to sink my fingers deep inside your tight little pussy,” he groaned, his voice strained with lust. “To feel your velvety walls squeezing around me as I pump in and out.”

He could only imagine how perfect you would feel, how hot and wet and ready you would be for him. His cock ached with the desire to plunge into your depths, to stretch you open and claim you as his own.

“Slick your clit with your juices,” he commanded, his breath coming faster now. “Get it nice and wet, just like your hungry little hole. Pretend it's my tongue, teasing and circling as I taste your sweet cum.”

You moaned, your hair spreading across the sheets as you rubbed yourself harder. "tell me what to do, tell me what your good girl needs to do?"

Anakin's heart raced as he watched you come undone on the screen, your hair splayed across the sheets, your hips rocking against your hand as you rubbed yourself with wanton desperation. Your breathy moans and whimpers filled his ears, spurring on his own desperate stroking.

"You're being such a good girl for me," he praised, his voice a low, approving growl. "Touching yourself just like I told you to. So eager and obedient."

He could see how soaked your panties were, the lace darkened with your juices, your pussy aching to be filled. His cock throbbed in his fist, the head flushed a deep, angry red, leaking steadily now.

"Take off your bra," he ordered, his voice a commanding rumble. "I want to see your perfect tits bouncing free. Play with your nipples as you fuck yourself with your fingers."

Anakin's breath caught in his throat as he drank in the perfect sight of your breasts spilling free from your bra, the delicate pink of your nipples a perfect match to the lingerie that hugged your curves. They were even more beautiful than he had imagined, full and round, the peaks already hardened into tight little buds just beginning to be touched.

"Your tits are perfect," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "Even better than I dreamed they would be."

He tightened his grip around his throbbing cock, pumping himself faster as he watched you on the screen. The sight of you touching yourself, playing with your dripping cunt and your perfect breasts, was almost too much to bear.

"Pinch your nipples," he commanded, his voice a low, dominating growl. "Roll and tug on them, just like I would with my fingers. Imagine it's my mouth, my teeth grazing the sensitive flesh."

He could only imagine the taste of you, the feeling of your hardened nubs against his tongue as he sucked and teased, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. His cock throbbed in his hand, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as he watched you pleasure yourself just for him.

With one hand you squeezed your breast, pinching the nipple until it hardened completely, without ever stopping touching yourself. "Uhm, talk dirty to me, tell me what you're doing, what my body makes you feel."

Anakin groaned as he watched you touch yourself with wild abandon. "I'm stroking my hard, aching cock as I watch you. Watching you play with your perfect tits, squeezing and pinching those pretty pink nipples until they're stiff peaks."

"I can feel every inch of you, even from here. The way your tight little pussy clenches around your fingers as you fuck yourself, so desperate for more. The way your breasts bounce and jiggle as you touch yourself, just the way I want to touch them."

He pumped his cock faster, the slick sounds of his stroking filling the air. "I'm imagining burying my face between your legs, my tongue delving deep into your sweet cunt. Licking up every drop of your juices, fucking you with my tongue until you scream."

"I want to bite down on your nipples, to mark you as mine. I want to suck and tease until you're writhing beneath me, begging for more. Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he growled, his breath ragged and intense. "What does my good girl need?"

"I want to cum, daddy." You whimpered, confused in your haze of pleasure, taking a few seconds to realize what had slipped from your tongue.

"Daddy?" Anakin retorted, his deep voice filling your room and making you open your eyes, your cheeks flushing.

Anakin froze, his heart pounding in his chest as the words echoed in his ears. Daddy. It had slipped out, a moment of unguarded passion and desperation. For a moment, he felt a pang of unease, a flicker of doubt. This was wrong, he knew it was. He was crossing a line, one that he shouldn't be crossing.

"I'm sorry, I, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," you mumbled nervously.

But as he looked at you on the screen, flushed and panting, your gorgeous body on display just for him, he felt his resolution crumble. He wanted you, more than anything. And if you wanted to call him daddy, if that's what got you off...

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," he soothed, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "I like it. I like it a lot."

He stroked himself slower, more deliberately, putting on a show for you. "Tell me what you want daddy to do to you."

He wanted to hear you say it, to put voice to the filthy, forbidden thoughts running through your mind. He wanted to be the one to bring you to the edge, to make you scream and shake and cum harder than you ever had before.

"Beg for it, baby. Beg daddy to make you cum."

"Please, daddy, I want to cum so bad, I want you to guide me, let your voice take me to heaven" you whine, feeling the descent of your hips warming up.

Anakin's heart raced as he listened to your desperate pleas, his cock throbbing and pulsing in his hand. The way you said daddy, the need and longing in your voice, it set him on fire. He stroked himself faster, the slick sounds of his hand pumping his shaft filling the room.

"Fuck, I love hearing you beg for it like that," he groaned, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Like a needy little girl begging her daddy to take care of her."

He could feel your desperation, the way your hips were rocking and grinding against your fingers, chasing your climax. He wanted to be the one to give it to you, to feel your cunt clench and flutter around his cock as he fucked you into oblivion.

"Focus on my voice, baby. Let it guide you, take you higher," he commanded, his breath coming faster now. "Imagine it's my hands on your body, touching and stroking every inch of you."

"Fuck yourself harder, sweetheart. Shove your fingers deep inside your greedy little cunt. Imagine it's my cock, stretching you open, filling you up." Anakin murmured, his voice husky and engaging. "Let yourself go, baby. Cum for daddy. Cum all over your fingers like the good little girl you are. Let me hear you scream."

Anakin grunted and shuddered as he watched you come undone, your body convulsing on the screen as the intense waves of your climax crashed over you. The sound of your scream, raw and primal, filled the air as you cried out his name, your pussy clenching and fluttering around your fingers in ecstasy.

"Fuck yes, that's it! Cum for daddy, baby! Cum hard on your fingers like a good girl," he roared, his own orgasm surging through him as he stroked himself to completion. Thick ropes of hot, sticky seeds erupted from his cock, spurting onto his hand and stomach as he rode out the intense pleasure.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, drinking in every second of your pleasure, the way your gorgeous tits bounced and jiggled as you writhed and bucked beneath your own touch. He felt a surge of male pride and possessiveness, knowing that he had brought you to such heights of ecstasy.

"You're so fucking beautiful when you cum for me," he breathed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Such a perfect, perfect good girl for daddy."

"And this is just the beginning, sweetheart. Wait until I get my hands on you for real."

"I'll wait, daddy," you whimpered, your eyes blinking back to focus on his face after your mind-blowing orgasm. "I'll count the days until it happens."

Anakin's heart raced as he heard your breathless promise, a thrill running through him at the thought of the forbidden future that lay ahead. The knowledge that you would be waiting for him, eager and ready, made his spent cock twitch and started to fill and harden once more.

"I'll be counting down the days too, baby girl," he murmured. "Already thinking about all the naughty, filthy things I'm going to do to this sexy little body of yours."

He took in the sight of you, flushed and panting, your skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat from your intense climax. The lingerie you wore, the lingering desire for you... it was all seared into his mind, a deliciously sinful memory to treasure.

"But for now, you should get some rest, sweetheart. Recover your strength. Because when I finally have you in my arms, I'm going to need you at your best. I'm going to fuck you in ways you've never been fucked before."

He reached out to caress the screen, wishing he could feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips. "Sweet dreams, my little girl. Dream of daddy, and all the dirty, wonderful things we're going to do together."

"Until next time," he promised darkly, before ending the call with a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

#anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #anakin smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #anakin x reader #hayden christensen x reader #dilf!anakin #dilf!anakin x you

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jayybugg · 4 months ago

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always been you

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader based on Always Been You by Chris Grey

Summary: Breaking things off should be easy.....right?

Warnings: Smut, Language, maybe a little angsty?? Not really sure. Mattheo is a little mean, but not to you.

Word Count: 3.2K

Music:

Note: I love writing fics based on songs. Probably one of my favorite things to do, I actually wrote this in June, right before my birthday, but my computer crashed, and that file got lost. I prefer this version of it better, though, so I think it was the better. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, enjoy!

Banner by @cafekitsune

You crossed my mind, a few miles ago, turned on your street, thinking I’m headed home

Mattheo chucked the butt of his cigarette to the ground as he walked through the empty corridors of the castle. Unaware of his location, he turned the corner to be met with steep stairs that he knew led to your common house door.

He narrowed his eyes at the dark path in front of him. His feet and heart were begging and urging him to continue. To get to your door, to see you, to touch you, to hear your voice. If Mattheo could smack himself, he would. He was supposed to be going to his dorm to meet some blonde chick he flirted with at a party weeks ago. A distraction, he was supposed to be going to see his distraction.

Yet, here he was, unconsciously going to you like some lost puppy who couldn’t bear to be without his owner. Mattheo continued to glare at the path before scoffing and turning away to make his way to his dorm. Ignoring the pang in his heart, he slipped another cigarette out of the pack and lit it.

How pathetic…. all this over a stupid girl.

It’s late in the night, I hope you’re alone, and nobody is there holding you close, and I tried to love again, now I’m right back at your door

He couldn’t help it. You were plaguing his mind like some disease.

Even as he gripped the hips and thrust into the blonde from behind, his mind still wandered to you. He thought about what you could be doing at this moment. Were you up reading those stupid romance books that you liked so much? Or were you watching some scripted reality show that you always gossiped about with Pansy? Or maybe you were cuddled up with some fucker like some lame-ass couple?

Or worse, instead of being laid up, what if you were in the same position as this blonde? Were you with some other guy? Letting him fuck you? Letting him get a taste of what belonged to Mattheo?

It was the small yelp of pain from the blonde that brought Mattheo back to reality. His grip was brutal on the small girl’s hips, a bruise already forming in its wake. Mattheo loosened his grip, but his pace increased, fast and rough as if he was trying fuck his anger out on the poor girl who had no idea what was going on in his mind.

“M-Matty-” The blonde moaned out. If Mattheo wasn’t thinking about you, then he was definitely thinking about you now at the use of your nickname for him. He muttered, “Don’t call me that.” Another sharp thrust making her moan, caused him to speak again, “And shut the fuck up. Your moans are annoying.”

That’s how Mattheo’s days carried on. Forcing himself not to go to you at all hours of the day and fucking anybody to get you out of his mind.

Was it working?

Not really, but Mattheo was beyond the point of actually giving a fuck. He needed to let you go; he had to let you go. Especially because he was the one who ended the friends-with-benefits arrangement, despite knowing all that, Mattheo didn’t stop watching you. His eyes were on you whenever he had the chance to. Drinking in your figure, your face, your everything.

“Merlin, you look like the biggest creep around. Stop staring at her like you want to eat her alive.” Theo’s voice broke Mattheo’s trance. His dark brown eyes met his friend’s deep blue ones as he took a seat next to him and lit a cigarette.

“I don’t want to eat her alive.” Yes, he does. Anything to have you remotely close to him. “And I don’t look like a creep, and I wasn’t even staring at her.” Mattheo scoffed, folding his arms as he leaned against one of the pillars in the Clocktower Courtyard.

“Yeah, right.” Theo snorted, blowing his smoke, “Why’d you even break it off with her? Thought shit was going well for you both?”

“Too attached,” Mattheo said curtly. Luckily for Mattheo, he didn’t specify which one of them was getting too attached because, truth be told, it wasn’t you that got attached, it was him.

Theo didn’t speak again, giving Mattheo a small noise of acknowledgment. Mattheo’s eyes focused back on you as you laughed with your friends. A small frown tethered on his lips as he watched you. Why the fuck were you so happy? Why aren’t you drowning in misery like he is?

You seemed so unbothered by the fact that Mattheo had broken things off with you. Almost as if you never cared, and it made Mattheo’s blood boil because all he could think about was you.

That’s why he came to your dorm. He needed to know how you forgot about him so quickly. He needed you to teach him. He knocked on your door loud enough that if you were in your dorm, then you heard him.

The door flung open to reveal you to Mattheo. His eyes didn’t hesitate to trail down your body before meeting your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” Mattheo asked gruffly.

You raised an eyebrow at him, obviously trying to understand the boy’s audacity. “What are you doing here, Mattheo?”

For the first time in his life, Mattheo didn’t have an answer.

I know in the end, it’s always been you, you, oh, I got everything to lose, you, it’s always been you

Your eyes stayed trained on Mattheo; he felt like his heart would be ripped out of his chest if he stood in front of you any longer. Without any words, Mattheo turned on his heels and walked away from your door. He felt your eyes follow him until he was out of your sight.

He didn’t understand why he couldn’t answer you. When did it become so difficult to get what he wanted? What did he even want?

You.

He wanted you. Deep down, he knew that. His friends knew it, your friends knew it, and the whole school probably knew it. The only person who probably didn’t know it was you because, in your eyes, Mattheo was the emotionless prick who couldn’t settle down to save his life.

Mattheo wasn’t used to having nice things. Everything came at a price for him. He couldn’t, and maybe wouldn’t, wrap his head around the idea that you want him for nothing in exchange for his love. He could never bring himself to care about anyone outside of his friends, but you somehow crawled your pretty ass into his heart and plagued him every moment he wasn’t with you.

You’re just fucking attached, Mattheo, it’s pathetic.

The voice in his head sounded eerily like his father. He hated it; he hated it more than he hated how infectious you were to him. He reached into his pocket once he reached the courtyard, the cold air of night pinching his face as he pulled out a cigarette. He lit it, inhaling, then exhaling in a shaky breath.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He has never been so torn up about a girl like this before. He knew he wanted you, but what about you did he want?

Did he want your corny jokes? The ones you would tell him every morning, the ones that never failed to gain a snort from him.

Or maybe he wanted your pretty smile? That same pretty smile that he envisioned every time he closed his eyes. The same smile that made his heart flutter weirdly whenever he saw it. The same smile that made him jealous whenever he saw it directed at anyone other than him.

Or was it your voice? Merlin, your voice. So soft and sultry. Always said his name so sweetly, even when you were annoyed at him for some reason. Your voice that lets out the prettiest moans for him when he had you on your back with your legs prompted on his shoulders.

Mattheo groaned, rubbing his temples from the pending headache that always came when he thought too hard about you, which was all the time. He threw his cigarette down, crushing the lit cherry of it under his boot. He made his way to the Slytherin dorms, looking for his next distraction.

Staring eye to eye, I can’t look away, spent so much time apart, still nothing’s changed

Mattheo was once again staring into your eyes. He was drowning in them as you plopped into the seat across from him in the Transfiguration classroom. His eyes followed every moment of yours, from your hands that opened your notebook to your plump lips that moved as you spoke.

You were speaking. You were speaking to him.

He blinked as he registered your voice, the sound making his heart jump and his cock twitch. A weird combination, but a combination that made sense for him. You frowned at him, your eyes unamused by the lack of attention that you were receiving from the curly, brown-headed boy. “Are you even listening to me, Riddle?” You crossed your arms, your eyes narrowed accusingly.

Merlin, her eyes were so fucking pretty. “Since when do you call me ‘Riddle’?” Mattheo licked his lips as he finally spoke. You scoffed, slamming your hands down on the table. “Is that all you can respond to? If you can’t focus or won’t focus, I’ll tell McGonagall to switch us for the project.”

“No!” Mattheo rushed out, “I can focus. I promise.”

That was a fucking lie.

Mattheo couldn’t focus at all. Not when he sat in your dorm for the first time since he ended things with you. It was overwhelming, from your scent to the closeness of you two on your bed. The only thing running through Mattheo’s mind was pushing you back on the bed and diving his head between your legs to taste you.

He was trying, Merlin, he was, but he just couldn’t. Not when you were in front of him in spandex shorts that made your ass look so good and a tank top that revealed that you had no bra on. Were you trying to torture him? Some sort of sick punishment for how he went about ending things?

He exhaled loudly, causing your eyes to snap up to him in a slight look of annoyance. “If you don’t want to do this, then you can leave. Nobody is forcing you to be here.” You said.

Is that what you thought he was thinking about right now? Leaving you? As if.

“Nobody is annoyed, doll.” He said, “Trust me.”

He met your eyes, the room suddenly intensifying around them. Your eyes darted across his face as if you were trying to pick out the lie in his features. “Right.” You muttered.

A silence took over the room as you both continued to stare at each other. Mattheo’s heart was beating out of his chest. He just wanted to lean over and kiss you. He wanted to hear you whisper his name in his ear. He wanted you.

Fuck it.

I find nirvana inside of your love, baby girl, nobody was enough, oh, I tried to love again but a part of me was yours

Mattheo’s lips crashed against yours, expecting you to immediately push him away, but much to his surprise, you kissed him back. He moaned at the simple feeling of your lips against his. The murkiness in his mind had cleared, with you being the only thing on his mind.

He pushed you back on the bed, lips still attached as he felt his body and heart become whole again. He had been suffering for months when all he needed to do was kiss you. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck as his hands slipped under your tank top to cup your breasts.

“Mattheo.” You whispered. A groan involuntarily fell from Mattheo’s mouth when he heard it as he continued to kiss down your collarbone, his fingers massaging your hardened nipples. “Mattheo.” You whispered again, “We shouldn’t-”

“No.” Mattheo breathed out against your shoulder. His curls hid his dark eyes from you as his fingers pinched your nipples. A small yelp filled the air as Mattheo planted a kiss on your shoulder. “I don’t care if you kick me out right after or punch me for whatever reason. I don’t care. I want this; I need this.” He whispered.

He sat up, his eyes meeting yours once again. There was nothing but lust, honesty, and vulnerability swirling in them. You blinked up at him before nodding slowly. “Okay.”

Mattheo didn’t waste any more time. Mainly because he was so desperate but also because he was scared if he waited a second longer, you would change your mind. He lifted your shirt up, pulling it over your head, and throwing it to some unknown part of your room. His lips latched onto your left nipple, his hands traveling past the waistband of your shorts. He whined, he fucking whined, when he felt that you had no underwear on. “You’re fucking torturing me, doll.” He mumbled, moving to give your right nipple the same amount of attention.

“I didn’t...I didn’t do anything.” You whimpered, a soft gasp following as two of his fingers slid into you with ease. Mattheo came back up, his eyes meeting yours, his lips only inches from yours as his fingers plunged deeper into you with each thrust. Your moans were hitting his lips like a hit of ecstasy. “That’s the fucking problem.” He mumbled.

His fingers curled inside of you, your back arching, and a loud whine from you as a result. “You have been torturing me for these past few months, and you don’t even know.” He mumbled, “It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“M-Mattheo...”

“Stop calling me that.” Mattheo demanded, pulling his fingers out of you and your shorts. He ignored your whine as he yanked your shorts down, throwing them in the same direction as your tank top.

He scooted down, pushing your thighs apart to further reveal your leaking pussy to him. Another moan fell from him as he ran a finger down your folds, gathering some of your wetness up. He lifted his finger to his mouth, sucking it lightly. Your eyes were trained on him as you let out a sound that Mattheo couldn’t quite identify. “Mattheo is your name.” You finally gathered enough brain power to respond.

“Not to you. You know what I want you to call me.” He mumbled. Mattheo leaned in, running his tongue down your folds. You let out a loud moan, your hands flying to his hair. “Y-You said you hated the nickname ‘Matty’.” You whispered, your eyes fluttering close.

“I want to hear it.” Mattheo said, blowing on your clit, causing a shiver to run down your body. He licked down your folds again, this time faster, as he looked up at you. “Open your eyes, doll. Open your eyes and say my name.” He whispered, swirling his tongue around your clit before sucking on it lightly.

Your moans were uncontrollable at this point, and you had no choice but to obey his wish. “Matty.” You breathed out, “Fuck, Matty...”

A smile graced his face as he pulled away, pushing his two fingers back into you. “That’s my good slut. Always did know how to follow directions.” He whispered. His lips reattached to your clit, sucking lightly and swirling his tongue around it.

Your moans filled the room as your fingers tightly gripped his hair. He wasn’t going to stop until he ripped an orgasm from you. He would die if he didn’t get you to cum on his tongue. “I know you’re close, doll. Don’t hold out on me, please. Cum on my tongue, I need it.”

You whined as you held his head closer to your clit, your orgasm leaking onto his tongue. He licked it up eagerly, pleased to clean up the pretty mess that he had made. When he sat up, he yanked his shirt off, following his sweatpants and boxers. He watched as your eyes seemed glued to cock, hard and already desperately leaking with pre-cum. Mattheo climbed back on top of you, holding the shaft of his cock as he ran it up and down your folds.

“You’re soaked.” He whispered against your lips, his forehead pressed against yours, “Did you miss me?”

You took a deep breath. “What does it matter? You...You wouldn’t care regardless.”

You thought he didn’t care? If he wasn’t in the middle of sinking his cock inside of you, he probably would have given you a serious response. Instead, all that tumbled out his mouth was, “Just answer me.”

He pushed his cock into you, a groan escaping his lips. “I missed you.” He whispered, “If that makes any difference in your answer.”

He moved his hips slowly, hitting deep inside of you. The act of it all was sensual, intimate. As if Mattheo was trying to make this moment last as long as possible. Your soft moans brushed against his lips, causing his heartbeat to race. “You should miss me.” You whispered, “You’re the one who ended things.”

He was. Merlin, he was the idiot who ended things. “I know.” He whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Mattheo gave her a deep thrust, getting a moan in return. He kissed her jaw, his hips moving a bit faster but keeping a deep pace. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” He repeated in your ear. “I’ve missed your pretty self, doll. So fucking much.”

Mattheo didn’t know what was taking over him. The feeling of being inside you again, or if the intimacy of it all was making his true feelings spill out.

“Matty.” You whispered. His hips moved with more urgency as if he was trying to fuck his remorse into you. “I mean it, doll.” He whispered, “I’m fucking sorry and I’ve fucking missed you.”

You tightened around him, making his moan in your ear. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just....fuck, doll.” Mattheo mumbled, his words spilling out quickly. He was so drunk, on you, on your love, on your pussy. His thrusts were getting sloppy, and you were clenching around more and more. “Cum with me, doll. Please. I fucking need it.” Mattheo pleaded.

You met his eyes, nodding. “I am, Matty... I am.” You said.

Your moans mixed with his groans as you both came together. His seed filled you as your juices coated his cock and soaked the sheets underneath. Mattheo pressed his lips to yours, passionately and desperately.

I know in the end, it’s always been you, you, oh, I got everything to lose, you, it always, been you

It all made sense to Mattheo now.

With your head lying on his chest as your light snores filled your room, Mattheo’s mind was clearer than it had been in the past few months. He was attached. That was the only answer.

He wasn’t just attached to you. He was obsessed and in love with you.

Mattheo couldn’t hide it or deny it to himself anymore, and he honestly didn’t want to. There was no point in doing that. The only person he had to convince was you.

It had always been you. Always.

#slytherin boys #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle smut #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #jayybugg fics #Spotify

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bontentrio · 6 months ago

Text

ATEEZ GETTING OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE

san x gn reader + mingi x gn reader (separated)

part 2 to ateez stuck in the friendzone! read that part so this makes sense

tw: slow burn + veeery dramatic + angst + fluff

a/n: both have the slowestttt slow burns in history of friends to lovers omg my heart did kinda break a little while writing them lol so keep in mind that both are VERY dramatic. maybe even cliche but honestly i just wrote what i, personally, enjoy reading. i’m just a girl in love with love 🥹

masterlist

SAN

san found himself attempting to hide his smile while you told him about your awful date from a few days ago. you were laying down with your head on his lap as san casually untangled strands of your hair, while you rambled on and on about the misfortunes he secretly thought were fortunes in disguise.

“who talks about their mother on the first date? like the whole time i mean, of course it’s okay to mention one or two things following the context of the conversation” you said, moving your hands dramatically to prove your point “but the whole time? i tried to switch the topic of the conversation towards work and can you believe he told me about what his mother does for a living before telling me what HE does for HIS?”

san couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh. you were so cute and he was so happy and relieved that the date had failed.

“he should go to therapy” he said, in between giggles. “right?! sigmund freud would have been thrilled to have him as a patient” you exclaimed, laughing too.

after a few moments of cracking jokes and laughing about the situation, you turned your head to face san. “so what about you?” you asked. he looked down at you, smile on his face still. “what about me?”

“have you gone on dates lately?” you asked. he threw his head back, shaking it slightly “with what time? i’m too busy with schedules” he answered, half lying. it’s true that he’s very busy with his idol duties, but he always managed to make time for you. he knows he could easily use up that time to go on dates, but for obvious reasons that you still were ignorant to, he didn’t. to you, he was just an introvert.

“but are you not interested in anyone?” you pushed, lifting your head and sitting up to face him properly. san chose to avoid your eyes, not trusting himself to keep his own secret. instead, he looked to the city on his right, suddenly finding the building architectures more interesting. he noticed that the air in the terrace got warmer too, and the concrete platform you were sitting on got harder. or was he the one that got warmer and stiffer? “no, i don’t think so” he lied, but you knew him enough to see through it. “liar, you’re blushing”

“well it is an intimate question” he answered, attempting to smile in order to play it off. you shook your head no “you blushed and your left eye twitched a bit. that was definitely a lie and as your best friend i want to know!” you exclaimed, grabbing his hands. if only you knew the effect you had on him.

when he came back from tour, he was determined to confess. but now that the perfect opportunity arose, he couldn’t open his mouth. questions and different negative scenarios plagued his mind, convincing him that maybe it was a bad idea. he much rather work on moving on than lose you as a friend.

“are they that special to you?” you asked, in a much quieter tone of voice, noticing his silence. he nodded, staring at your eyes, hoping you could notice the love they held whenever he looked at you. but despite his desperation, you didn’t. “they are very lucky then, you genuinely are amazing in every aspect sannie”. you continued, going back to your original place with your head on his lap, but still holding his hands. he kept staring at you, if only you knew.

“thank you” san managed to say.

———

“how fast can you come over to help me with something?” you asked san on the phone, as he exited the practice room. it was like the stars aligned, because he had just finished for the day. “i can come over right now, are you okay?” he asked, worried something may be wrong despite you sounding relatively okay. “i can’t pick an outfit and- shit my aunt his calling me, invite yourself in when you arrive, i’m in my room and you already know the lock number of the door” you said, before hanging up.

outfit for what?

———

so that’s how san found himself sitting on your bed on a friday night, numerous pieces of clothing scattered all over without care. he scrolled through some unread messages while he waited for you to try on a different outfit for your new date. yes, new date. as if his heart haven’t just healed from last time.

“i matched with someone on this app and they immediately invited me on a date so now i’m having a fashion crisis” you had explained to him as soon as he entered your room. why was it so hard for you to realize that your dates have been failing for a reason?

you appeared once again, now wearing an outfit that honestly took san’s breath away as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. it was nothing too extravagant, actually, it was rather simple, but it was enough to make san’s head spiral. specially when you twirled around to show the outfit from the back, since your shirt had an open back.

“so? what do we think?” you asked, eyes filled with hope.

san was conflicted: he was 100% sure he has never seen anyone look more beautiful, more dashing, more perfect. but, it wasn’t for him. he didn’t want anyone else to look at you like that, they would never come remotely close to the way he feels about you.

“san-?” you started to ask after a few seconds of silence, but got interrupted by him: “don’t go on that date”

you looked at him confused, as he stared back with the same surprised face. that really had slipped from his lips before he realized what he was saying. you fucked up big time san, he thought to himself.

“why? do i really look that bad?” you asked, turning around to face the mirror in order to examine your body and face. he noticed the way your eyes dimmed, as you carefully traced your eyes over your figure, finding little imperfections that made your face turn into a sad frown. san felt his own heart shatter at the sight, and before he knew, he stood up and quickly hugged you from behind, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“sannie?” you asked, startled by his sudden action and making you momentarily forget about the insecurities that started flooding your mind. you looked at him through the mirror: even if he was leaning down on you, he was still much wider, making you feel very small in his arms. unconsciously, you lifted your hand and patted his hair. san lifted his head, looking at you through the mirror as well, and your eyes interlocked.

“you’re perfect y/n” he whispered. “i’m sorry if i gave you the wrong idea, you look beautiful and your date is very lucky”. he was trying to be supportive, but traces of sadness and desperation were evident in his face. enough for you to notice. you turned around, and the same hand that was patting his head went down to his cheek, holding him in place to look at you.

“what’s wrong san?” you asked, softly. your thumb traced comforting circles on his cheek, and you could feel his arms tighten around you as he closed his eyes.

“go on that date” he whispered in a shaky voice, before adding “you look beautiful”.

you stared at him confused for a few moments, not really knowing what to say. then, he kissed your forehead and, with the little bit of strenght he had left in him, unwrapped his arms, stepping back. he grabbed his jacket and went to the door, but not before shooting you another sad look and saying “like i said, your date is very lucky”.

he left, heart in his hands, slowly breaking with each step.

you cancelled the date.

———

san couldn’t sleep that night, he kept tossing and turning as his mind wandered about what you were doing with your date. were you still having dinner? no, probably not since it’s like 2 am. maybe it went so well that you invited them over for coffee at your place, something that will probably lead to something else. something he didn’t even want to imagine, since it wasn’t him committing those sins.

maybe it was time to move on, after all. he wants you to be happy, truly, so if your happiness doesn’t include him, then he should at least be supportive. and in order to do that from the bottom of his heart, he should move-

*knock knock knock* he heard, coming from the door. he decided to ignore it, thinking that it was probably mingi, so he turned around and closed his eyes, pretending he was asleep.

“maybe he’s asleep, i should come back tomorrow but thank you soenghwa” he heard you say from behind the door. he never got out of bed faster, as he sprinted to the door and opened it widely.

there you stood, now dressed in a familiar oversized shirt and baggy pants. completely different from the outfit he last saw you on, but to him you still looked beautiful. you looked at him with wide eyes, as seonghwa smirked next to you.

“i’ll leave you alone” he said, before he made his way to his room and shut the door behind him.

you stood there awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. you came here with a question, but now that you had san right in front of you, thoughts were scattered all over your mind and you couldn’t say a word.

“come in” he said, sensing your internal dilemma. you nodded in response, as you entered and made your way to his unmade bed.

“did i wake you up?” you asked. san shut the door and shook his head “actually i couldn’t sleep”

“me neither” you said in a low voice.

“how was your date?” he asked, unsure of what to say. he sat next to you on the bed, looking at you while trying to decipher your expression. you turned your head to san’s bedside table, finding the small plushie you once gifted him randomly. you smiled. “i cancelled it”

“what? why?!” he asked, with surprised wide eyes. you turned back to him. “i suddenly didn’t want to go, that’s it really. so while i was tidying up my room i found this shirt” you said, fiddling with the ends of the shirt that looked a little too big on you “the one you once lent me after we got stuck in the rain that one time. i told you i would wash it and give it back, but i didn’t. why didn’t i give it back to you?”

san stared at you in silence.

“so i realized it still had your perfume, and before i knew it, i had put it on. then i started thinking about you, about us. you’re my best friend, you know? but as i was laying down on my bed, i was thinking: what if you were not? what if my dates always failed for a reason?” you continued, as your fingers reached for his. “what if the reason they always failed was because i always searched you in them? so again, before i realized i was standing in front of your apartment, but with one question in my mind”

san could feel his heart beat increase and his breath shorten.

“what will happen to us and our friendship if i told you how i feel? how i think i always felt even if i didn’t know it?” you asked, looking at him scared.

“you’re dumb” he said, loud enough for only you to hear. that didn’t surprise you, what did was the way he immediately let go of your hand in order to hug you close, bringing you closer to his body. “what will happen? how would i feel? y/n you’re dumb because that’s how i’ve been feeling for a long time now” he said, hands leaving your waist and craddling your face. san stared at you, and now you realized that his eyes looked different: they held love in them. something you always searched on random people in dating apps, yet were never able to find. instead, it has been right in front of you this whole time.

“i love you” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. finally, he thought. he finally said the words he has been keeping locked deeply inside him for years. you smiled, as your nose touched his. “i love you too, i’m sorry i just realized”

maybe it was time to give you the silver necklace he bought you on tour, since now the timing was right.

MINGI

mingi missed you, a lot. he hadn’t heard from you since you stormed out of his house a week and a half ago. he had left you a couple of texts apologizing, and even attempted calling you, but to no avail. you had disappeared, and he didn’t blame you, he was stupid enough to let you go. in fact, that’s the thing he regretted the most about the fight: not chasing after you.

so he did what he knew best: he took his misery and transformed it into work, to be precise, he wrote three songs, all about his feelings, the situation in itself and you.

three different scenarios that made him hear yunho’s voice calling him dramatic in his mind. to be honest, he knew he was being a little dramatic about the situation. he knew that you probably just needed time to cool down, and that if his apology was good enough you would forgive him in a heart beat, because, in the end, he knew you loved him. maybe not in the way he wished for, but you loved him nonetheless.

mingi stared at the ceiling in silence, wondering what were you doing while he layed on his bed feeling miserable. did you miss him too? were you also thinking about him? he was certain of one thing only: he wanted to see you. it didn’t matter to him if you opened the door or not, he needed to at least hear your voice through the door.

he checked the time: 11:47 pm, almost midnight. fuck it, he thought. he stood up and quickly got dressed in a speed record time, tied up his shoes and grabbed his keys and song notebook in the process. by 11:55 pm he was already closing the door of his car.

as mingi started driving, questions also started flooding his mind: will you hate him if he suddenly showed up? what if you had invited someone over? shouldn’t he have discussed this with one of his friends first just in case?

questions, questions, questions.

no answers.

soon enough, he found himself standing in front of your apartment door. he could easily ring the door bell, knock on the door or simply use the spare key you gave him once for emergencies. yet, he was unable to do any, frozen in place as he mentally debated on what to do.

mingi decided to do something odd, something he would have probably laughed at if he saw it in one of the movies you usually forced him to watch with you: he took out his pen and notebook, ripped off one of the pages and wrote on it. then, he slid it under the door and left.

“i’ll tell you everything -m”

———

you have always been a hopeless romantic, mingi knew that perfectly well. you believed in happy endings, and that love and friendship can win over everything. so why hasn’t he heard from you still? did you not get the note? should he leave another one? no, that would be too pushy, it was only two days ago.

questions, questions, questions.

still no answers.

mingi was sulking again, and honestly it started to worry seonghwa and san, who watched as he walked back to his room right after dinner, without saying a word during the whole night. honestly, he was just too lost in his thoughts. their pair exchanged a look, before following him.

“mingi, hold up, everything okay? you’re more… distracted than usual” seonghwa said, carefully choosing his words. mingi hummed in response, nodding as he stopped in his tracks. “yeah, there’s just a lot in my head” he answered, not looking at his friends. “let us hear it then” san said, patting his back and leading them towards the living room.

the trio sat down on the sofa they had bought a few months ago, the one you had scolded them about because it seemed very expensive and too hard to clean. they had all laughed, but soon enough realized you were right when mingi spilled a bit of sauce on it. the stain was still there.

“so? what’s wrong?” seonghwa asked once they all got comfortable. mingi sighed, looking down before he started spilling everything that had happened, from two weeks ago until now. he noticed the eldest nodding along the story, but neither of them said anything until he finished.

“when exactly did you leave this note?” san asked, fidgeting with his bracelet. “two days ago” mingi answered. san’s eyes went wide, as he muttered a small fuck before he sprinted towards the kitchen. seonghwa and mingi exchanged a look, both equally confused at their friend’s actions. after a few moments and very weird sounds that came from the kitchen, san appeared again, with a crumbled up yellow post it in his hand. he handed it to mingi.

“the hell is this? it has food stains san, gross” mingi said with a disgusted face as he barely touched the paper. “open it, i found it this morning” san said, sitting down next to him again. mingi gave his friends a strange look, before carefully opening the crumbled up piece of paper. as he read, his eyes widened in surprise.

“what time is it?!” he exclaimed. “9 pm” seonghwa answered, checking the time in his phone. mingi muttered a small fuck, before putting his shoes on, and grabbing his bag.

“i’ll be back in a while” he said, before shutting the door behind him.

seonghwa looked at san, confused. “what the hell did the paper say?” he asked. san picked it up from the floor and showed it to him:

“8 pm, our special place”.

the hand writing was yours.

———

mingi was almost sure he broke one or two speeding laws on his way to the park where he hoped you were still waiting at. he cursed san for not telling him sooner, even if he knew it wasn’t really his fault to begin with. the park wasn’t far from his apartment though, just a short 10 minute drive. as cliche as it sounds, it was the park were you both met.

at that time, around 6 years ago or so, his mind revolved around perfection, hard work, pressure, debut. so he would succumb to overwhelming feelings pretty often, that forced him to need some time alone. that’s how he found a park nearby, and specifically, one peculiar tree that caught his attention for some reason. he used to sit down under it, notebook on his lap and pen between his fingers, as he scribbled down some random thoughts that plagued his mind during hard moments. he didn’t really plan to turn his words into songs yet, it was just his way to deal with stress. he used to find these little moments very special: it was like he was reconnecting with his inner, truer self, and not the mean facade he wore in front of his soon to be members. yeah, some of them irked him, like that wooyoung guy, but he didn’t mean to be that rude all the time. so, to escape the constant pressure kq fellaz was facing in between the company walls, he found solace in a park, but specifically, he found solace under that tree.

he could remember the day he met you like it was yesterday. he remembers all the stress he was feeling, debut date coming closer and closer. everyone was on edge, from the members to the staff. he had also recently come back from morocco after successfully shooting his first music video! but he couldn’t deny it: as much as he was excited, he was already feeling a little tired. he needed some alone time, just himself with his thoughts. so he found himself walking towards his favorite spot in the park.

only to find you there, sitting down under the tree. his tree to be precise. and you were writing on a pink notebook with a fluffy pen. mingi felt like he was looking at a reflection of himself, but instead of being comforted by it, he felt annoyed. it was HIS tree after all!

“excuse me, this is my spot” he said, coming into your field of vision. you looked up to him, pausing your hand and taking an earphone off. “excuse me?”

“this is my spot” he reiterated, making you chuckle slightly. “the tree you mean? does it have your name or something?” you asked, finding the situation hilarious. he rolled his eyes in annoyance, why did nothing go his way?! “listen, i had a shitty day and i need to sit there for a while, so can you leave?”

“no, i got here first. plus there are tons of other trees here, it’s a park after all” you said, putting your earphone back on and turning your gaze to your notebook. he stayed still in his place in front of you, making you huff in annoyance at his persistence. “look dude, i am not going to move. you can either sit on the opposite side or leave, i don’t care but stop bothering me” you continued.

mingi really really reaaaally needed to be at his safe place, too overwhelmed to funcion rationally, so he rolled his eyes and sat on the opposite side of the tree.

that’s how the story started: at opposite sides of the tree. soon enough it got replaced by sitting nearby, and eventually next to each other. some times you would even bring snacks to share in silence, as you both wrote down your thoughts on your respective notebooks. once he debuted, he broke the silence for the first time, urging you to listen to his song. after that, you started talking more, about music, shows, your respective jobs and life in itself. the safe place you both found under the tree, was also found in each other, quickly realizing you often shared the same thoughts and views about the world.

the story started under a tree, and he hoped it wouldn’t end there too. he needed you to be there, because he wasn’t ready to lose not only his best friend, but also his safe place. even the tree would become stained from the pain. and he would have nothing left, just questions, questions, and more questions about different what ifs.

you weren’t there.

but mingi wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. he started running towards the direction of your apartment, forgetting that he had parked the car on the opposite direction. his legs were aching, and he felt like he was a bit out of breath, despite all the idol training he has been enduring for six years. but he kept running.

until he spot you in the distance.

“y/n!” he yelled. he saw you stop in your tracks and turn around to his direction, confused at the sudden call of your name. once you spotted him running towards you, you sprinted to him.

his body collapsed against yours, as he hugged you tightly, like you would disappear if he let you go. mingi hid his face in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his back. you could hear his quick heart beat from how close he held you, and you were sure he could hear yours too.

after a while, mingi lifted his head from your neck, and looked at you. “why are you crying?” he asked, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “i thought you wouldn’t come, why are you crying mingi?” you asked, repeating his own actions, but on his cheeks. he giggled, he didn’t even realize he was crying. “i thought i lost you” he said, truthfully.

the park was dark, the only lights came from street lights. so, for outsiders, you probably looked like a random couple having a dramatic moment. definitely not mingi from idol group ateez and his best friend y/n reconciliating.

“i’m sorry” he whispered, locking his eyes with yours. they still held tears, that threatened to spill depending on your answer. you shook your head “no, i’m sorry mings, i shouldn’t have walked away like that. plus i didn't even give you a chance to explain”.

“i’m sorry for not showing you the songs, for not chasing you, and for being too much of a coward to not face you directly” he apologized. you hugged him again, shushing him. “i shouldn’t have pressured you to show me, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do”

mingi looked at you again, and bit his lip. “can i still show you though?”

“it’s not necessary, mingi, it’s fine real-“ you started saying before he interrupted you, taking your hand and leading you towards the same old place from before. “i want to” he said, determined.

you let him whisk you away.

———

back at the peculiar tree that was iluminated enough by a street lamp a few meters away, he sat you down at your usual spot. he sat down beside you, as he pulled out his notebook from his bag. mingi gave it to you.

“mingi, this really isn’t necessary-“ you started saying once again. “please” he interrupted, with pleading eyes. so you took his notebook and opened it on the first page. you already read that song, it was the first one he ever wrote a long while back. “read the last ones”

you turned the pages, until you found them. mingi looked at you nervously, starting to feel fidgety at the thought of you realizing his deepest secret, the only one he hid from you. he just hoped you wouldn’t hate him. he scanned your face, puffy eyes filling with tears once again as realization hit you. you turned your gaze back to him with wide, surprised eyes.

“mingi- what? wait, hold on” you stammered, as tears fell from your eyes. you quickly set his notebook aside to grab your own bag, taking out your new pink notebook, your diary. you handed it to him, saying: “open it on august 5th”

he stared at you confused, and slightly unsure too, since you’ve always been pretty secretive about what you wrote there. he found the page and read:

“august 5th.

so i realized something, that i’m almost too afraid to write even here. i’m scared that if i admit it, i’ll have to face a sad reality. i think i’m in love with my best friend, isn’t that stupid? that’s how i feel, at least. i haven’t seen him in a while because of his work, and i feel like i’m slowly losing my mind. why do i only feel complete when he’s with me? scratch that, why am i even writing this?

anyways, i’ll probably die with the secret”

“now turn to september 16th” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“september 16th.

i’m in love with my best friend. i love mingi. how insane is that? and how stupid? he is my best friend, for god’s sake. but i can’t help the way i feel, specially when he’s so annoyingly observant. like for example, the other day he noticed my pen was dying, so today he surprised me with a new fluffy pink pen. i hate him for making my heart swell at such gestures. specially because i know I KNOW that’s what best friends do.

anyways i’m not gonna use his pen because i decided i’m going to preserve it forever”

“and now, tun to november 10th” you muttered. mingi realized it was yesterday’s date.

“november 10th.

i still love him. and i fucked up. but i’m still in love with him”

he closed your notebook, turning towards you. he found you with your face on your knees, as you hugged your legs, too embarrassed to face him, despite now knowing his feelings. he loves you too, with the same devotion, with the same desperation and intensity. mingi loves you, his best friend.

“look at me, y/n” he whispered. you slowly lifted your head, hesitantly looking at him. the way you both looked at each other held more intimacy than ever. mingi slowly reached for you, bringing your face closer to his. his hold was shaky, almost unsure, this was a whole new territory. he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“i love you” he admitted.

too many questions, that finally got an answer.

“i love you too” you whispered.

taglist: @yoongles2025 @reallychaoticwoo

(to be added please let me know)

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pullupinarari · 5 months ago

Text

It takes a bit more than you [LH]

author’s note: wrote this just to test how I felt about my writing and the answer is: idk lol I truly don't know if I love or if I hate this. But anyway. Thank you to the anons who requested this and sent some more ideas for this scenario!! Hope you enjoy this, mwah 🩷

• masterlist

wc: 5564 - english is not my first language! feedback is always appreciated

You don’t know how it started, when or why. But lately, it seems like everything that you and your husband know how to do, is fight all the time. Either over the tiniest of things or about the most serious questions, the environment surrounding you two lately is cold, heavy, and the silence surrounding your bodies could easily cut through you - the feelings of anger and disappointment invading your veins.

Maybe it’s because of all the work pressure that both of you have been facing for the past month or so, maybe the tight schedules are to blame. Maybe the fact that you haven’t had any time for yourselves lately isn’t helping either. But the only time you see Lewis smiling now, is whenever he is with his princess, Grace - and the realization that you came to, was that you only end up getting the cold shoulder from him, a closed facial expression that breaks you.

Yet again, another stupid argument broke between you two - God, it was so stupid that you don’t even remember what it was about anymore. The only image playing in your head over and over again, is the frame of his dark eyes, the way he looked at you with such a distance, like you aren’t the woman he loves anymore, like he doesn’t see his entire life and future beside you any longer.

Every time, the cycle repeats itself. You two fight, and silence is the only thing stringing your bodies along, the only sounds being the conversations and interactions that both of you would have with your daughter. But other than that, it’s like you and Lewis just pretend that the other isn’t there.

During the night, Lewis had to fly out for some work, and you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. No matter how hard you would try, you would close your eyes and your mind just kept haunting you with the destructive thoughts it would create. The fact that Lewis’ body would lay far from your figure whenever he was home, wrapped in the cold sheets, wasn’t helping.

To be honest, you don’t remember the last time he even touched you, the last time he gave you a heartfelt kiss - not even a goddamn hug. And you miss him. You miss the feeling of his limbs intertwined with yours, you miss taking in his scent when you would nestle your head in the crook of his neck, while his arms would hold you tight and close. You miss your husband.

You close your eyes, pretending to be asleep and hiding your face further into the covers, but the way he just gets dressed, grabbing his bag before leaving your shared room without even landing a kiss on your hair, or his fingers caressing you for a second, is enough to make you burst into a crying mess once he is out the door.

You still love him. You can feel the love for him burning inside of you every time you look at him, hearts mirroring your gaze, a warm smile spreading across your features every time you see him with Grace - showing that he is, indeed, the best dad ever, and you have no doubts that you chose the right one to raise a family with.

But, lately, Lewis just makes you feel lonely. Like you don’t mean that much to him anymore, like he doesn’t feel the same way. And you are growing tired of all this. Growing tired of burning your entire self, your skin, your emotions, your soul for him, and getting just coldness and silence in return. If you don’t burn together, you will, for sure, burn alone.

Long gone are the days when Lewis would actually care, and take some time to sit down with you and talk it out after a fight. Long gone are the days when fights between you would happen very rarely.

When he is away, he still makes sure to call everyday. But not to talk to you. He wants to talk to his daughter, making a special time in his days to always talk to his baby, to see her face lighting up as soon as she sees her daddy on the screen in front of her.

And while you hold your phone so Lewis and Grace can have a little chat, you die a little more on the inside. Your face falls, your brain rethinking your entire marriage, questioning why you keep doing this to yourself. Why do you still submit yourself to stay in a place where you clearly don’t feel at home anymore?

Your gaze travels through the four walls surrounding you. The family pictures - reminiscing you through the old times when you were happy, united as family. Every piece of furniture is enough to remind you of all the times you and Lewis carefully picked every piece, decorating it like the house of your dreams, creating your safe space there, a place that would reflect both your personalities.

In the dark of the night, where it would be just you and silence, tears stream down your face - and you don’t even bother cleaning them up, hoping the salty water would be enough to extinguish all the fire and love that insists on devouring your insides. You’re sure that, if you listen close enough, you can still hear his giggles echoing through the kitchen, you can still hear his favorite music playing, remembering how he would always sway to its rhythm while cooking.

Now, the night lies beside you in bed, pure and cold like a sharp knife. It’s just you and the darkness, alone. Your love, the passion that you still hold in your hands for your husband feels like this knife, entering every ounce of you - painfully, slowly through the days, ripping your skin apart, until this emotion can finally subside.

Except it never fades. It’s like your mind still recalls the feeling of his silky lips traveling through your body, like a ghost that carefully touches your skin until goosebumps appear. You would give everything to go back to those passionate nights, followed by slow, light mornings. Lewis saw you differently then, finding heaven on earth in your presence, giving you everything of himself.

You are a long history. And Lewis was always the type to read every line, to focus on each word of your being. Until it got to a point where it seems like he doesn’t want to read you anymore.

If you could, you would go back to the day when the first fight erupted - oblivious that it would be the beginning of a never ending phase of frustration, short replies, closed facial expressions, and solitude. You would kill to go back and to make it right, giving your all to avoid the argument, firmly believing that it could have changed something in the present.

You drown yourself in work, trying your best to forget about all this. Everytime your phone rings and Lewis’ face shows up on the screen, your instinct is to immediately reach for your three-year-old - you already know that he isn’t calling you, he doesn’t want to see you or talk to you.

You don’t know when or if this is coming to a stop, and it scares you to imagine what it might take for you to find some peace in your heart again, touching the ring on your finger while every possibility crosses your mind.

You’re too tired to think, too tired to wait for him. You can’t stand looking at the same four walls anymore, spending the entire night by yourself, your tears being your only company.

At the same time, you can’t shut the feeling that makes you realize that, all it would take for you to stay, was your husband telling you that he still wants you. You would drop everything in a second to be back into his arms. If you could find the same emotions pooling inside of him, you would spend the entire night sharing secrets, feelings, touches in your haven, without anything being able to ruin it. But he doesn’t, and you’re tired of feeling alone, abandoned.

So, after talking to your brother for a while and venting to him about everything that has been going on, you decide to pack some clothes for you and Grace in a bag, picking up your daughter and Roscoe, driving to your brother’s house, trying to stay away from all the memories and flashes that your house brings back now.

“Are we going to meet daddy, mummy?” - your daughter asks as you start driving. The question makes your heart drop, and you take a deep breath before replying to her.

“No, love. We are going to see your uncle Josh! Don’t you miss playing with him?” - you fake some enthusiasm in your voice, but a small smile shows up on your features once you see your princess nodding her head at your words.

Once you arrive at your brother’s house, you decide to turn off your phone: Lewis doesn’t acknowledge you anyway, and you know that it won’t be long until he is back home from his work trip. So, you just try your best to enjoy your brother’s company for a moment, desperately searching for a different environment, different people that might make you feel something other than sadness and emptiness inside of you.

Your brother and his wife manage to distract your daughter, playing with her and spending some time with the toddler while you took some time for yourself. Taking a hot shower, hoping it would ease the tension surrounding your muscles, the tears escaping your eyes mix themselves with the water coming from the faucet, making you feel like your tears aren’t even real.

And maybe, your marriage isn’t real either. Maybe, what was once real, is now becoming a pity stop that your husband keeps making, out of shame or doubt, not ready to face the consequences of his actions either. Apparently, this is what we call love: this thing that knocks us down or ends up treading on us slowly, like weary grass.

Every night, you cuddle your daughter closer in her sleep, her little body comforting you, truly mending your heart without even knowing it. Your little partner in crime, the only one that saw you crying for the past days, the one that put a smile on your lips, her presence lighting up your insides, the most important piece of your life.

And just like you thought, Lewis didn’t call that day, already preparing everything to come back home. Except that coming back to an empty house wasn’t in his plans. He unlocks the front door, noticing how everything is dark, without a sign of life inside.

He checks the clock - 6:34pm, furrowing his brows, trying to understand what’s going on. Wandering around every room, only to be met with silence and darkness, he tries to find a reason for your absence. “Maybe they went to the park” - the man thinks, connecting the empty house to the fact that your car isn’t parked in the garage either.

Grabbing his phone, your husband calls your number, wanting to let you know that he is back home. But instead of being greeted by your voice, he is greeted with your voicemail. Why would you leave your house with your phone switched off?

He insists. Calling you again, and again, and again, and again. Only to continue to be met with the message that says that your phone is off, his calls not coming through. It’s ironic how this moment represents how your marriage has been for the past months: you are continuously trying to make things better, only to be met with Lewis’ indifference.

His heart races in his chest, worrying that something might have happened to his daughter, and to you. Hopping on his car, he starts driving around the city, passing by every place that crosses his mind, potential spots where his family can be - while never stopping calling your phone.

Almost an hour later, the man is delving into complete desperation, not knowing where his family is, not knowing what to do. Lewis starts praying without even realizing, his hands slightly trembling at the thought of losing the loves of his life. But, just like an angel showing up, his phone rings with a message from his brother-in-law.

“Hey, man. I don’t know if you’re back home already, but Y/N and Grace are at my apartment. They decided to come spend some days here, but they are okay. Just a heads up, so you don’t have to worry” - Lewis lets out a heavy breath after reading the text, leaning his body on the car seat, feeling lighter just by knowing that both of his girls are okay.

He knows that things haven’t been going well between you two, and he tries his best so your daughter doesn’t realize any of it - but right now, he just wants to hold both you and Grace, and bring you back home, wrapping your bodies safely around his arms.

So he decides to drive to your brother’s house, ready to meet his family again. Once he enters the apartment, your daughter is immediately drawn to her daddy’s voice, and the way she squeals his name is enough to make your stomach drop, even from afar - the realization of being back in the same room as your husband hitting you now.

You walk into the living room, being greeted by the sight of Lewis sitting on the sofa, his giggles mixing with Grace’s, while he is hugging her tightly, leaving kisses all over the girl’s features.

He acknowledges your presence - for what feels like the first time in months. His gaze lands on you, and his face falls when he realizes that he isn’t being welcomed by your kind smile, happy to see your husband finally back home. Instead, his eyes are fixed on your emotionless expression. The dark bags under your empty eyes, your lips narrowed in a line, your body tensing the more he looks at you. But he is just trying to look into you, trying to understand everything that happened while he was away.

“Can we talk?” - he asks you quietly, picking Grace up so he can come closer to you. You just nod silently, directing him to the room where you were temporarily staying at your brother’s house.

Walking inside, he sits down, his hands never leaving the hold he has on his baby - and your daughter being equally glued to her dad, not letting him go for the world. You decide to sit across from your husband, keeping your distance.

Lewis can feel the tension in the air, the way your connection feels weird and uncomfortable right now. Cleaning his throat, he decides to speak. “Your phone has been off” - he informs you, as if you don’t know about it.

“I know” - is all you reply with, your voice sounding hoarse and cold.

His eyebrows furrow for a second. “Why did you turn it off?” - the man insists, making you feel like he is actually trying his best to make you snap, just so he can hear the worst words that have been crossing your mind during all this time.

“Because” - you keep yourself from speaking, looking into your daughter’s eyes, reminding yourself that she can hear everything that you two are saying, and definitely not wanting her to witness something like this.

Lewis can still read you. He notices how uncomfortable you are, how you bite your tongue to prevent yourself from saying something that you might regret. So he just leaves it, kissing Grace’s cheek lovingly while thinking about what to do.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” - he offers, getting up from his place, holding out his hand for you to take.

You don’t even bother looking at him, hugging your own figure while leaning further in your seat. “I came here to spend some time with my brother, away from home. And that’s what I want to do” - your words sound cold and dry, making Lewis’ heart sting.

Deep down, he knows that both of you are broken. He knows that your relationship has not been the same for a while now. He just doesn’t want to believe it.

“Mummy, I want to go home with daddy” - your child says, her voice trembling slightly as some tears swell in her eyes. You could cry right here and then, too - not wanting to be the reason why your daughter has to go through something like this, and definitely not wanting to make her feel like she has to pick a side.

You swallow the lump that found its place in your throat a couple of days ago. Lewis’ thumb carefully cleans the small tears leaving your baby’s eyes, kissing her over and over again. “Don’t cry princess, it’s okay. We’ll be home in no time” - his soothing voice tells her, and he gives you a silent look, a pleading one, begging you to please come home with him.

Her tiny arms wrap around his neck, hiding her face on her daddy’s shoulder, and he makes sure to continue to caress her back, while leaving gentle kisses on the little girl’s frame, calming her down, making her feel protected.

“We’ll talk about all this at home. Please” - Lewis whispers to you, extending his hand for you to take.

This definitely isn’t the time to have such a serious conversation, not while your daughter is near, hearing every word that you say as clear as water. So you give in, ignoring his hand but getting up from your seat, gathering your things so you can go back to the place you used to call ‘home’, but that doesn’t feel like it anymore.

On your way back, Grace ends up falling asleep and you carry your baby back to her room, while Lewis takes your bag out of your car.

Now, your daughter isn’t there anymore to pull you back from the deafening silence surrounding her parents. Now, it’s just you, Lewis, and the shadows of the couple that you used to be. The room is so silent that you could almost hear each other’s heartbeat, at this point.

Lewis doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t even know if he should push it, so he decides to bring his body closer to yours, trying to comfort you, wanting to see your reaction.

But as soon as you feel his figure approaching you, your instinct makes you immediately move away, walking around to the other side of the living room, sitting on the sofa and covering your body with a blanket.

You don’t plan on lying beside him anymore, you don’t feel comfortable enough to do so. As sad as it sounds, Lewis feels like a stranger to you now, and you don’t want to share a bed with someone that treats you as coldly as he does. So, maybe, sleeping on the couch doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

Your husband sighs at your movements. “Come on. It’s just the two of us now, let it out” - he sits on the opposite side of the sofa, ready to listen to you.

“I have nothing to say” - you reply, not paying him much attention, not having the energy to argue once again.

Another loud sigh leaves his lips. “Why did you turn off your phone?” - there it is, the damn question again.

“I didn’t want to talk to you” - sincerity is scary, but needed in times like these. You don’t want another fight to break, but you are tired of hiding the way you feel.

“Why not?” - the words leave Lewis’ mouth immediately, as if he didn’t even have time to process them. Your reaction is to just snort at his question, sounding stupid to your ears.

“When was the last time that we actually talked, Lewis? When was the last time you called my number to speak to me, specifically? Because lately all I do is pick up your calls and leave you to talk to our daughter, because all you do is ignore me and the way I feel” - you snap, raising your tone as if that would make your words enter his brain faster.

On the other side of the room, silence settles. He knows that you are right, he can’t argue with you on this. The truth is, Lewis is tired of the constant fighting as well. He misses the calmness that he would always find at home, with his family, by your side. He misses the cuddles, the carefree mornings, the way you used to make him feel like time had stopped.

This routine is taking a toll on your marriage, but Lewis doesn’t know how to deal with this - with the changes in your behavior, with the distance growing more and more between you two, with his own feelings. He is frustrated with work, he is worried about the future of your relationship, of your family, but he doesn’t know what to do to make it better - and it’s always hard for him to open up, to let his shell crack, to show his feelings and weaknesses.

He doesn’t dare to say a word to you, his mind running to create a supercut of all the past weeks, analyzing everything that went wrong between you two. You just nod your head at yourself, not even slightly surprised by his lack of response.

Lewis eventually gets up, reaching for the bathroom, starting the water to drain his own thoughts in the hot water hitting his muscles. For the first time in a while, he allows himself to let some tears escape his own eyes now, feeling powerless, unable to mend his family back together - feeling like he is failing the most important roles of his life, failing you as a husband, failing Grace as a father.

When he steps out of the shower, he finds you already asleep on the sofa, and he actually needs to stop himself from picking you up and carrying you to bed - thinking that maybe it’s just better to give you some space.

During the night, Lewis tosses and turns on the bed, his mind haunting him with an endless guilt creeping through his bones, running to find a solution to the crisis you found yourselves in.

He doesn’t want to lose you, of course he doesn’t. You are the best thing that has happened to him, you gave him the most precious gift he could ever ask for - your baby, and he longs to have many more with you, to grow old by your side as your beautiful family keeps growing.

In the living room, you too are still awake. Some hot tears tingle in the corner of your eyes at the thought of spending another night without being held by your husband. You hate to admit it, but the hope that you used to safely keep inside of you, it’s vanishing, and you see yourself reaching a dead end - with the end of your marriage being the only possible solution to this.

You mirror each other’s thoughts, expressions and movements right now, even while lying in different rooms. It feels like your shadows are still connected, an invisible string sewing your hearts together, even if you can’t see it right now.

If saying goodbye is the solution, you wish you could ask Lewis to spend one last night with you. Just so you could feel his touch for one last time, sensing the protectiveness of his arms, the warmth erupting from his skin, and he would kiss your entire face, making your heart jump as he would make you feel like the luckiest girl in the world again. You would just ask him to stay for a little while, not to leave you suddenly. Instead, you would beg him to leave you slowly, so you could feel him lying by your side one last time, before you two would say goodbye for good.

The next morning, your bodies both feel tired, restless, and the air feels thick and heavy, the tension could clearly be felt between you two. And even if you tried your best so your daughter wouldn’t notice what was happening, she still did. She knows that things aren’t the same, she sees that her mummy and daddy are quieter than usual, you don’t sound happy anymore, and it’s been a while since she has seen you and Lewis kissing or hugging like you used to do all the time before.

Lewis is helping Grace eat her breakfast while you take a shower. And even though he tries to play it cool, playing with his princess, smiling at her, she still holds a question for him to answer.

“Daddy, is mummy okay?” - the toddler asks, making Lewis stop his action for a second.

He furrows his eyebrows lightly. “Of course she is, my love. Why are you asking?”

“Mummy has been crying a lot lately” - the little girl’s words startle Lewis, feeling like he just got punched in the gut.

You are broken, even if you try to play tough and pretend like you’re not. And Lewis can’t stop feeling that incessant guilt in his veins, desperately in need of some divine solution that can help him save his marriage.

But as much as he tries, he can’t find the right way to make you crack even for a bit, so you can let him inside your mind, not allowing yourself to be vulnerable around him anymore. Every time he tries to touch you, your body tenses, you are always searching for things that can distract your mind whenever you find yourself in the same room as him, and completely avoiding being left alone near him.

It’s devastating, truly. He is still your husband, after all - even if he doesn’t really feel like it now. Your heartbeats don’t beat at the same rhythm anymore, you spend your days feeling like you are fighting a silent battle with the father of your child, your feelings being all over the place, declaring themselves as your worst enemies nowadays.

At night, after putting Grace to sleep, you lay on the rocking chair that sits in her room. You are sad, empty, and you are just trying to find some comfort in the little things. Being near your daughter is the best antidote you can get while your entire world seems like it’s coming crashing down, ready to collapse on you.

And without even realizing, you end up falling asleep in her room, the chair carefully placed beside her little bed, trying to wrap yourself in the peaceful bubble that surrounds your baby while she sleeps.

After some time, Lewis gathers the courage to go search for you, actually trying to talk to you now, with no interruptions, just you, your feelings and the sincerity that both of you need so desperately now.

When he finds you sleeping in your daughter’s room, another moment of disappointment and hurt hits him. Are you that desperate to avoid his presence, to physically distance yourself from him, that you feel the need to hide in Grace’s room?

Either way, he decides to act like an adult - something that he should have done a while ago. Gently touching you, he whispers your name until you open your eyes, surprise mirroring your eyes as you realize where you ended up falling asleep.

His face is mere inches away from yours, his eyes staring deeply into yours, and feeling his body so closer to you again makes you break immediately - your lips form a pout while hot tears begin to stream down your face silently.

Lewis wraps his arms around your frame tightly for the first time in so long. Finally, you allow yourself to feel his touch, the one that you were so desperate to feel but kept blocking away, out of fear.

Your husband carries your body to your shared room, finally sitting in the same bed that you have been sharing for so many years now. You breathe quietly, while Lewis gently wipes away the tears that keep staining your cheeks.

“What happened to us, Lewis?” - you question, your voice barely above a whisper as your faces are incredibly close now - you two were missing the contact.

His eyes look glossy as well, trying to brush it off before replying honestly. “I don’t know, love. I wish I knew” - he gently picks a strand of hair, putting it behind your ear.

Your head falls, crying harder as your gut keeps telling you that there’s no way to mend this situation, no matter how badly you want to.

“I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to lose you” - you confess, sobbing into his chest as he pulls you into his lap, his fingers playing with your hair as he tries his best to calm you down.

Lewis feels his heart clenching in his chest nonstop now, but he is sure of one thing: he doesn’t want to say goodbye either.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here” - he lets you know, an attempt to shush away your fears.

Distancing your face from his body so you can look into his face, you sniffle before replying. “You don’t understand, Lewis. This isn’t just about you being here or not. You’ve been here for the past couple of months and still, here I am: feeling like I’m walking on eggshells every time I’m around you, afraid of saying something that might be misinterpreted by you, something that can make another fight break again. Afraid to be myself because I feel like you don’t like me anymore. This isn’t just about your presence, it actually takes a bit more than you for me to overcome all this. We are ruined, Lewis. We aren’t the same anymore” - your cries intensify, making Lewis gulp at your confession.

A single tear escapes your husband’s body now, which he immediately wipes away. Sniffling, he cups your face in his hands gently. “I’m sorry, my love. This is all my fault. I’ve been feeling so easily annoyed lately because of work, I haven’t been in the right place mentally, and it took me a while to understand how hard it was affecting my family” - more tears stream down his features now, and you are the one reaching out to softly clean his cheeks.

“But trust me my love, we are still the same, I promise you we are. We are still the same couple, this is just a bad phase, I guarantee you. I need you by my side to be happy, to be myself, I need you so desperately that I will do everything in my power to fix all this shit that I’ve put you through, I swear to God” - he takes a moment to breathe, anxiety pooling in his chest now.

“I don’t breathe correctly, my heart doesn’t beat at the right rhythm without you. I want to continue to raise our princess by your side, I want to have more kids with you, I want our family to grow and I want to spend the rest of my life by your side, caressing your hair while you lay your head on my chest, falling asleep while we are entangled in each other. That’s my plan for the future, because I long to be close to you whenever I’m away. I promise I’ll learn how to deal with my emotions and frustrations better, just please don’t leave me. Please. I can’t stand any idea of a life without you in it. I am still so madly in love with you, Y/N, and I never stopped loving you. So please, just tell me that you still love me as well” - he begs you, his eyes showing you a pleading honesty, so pure that it’s enough to make your inside light up again.

“I could never stop loving you” - you admit, and as soon as the words leave your mouth, Lewis is finally attaching your lips together, meeting you in a loving, gentle yet passionate kiss - the type of kiss that speaks for the both of you.

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry. This won’t happen again, I promise you. The fights are over, I’ll learn how to deal with all this mess, I just want to have you and Grace next to me, forever” - the man is a mess right now, tears still running down his face, completely being himself, being vulnerable to the person who knows him best in this world.

Your nose rubs against his, a small smile appearing on both of your faces. “Me, Grace, and her future siblings?” - you tease, feeling the aura around you lightening up.

Lewis giggles softly. “Definitely. I’m addicted to being your husband, to being a father, and I love the life that I have because you gave me the most important part of it: our family. And nothing in this world is worth losing my girls over. Nothing” - your husband assures you, laying your body on the bed, getting ready to cuddle you for the entire night, making up for all the distance that surrounded you for so long.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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awkward-walking-potato · 9 months ago

Note

Do you write for charles xavier?? If so cloud we get a reader who just keeps bothering him while he is working cause they want his attention and every one else is busy? I hope you have a good day!

I hope you don't mind I wrote this Pre Wheels Charles

The afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of the Xavier Institute, casting warm, golden light across the vast room where Charles Xavier sat, surrounded by papers, books, and a holographic display projecting data from Cerebro. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his mind focused on the delicate task of tracking mutant activity across the globe. The mansion was unusually quiet, with the other X-Men off on various missions or training sessions. It was a rare moment of peace, one that Charles was determined to use to catch up on work.

And then, you appeared.

“Charles?” Your voice broke the silence, drawing his attention away from the screen.

“Yes?” He looked up, his expression patient but slightly distracted.

“What are you doing?” You leaned against the doorframe, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Just some work,” he replied, hoping that would suffice as an explanation.

You nodded, stepping further into the room. “Looks important.”

“It is,” Charles confirmed, his eyes drifting back to the hologram. He tried to refocus, but he could feel your presence, still lingering, still watching.

“Everyone else is busy,” you continued, moving closer to his desk. “Scott, Jean, Logan—they’re all off doing something. I’m bored.”

Charles glanced up again, his lips quirking into a small smile. “And so you’ve come to bother me?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a grin, leaning on his desk now. “What’s that?” You pointed to the hologram.

“Mutant activity tracking. I’m trying to—”

“Sounds complicated,” you interrupted, picking up one of the pens on his desk and twirling it between your fingers.

“It is,” he said, still smiling despite himself. He could sense your playfulness, and though he knew he needed to focus, he couldn’t help but be charmed by your persistence.

You sighed dramatically, putting the pen down and plopping into the chair across from him. “Can I help?”

“I’m not sure this is something you’d find very interesting,” he said diplomatically, though the idea of you sifting through the data with him did amuse him.

You groaned and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “Why is everyone always so busy? It’s like this whole saving-the-world thing never ends.”

Charles chuckled softly. “It does tend to keep us occupied.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, Charles thought you might have given up. He returned his attention to the hologram, his fingers hovering over the controls.

But then, you spoke again. “Charles?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever just—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Do you ever just want to take a break from all this? From being the wise professor and the leader of the X-Men? Just…be Charles for a while?”

Charles looked at you, truly looked, and saw the sincerity in your eyes. It wasn’t just boredom driving you to seek him out; it was a desire for connection, for a moment of normalcy in a life that was anything but.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, the work momentarily forgotten. “Yes, I do. More often than you might think.”

You smiled, a warm, understanding smile that made something in his chest loosen. “Then maybe you should take a break. Just for a little while. You deserve it.”

Charles regarded you thoughtfully. “And what would you have me do during this break?”

“Well,” you said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin, “I was thinking we could take a walk in the garden. Or, if you’re feeling adventurous, we could raid the kitchen for some of those cookies Hank made yesterday.”

Charles laughed, a genuine, light-hearted sound that echoed in the quiet room. “Cookies and a walk in the garden, you say?”

“Maybe even some tea,” you added with a playful wag of your eyebrows.

He shook his head, still smiling. “You’re very persuasive.”

“It’s one of my many talents,” you said, standing up and holding out your hand.

Charles looked at the work spread out before him, then back at you. The world could wait a little while longer. With a nod, he reached out and took your hand, letting you pull him to his feet.

“Alright,” he agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Let’s go see about those cookies.”

As you led him out of the study, chatting animatedly about all the things you wanted to do, Charles couldn’t help but feel grateful for the interruption.

#charles xavier #charles xavier imagine #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier oneshot #professor x imagine #x men imagine #xmen 97

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w4ndal0ver · 7 months ago

Text

The Art of Submission (1)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: lead up, talk of submission and sadomasochism, flirty touches and conversation.

note: This is the first chapter of a new story that I'm writing, any ideas or inspiration would be appreciated so if you have any ideas feel free to drop them in my requests, other than that buckle in! (I will try to get the next part out as soon as possible)

The Art of Submission - Chapter One

The soft glow of your laptop illuminated the cluttered desk, your cursor blinking impatiently on an empty document. You stare aimlessly at the screen, your fingers hovering above the keys waiting desperately for inspiration to strike. It had been hours since you sat down, hoping to squeeze out something, but your mind felt trapped and foggy, yet every time you wrote a sentence, you only sank deeper into it. The end result had started to feel completely out of reach.

Your last book had done okay. It wasn’t groundbreaking or a bestseller, but it was just enough to remind you that you could do this. You could write and publish your writing and make some level of a name for yourself in the world of lesbian erotica. Not that it was hard considering the low level media attention that your field rarely gained. The reviews had been mostly kind and the sales had trickled in steadily enough that you were managing to stay afloat, but nowhere near the level of success that you first imagined when you wrote your first novel.

Your apartment is a mess, the evidence of your creative block scattered pointlessly across the room. Empty coffee mugs crowded your desk, some still holding the cold remnants of yesterday's caffeine-fueled desperation. You’d also not left the apartment in days, time becoming a blur of restless nights and sluggish mornings, avoiding stepping outside. You found it was easier to stay here, trapped within the confines of your own thoughts, hoping something would come to you.

You lean back in your chair, groaning in frustration. You thought about getting up and attacking the massive pile of laundry that had sat abandoned in the corner for days, but you quickly pushed that aside, realising that there was no point until you at least got another page written. The cursor was blinking furiously at you and you felt yourself going slightly insane. You wanted to smash your head into the keyboard, but instead you imagined yourself doing it which brought a small smile to your lips.

It was at this moment that a sharp knock sounded at the door, you spin in your chair, frowning as you try to glance over at the entrance to the apartment. You wracked your brain trying to remember if you’d ordered something, but you couldn’t work it out and you knew you definitely wasn’t expecting company. You push yourself out of the chair with a deflated sigh, stretching your legs out as you go towards the door. The knock came again, firmer this time. Whoever it was, they weren’t planning on leaving.

Shuffling to the door, you don’t bother to smooth the wisps of your hair or fix the crumples in your shift, you just swung it open.

“Hey, I hope I’m not intruding, but I thought you could use a break.”

You blink in shock, momentarily stunned. Wanda stood in your doorway, her familiar yet distant neighbour from across the hall. You knew her as the woman who you occasionally exchange small talk with in the corridor, but there she was holding a bottle of wine like she’d been planning this all along. Her reddish-brown hair flowed over her shoulders, perfectly catching the dimming light of the room, the colours of her striped blouse almost too cheerful for the cluttered mess that she would soon walk into.

“I can basically hear your sighs from across the wall. Writer's block?” Wanda smiled, her green eyes warm but with a hint of darkness behind them, as if she knew something that you didn’t. She stepped further inside, her presence filling the small apartment yet you didn’t move to stop her, you didn’t feel the need to.

“Yeah no of course, come on in.” You say, brows furrowed in confusion. You hadn’t told anyone that you were trying to write again, come to think of it, you hadn’t even told her that you were a writer in the first place. Suddenly, your cheeks flushed pink in the realisation that she knew who you were.

Wanda set the bottle down on the counter, next to a half empty cup. The sound of it landing felt louder than it should, cutting through the quiet tension that was arising around the pair of them.

“You’ve been in here too long, I thought wine might be a good excuse to step away from the screen for a bit.” Wanda spoke with a caring tone beneath her soft voice, yet you found it unsettling in how she acted so naturally, offering up solutions to problems that you hadn’t even told her about.

Wanda always seemed to have a way of appearing when you least expected it, offering little moments of relief, like that time she helped carry groceries up the stairs. She was friendly, sure, but there was an edge to her friendliness. A knowing look, like she was always a step ahead of you, just waiting for the right moment to weave her way into your life. You didn’t know why, but you weren’t exactly complaining about it.

“You know, I’ve read some of your stuff.” There it was, you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. Your eyes dart to Wanda’s face, as if you were searching for any hint of a joke but instead you’re met with a calm, confident smile. That wasn’t what you were expecting. You’d always presumed that your audience was horny teenage girls, but Wanda was a mind-blowingly gorgeous woman, the exact opposite of who she was expecting. Besides that, your books lived in a cosy corner of the erotic fiction world, usually flying under the radar, definitely not the type of thing a neighbour casually brings up over wine.

“You have?” You ask, trying to sound casual but your voice comes out a little more strained than intended. You walk around the kitchen counter where Wanda had perched herself, your hands almost shaking from the unexpected social encounter. You reach into the cupboard, finding two wine glasses and placing them down between the two of you.

“Mhm.” Wanda leans against the counter, an almost playful spark in her eye, “You’re good. The way you write about submission, it’s real, raw. It’s incredible.”

You feel your cheeks warm up, unsure on how to respond. This was the first piece of praise you’d received from inside your own kitchen. You felt your pulse quicken, the fact that Wanda had read those words, the intimate fantasies that you’d put into your stories was making this situation way more intimate than deemed necessary.

You literally were stuck in a state of speechlessness, but Wanda was acting like she expected this. She lets you stand with your back against the counter opposite her, fiddling with the ends of your hair while she pulls up a stool. “Corkscrew?”

“Oh yeah, of course.” As you turned you wanted to slap yourself, why were no words coming out, you are absolutely embarrassing yourself, yet the redhead was still gleaming at you as if you were adding something to the interaction. You rummage through your drawers to find what you needed before handing it over to her.

“You know, when I first picked up one of your books I wasn’t sure what to expect.” She chuckled, tilting her head thoughtfully as she worked on opening up the bottle. “But then, well, I couldn’t put it down. Dangerous stuff.”

This time you manage a small laugh, still processing the idea of Wanda - the beautiful and put-together woman from across the hall - curled up reading the things you’d written. “I guess it’s not what most people expect from their neighbours.” Once again you’d tried so hard to sound casual that your voice was wavering in response.

“Well maybe we just don’t know our neighbours as well as we think we do.” With that, she pulled the cork from the bottle and filled up the two glasses, leaning in a little closer as a smile grew into a smirk.

You glance down at her as you reach for the glass, “I never really imagined someone like you reading my books you know.” You say sheepishly, taking a sip of the wine hoping to mask the nerves that were creeping up your spine.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, her smirk more prominent now. “Someone like me?”

You shrug, avoiding her gaze as you fiddle with the stem of your glass. “You know, my audience is usually different. Younger maybe.”

She chuckles softly at your response, “Are you saying I’m too old for erotic fiction?” Her tone is teasing, yet there's a glint in her eye that makes your palms sweat. Her comment about submission still lingers in the air, your cheeks continually growing warmer.

“No! No, I just-” You stammer, flustered by how casually she was controlling this conversation, “I didn’t think you’d be into, you know, that kind of thing.” Your voice is desperately pathetic and all you can do is smile shyly, trying to lighten the tension that was twisting in your chest.

Wanda takes a slow slip from her glass, her eyes never once leaving yours. “Don’t assume you know what I’m into,” she comments, voice soft but full of unspoken meaning. There's that look again, the one that says she knows more than she lets on. “But seriously, I thought your writing was refreshing. You don’t hold back and that's what makes it compelling.”

You feel the blush rise again, her praise catching you off guard. “Thanks, I guess.” You mumble, feeling a little more exposed than you’d like.

She waves a hand in the air, brushing off the awkwardness as she crosses her leg over the other. “I could tell you were stuck though,” She adds, swiftly changing the topic with a casual flick of her wrist. “So I figured I’d rescue you from yourself for a bit.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, “Rescue me?”

She nods, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve been hearing you pace around for days, It’s not hard to guess you’ve got yourself into a block.”

You can’t help but laugh, the conversation switching to something that was making you more comfortable to talk about. “Yeah, something like that. I’ve been staring at that god stupid screen for hours.”

Wanda shakes her head, mock disapproval on her face. “That’s no way to get inspired, sometimes you just need to step away.�� She gestures to the wine and the dim, cosy lighting of the room. “This is your moment to relax.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight on your chest lighten ever so slightly. “I guess I have been driving myself crazy.” This would usually be an overstep in a first proper conversation, but the curious look behind Wanda’s eyes made you feel like she was making you say all of this, like she was dragging the vulnerability out of you.

Wanda smiles at your openness, a knowing, almost secretive smile as she lifts her glass to her lips again. “There's a reason they say inspiration strikes when you least expect it, maybe you just need to stop expecting it.”

The laughs were more relaxed now, “Oh, is that how it works?” You tease playfully, finally getting to a point where your nerves have stilled out. You could feel the tension in your body loosen just a little, but Wanda’s gaze still never faded.

She grins at your response, swirling the wine around in her glass. “Well sometimes it helps to just let go.” Her eyes sparkling as she watches you. “So what’s this book about anyway? What's got your pretty little head in a spin?”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to respond. There's no easy way to explain what you’re writing without dipping into something personal and intimate. But the way Wanda is watching you so intently, waiting, you decide to just go for it. You’re thinking maybe talking about it will help you sort out what’s been blocking you.

You clear your throat, and look down at the glass in your hands. It’s, uh well, it's another one in the same genre as the others.”

Wanda cocks her head at you, leaning in again. “Mhm, go on.” She pulls out the stool next to her, tapping on the top of it. You smile in the safeness of her space, walking round the counter and sitting down next to her.

“It’s about sadomasochism actually. I’m trying to explore that dynamic, the balance between pleasure and pain, trust and submission.” You feel your face flush, realising that there's no backing out now. This is supported by Wanda’s lips curling into an all too well knowing smile.

“So you’re digging into the darker side of submission? That’s bold.”

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah it’s more about the psychological aspect of it - how it feels to surrender completely to someone else but it's hard to get it to feel real rather than just something for someone to get off on.”

There's a brief pause, both of you deep in thought, but you can feel Wanda’s gaze like a weight on your skin. Her eyes darken, just for a moment, as she processes your words. “Sounds intense.” She murmurs, her voice dropping a little lower.

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to break the tension that you’d created. “Yeah well it’s not exactly an easy thing to write about. I want to portray it with respect.”

The redhead has now turned in her chair to face you completely head on, her head tilted as she rolls her lips together. “Maybe that’s because you’re overthinking it.” She pauses, then adds, almost as an afterthought, “Or maybe because you haven’t experienced it enough yourself.”

Your breath catches in your throat at her suggestion and you can’t hold her stare anymore, quickly glancing away with a small cough. “I- Well I’ve written about it plenty.”

She chuckles gently at your answer, her tone life but her words heavy with meaning. “It’s not quite the same thing though is it?” Wanda’s fingers gently brush against yours as she reaches for the wine bottle to refill her glass. The touch is light, fleeting, but she doesn’t pull her hand away immediately. Instead her fingers linger just long enough to make you wonder if it was an accident or something more deliberate.

You attempt to laugh it off, but your voice falters slightly. “I guess not.”

She meets your eyes again, her gaze almost daring, “You know, sometimes the best way to get through the writer's block is to immerse yourself in the subject matter.”

You swallow hard, praying that she didn’t hear the gulp that erupted in the back of your throat. The air between you had grown thicker than before. “Yeah I’ve heard that before.”

She smiles, leaning just a little closer, her arm brushing against yours as she picks up her glass. “So what’s tripping you up? The emotional stuff, or you know the physical details.”

The way she’s looking at you, so calm yet so confident. It’s like she’s pulling the words out of you without you even realising it. “Both. It’s hard to get the balance right, making the dynamic feel believable.”

Wanda nods thoughtfully, biting the tip of her finger as she indulges herself into your problem. “Have you thought about how you’re building the dynamic between them?” She shifts closer and in the process her knee scrapes past yours under the lip of the counter top. You’re hyper aware of every small movement now and it's impossible to be an accident. “Like what does submission look like to you? What does it feel like in the story?”

You blink, caught off guard by the directness of her question. “God, I don’t know, It's like surrender, like when you trust someone enough to give them complete control.” You pick up your glass again, taking a massive chug in order to keep your hands steady. “It’s like you know they won’t hurt you, even when you’re in your most vulnerable state.”

She nods understandingly, leaning ever so slightly closer to you. “Okay so what does that look like physically, how are you going to write that?”

Your pulse is going crazy now, you’re convinced that Wanda can hear your heartbeat quicken from just her words. “It’s about touch,” You say, your voice almost wobbling, “The way they respond to each other. The way a person can take control with just a look or a gesture.”

As you speak, Wanda’s lips turn up into a smirk, her gaze still unwavering. She’s so close to you now that the warmth of her body is radiating off of your skin. Her hand rests slightly above your knee, the touch intimate, sending a shockwave up the back of your spine. “Show me.”

Your breath hitches, heart racing as her fingers begin to trace a small circle against your leg. The motion is almost absentminded, yet it feels nothing but deliberate. She maintains her eye contact, her expression open but charged with a spark of something playful and dangerously enticing.

You freeze, caught in a whirlwind of sensations as the room feels smaller now, the air thick with unspoken tension. You know exactly what she’s suggesting without her having to say it.

You open your mouth to respond, but immediately close it, earning a small chuckle from the redhead. “If you can describe it so well, you shouldn’t be stuck here right.” The dangerousness in her tone makes the words evaporate and you become acutely aware of the heat radiating from her body, the way her thumb brushes softly against your skin, drawing you in deeper.

Wanda pulls back just slightly, but her hand lingers where it is, a gentle weight that feels both reassuring and electric. Her eyes lock back with yours, searching, waiting for your answer. “It’s okay.” She whispers, her voice soft yet commanding, as if she's completely in control in this delicate moment, “I’m just trying to help you get… unstuck.”

You can’t look away from her, caught in her captivating gaze. Her confidence is wrapping itself around you, urging you to step closer to the edge of your own desires. The space between you is charged, the possibilities suddenly hanging thick in the air as you contemplate what she could do next.

“Have you thought about drawing from your own experiences?” Wanda questions, still attempting to find a solution to a problem you couldn’t tell whether she was actively helping or not. “You know, sometimes personal stories can ignite that spark of inspiration.”

You swallow hard, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “I wish I could.” You admit, your pulse is still racing from her touch that she has now released, yet her body still remains just as close. “I’ve never really had anything that intimate.”

A playful glint flickered within the green of her eyes, her gaze sharpening. “Really? Nothing? Not even a fleeting moment that made your heart race?” She tilts her head slightly, studying your face as if searching for unspoken truths buried inside of you.

You shake your head, feeling the embarrassment paint itself across your face. “Not like that, I mean I’ve had relationships, but nothing that’s ever made me feel like I was completely out of control, everythings always felt so safe.”

“Safe can be good, but isn’t there something thrilling about stepping outside of your comfort zone?” Her face leans closer to you once more, the feeling of her leg permanently resting against yours now.

You nod, the thought resonating with you, but you’re still hesitant. “I just don’t know how to write something so raw and believable if I haven’t experienced it myself.”

Her expression softens, shifting her weight slightly. Her gaze drops to your lips for the briefest moment before locking back onto your eyes. “Kiss me,” She whispers, the command both shocking and exhilarating.

Your heart races, a jolt of electricity coursing through you at her words. You can’t look away, caught in the depths of her stare. The space between you feels impossibly small, filled with a tension that pulses with possibility. “Just one kiss,” She adds, her voice a sultry invitation. “It might just unlock everything you’ve been trying to write.”

With her eyes gleaming into yours, the world around you fades into the background leaning only the two of you in this moment. You’re drawn to her, every instinct telling you to surrender to the rush of desire coursing through your veins. You lean in, heart racing as you connect your lips together. The kiss is soft at first, a small tentative exploration, but it quickly deepens, igniting something almost primal within you. Wanda’s hand slides from your knee to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if she wants to consume every part of you. You pull back, the softness of her lips still lingering against yours. You’re panting slightly, taking in the depths of what you just happened.

Wanda’s eyes gleam with satisfaction, her finger touching her lip and you can’t help but smile widely at her. “See.” She murmurs, her tone low and teasing. “Just a taste of what it feels like to let go.”

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mooooonnnzz · 9 months ago

Text

Forward Beckons Rebound

Dad!Stanford x teen!reader

⚜ 9,8k words OH MY GOD is anyone actually going to read this?

⚜ this was such a pain to complete but writing it was so fun? mixed feelings

⚜ book of bill major spoils

⚜ quick summary: ford is soooo obsessed with finding the secrets of gravity falls and learns to regret making a deal with bill because he almost loses you and he lost fiddleford?? erm...

⚜ bit of gore and blood is described here! u r warned! it's not bad tho i promise

⚜ angst!! + gender neutral reader also instead of stan and ford not seeing each other for 10 yrs, i changed it to 17 cuz it didnt make sense before 😭

⚜ DONT KILL ME PLS but i unintentionally wrote fiddleauthor BUT IT'S NOT LIKE, in your face, nothing is ever stated so take it as you will?

⚜ to anyone who fully reads it, i hoped you enjoyed!! this might flop ngl

Ford stared at his billboard that was filled to the brim with photos of all of Gravity Falls anomalies. A thin string of red was strung across the board, ultimately leading to the middle where a big question mark was laid. For days he’s been theorizing theories on where all the abnormalities came from. Was there a rip in their universe where it expelled all their strange creatures into your world? Or was this a natural occurrence that happens only in Gravity Falls. Ford couldn’t figure it out. Tapping his chin with his pen, his mind raced with thoughts. “Where did it all come from?” He uttered under his breath, eyes squinting in thought. “Where did what come from?” You slip in his lab, placing a plate of food on his table.

“Oh!” Ford yelped out in surprise. “You scared me there, Kiddo.” He says, chuckling.

“Sorry,” You sheepishly smile. “I brought you dinner.” Ford’s eyes graze the plate for a second, making a mental note in his head to eat the food you prepared later. Eating was a waste of time and he can’t waste any time when he’s on the brink of solving the mysteries hidden within this town “I’ll eat it later.” He said with a dismissive tone, his attention going back to the board.

“This again?” You roll your eyes. “Dad, can you back away from this just for a second and eat dinner with me?” You walk into his view, hands locked together as you pleaded with him. “It’ll be quick! You’ll be back to your work in no time!” You add. Your eyes search his face for any sign of him changing his mind but none came. All he did was side step you, his attention so sucked up in his own head he didn’t even notice what you were saying. He only noticed that you were standing in his way. “Dad,” You let out an exasperated sigh, hands falling down to your sides.

“You’re not even listening to me.” You said, your eyes landing on a table. An idea sprouted in your head. You kicked the leg of the nearby table, eyes darting over to Ford, looking for a reaction, anything that’ll give him a reason to look at you but be doesn’t budge. Your heart shatters a bit, he’s been so caught up in his work that you and him haven’t properly spoken in awhile. Him being wrapped up in his work wasn’t abnormal, but to this degree, it was very rare for him to cast everything aside and hyper-focus on his findings. You mindlessly kicked the floor, eyes glued to the ground.

“I’m gonna…” You pause for a moment, voice getting caught in your throat. You couldn’t fully focus on what you were trying to say. You were too absorbed in retaining the tears in your eyes, too ashamed to let them fall. You felt so pathetic for being so deeply wounded that your very own dad pushed you and the food you spent a lot of time making away. There are other problems in the world and you’re over here, on the brink of tears because your dad was being too dedicated to his lifelong work? It all felt so stupid in the grand scheme of things, but it didn’t alleviate the sadness that was bubbling inside of you.

“I’m gonna go,” You meekly said, rapidly wiping the tears that escaped with your arm.

“Not now, sweetie. I’m this close to breaking this case. I can feel it!”

Silence overcasted him instead of your usual banter. Odd, he thought. Whipping his head over to where you stood, he visibly deflated. You were no longer there.

Ford smacked his head in annoyance that was directed at himself. He was doing it again. Discarding the pen in his hand, he went to look for you. “Sweetie?” Ford calls for you, heading towards your room. Not wanting to intrude, he cautiously knocked on your door. “Can I come in, kiddo?” He had his forearm resting against the casting of the door, hand over his eyes.

After hearing some shuffling and quiet sniffs, you open the door. “Yes?” Your eyes are glassy when you look at him and his heart cracks in two. He’s the cause of this. “I came here to apologize.” He said, voice audibly full of regret. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. It was out of line and not a way I should treat you when all you wanted was to spend time with me.” You wracked your brain for a moment, debating whether you should accept his apology or mull over this heartbreak just a little longer. You fidgeted with the door, moving it side to side as you continued to think, prolonging it just to purposefully bug with Ford.

Falling right into your trick, Ford bit his lip, anxiously chewing on the skin. “Are you going to say anything or you’re going to leave me hanging over here?” His hand dragged down the trim of the door, finger tapping on the wall, nervously waiting for your answer. You couldn’t stay mad at him. A small smile pulls to your face and you wrap him in a bone crushing hug. “You better not ignore me like that again!” Your voice muffled through his long sleeved sweater. His arms wrap around you tightly, kissing the top of your head. “I won't, I promise.”

He wasn’t lying when he promised you he wouldn’t get so enraptured by his work like that ever again. He saw how he secluded himself from you and swore up and down he was going to spend less time researching, even if it meant that he had to shove his hungry curiosity away.

But he would be lying if he said he never laid in bed thinking about what he could be doing instead, what mysteries he could be unsolving and what discoveries he could make that would bring him closer to the question that had been gnawing on him ever since he arrived to this peculiar place.

Many nights were spent restlessly imagining what could be the final piece to his concluding mystery. And one day, he had enough of sitting around. Curiosity killed the cat, a phrase you’d tell him whenever his relentless interest in the unknown occasionally backfired on him, circled throughout his brain but he paid no mind. The yearn to find answers was too great. Slipping on his trench coat, he grabbed his bag. Stringing it over his shoulder, he told you that he was heading out. Completely unaware of his plans, you bid him goodbye from your room.

Ford came back a little while with nothing new other than discovering an old inscription carvings in a cave. He had hoped that reading them outloud would at least summon something that would give him answers! But his actions were fruitless. Defeated and annoyed, he came back. Entering the house, he called out for you.

“In the kitchen!”

He removed his coat and hung it on his coat hanger, along with his bag. He walked over to the kitchen, the smell of spices and cooked meat lingered in the air. “Smells good, kiddo.” He comments, grabbing a Pitt Cola from the fridge. You turn over to him, exaggerating an angry look on your face. “I would have normally taken your compliment but I’m more curious on where you went for practically the whole day!” Ford playfully rolled his eyes at your joking tone. “I was out, sweetie. I lost track of time.” He says, popping the soda can open. Your eyes lock on the Pitt Cola can in his hand. “You don’t drink soda,” You turn off the stove, putting the dirty cooking utensils in the sink “Drinking some once and awhile doesn’t hurt.” He shrugs, ruffling your hair. “dad!” you smacked his hand away from your hair. “Go sit down!” You grumbled, to which he complied.

While you were setting up dinner, a terrible headache overcame Ford. Clutching his head with his free hand, he threw away the Pitt Cola, thinking the soda was the cause of his headache. When you called him for dinner, his brain squirmed in pain. He walked over to the table, sitting himself down as he gripped his head. Too lost in the mind numbing pain, he fails to hear your calls.

“Dad?”

No response.

“Dad?” You called out again, kicking him from under the table. He jolted up in surprise.

“W-What?” He groaned out, his hand still on his forehead. “Are you okay?” You reach out to him, hand on his arm as your thumb moves side to side. Ford weakly smiles, appreciating the gesture. “I’m fine, sweetie. Don’t worry about me.” He looked at you, offering a timid thumbs up. “I’m just getting old.” He said, the pads of his fingers pressing against his temples.

“Do you want me to get you tylenol or—?” Ford waves you off. “It’s okay, kiddo. I’ll tough it out.”

For the past few minutes, you’d catch him staring off into the distance, eyes wide and mouth half open. Everytime you would have to snap him out of his trance, worried if he stayed like that any longer something bad would have happened. Abruptly getting up from the chair, he mumbles, “Heading to bed.” Leaving you alone in the dining room. Unsure on how to react, you watched him leave. No goodnight? No kiss on the forehead? You frowned and got up from your chair, grabbing your plate and his. While washing the dishes you thought of all the possible reasons on why he’s acting so weirdly. But nothing came to mind. Drying your hands on your pants, you walked over to his room.

Opening the door, you peeked your head in. You found him fast asleep on his bed. Carefully stepping inside his room, you pull his blanket over his shoulder and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Sleep well, Dad.” You whisper.

The next morning was weird to say the least. You woke up to the smell of breakfast wafting into your room. Curious and hungry, you quickly brushed your teeth and skipped down the hall. “Dad?” You walk into the kitchen to see him cooking up breakfast, a large smile to his face. “You look happy?” You say rather confused, watching as he flipped the pancake up in the air.

“Today is a good day, kiddo!” He said with so much energy you were convinced that your dad was kidnapped and replaced by a poorly made replica during the night. Never once in your life have you seen him so chipper to be up so early. “Is that so?” Ford finishes up the pancakes and sets them on plates. He hands you a plate and puts his down on the table.

He grabbed butter and syrup from the cabidents, popping the syrup bottle open and drenching his pancake with the sweet syrup. “Want?” He asks you. “No thank you.”

He sits down on his chair and picks up his fork. You watched him closely as he cut a piece of the pancake with the side of his fork, the smile never washing away from his face. “Did you have a good dream or…?” He laughed, stabbing the piece of the cut pancake with his fork. “Guess you could say that.” He looked at you, a flash of yellow ignited in one of his eyes. You blink and his eye is back to normal. You shake your head, brushing it off as your mind tricking you. “Okay?” You looked down to your plate, the fluffy pancake suddenly looking unappetizing. The whiplash of his sudden change in attitude really struck you hard. You pushed the plate away from you, taking in a breath through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna eat later, okay?” You got up and headed to your room before Ford could respond.

“That was weird, wasn’t it, Sixer?!” A voice boomed in his head. Ford jumped, dropping his fork. “Can you give me a heads up when you do that?” He grumbled under his breath, recollecting himself. “Oops! Sorry,” Bill laughed loudly in his head. “Heads up!” He warns.

“There’s no point if you say it after.” Ford mumbles, grabbing his fork to continue eating his breakfast. “You humans and their foods,” Ford could imagine Bill rolling his eye. “Hurry up or else I’m going to rip my eye out of boredom!”

Months ticked by and Ford was still strung up on building a portal. When you’d ask him about it, he would vaguely respond by saying; “This will break the boundaries between our worlds!” And continued to mumble incoherently to himself, pacing around the room as he stewed in his thoughts. He also began to collect weird art of this godly being. His lab was shrouded with tapestries, paintings and statues of a yellow triangle. Questioning about the art led you nowhere. Ford would act like it wasn’t such a big deal and make it seem like you’re the crazy one for finding an issue with his sudden obsession with this triangle. You just pinned it as him obsessively worshiping whatever this god is. As long as it doesn’t get too out of hand.

Even if he was knee deep in his work, he still managed to find some time to spend time with you. Outings were pretty common and you made it known that you appreciate him stepping out of his little man dungeon just to spend some time with you.

Everything was going good for Ford and you. He was slowly reaching his answer he’s been desperately looking for this whole time and you were happy to see him in such high spirits all the time. Not that he never was! He just seems more confident in himself, like he knows his self-worth. You wondered what exactly happened to him to make him so assured of himself.

Although, there would be times where his usual outgoing spirit was washed out for weeks at a time, even months. You were always there to cheer him up, to ground him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay during those times. You never thought much of it, just chalking it up as him going through mental exhaustion. It made the most sense to you. After all, he practically spends most of his day going out to that UFO crash landing site to collect scraps for the portal. There’s days where he’s all beaten and bruised and you’re left to take care of his wounds. You pestered him like a mother would to their child.

Ford sat down on the couch with a loud sigh, unbeknownst to him, you were in the kitchen browsing the cabinets for any snacks when Ford started mumbling to himself. “My muse,” He says. “Gone without a word once again.” He groans. You could hear him take off his glasses and place them somewhere. “Muse?” You whispered under your breath. You waited for him to say anything else that you can latch on to, but unfortunately for you, the TV sparked to life. Latest news reports filled the room and you were left stumped with new information.Was this supposed muse the reason why he gets all sad and anxious? Is this Muse a partner he hasn’t introduced you to yet? Your head is thick of conspiracies and feasible reasons but it was cut short when Ford interrupted your thoughts by walking in.

“Sweetie?” He’s surprised to see you in the kitchen, hunched over in thought. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Uh,” You look at the open cabinet, flipping your eyes between the cabinet and your dad. “Not long! I was…looking for snacks!” You grabbed a bag of chips. “Oookaayy?” He walks to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Like a flash of lightning, your face is sprayed with Ford’s mouth water. “I’ll take that as a no,” You said, voice raspy. You waddle out of the kitchen, dripping water onto the floor. “I’m sorry, kiddo!”

At some point, he needed a few extra hands to help assemble the machine. Ford chose you and an old friend of his, Fiddleford, to be his helpers. Meeting Fiddleford was a delight. He’s a kind hearted soul who had the brains of a genius. When there were slow days in building the portal, he’d play a song on the banjo to lighten up the mood. You all grew close as time went on and you felt like you had your own little family. You cherished every laugh, smile and conversation that passed between you and the others.

“What songs can you play?” You ask Fiddleford who was strumming the strings of his banjo without any thought. Catching his attention, he takes in your question. He considered his answer for a minute or so. “I don’t think it’s a song you’d know.” He says, beginning to play the opening tune on his instrument. “I know Ford will know this one though!” He smirks, head craning over to Ford who was drawing the outline for the portal. As Fiddleford smoothed into the middle of the song, Ford was turned over on his chair, head swaying to the beat. Once the song came to a close, the lab erupted in rounds of applause. “Thank you, thank you all!”

“I remember that song all too well.” Ford grins. You furrowed your brows. “I’m curious. Why do you two know the song?” Your finger switching between Ford and Fiddleford. “There’s nothin’ really special behind it,” Fiddleford lightly shrugs. “I just played this song whenever Ford had trouble concentrating on his work.”

“And it worked?” Ford nodded his head. “Worked seamlessly.”

You weren’t surprised when Fiddleford would start playing the song whenever Ford was stressed out.

June 15th rolled by, Ford’s birthday! You and Fiddleford secretly planned a surprise party for him, something small between the three of you to remind him how much you and Fiddleford love him. You knew he never was a fan of his birthday. Celebrating one without his twin grew harder each year, but you seemed to lessen the ache in his heart and with Fiddleford a part of the little family now, his birthday surely won't be as bittersweet!

Walking over to his lab, you felt your shoe press against something squishy. Looking down to the floor, you saw a pile of dead rats that spelled out his name. The one you stepped on was flattened, mouth hung open as its bloodied guts pool out of it. You let out a scream, stumbling backwards in disgust and horror.

The door to Ford’s lab flew open, a concerned Ford stood behind it. “Kiddo, are you alriighht…?” His words trailed off into the air, his attention now shifted to the pile of dead rats on the ground. “What the…?” His eyes flicker between you and the rats. He looks equally horrified and disgusted. “I’m gonna get something to clean—“ A gag interrupts you. “To clean that up!” You said in a hurried flash, hands cupping your mouth as you scurried away from the scene.

When you came back with a mask covering your nose and mouth, disinfectant spray, a broom and a trash bag; You saw Ford sweetly smiling at the pack of dead rats. “Uh, dad?” Why was he looking at the rats like that? His head flew up, eyes locking with yours. “Oh, kiddo! Th-Thanks! I’ll clean this up, don’t you worry.” He says, grabbing the cleaning product and broom.

“Uh, okay? Me and Fiddleford are upstairs. We made you something.” You tell him, fidgeting with your fingers. A quick “mhm,” leaves him and you’re left to walk back to the kitchen, a little weirded out by his smile. “Did you clean it up?” Fiddleford asked, adding the finishing touches to the cake. “dad’s cleaning it up. He was acting weird though,” You look at the cake. Gorgeously decorated with white frosting all by Fiddleford’s amazing handiwork. “Weird in what way?” He curiously asked. “Like, there was a pile of dead rats that formed his name and he was disgusted at first, but when I came back with cleaning supplies he looked…” You stop, searching for the word in your head. “Touched?” Your voice high pitched with uncertainty “He looked at the rats as if they were a gift almost.”

“Now ain’t that something.” He looks at you with a shake of his head. “Listen, I love your dad but he’s been actin’ weird.” He pushes his glasses up, setting the piping bag aside. “I sometimes catch him talking to himself. I knew to a certain degree he talked to himself, but I don’t remember it being that bad.”

“I notice that too, do you think it’s that–”

“What is all of this?” Ford asked, amusement trailing his voice. The conversation between you and Fiddleford evaporated in thin air and was replaced with you and him both yelling out, “Happy Birthday!”

His birthday went smoothly and perfect in your eyes, if you ignore the hiccup from earlier. Your dad was laughing heartily at what Fiddleford told him, drinks in both of their hands. Plates of eaten cake were left on the table, confetti was strewn about and you were more than satisfied with you and Fiddleford’s work. You watched as the pair happily conversed with each other, sharing old memories of college together. As the mini party came to a close, Ford turned to you as he hugged Fiddleford goodbye. “Thank you for this, truly. I needed this.” Hugging him, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Anytime, dad.” You smiled.

Soon enough, Christmas was right around the corner. The small little town of Gravity Falls was celebrating the festive cheer by blasting music from every corner and littering their house with decorations. Something you also partook in. Standing on top of the very tall ladder, you decorated the roof with Christmas tree shaped lights.

“Kiddo!”

Looking down, you saw Ford waving at you. “Hi, Dad!” You wave back, slowly ascending down the ladder. Once you reached the bottom, Ford had shoved a snowglobe and a 6-fingered mitten your way. “Look at what Fiddleford made me.” Ford beamed, a small hue of pink flushing his cheeks. You picked up the snowglobe and shook it. You watched in awe as the glittery snow cascaded down to the bottom. “He’s so good at making things.” You say, handing back the adorable snow globe. “And a six fingered mitten?” You slipped the glove on. It covered your whole hand and almost up to your forearm due to how big it was.

“Give me that.” Ford chuckled, removing the mitten off your hand with a swipe. “That’s so sweet.” You say, seeing Ford bleed out utter joy. “And look what he got you!” Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a picture frame. Within the frame was a photo of you, Ford and Fiddleford at Gravity Falls local park. All three of you were stupidly posing in the photo, faces pulled in different ways to make the weirdest face ever. The frame was decorated with a mini wreath and tinsel. On the back, he wrote “To my family,” with a tiny heart scribbled as a period. “He thinks of us as his family!” You held the picture frame close to your chest. “dad! I’m going to cry. This is so sweet.”

“He’s one of a kind.” He says, staring at his gifts longingly. “Where is he? I need to go thank him.” Your eyes search around the premise. “I’m afraid you’re too late, kiddo.”

“What?” You quickly turned around. “Is he dead?!” You practically yelled out. “What? No, no.” He shook his head. “He’s out of town. Spending time with his wife.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. “Why did you say it like that!” You shoved his shoulder with your hand. He let out a snort. “Sorry, sorry!” He raised his hands up defensively. “Whatever,” You said jokingly. “Are you done decorating the house?” He wonders, peering his head up to see the lights flashing on the roof. “Not quite. I still need to decorate the front porch and such. Wanna help?” Ford didn’t hesitate to agree. He grabbed your gift and placed it inside where it was safe and started helping you decorate.

Wordlessly, you disappeared into the house for a moment. Ford was puzzled but it all made sense when he heard loud Christmas music grow near. The door burst open and there you were, radio in hand with a multitude of DVD’s in the other. “I had to play some music.”

“Just don’t play the songs Fiddleford plays!”

“Those are the exact songs I’m playing.” A groan was heard from Ford and you had to stifle a laugh. That day was spent entirely accessorizing the whole house. The next few days progressed nicely. The christmas spirit was thick in the atmosphere and nothing could shatter it. And as if it was a Christmas miracle, Ford had told you that Fiddleford came back earlier than intended due to relationship problems back home. He also slid in that he had just met The Krampus before crashing down on the couch. The next hour was you trying to shake your dad up from his slumber to get the full story. How could he drop the mention that he met Krampus and knock out like that?

Later that day, Ford was magically possessed by the spirit of Christmas and chose to decorate the portal with lights and a ‘Happy Holidays’ banner. “What’s all this?” You point towards the portal that was covered in flashing lights. “I just wanted to make the place look festive.” There was another reason why he did this and you read him all too well.

“I bet it’s for Fiddleford.” You tease. He scoffed, waving you off. “I may or may not have called him over.” You squeal, hugging Ford with all your might. “Is this how having a full family feels like?”

“What! Did you not like when Christmas was just us two?” He took your comment very personally, even though a smidgen of him thought the same thing. “No. I loved it, but it’s nice to share the festivities with someone else.”

After a bit of waiting around, a knock resounded through the house. Ford perks up from his chair. “That’s him!” He exclaims. Quickly turning to you, he throws the remote to the lights to you. “When we walk in, turn on the light and throw the christmas confetti.” He instructs you.

“You can count on me!” You said, puffing out your chest. Hiding behind the wall, you heard Ford’s footsteps lull to whisper. Quiet chatter was heard and soon, the footsteps drew near. Your finger hovered the On button. You overheard a tiny little yelp and the sound of something unraveling. Looking towards the portal, you saw a little gnome hanging upside down by his foot.

“Oh, c’mon!” You smack your head. You didn’t have time to unwrap the lights off his ankle. Mouthing a “hold on!” to the gnome, you watched as Ford and Fiddleford’s shadow crept into view. You smashed your fingers on the On button, the lights flickering to life.

A gasp left Fiddleford. “First you decorate the house and now the portal? Gee, Ford! And to think I thought you were a mini grinch.” He jested, delivering a slight punch to Ford’s arm. “I’m glad you like it, Fiddleford.” He said softly. He then coughed to his hand, his eyes moving to the general direction where you were at. “Imagine if we had CONFETTI thrown at us. That would be AWESOME.”

Your eyes widen. You forgot the confetti! Jumping right in front of them, you threw the ball of confetti in their face. Your vision was full of confetti fluttering down. When it cleared out, you saw Ford’s unimpressed face and Fiddleford’s large smile. He cracked into full blown laughter, hunched over as Ford coughed out confetti from his mouth. “Really?”

“Oops?” You awkwardly laugh.

“Is that a gnome?” Ford points over to the gnome who waved at him enthusiastically. “Ignore him…” You said quietly.

Half of the cold night was spent warmly tucked in the lab, all huddled up behind blankets and hot cocoa in hands. Sooner or later, they swapped out their hot cocoa with nog. They both told you stories from their past together, stemming from embarrassing stories to really heartfelt ones. Each story either had you hooked on every word that left their mouth or a messy ball of tears.

“You know,” Ford begins, leaning back, looking at Fiddleford and you adoringly. “Maybe we should stop building the portal.”

Shock strikes you and Fiddleford. “What happened to making scientific history?” He asks.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still want to make history but…” His eyes trail to the portal. “I just want to spend time with my favorite people in the world outside of this lab.” His fingers tapped the floor mindlessly. “I have people around me who love me. Why waste that, you know?”

“Am I goin’ crazy?” Fiddleford whispers to you. “I think it’s the nog talking.” You whisper back.

“I can hear you guys talking!”

Facing Ford, Fiddleford had a light blush on his cheeks. “You tell me I’m the sappy one but I think I’m rubbin’ off on ya,” He nudges him. “Don’t make me take back what I said.” He threatens with no actual meaning behind it.

“Why don’t we go outside to build snowmen? That way I can see you wear that six-fingered glove I tirelessly worked on.” Fiddleford suggested. Liking the idea, Ford got up to his feet. He lent out a hand to Fiddleford who graciously took his hand. “Last one to go outside is a rotten eggnog!”

You and the boys rush to their respective rooms, hastily changing out of their thin long sleeves to their thick jackets and pants. Throwing the door to your room open, you stumbled out of the house and onto the snow where you tripped. Laughter sounded around you. Lifting your head up from the fluffy snow, you saw Ford and Fiddleford already out, all bundled up to protect themselves from the cold. “No way!” You gasped, scrambling to your feet. “Yes way!” Ford said.

The other half of the night was spent building snowmen, making snow angels and snowball fights. You tapped out after a while, hugging the both of them closely. “Best day ever!” You said, throwing some snow in the air. “I’m glad you had fun, kiddo.” His hand patted your back, giving you a kiss on your temple. Fiddleford ruffled your hair endearingly.

“Night, guys. Don’t go too crazy on the nog!” They did exactly what you told them not to do.

A month passed and you believed everything was going alright, you thought everyone was getting along but something happened to Ford a few weeks ago. He’s been more paranoid now, snapping at you or Fiddleford and erratically going off on tangents of how he needs to finish the portal. The talk of discarding the portal many nights ago was lost to the wind. Now it rested as some silly little pipe dream.

Fiddleford was noticeably putting less and less effort in the project. You’d often find him daydreaming on his desk, mind far away from the lab. Your work was beginning to become sloppy, head full of thoughts and worries. You stressed over the thought of how everything was just fine a few weeks ago. Now it was slowly falling apart.

You were taking a break outside of the lab when Fiddleford stormed out. His face pinched with a mix of anger and sadness. “Fiddleford?” You rushed to your feet, running over to him. “Fiddleford, what happened?” You stood in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. His lip trembled, looking off to the side. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Go ask your dad since he’s so keen on yellin’ at me.”

Your heart drops to your stomach. Your dad did what? “D-Do you wanna stay here? I-I can talk to him and you guys can make up or something!” Your words stumbled over each other. You can see your whole world crumbling down right in front of you and it was all because of your dad. “It’s alright, pumpkin. I’ma head home now.” A somber yet reassuring smile pulled to his lips.

“I’m going to talk to him, I promise.” You tell him with a firm nod to your head. “Thank you.” His voice was weak, something you’ve never heard from him before. You brought him into a hug, squeezing him before letting him go. He wished you a good afternoon and left, leaving you alone to deal with your dad.

You sucked in a deep breath and trudged towards the lab. Walking in, you saw Ford pacing around anxiously, a scramble of words tumbling out of his mouth at rapid speed. “Dad?” His head snaps to you, a light yellow glow in his eye. The same one you saw almost one year ago. He blinked and suddenly it was gone. “What do you want, kiddo?” His tone was harsh and clipped.

“I just wanted to talk to you.” You cower a bit. His anxious energy and rude tone shook you to your core. He’s never talked to you with such anger before. “Are you here because of what happened between Fiddleford and me?” He inquired, taking a step towards you. Seeing his face better, you could see that it was pulled into an irritated scowl. “What happened, dad?”

“He was going through my stuff! Without my permission!” He said, his hands cupped towards him, directing them at himself. “And to think I trusted him!”

“He probably got the cabinets mixed up or something.” You shrug, not getting the whole show he’s throwing. Ford pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself. “You don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Your lips quivered. You felt so little compared to him. He towered over you with such burning anger you couldn’t process that he was your dad. “You don’t understand what’s going inside my head!” He jabs his finger to his temple repeatedly. “You can’t trust anyone, especially him!”

“This is Fiddleford we’re talking about, Dad! He wouldn’t even hurt a fly.” You said. You couldn’t grasp the words that were coming out of his mouth. Since when did he start doubting Fiddleford’s loyalty? What planted this ridiculous idea into his head? Your heart was pounding in your ears.

“So explain to me why he was rummaging through my belongings!”

“I’m not Fiddleford, I can’t answer that question!”

Ford scoffed, he opened his mouth to say something when it faltered close. He was quiet for a moment, lost in his thoughts when he took a step back. His expression screamed betrayal. “Unless you’re siding with him to work against me.” He murmured, eyes narrowed at you.

Your stomach twisted into knots. “Seriously?” Your voice wavered. You closed your eyes, biting your lip to suppress your cries. When you opened your eyes, you were locked on a tapestry of that yellow triangle. That’s when it all clicked. Swallowing your sorrows, you pointed to the tapestry.

“That triangle,” You start. “Ever since you started hanging up those stupid paintings or whatever, you’ve been acting strange in all kinds of ways.” You walk over to it, fingertips brushing the material. Ford eyes you warily. “Is this your Muse I hear you talk to yourself about?” Your fingers wrap around the tapestry.

“Don’t.” His finger pointed at you. You felt like you were a kid again, being disciplined by him for acting irresponsible, for breaking something you shouldn’t have. It made the reality of the situation a lot more serious. This wasn’t something that Ford could shrug off due to your poor impulse control. This is something you chose to do. “Please don’t.” He begged, his eyes glossing over with tears.

You yanked it, ripping it in half. Ford reached out to grab the ripped tapestry but you were too quick. You moved to the side and observed the art designed on it. A flying yellow triangle was depicted as the saving grace of our world. In the background there were people on their knees, while some stood behind them. What stood out to you the most was their eyes yellow, their pupils replaced with a black straight line. You’ve seen those yellow eyes before. You turn your head over to Ford, your heart crushing against your chest. You could barely recognize the man in front of you. He had deep dark eye bags under his eyes, the whites of his eyes had dark crimson veins that irritated his eyes. His hair was disheveled and his chin had little stubbles of hair growing out.

“What is this?” The back of your hand smacks against the tapestry. “Who is this? Why am I just making sense of all of this now?” You shoot questions at him like rapid bullets. “Why haven’t you told me anything about this?”

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back. “I don’t know if I should tell you.” He says, voice low. “I don’t want you to jeopardize our main goal.”

“What main goal, Dad?” You shot back. “The one you said you didn’t want to do anymore because you didn’t want to lose track of what’s in front of you?” Your hands clenched the tapestry. “I changed my mind.” Ford rubs his forehead, looking away from your eyes, clearly ashamed of himself. “Clearly!” You stared at him for a moment. “Why?” He looks over to you, his face riddled with exhaustion. You soften your tone and repeat it. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He responds. “Did the triangle guy give you shit for it?” You watch as he winces. Right on the dot. So this entity, this being, it speaks to him. “Does he talk to you?” He nods slowly, as if he’s unsure that the information he’s sharing is allowed to be told. “Dad…” You drop the tapestry. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

A prolonged silence entraps you and him. You stare at him and he stares at you and he looks so terribly conflicted with himself. He looks at you like he doesn’t know what’s right or wrong. He pushes his glasses up, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I need you to get out of my lab.”

“What?” Your whole body tingles with cold chills. You can’t tell if he's joking or not. He has to be joking, right? There’s no way he’s demanding you to leave, right? “Dad I—“

“—I said that you need to leave. Why haven’t you done that already?” His voice is dangerously low. His irritation seeps deeply into his words and punches you right in the heart. You open your mouth, ready to protest, ready to fight with whatever energy you had left in you but closed it.

You backed out.

Kicking the tapestry over to him, you forcefully knock your shoulders with him as you leave. Hot tears escaped your eyes as you ran to your room, shutting the door of your room.

Ford sighs out, despair riddling his body. “And you’re sure that [Name] and Fiddleford devised a plan to turn off the portal?” He asked Bill who floated in front of him. Bill flicked his hand down. “Don’t you worry, pal! You did the right thing.” A distant look was evident on Ford’s face.

“You do a good job at listening to me, you know that, Fordsy?” Ford could only grumble in response.

Bill spun around to face the portal “When do you think this portal can turn on?”

“Tomorrow.” Ford firmly says. “Do you think you can rally those two knuckleheads tomorrow? You need a test dummy afterall!”

“I might be able to.”

The morning blooms to life and you’re left rotting on the bed, not wanting to move from the only place that provided you constant comfort. Hours pass by when you hear Fiddleford’s voice. You sprung up from the bed. What is he doing here? Making a beeline to the bathroom, you quickly brush your teeth and hurry on down to the living room. They’re nowhere to be seen.

You rush to the lab and open the door. The ground shifts as the portal powers to life. You watch as they approach the roaring portal, test dummy in hand. What happens next all happens too fast. Fiddleford’s wrist got tied to rope that was on the test dummy and got pulled along with it, his head getting sucked in. You run over to your dad, hands latching on to the rope that was conveniently on his ankle. Together, you and Ford pull him back in. You fall back to the floor. Fiddleford violently trembles as he speaks some garbled nonsense.

“Fiddleford?”

He sits up, staring blankly ahead of him. “When gravity falls and earth becomes sky, fear the beast with one eye!”

“Fiddleford, get a hold of yourself. You’re not making any sense!” Ford reached out to Fiddleford but he flinched away before he could. “This machine is dangerous,” He states, hugging his arm. “You’ll bring about the ends of the world with this!” He grabs onto Ford’s shoulder. “Destroy it before it destroys us all!”

“I can’t, Fiddleford. This is my life's work!”

Fiddleford looks down to the floor. “I fear we unleashed a grave danger on the world.” He looks petrified. Whatever he saw on the other hand has mentally taken a toll on him within a matter of seconds. He looks up to Ford, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’m not gonna ask again.” His body tremors in fear. “You need to destroy the machine, Ford. Please, I beg of you.”

“Fiddleford. I can’t just throw this all away.” Ford says.

Fiddleford studies his face, hoping that a part of Ford was lying. But when Ford’s stern face unwavering, Fiddleford broke. “Then I quit.” He stands up from the floor, his eyes gazing at you one last time before he marches out of the lab, leaving you and Ford stunned.

“Fear the beast with one eye,” You echoed, your mind instantly flashing to the image of the yellow triangle Ford has everywhere. Ford had seemed to make the same revelation. He shuffles to his feet, still shaken up by what had just happened, he stumbles a bit as he goes back inside the lab, pulling out his journal 3 notebook. “Shut off the portal!” He commands.

You don’t waste a second getting up and switching off every knob, lever and button. Sneaking careful glances to Ford, you can see him writing, his pressure on the pencil is so hard that the words he writes come out thick and black. You just stand there and watch him visibly break down, his mental health deteriorating as the minutes go on.

“I need to destroy the portal and burn the journals,” He finally speaks up after a long minute. “And we’re leaving Gravity Falls once I deal with everything.” He slammed the book shut and tucked it inside his coat. “We’re what? Leaving Gravity Falls?” You follow him closely as he leaves the lab, eyes clouded over with fear. “It’s not safe here, [Name].”

The whole day is such a messy blur. Too overwhelmed with your emotions you couldn’t grasp the severity of the situation. You were still hung up on the fact Fiddleford left. The look in his eyes will be forever ingrained in your memory. Everything around you is falling apart and you can’t seem to pick up the pieces and fix it. Sleep was unachievable. Closing your eyes would replay the memories of what happened hours prior.

Footsteps approached your room, but they weren’t the ones you were familiar with. These were messy and uncoordinated. Bangs of someone slamming against the wall shook your room and before you could have any time to react, your door whips open, revealing Ford. You breathe out in relief. It was just your dad.

Ford’s head pulls up as if it’s being controlled by a string and stares you down with a wide smile. His comforting brown eyes weren’t there anymore. Instead, they glowed a disgusting yellow. His pupils were a black slit and you felt your blood run cold and the world around you stopping. You felt like a fool to think you were safe.

“Nice to finally meet you!” Another person’s voice spoke using your dad’s mouth. “Names Bill, Bill Cipher!” He hung out his hand for you to shake. Your body felt like cement was encased in your veins, preventing you from moving. His eyes switched from his hand to yours a few times before pulling his hands back. “I see you don’t do handshakes. I get it! You’re probably thinking where’s my dad right now? What is inside of him? What is going ooonnn?!” He lets out a laugh. “Right? You’re thinking that?”

Your voice dies in your throat, your words failing you. “Hmm, maybe I chose the wrong day to come out…Should I have done it tomorrow?” He thinks out loud, tapping his finger on his chin, exactly the way your dad did. “Well, too late to think about what could’ve happened!” He jolts towards you, his hand grabbing your wrist. You break out of your trance “Let go of me!” You screech. Your fist clenched, ready to blow a punch to Bill’s arm when it hit you, this is your dad’s body. Any injury you inflict on Bill is also harming your dad. “What? Are you too scared to hit me because I’m in Ford’s body?” A cackle leaves Bill. “This will make this so much easier then!”

“Make what easier?” Not knowing what Bill was scheming made everything feel so much scarier. “I’m breaking into Sixer’s lab! But I just need your help.” A warm sensation drips onto your hand and slides down to your arm. You feel bile climb up your throat when you see that it was blood seeping out of the various open wounds Bill had given to Ford on his knuckles. “W-what did you do?!” The wounds weren’t deep, but the skin was ripped open and Bill dragging you down to the lab only peeled the skin open even more. “Just tried bashing the door down. Is it obvious that it didn't work?”

You reached the lab’s door. Blood was smudged on the door, some dripping down to the floor. The strong scent of metal hung in the air and you could feel your stomach churning. “Unfortunately for me, Sixer can be a real genius at times. He implemented this stupid security system so I couldn’t get in!” Bill’s other hand grips your hair. “It won’t work with my eye, but it’ll work with youuurss!” His hand in your hair pushes your head towards the eye scanner. You yelp out in pain. “Oh, stop complaining!” His finger pressed a button and the scanner began inspecting your eye, before it could do a proper scan you screwed your eyes shut. “Oh no you don’t.” Bill pries your eye open and starts the scanner all over again. You tried struggling against it, but his boot stomped down on your ankle, twisting it sideways. “I just wanted to do that!” You screamed in agony, tears pouring out of your eyes.

A loud beep sounded and you thought you were granted access when Bill cursed under his breath. He throws you against the wall, you head knocking against it. “So useless!” He delivers a punch to the door. “I will get access to that portal.” He shoots over to you, a large toothy smile that spreads ear to ear unnaturally took over Ford’s face. “Or maybe I can think of other ways to convince him to–” His eyes roll to the back of his head and he falls back. “Dad!” You crawl over to him, hands on his cheeks as you watch his eyes flutter open. No longer were they yellow.

“Oh, thank god!” You wrap him in a hug, tears falling down your face. “D-Did I fall asleep?” Ford slurred out. As Ford’s surroundings came back to him, his face scrunches up when he’s assaulted with the stench of blood. “[Name], what happened?”

“Bill tried breaking into the lab to use the portal.” You say, giving him a squeeze before giving him space. “Did he get in?” He groans as he sits up, body terribly sore. “No, he didn’t.” His eyesight focuses on you, eyes blowing wide when he sees blood staining your hand and arm. “Did he hurt you?” He grabs onto your hand, looking for any damage. “He didn’t make me bleed. Just gave me a tiny concussion and a twisted ankle probably.”

Ford stays silent for a moment, his head replaying your words. Anger boiled in his chest as he thought of the ways he hurt you while he was possessing his body. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m fine!” You assure. “I’m more worried about your knuckles.” You say, looking at the splintering skin. “My knuckles?” He casts his gaze over his knuckles and winces at the sight. “He does not know when to give up.”

The rest of the night was you patching Ford up and him patching you up. Conversation floated between you and him as if the previous days were nothing but a nightmare. That’s when he unloaded everything about Bill onto you, from the moment they made the deal to when the portal was revealed to be nothing but a way for Bill to take over Earth. You could see the remorse on his face as he talked, speaking on how he felt so stupid for falling into his tricks, believing the lies he told and how he almost caused a rift between the two of you. You already figured out most of what he told you prior to the conversation, but having it proven to be true and not baseless guesses was astounding.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting for the past year.” He says, holding you tightly to his chest. “It’s okay, Dad. You were under his influence and believed him more than you believed yourself.” You tell him.

From then on out, you and Ford searched for anything that’ll help defeat Bill. Ford stumbled across a book with armor that was supposed to keep Bill out of the mind. The machinery was horribly outdated but by growing on their ideas, you and Ford had a solid outline of a modern alternative. Assembling it was another story.

“Does this go here or here?”

“No..I think it goes here?”

The idea was scrapped and Ford was back to square one. Without Fiddleford’s brilliance in machinery, the protective armor was pretty much unachievable. And right before you knew it, the inevitable came. Ford fell asleep. You walked into his room with what you originally thought was him hunched over his desk, sticky notes stuck to every part of the wall and desk. Bill heard you walk in and shot up from his chair. “Oh, am I glad to see you!” Bill approached you with open arms.

“What are you doing, Bill?” You tried your best to sound menacing but your voice betrayed you. “I’m just trying to convince your dad to talk to me again. Do you think that’s possible?” He grabs your arm and pulls you to the desk. “Or maybe shedding your blood on the post-it notes would fasten the process?” His hands dig in the cabinet, pulling up a box cutter. You watch in horror as the blade pops out. “My blood won’t solve anything!” You said, trying to yank your arm away from his grip but it was too tight. “Then should I spill your blood and his?” He has the blade to your arm and you do your very best to stay still. Any movement and you'll surely rip some skin open. You sit in a pool of your own anxiety, waiting for Bill to slash your arm open but he never does. He drops the box cutter and shoves you. “Doing that will only make him hate me even more!” He yells, bashing his head on the wall repeatedly.

“Hey!” You pull him back by the shoulder. “Are you trying to give yourself a headache!” Bill ignores you and sits back down on the chair, obsessively writing post-it notes where he begs for Ford’s forgiveness. And for a while, that’s how they communicated. Through notes. At some point, the whole room was covered in writings of both Bill and Ford. When that didn’t work, he tapped a snake to Ford’s journal. It was back and forth of childish antics between the two of them.

The more this progressed the more sleep deprived Ford became, the more paranoid he grew. “There’s no other options left.” He said, running his hands down his head. “I was stupid to believe I could defeat Bill and I thought Fiddleford would’ve had something, but he didn’t. Just a ripped up picture of us from college.” In his hands were the two pieces of the photo. You reached a dead end and you’re not sure if you can escape this one. “Has Fiddleford answered your calls?” He asks, thumb caressing the photo of Fiddleford.

“He answered.” You crack your fingers. “He, uh…Doesn’t remember us.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t remember us?”

“I don’t know, he just asked who I was and why I kept calling. And when I told him about you and me he said I got the wrong person and hung up.” Heartbreak, after heartbreak. Nothing good seemed to come out of this situation and you were growing tired of all of it. You haven’t even gone outside to catch a breath of fresh air. You were too afraid Bill was lurking, waiting for you to be alone so he could find a twisted way to convince Ford to be on his side again.

Ford clenched the hand where the photo of himself was. Tears dripped from his eyes and down to the floor. “I’m so sorry for pulling you into this, kiddo.” He says. “You didn’t know that this was going to be the outcome, Dad. It’s okay.” You pull him for a hug. “I was so obsessed with finding answers that I–” Ford stopped himself with a garbled sob. “You didn’t know, Dad.” This was all too real, all too scary. You didn’t even want to think about how it would end.

The months passed through your fingers and before you could sit back and relax, winter was here. Your favorite season. You were unsure on how to feel. The last winter was filled with memories to remember but thinking back on them only brought a chill to your heart. One day, a knock was heard from outside. “Dad!” You run over to get him, your heart bashing against your ribcage. “There’s someone at the door.” A year prior to this, you would’ve been more than happy to open the door, but considering what has happened the last few months, anything that dealt with leaving home was mind numbingly terrifying. “It’s okay. If anything happens, hide in the lab.”

Arming himself with a crossbow, he opened the door. Aiming the crossbow at the person in front of him. “Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome.” A gruff voice spoke. “Stanley,” Ford drops the crossbow. “Did anyone follow you, anyone at all?”

“Eh, hello to you too, pal.” Ford grabs him by the collar and pulls him in, shutting the door behind him. “[Name], flashlight please! And hurry!” Ford holds out his hand and you place the flashlight you found discarded on the floor in his hand. “W-What? Who?” Ford flashes the lights in his eyes. “Ah! Hey,” The man in the beanie pushes Ford’s hands down. “What is this?” Then his eyes trail over to you. “And who is this?” The gears turn in his head and his eyebrows furrow in shock. “You have a kid!”

“That’s not the point.” Ford urged him to come in. He followed, his eyes never leaving you. “Hi, Uncle.” You nervously waved at him. “Does he talk about me?” Stan asks but he was pulled away from you before you could answer. Ford began spilling to him how he couldn’t trust no one, no one except him. Collecting all the books in his hands he went to the portal, you and Stan behind.

Showing him the portal, he explained how he’s the only person he could trust with the last notebook. He tells Stan to sail far away to keep the book from getting into the wrong hands. ”That’s it?” Stan clenches the book in his hand, a scowl on his face. “I finally get to see you after 17 years and the first thing you tell me is to get as far away from you as possible?”

“Stanley, you don't understand what we’re up against. What we’ve been through!” Ford walks past Stan, his hand gripping his hair. “We? C’mon, Stanford. Don’t tell me you dragged your kid into this.”

An argument unfolded and no matter how hard you tried to stop them from fighting, they continued on. It got to the point where it got physical and where Stan got injured. Ford came to his side, asking if he was okay. Stan, overrun by anger pushed him, Ford’s back slamming against the lever which powered on the portal. Your stomach drops. Last time that portal was on, you lost Fiddleford, you can’t lose your dad too.

Shoving the book into Ford’s chest was the last straw that broke the bridge. The portal sucked up Ford, suspended in the air he threw the book towards Stan. You ran over to grab your dad but he was too far beyond your reach. Your breathing was quickened and your head was spinning. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Uncle Stan, do something!”

“Stanley, do something!”

His name was being shouted in his ears, overwhelmed he didn’t know what to do. Ford was fully sucked in and the portal shut off, blasting you and Stan back. When you recovered from the initial blast, you got up to your feet and grabbed the switch. You pulled with all your might, but nothing worked. “Uncle Stan!” You sobbed out. “Do something, please! Help me!”

“K-Kid, I…” He walks towards you. His words were failing him, he didn’t know what to say. He had just ripped your father away from you and he lost his brother. Not knowing what else to do, he wraps you in a hug as you painfully sob into his jacket.

“I’m sorry, kid.”

@catr4dora @squ4respace i hope u guys liked it!! i wrote it with u guys in mind LMFAO and if u didn't im so sorry gulp

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #stanford pines #stanford pines x child!reader #stanford pines x daughter! reader #stanford pines x daughter!reader #ford pines x child!reader #ford pines x daughter!reader #ford pines x daughter #ford pines x reader #ford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #stanford x fiddleford #fiddleauthor #fiddleford x stanford

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loveesiren · 1 month ago

Text

𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙱𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢

Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x American!Reader | Forever Masterlist

a/n: hiiii, I know I haven't updated this story in centuries lol. I actually wrote this part out a while ago but never posted it. Now that I'm rereading it I kinda hate it but I said I'd post it so here it is. It's better if you've read the whole Forever series but if you haven't you can stll get the gist of it. Link for my taglist at the bottom!

synopsis: It's the third birthday Y/n has gotten to spend with Thanos since they escaped the games. Now that they are engaged, she has the best gift to surprise him with.

warnings: fluff, smut at the end

wc: 4.8k+

It was your favorite time of the year again: Thanos’ birthday. A day he had grown up hating, shrouded in unpleasant memories and a disdain for celebration. But for the past three years, you’d been on a mission to change that. You wanted him to associate his birthday with joy, love, and the kind of memories worth cherishing. Slowly but surely, you were breaking through his walls.

The first year, it was just the two of you. You stayed in, baking him the perfect little cupcake with one candle perched on top. Thanos, stubborn and reserved as ever, refused to leave the house back then. But as he sat on the couch with you, laughing through cheesy rom-coms and licking frosting off his fingers, you could see something shift—a tiny crack in the armor.

The next year, you managed to coax him out of his comfort zone. A quiet dinner at a nice restaurant was a big step for him. He had been hesitant at first, but by the end of the night, he couldn’t stop smiling as he clinked his glass of wine against yours.

But this year was different. So much had changed.

You and Thanos were engaged now. The ring on your finger sparkled with the promise of forever. He had recently reconnected with his estranged mother, Choi Bong-Cha, a relationship that had taken years to rebuild. His new album, raw and brimming with emotion, had been a massive success, catapulting him to a level of fame he never thought he’d achieve. And soon, the two of you would embark on a three-month tour—your biggest adventure yet.

This birthday needed to be unforgettable.

Granted, Thanos had long since left his wild partying days behind. He didn’t want a rager or a night that would blur into oblivion. But that didn’t mean he’d get away with just another quiet evening. Not this time.

He was at the studio for most of the day, so you took full advantage of the time to prepare. The house was a whirlwind of activity as you decorated every inch with streamers, balloons, and glitter that sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the windows. The glitter was deliberate—Thanos hated the stuff, but you loved the idea of him muttering under his breath as he tried to clean it up later. You smiled at the thought, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Balancing precariously on a ladder, you stretched to hang a giant “Happy Birthday!” banner across the living room windows. You were so focused on your task that the sharp knock at the door startled you, almost sending you toppling off the ladder.

“Come in!” you called, steadying yourself.

The door creaked open, and Thanos’ mother, Bong-Cha, stepped inside, immediately gasping in horror.

“Get down from there this instant!” she scolded, hands on her hips. Her gaze shifted to your outfit—a pair of shorts and a snug tank top that showed just enough skin to earn her disapproval. “And what are you wearing? You call that appropriate?”

You climbed down, grinning sheepishly as you bowed in greeting. “Hi, Choi Bong-Cha.” you said and pulled her into a warm hug.

“You Americans,” she huffed, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless. “Always driving me crazy with your nonsense.”

You laughed as you took her hands. “I’ll change before the party, I promise. I was just finishing up the decorations.”

“Good. Now help me bring in the food before it gets cold,” she said.

The two of you worked side by side in the kitchen, unloading dishes and preparing the feast. Bong-Cha had embraced you as her future daughter-in-law with open arms. Seeing how happy you made Thanos had softened her heart, and she treated you with the love and care of a mother who had always wanted a daughter. She even helped Thanos pick out the engagement ring, a secret she loved to remind you of whenever she saw you wearing it.

As the kitchen filled with the smell of cooking food, you turned on a playlist from your teenage years. The nostalgic sounds of your 2007 emo phase filled the air, earning an exasperated sigh from Bong-Cha.

“This is music?” she teased, pretending to cover her ears.

“It’s art,” you said dramatically, twirling a spatula in your hand.

Before she could argue further, another knock sounded at the door. You hurried to answer, your heart leaping when you saw your grandmother standing on the other side.

“Halmeoni!” you exclaimed, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Look at you, dressed like this! Aigoo!” she clucked, shaking her head as she stepped inside. “Go change before your friends and fiancé arrive. This is no way for a young woman to present herself!”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’ll change, I’ll change!” you promised.

As you made your way to the bedroom, you muttered under your breath with a smirk, “As if Su-Bong hasn’t already explored every inch of my body.”

Your cheeks flushed at your own boldness, but you couldn’t help feeling giddy. This birthday was going to be perfect, filled with the people Thanos loved most. And as you slipped into a new outfit, you couldn’t wait to see his face when he walked through the door.

For Thanos, this birthday would be more than a celebration. It would be a reminder of how far he’d come—and how much love surrounded him now.

The muffled hum of conversation filtered through the walls, a lively symphony of laughter and voices mingling in the crisp evening air. You stood in front of the mirror, inspecting your reflection one last time. The tight, champagne-colored dress hugged your curves in all the right places, shimmering faintly under the bathroom lights. It was a bold choice, one you knew would earn scathing looks from your grandmother and Bong-Cha, but you weren’t dressing for them tonight. This was Thanos’ birthday, and you knew exactly what he loved.

A spritz of hairspray, a swipe of gloss on your lips, and you were ready—well, almost. Scanning the bathroom, you caught sight of the chaos you’d left behind: makeup scattered across the counter, clothes piled haphazardly on the floor, and—your eyes landed on the drawer, partially open. Heat rushed to your face. Right. The toys.

Shaking your head with a rueful grin, you quickly tidied up, shoving away any evidence of the “unholy things” you and Thanos indulged in nightly. With nosy elders roaming around, the last thing you needed was for anyone to wander into your private space and find those.

Satisfied with your cleanup, you turned to the closet, reaching behind a row of purses. Your fingers brushed against the small box wrapped in shimmering blue paper, topped with a pristine white bow. You pulled it out, a flicker of excitement sparking in your chest. This was your gift to Thanos—a surprise you’d been planning for weeks. You could hardly wait to see his reaction.

Clutching the box, you stepped out of the bedroom and into the chaos. The house was alive with energy. In the kitchen, Thanos’ close friends and family gathered, chatting animatedly over trays of snacks and drinks. The air buzzed with anticipation.

“Se-mi! Min-su!” you called out, your face lighting up as you spotted two familiar figures near the counter.

They turned at the sound of your voice, and before you knew it, you were enveloped in their warm embraces.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it!” you said, squeezing them tightly.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Min-su replied, his boyish grin reminding you of the shy, nerdy kid you’d first met years ago. Now, he looked at you and Thanos like older siblings, a bond that always filled your heart with gratitude.

Se-mi smirked, giving you a once-over. “That dress is going to send Halmeoni into orbit.”

You laughed, shrugging nonchalantly. “The night’s not about her.”

As if summoned by the mention of her name, your grandmother appeared, a flurry of indignation and disapproval. She scolded you in rapid-fire Korean, her voice rising with each word as she tried to pull your dress further down your legs.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you waved her off with a grin. “T is calling. Everyone quiet!”

Stepping into the foyer, you answered your phone. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey, Señorita,” Thanos’ deep voice rumbled through the line. “I’m on my way home. Be there in five.”

“Can’t wait!” you replied, your smile widening as you hung up. Turning back to the kitchen, you clapped your hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay, everyone hide! I’m going to throw on a robe so he doesn’t suspect anything. When I turn on the lights, jump out and yell ‘surprise’!”

The room erupted into quiet laughter and hurried footsteps as everyone scrambled to hide. You dashed back to the bedroom, slipping into the silky pink robe Thanos had given you during one of your more playful anniversaries. Its softness wrapped around you like a secret, concealing the tight dress underneath.

The sound of the front door unlocking sent a jolt of anticipation through you. You rushed to greet him, your heart racing as his tall frame filled the doorway.

“Hey, baby,” you said softly, pulling him into a kiss.

“Mmm, missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his hands sliding to your waist. His voice dropped, a low, dangerous whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Can’t wait to be inside you…”

Your eyes widened as he pressed you against the wall, his hand slipping under the hem of your robe.

“Wait!” you gasped, squirming out of his grasp. “I have something to show you first!”

Thanos groaned, running a hand through his hair, but let you guide him toward the kitchen. “Baby, I just wanna—”

Before he could finish the sentence you knew would get him in trouble with his elders, you flicked on the lights.

“Surprise!” The room erupted with cheers and applause as everyone jumped out from their hiding spots.

Thanos froze, his eyes wide as they swept over the crowd, then landed on you. With a slow, deliberate motion, you let the robe slide off your shoulders, revealing the dress beneath.

“Happy birthday, baby,” you said, your voice brimming with excitement as you wrapped your arms around his neck, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

His hands found your hips, his grip firm as his gaze darkened. Leaning down, he whispered in your ear, his voice laced with both amusement and frustration.

“I was about to fuck you in the middle of the living room. This dress? Not helping. And there’s glitter everywhere.”

A playful smirk tugged at your lips. “When everyone’s gone, you can take all your frustrations out on me.”

“Deal,” he growled, before straightening and turning to greet his guests, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As the night unfolded, filled with laughter, toasts, and the warmth of loved ones, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Thanos. The man who once dreaded his birthday now stood at the center of it all—happy, loved, and utterly yours.

The laughter and chatter around the room quieted as you emerged from the kitchen, carefully balancing the Oreo ice cream cake on its tray. It was adorned with little Marvel characters, each one meticulously placed—a miniature Iron Man here, a tiny Hulk there, and of course, Thanos himself standing triumphantly in the center.

As you approached the table, everyone cheered and clapped, and Thanos let out a sheepish laugh, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. But you knew better. Beneath his playful groan, his lips curved into a smile, his eyes soft with gratitude. He’d chosen the name “Thanos” for himself years ago, and the cake was your cheeky little nod to that—a reminder of how far he’d come from the brooding, self-doubting man he once was.

“Make a wish, baby,” you said softly, standing beside him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he blew out the candles with one steady breath. The room erupted in applause, and you leaned down to plant a quick kiss on his temple.

After cutting the cake, you passed slices around the table, making sure everyone got a piece. The sound of forks clinking against plates and delighted murmurs filled the room as everyone dug in. But the festive mood only escalated when Bong-Cha and your grandmother started chanting in unison.

“Presents! Presents!”

You saw Thanos tense slightly, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. He had always felt awkward opening gifts in front of people, but you leaned in close and whispered, “Don’t worry, there’s just a few.”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing just enough for you to gather the small pile of gifts from the corner of the room. The first one he opened was from your grandmother—a stunning pair of cufflinks, polished silver with delicate engravings.

“These are for the day you marry my granddaughter,” she said, her voice proud but thick with emotion.

Thanos bowed his head in thanks, his lips pressed into a grateful smile as he admired them.

Next came Bong-Cha’s gift. She handed it to him with a rare softness, her usually stern expression melting as he opened the small velvet pouch inside. His hands stilled as he pulled out the dog tags, their metal gleaming faintly under the lights.

“These belonged to your grandfather,” she said, her voice quivering. “He wanted you to have them one day. I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

Thanos blinked rapidly, his eyes glistening. For a moment, it seemed like he might cry, but he quickly cleared his throat and placed the dog tags gently back into the pouch. He thanked her quietly, giving her a rare, heartfelt hug before moving to the next gift.

Se-mi and Min-su’s gift brought a genuine laugh from both him and you—a pair of small silver squid earrings, their diamond eyes glinting mischievously. Tucked alongside was a note that read:

"Your best and worst memory. You survived, and you found Y/N."

Thanos chuckled, his laughter tinged with something bittersweet. The four of you had never shared the full story with your families, but those earrings symbolized so much: the night you’d all met, the harrowing experience that bonded you, and the unbreakable little family you’d built ever since.

“Thank you,” he said simply, his voice quiet but brimming with meaning.

After a round of hugs and smiles, you stepped forward with a sly grin. “Wait! There’s one more…”

Thanos raised an eyebrow, his smile turning playful. “Señorita, you’re making me open more?”

“I think this one might be your favorite,” you teased, striding over to him and setting the small blue box in front of him. Leaning down, you placed a tender kiss on his cheek and whispered, “Happy birthday, my love.”

Thanos sighed, settling back into his seat as he opened the box. For a moment, he stared at its contents, his brow furrowing in confusion. Then his eyes widened, and he froze.

“You’re joking,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Inside the box was a pregnancy test. The pink plus sign was unmistakable, standing out starkly against the white plastic.

“You’re joking,” he repeated, picking it up to study it closer. His hands trembled slightly.

You smiled nervously, chewing on your bottom lip as you nodded. “No joke, baby.”

His head shot up, his wide, teary eyes locking onto yours. “Baby, y-you’re pregnant?”

“Mhmm.”

The room erupted in gasps and exclamations, but all you could focus on was Thanos. He stood abruptly, scooping you into his arms and spinning you around. His laughter rang out, joyous and unrestrained, as he pressed a deep, fervent kiss to your lips.

When he finally set you down, his cheeks were streaked with tears. He cradled your face in his hands, looking at you as though you were the most precious thing in the world. “I can’t believe it,” he murmured. “You’re giving me a family.”

“Of course I am. You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met.” you whispered back, your voice cracking as tears welled up in your own eyes.

The rest of the evening was a blur of hugs, cheers, and endless congratulations. Bong-Cha cried openly, your grandmother held your hands tightly as she whispered blessings, and even Min-su and Se-mi couldn’t contain their excitement.

Eventually, you found yourself sitting beside Se-mi, who had been unusually quiet.

“You’re going to get so fat,” she teased, her tone light but her eyes misty.

“Don’t remind me,” you laughed, nudging her playfully. Then your expression softened. “Se-mi?”

“Don’t,” she warned, though her voice wavered.

“Se-mi,” you said gently, placing a hand on hers. “Will you be the godmother?”

Tears spilled over her cheeks as she tried to wipe them away quickly, failing miserably. Finally, she turned to you, her face breaking into a watery smile.

“Of course!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around you.

It was rare for Se-mi to show this kind of raw emotion, and you cherished every moment of it. She had been there through everything—your best friend, your sister in spirit, your rock.

As the party carried on around you, you looked across the room to Thanos. He was laughing with Min-su, the dog tags now hanging proudly around his neck, his eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

For the first time in a long time, Thanos wasn’t just celebrating a birthday. He was celebrating life. And the future had never looked so beautiful.

By 11 p.m., the house was finally beginning to quiet. Guests had filtered out one by one, their laughter and goodbyes still echoing faintly in the air. Min-su and Se-mi, however, had gotten far drunker than they’d intended. You had to practically guide them by the elbows to the guest rooms, their laughter sloppy and unfiltered.

Min-su flopped onto the bed with a groan, mumbling something incoherent, while Se-mi giggled uncontrollably, half-hanging off the doorway as you tried to steady her. “You guys are always the last ones standing,” you teased, tucking a blanket over Min-su.

“Not my fault your champagne tastes expensive,” Se-mi slurred with a grin, finally climbing into the other bed.

You rolled your eyes, smiling fondly. They were the only ones who ever occupied the guest rooms anyway. This was their second home, and it always warmed your heart to see them so at ease.

As you walked back toward the front door, your grandmother and Bong-Cha were lingering, still fussing over you. Your grandmother pressed her hands gently against your belly, murmuring prayers in soft, melodic Korean.

“Rest well, Halmeoni,” you said, taking her hands in yours as you kissed her cheek.

“Be careful, child. You must protect that baby.”

“I will. I promise.”

After her, you turned to Bong-Cha, who gave you an approving nod as she slipped on her coat. “You’ve made him very happy tonight,” she said.

You smiled at her warmly. “He deserves it.”

When the door finally clicked shut behind them, a heavy, contented silence filled the house. You turned the lock and exhaled, the weight of the evening finally settling over you. When you turned around, Thanos was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his dark eyes watching you.

“Do you hate me?” you asked in your cutest tone, prancing toward him with a teasing smile.

“Let’s see,” he began, his voice laced with mock annoyance. “You threw me a surprise party even though you know I hate surprises. You embarrassed me with a Marvel cake—cute, but still embarrassing. And there’s glitter everywhere. Everywhere.”

You smirked, swaying as you approached him, lifting the hem of your dress just enough to show a hint of thigh. “But?”

His expression softened instantly as his hands found your hips, pulling you flush against him. “But…” he said, his voice low, “I’ve never been fucking happier.” His lips pressed firmly to yours, tender but insistent. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I can’t believe you’re giving me a child…”

“You’re going to be such a good dad, Su-Bong,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

He winced slightly, but not from discomfort—it was rare you used his real name, and hearing it fall from your lips like a caress always unraveled him. “Go run the bath,” he murmured. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

You nodded, your smile radiant, and skipped off toward the master bathroom.

Thanos stayed behind for a moment, his hand slipping into his pocket. He pulled out the pregnancy test, the little pink plus staring back at him. It was surreal. His breath caught as he studied it, his chest tightening.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking as tears slipped down his face. A soft, overwhelmed laugh followed. He tilted his head back, his shoulders sagging under the weight of gratitude. Whatever gods or fate had orchestrated this, he thanked them silently—for you, for this life, for this second chance he never thought he’d get.

Carefully, he placed the test on the mantle above the fireplace. It was small, but it was everything. He wanted to see it every day—a symbol of the life you were building together.

When he stepped into the bathroom, the lights were off, and the room glowed with the warm flicker of candlelight. Steam curled lazily from the soapy water filling the tub, and there you were, nestled in the bubbles, your hair pinned up, lashes fluttering as you met his gaze.

“Join me,” you said softly, your voice inviting, your smile luminous in the candlelight.

Without hesitation, Thanos stripped out of his clothes, letting them pool on the floor before stepping into the tub. The water rippled around him as he settled in opposite you, taking one of your feet into his hands. His fingers kneaded gently into the arch, his touch soothing yet intimate.

He leaned back slightly, his dark eyes roaming over you, drinking in your beauty. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. His voice was soft but heavy with meaning. “For today. For everything.”

You smiled, your cheeks flushing faintly. “Did you enjoy your party?”

“It was amazing,” he said, his lips curving into a small smile. His hands moved to your toes, his lips pressing soft kisses against them. “Your gift…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if words couldn’t capture how he felt. “You were right. It’s my favorite.”

Your grin widened, your heart swelling with joy. “C’mere,” you said, reaching for him.

Thanos shifted in the water, moving to your side of the tub. He pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in your ear as his hands gently traced patterns along your arms.

His hand moved gently beneath the water, his fingers grazing over your still-flat belly before traveling lower. The touch was tender, reverent, as if he was savoring every inch of you. His middle finger slipped through your slick folds, eliciting a soft moan from you that vibrated against his neck.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pressed a single finger inside you, his other hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb grazing over your sensitive nipple. The warmth of the bath surrounded you, but it was nothing compared to the heat building between your bodies.

“Mmm, fuck, T…” you murmured, leaning your head back against his broad shoulder. You floated in his arms, completely at his mercy, your body melting into his.

His lips brushed your temple as he added a second finger, curling them just right, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your loud, unrestrained moan filled the room, your back arching as his fingers worked you with deliberate care. You could feel the press of his growing arousal against your lower back, a firm reminder of how much he wanted you.

“Feel good, baby?” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and intoxicating.

“So fucking good…” you whimpered, your voice breathy and needy as he curled his fingers again, hitting that perfect spot.

“T…” you gasped, your words barely audible, a desperate plea for more.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he murmured, his lips trailing to the shell of your ear before placing a slow, teasing kiss on your cheek.

“From behind, please…” you begged, your voice trembling with anticipation.

His lips quirked into a grin. “As you wish, princess.”

Gently, he withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a heated intensity. “You taste incredible,” he said softly before helping you stand, the water cascading off your body as he positioned you at the edge of the tub.

You leaned forward, gripping the porcelain for balance as he knelt behind you. His hands gently spread your legs, and then his tongue found you, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. He took his time, savoring every part of you, his tongue exploring your folds with a mix of gentle licks and firm strokes.

Your whimpers filled the room as he worked you, his lips and tongue driving you closer to the edge. “Fuck, T! You’re going to make me cum!” you cried out, your thighs trembling.

He smiled against you, the vibrations of his chuckle sending another wave of pleasure through you. He pushed his tongue deeper, moving in and out, savoring the way your body responded to him. Just as you felt yourself begin to tighten, teetering on the edge of release, he pulled back, his lips glistening as he stood.

“You’re going to cum on my cock, princess,” he said, his voice husky and commanding.

“Mmmkay…” you whimpered, your desperation evident as you arched your hips, needing him.

He positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he lined himself up with your entrance. “Think I can get you pregnant again?” he teased, his voice playful but filled with desire.

“You can certainly try…” you replied, your words a breathy challenge.

He chuckled softly before pressing into you, inch by inch, the stretch making your eyes roll back. No matter how many times you’d been with him, his size always took your breath away.

He started slowly, his movements deliberate, as though he wanted to memorize every sensation. He watched as his length disappeared into you, glistening with your arousal, the sight nearly undoing him.

“You tired, baby?” he asked, his voice thick with affection as he noticed your head resting lazily against the tub.

“No… Just feels so good…” you whimpered, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through you.

His lips curved into a soft smile as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with more urgency. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, your breathing shallow as you neared the edge again.

“Shit, baby, I’m close,” he panted, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust faster.

The tension built between you until it finally snapped. You cried out his name, your body shaking as your release washed over you, your walls clenching around him. With a few more thrusts, he followed, groaning as he buried himself deep, his warmth flooding you.

He collapsed against your back, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he caught his breath. “Fuck, baby…” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with awe.

“You fuck me so good every time, T…” you whispered, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Guess that’s why we’re having a baby.”

He laughed with you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kissed your shoulder. Slowly, he pulled out of you, both of you sighing at the loss. He reached for the drain, letting the water empty before grabbing a towel and carefully drying you off.

He took his time, rubbing lotion into your skin with gentle hands, his touch lingering with love. When you were dressed in your silky pink pajamas, and he had slipped on a pair of boxers, he led you to bed.

The moment your head hit the pillow, you sighed in relief, exhaustion pulling at your eyelids. Thanos climbed in beside you, pulling you into his arms and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight, jagi. Thank you for everything,” he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.

“Love you forever, baby. Happy birthday,” you murmured against his chest, your words soft as sleep overtook you.

Thanos held you close, his heart full as he stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t stop picturing the future—a little one with your eyes and his smile running around the house. Tears pricked his eyes as he imagined the life ahead, a life filled with love, laughter, and the family he’d never thought he deserved.

He lay awake for hours, daydreaming about the life you were building together, until finally, sleep claimed him, his arms wrapped securely around you.

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Tags: @infinetlyforgotten @ldydeath @c1delight @divinefeminineeeee @nicklet94 @i-might-be-vanny @gdinthehouseee @emmiesoverthemoon @pinkpunkdynamite @modzmadness @breakmeoff @burlesquerade @eru-vande @Amyyforshort @gdgirl21 @ttturnitup @Keiraryan @mashtatosworld @kai-277

#squid game fanfic #squid game #squid game thanos #thanos x reader #choi subong x reader #choi subong #thanos #choi seunghyun #thanos smut #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong

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samanthacastano02 · 3 months ago

Text

Hold My Hand Pt1 (18+)

Han Jisung x FemReader x Lee Know

Warnings: Smut, PnV, Threesome, Established relationship, Safeword used, DomLeeKnow, DomHan, SubReader, Oral (FemRec), Fingering, Cursing, Angst, Rough Sex, Unprotected sex, probably more (I wrote this after an 8 hour shift at work, so I am sorry if it’s not my best work, later this week when I have time I’m going to go back and rewrite and edit it, when I’m not exhausted)

Minsung - Hold My Hand Pt2 (18+)

MDNI 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: You unknowingly make a mistake that pisses off your boyfriends Han and Minho, but also turns them on to no end. Han can’t do anything about it at first so he leaves you to Minho, but when Han gets home, things get rougher than intended and things go wrong.

Photos not mine, credits go to photographers

I had spent the day in the studio with the boys, it was my day off and both Jisung and Minho had asked if I wanted to spend the day with them. Throughout the entire day both boys seemed to be on edge, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why and no matter how many times I asked them what was wrong they told me to drop it. It kept nagging me but I did what they asked and dropped it because I didn’t want to make the day even more difficult for them because it was a recording day for them. The rest of the boys also seemed to have no idea as to why both Jisung and Minho were on edge, which didn’t help my nerves. Finally they stopped for lunch and Minho grumpily stomped over to me, tossing his hoodie to me. I wasn’t cold but I figured that something about my outfit made them upset so I didn’t question him and slipped it on before following them down to the dining hall that the JYP building had.

Throughout the rest of the day I kept Minho’s hoodie on, but that still didn’t seem to make Minho or Jisung happy. I sadly couldn’t confront them until we got home because only the members of Stray Kids and their team knew about our relationship, everyone agreed that it would be best for now to keep the relationship secret until they could come up with a way to announce it where it wouldn’t cause backlash for the three of us since it was considered unconventional. When Minho had finished recording all of his lines for the day, Jisung must have either said something to him or texted him because he was pulling me up and dragging me out of the room and down to our car that we had taken this morning. As he dragged me, he didn’t let up on his pace, causing me to have to lightly jog behind him.

“Min, please slow down. I can’t keep up.” I try to tug on his hand to get him to slow down but he doesn’t slow down. He continues to walk quickly and ignores my pleas for him to slow down.

It’s a nice break for my legs once we get to the car, I can’t tell what’s wrong by looking at his face. His face is void of emotion, it’s unsettling to me because I have never seen him like this. I don’t know what I did to cause him and Jisung to get upset, but whatever it was I didn’t mean to. As he drives, his hand is on my thigh, kneading the skin not gently but also not enough that it hurts a lot. I try to put my hand on his hand, as a sign of comfort but when I look at him, he shakes his head no and I immediately know to take my hand away. He doesn’t glance over at me like he normally would, it worries me that something is seriously wrong and that this relationship is in serious jeopardy.

When we arrived at my apartment, the place the three of us had been staying so as to stay out of the eyes of the public and give the boys a break from the constant flirting and bedroom activities, he dragged me out of the car and up to my floor. The moment we got into my apartment and the door was shut he was shoving me against the door, his lips attached to mine. The kiss caught me off guard, I was expecting him to get angry and yell at me, for what I didn’t know. I decided to allow myself to indulge and deepen the kiss, I wrap my arms around his neck. I feel his hands tap my thighs, hinting that he wants me to jump. I do as he wants and jump, wrapping my legs around his waist, he pushes me against the door even more, but I know that he wont drop me.

“Min, what’s happening?” I question when he moves his kisses down to my neck.

“You think that you can get away with what you did today by playing innocent?” “But Min, I truly don’t know what I did? Whatever it was, I’m sorry.” “Lies, it’d do you best to be honest and admit that you did it on purpose.” “But I truly don’t know.”

“Am I going to have to spell it out?” “Yes, because I don’t know what happened, what I did to make you and Sungie upset.” “Wearing that perfume, and that shirt.” “What perfume and what shirt?” “The pheromone perfume we got you for your birthday and the shirt that we got you, that you agreed to only wear when you were free to use.” “What! But that shirt is black, the one I’m wearing is white? And the perfume, I was in a rush this morning. I wasn't looking. I’m sorry.” I say as he grinds his hips on me.

“No Jagi, that shirt isn’t black. It was white, with your favorite flower on it.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s too late for sorry now Jagi.” he says as he turns to carry me into the bedroom. I know where this is going and I don’t know whether to be scared or excited.

“Minho, I’m serious, I didn't mean to.” I say as he drops me onto the bed.

He doesn’t say anything, instead he crawls over top of me, kissing up to my lips. When his lips meet mine again, there’s that same frenzy from before but there’s also something different now that I can’t place. I decided to not dwell on it and allow myself to enjoy the feeling of his lips on mine. I know that Jisung will soon come home and I don’t know what that will do to our current dynamic.

“You decided to tease us, whether that was knowingly or unknowingly, so I’m going to deal with this. That ok, princess?” He asks as he grinds his erection on me. I don’t answer him verbally, I just nod at him.

He begins to kiss down my neck again, I can feel him grip the bottom of my shirt and tug at it. I sit up slightly so that he can tug it off. He throws it across the room, for once not even caring where it lands, he usually cares about keeping the room clean. Before I could lie back down he unhooked my bra, tugging it off as well and throwing it in the same direction as my shirt. His lips leave my neck and work down to the top of my breast, I close my eyes and allow myself to fully feel the pleasure that he is bringing me, even if it’s just kissing me. I soon feel his lips wrap around my nipple, while his other hand moves up to twist and tug on my other nipple, not wanting to ignore it. After a while, he kisses his way over to my other nipple and begins to give it the same attention. He knew that my nipples were sensitive, even just to touch. When he deems that he has given both of my nipples enough attention, he kisses his way down to the tops of my pants. He looks up at me, silently asking for permission to take them off, when I nod I expect him to just take my pants off but he takes off both my pants and my panties.

As he pulls off my panties, he leaves kisses on my thighs. He starts at my knees and kisses back up to the apex of my thighs. I expect him to tease me but he immediately licks a stripe up my clit, I didn’t expect him to immediately start eating me out. The man knew what to do and he was good at it, I was already seeing stars and he had just started. The man ate me out like a man starved, like it was his last meal, like he was desperate. One thing about Minho was that he loved to overstimulate me, and he knew the best way to do that was by eating me out and using his fingers. The pleasure that he was bringing me caused my brain to go blank, forgetting about the outside world, the reason why I was in this predicament in the first place. I feel his tongue on my clit and his right hand snake its way between my thighs while his left hand snakes its way up to my breast, squeezing it and rolling my nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. He’s being unusually soft with me, both him and Jisung are dominant, liking to be rough with me and each other. I don’t think anything of it, to focused on the pleasure that his tongue and fingers are bringing me, his fingers are hitting the perfect spot inside of me. I can feel the coil tightening, getting closer and closer to my release. He sucks my clit into his mouth harder and it sends me over the edge, I cry out his name shaking as he continues to eat me out and piston his fingers in and out of me.

He barely lets me come down before he’s picking up the pace of his hand again, he knows that once I’ve come once it’s extremely easy to make me finish again. I can feel the coil tightening again, the overstimulation becoming too much but I know that I can still handle it so I allow the pleasure to take over me again, finally after I come down from my second orgasm he gives me a slight break while he removes his clothes. I try my best to catch my breath as I take in the view of him, naked in front of me. No matter how many times I see him like this, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. He turns towards me again and begins to crawl over me, kissing his way up to my lips, I can feel his cock pressing against me as his lips meet mine but he doesn’t push in. I know he won't until I tell him that it’s ok to do so, I wrap my legs around him and try to tug him into me but he holds steady, not until I verbally tell him that it’s ok.

“Min, please. Please, I want this.” I pleaded with him.

“Ok Jagi, but I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“I don’t want you to. Just please do something.”

With me giving him permission, he pushes into me. He groans into my ear as I let out an obscene moan, one that I didn’t actually think I could make. He slowly pushed his way into me, allowing me to adjust to him. His cock is impressive, both in length and girth, the stretch hurts so good. When he bottoms out, he sits there for a few seconds before he pulls back, pulling his cock out until just the tip was still in me. He pushes back into me roughly, pushing the air out of my lungs. I couldn’t form any coherent sentences, only broken words and moans fell from my lips. I clung to him, my arms went around his neck, his powerful thrusts rocking me and shuffling me up the bed. I was so far gone in pleasure that I didn’t hear Jisung finally come home, but I felt Minho pull his face away from my neck and look at the bedroom door.

“What number of orgasms is she on?” Jisung asked as he quickly removed his clothes, as if he knew this was what would be happening when he got home.

“Working on number three.” Minho moaned out after a particularly rough thrust

“Perfect, she stretched out good?” He asks Minho as his hand moves to my breast, playing with my nipple.

“She’s ready for you after this orgasm.” Minho moans as he continues to thrust into me, moving his head back to my neck. Sucking love bites up and down my neck, my arms tighten as I get closer.

“Perfect.”

I’m so lost in pleasure that I can’t even warn Minho when my orgasm crashes over me, I let out a guttural moan and dig my fingers into Minho's back. With my third orgasm crashing over me Minho picks up his pace and thrusts into me harder, extending my pleasure. After a few more thrusts I can feel him finish, his hot cum sending me into yet another orgasm, making it my fourth. While it wasn’t as strong as my first three it was still pleasurable and took me time to come down from. When I came down, I could feel Minho brushing my hair from my forehead, looking at me to see if I was ok. I gave him a weak smile before looking over at Jisung. As I look at Jisung, I can feel Minho pull out of me which pulls a weak whimper from me, the two boys switch places. Jisung now between my legs and Minho up by my head, I don’t even get a warning from Jisung as he thrusts into me.

“Sungie, slow down. She’s already sensitive.” Minho tries to get him to slow down a little, when he notices that he didn’t give me a chance to adjust.

“She can take it, can’t you baby?” Jisung asks as he continues to thrust hard into me, due to the overstimulation I’m already close to another orgasm. I don’t get a chance to answer him when my orgasm crashes over me, I moan out his name.

“Good fucking girl, squeezing me so tight.” Jisung says as he continues to thrust into me, tears now streaming down my cheeks from the stimulation. He wraps his hand around my throat, not tight enough to fully cut off oxygen. When he feels me stop clenching around him, he pulls out of me and flips me onto my stomach, shoving my face into the sheets and thrusting into my hard. I let out a mix between a moan and a cry.

“My good little cum slut, huh. That’s all you're good for, just a cum dump.” I don’t know what to feel about how he’s talking to me. He’s never spoken to me this way before, Minho has but never Jisung. He’s always been the softer of the two, his switch up shocking both you and Minho. Minho reaches for you, but before he can Jisung grips your hair and pulls you up.

“Come on baby, tell me. Are you my little cum slut?” He asks as he seems to thrust even harder into me, I don’t know if it’s the overstimulation or the words that he’s saying to me but I begin to cry even harder. Wondering if this is what he actually thinks about me, does he actually think that this is all I’m good for, just a cum dump, a hole to use?

“Jisung, slow down. Take it easy, you're going hard on her.” Minho tries to get Jisung to slow down but it’s like he can’t hear him, he doesn’t even respond.

“Sungie, please. Slow down.” I try, not as loud as Minho, taking a lot of energy to get the sentence out. He ignores me, seeming to thrust even harder now. I begin to panic, the moment no longer becoming pleasurable but before I can think about it I can feel my 5th orgasm crash over me.

Everything becomes too much, I can feel Minho by my head trying to be a focal point of comfort for me, pulling my attention from Jisung but it doesn’t help. I’m now in my head, thinking that maybe this is truly how Jisung actually thinks about me, that I’m nothing but a slut to him, a cum dump. It breaks me and I begin to cry even harder. I try to muster up the strength to utter my safe word but I can barely speak because I am crying so hard. I look over to Minho but his eyes are trained on Jisung, I can see the questions going through his eyes. Finally I muster up just enough energy to mutter out my safe word.

“R-r-red.” I say barely above a whisper, it’s loud enough for Minho to hear but it’s like Jisung doesn’t hear.

“Jisung, she said red.” Minho grunts out, but Jisung still doesn’t listen, I sob harder. Minho decides that he’s taking things into his own hands and pulls Jisung off himself. That seems to snap Jisung out of whatever trans he was in.

His eyes widen in shock when he finally takes in his surroundings, he looks at me, seeing me curled up in a ball by the head of the bed sobbing. Looking between Minho and I, I can see that Jisung is processing what just happened, as the tears well in his eyes realizing that if Minho hadn’t been here, things could have gone way differently. I hear a thump and turn to see Sungie on the floor, I can tell that he’s now panicking. I look at Minho and I can see he’s stuck between wanting to help me and helping Sungie, even after what happened, I don’t want Jisung to panic.

“Min, g-get me a b-blanket, a-a-and t-then help Hannie.” I make the decision for Minho.

“Are you sure, will you be ok for a few minutes until I get him calmed down?”

“Y-yes, I-I’ll b-be ok. W-we d-don’t n-need h-him p-passing out.” I hiccup as I finally stop sobbing

Minho’s POV:

I worry about leaving y/n in the bedroom, but I know she’s right. If I don’t calm Han down, he’ll panic to the point that he passes out. I grab both him and I some fresh underwear so that we aren’t sitting out in the living room naked. I grab Han and pull him into the living room, pushing him onto the couch before kneeling down in front of him and slipping on his underwear. I pull him up enough to pull them all the way up. He flops back down, crying hard while I slip my own on. I want to be angry about the fact that he didn’t listen to her safe word, and I am but there has to be a reason as to why it seemed like he couldn’t hear her.

“What the hell happened, Jisung?”

“I-I don’t know, I-I’m so sorry. I-it was like I-I wasn’t in control of m-my own body.” “Han, if I wasn’t here-” jisung cuts me off before I can finish my sentence.

“Please, I don’t even want to think about that. I could have seriously hurt her.” “I’m not going to say that you couldn’t have because you could have. Were you angry?”

“I think so? Recording didn’t go as well after you guys left and then the outfit and perfume didn’t help.” “You can’t bring home those issues, and if you do you cannot take them out in the bedroom.” “I know, god Minho she must hate me, she looked so broken.”

“I need to check on her, but I also need to make sure that you’ll be ok while I do?”

“I’ll be fine. Just please, make sure that she’s ok.” he begs me, still slightly crying

“I’ll be right back, ok?”

Han nods at me and then I get up, walking back into the bedroom. I find y/n laying where I left her under the fluffy blanket. I can see that she’s still shaking and shivering, I don’t know if she’s shaking because she’s crying or because she’s in subspace. That thought scares me so I rush over to her, I climb onto the bed and see that she’s crying. It breaks my heart that she’s crying this hard, I know she’s still scared and probably confused.

“Baby, are you ok?” I ask her softly.

“I-is he mad at me?” That question confuses me.

“Why on earth would he be mad at you?” “I-I ruined the mood.” “Love, you did not ruin the mood. And he’s not mad at you, he’s worried but not mad. He’s mad at himself for not hearing you.”

“Does he really think those things about me?” She asks as she snuggles into my side, seeking comfort in my arms

“What things, love?” “That I’m … a slut, a cum dump, a hole, good for nothing but cum.” “God no, baby. Of course he doesn’t think those things about you. He was in his head, some stuff happened at the studio and he was angry and he wrongly took it out on you. And he is so sorry for that.”

“C-could h-he come i-in here?”

“Lovie, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“Could he take a bath with me? I-I think that we b-both c-could u-use it.” “Let me go ask him, see if he’s ok with that.”

I tuck the blanket back around her, slightly surprised that she wants to be slightly intimate again. Even if it isn’t sexual, but if it’s what she wants I won’t deny her. I look back at her and can’t help but think about how adorable she looks. My heart swells with love, both for her and Han.

“Han, love. I have a question for you.” “Yea?”

“Y/nnie wants your help taking a bath while I change the sheets.” I can see his face pale.

“W-what? W-why me, after w-what just happened.” “Baby, she wants your comfort. She thinks that both of you need it. And I don’t think she’ll be ok with you saying no.” “Does she really want my help?” Before I can answer him, we both hear y/n yell from the bedroom.

“Sungie, get your ass in here and help me. Please.” We both chuckle, talk about comedic timing.

Jisung’s POV:

I hesitantly stand up, heading back into the bedroom. When I enter, I find y/n lying down wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. I can see the exhaustion in her eyes, but she looks at me and smiles slightly. Like she’s trying to reassure me that it’s ok, that she’s ok when it should be me reassuring her that it’s ok. It makes me feel guilty, I can feel tears coming back, but I quickly blink them away not wanting to cry in front of her. I slowly walk towards her, stopping just in front of her, I sit down on the bed next to her. I don’t reach out for her and she doesn’t reach out for me, there is an awkward air between us and I don’t know how to fix this. I can see that she is hesitant and I can see the lingering fear, it breaks my heart to know that I’m the one that caused this fear in her. I’m one of the people that should protect her, not hurt her and tonight I hurt her. I hesitantly reach out for her and look at her, silently asking for permission to touch her. She slowly nods at me and I gently pick her up.

“Jagi, I cannot begin to explain to you how sorry I am.” I begin as I turn to carry her into the on suite bathroom. She surprised me by burying her face into my neck, giving it a gentle kiss.

“Sungie, I know you are sorry. I forgive you but do not let it happen again.” “I promise I will never let it happen again, I never want to hurt you that way again.” I respond to her as I set her on the counter, turning to the bathtub, filling it up with warm water and a bubble bath.

She doesn’t respond, rather opting to watch as I move around the bathroom, getting everything set up for the bath. I struggle to look at her, seeing the slight shake in her body still, knowing that I am the cause of it and it’s not a good shake. In the past Minho and I have caused her to shake from pleasure, even cry from pleasure but never like this. I shake my head to clear the thoughts from my head, not wanting to dwell on what happened. Once the bath is ready, I take off my underwear and pick up y/n, stepping into the bath, lowering both of us into the warm water together. She relaxes back into my chest, humming at the warmth, it makes me smile. I don’t know how long we lay in the bath, relaxing with each other, but it’s long enough that Minho decides to come and check on us. Long enough that we realize that the bath water is no longer warm and that it’s time to get out, I gesture Minho over. He comes over with a towel for y/n, I stand up before gently lifting her up and helping Minho wrap the towel around her. Minho leads her out into the bedroom while I step out of the tub and drain it, before I follow them. When I get out into the bedroom I see that Minho is toweling y/n off, I think quickly, getting slightly possessive and run and grab one of my shirts. I bring it over for him to slip over her head once she is dry enough, when he notices who’s shirt it is, he quirked an eyebrow.

“Really?” he questions me.

“What, she needed a shirt.” I responded cheekily.

“You’re a goof, get dressed, lovie.” he taps my ass before pushing me towards the closet

I listen and rush to the closet, grabbing myself a tank top but deciding that I don’t want to wear a shirt so I grab the pair of underwear that Minho had grabbed me earlier, slipping them on before walking out of the closet. Minho doesn’t seem to question it as we all slip into bed for the night, I can tell that he turned on the heating pad for y/n even though both he and I are walking furnaces. Y/n seems to be in the in-between state of falling asleep, not quite asleep yet, but also not fully awake. She turns toward me, noticing my tattoo, and begins to lightly trace it with her finger. I don’t stop her even though it tickles, I know that it calms her, she tends to do it every night before we fall asleep. I know that things aren’t completely ok, but things will slowly get back to being ok, that trust wasn’t completely ruined. I know Minho is hesitant to allow her and I time alone again, but we can work up to that again. He looks over at us, putting his phone down and wrapping his arm around her, while resting it on my stomach rubbing small circles. He may seem stand-offish but he shows both of us that he loves us in his own ways, and we show him in our ways.

Minsung - Hold My Hand Pt2 (18+)

#han jisung angst #han jisung imagines #han x y/n #han x reader #han jisung x reader #minsung x y/n imagines #minsung x reader #han jisung smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n

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bettelaboure · 2 months ago

Note

Can we have a fic of g dragon x reader showering together? (Fluff with a hint of spice maybe 👀) I absolutely love flirty g dragon especially how you wrote him in your recent fic and GODDAMN IM HOOKED-

⊹ After hours ⊹ | Kwon Ji-yong

⊹ Pairing: Kwon Ji-yong x Reader ⊹ Warnings: explicit language, sexual content, mutual teasing ⊹ Summary: after a long, exhausting day at work, all you crave is the comfort of Ji-yong’s presence. But when he sends you a teasing picture from dance practice, the heat between you builds, leading to an intimate reunion that neither of you can resist. ⊹ Authors note: It might be more spicy than fluff, but I hope you'll like it 🤍

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The tension in your body lingers even as you step out of the office, muscles tight with the weight of the day. Your job as a marketing analyst had drained you, endless reports, back-to-back meetings, and last-minute client demands leaving you mentally exhausted. You had barely touched your lunch, your only break being a few stolen moments to check your phone between tasks.

The office buzzed with its usual chaos—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, muffled voices discussing deadlines. Your coworker, Mina, peeked over the divider between your desks and smirked.

“Long day?” she asked, sipping her coffee.

“You have no idea,” you sighed, rubbing your temples.

“You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot. Ji-yong again?”

You nodded, unable to hide your grin.

“Must be nice having a sexy boyfriend who can dance,” she teased. “Is he finally taking you to one of his rehearsals?”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s always busy, and when he’s not, he’s too tired to do anything except sleep.”

Mina waggled her eyebrows. “I doubt that’s all he does when he’s with you.”

Heat crawled up your neck. “Mina!”

She laughed and leaned back in her chair. “I’m just saying, if I had a man like that, I wouldn’t let him out of bed.”

You swatted at her with a paper folder, shaking your head as your phone buzzed again.

11:47 AM Ji-yong: "Don’t forget to eat, baby. I know how you get when you’re busy."

12:02 PM You: "I’ll try. You too, okay? How’s practice?"

12:15 PM Ji-yong: "Exhausting. The choreographer is making us run the choreo until we drop. But I’d rather be dropping into bed with you."

You had smiled at that, cheeks warming despite your tiredness.

Later that afternoon, you had stepped into the break room for a coffee refill when Mina was gossiping with another coworker, Jisoo.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” Jisoo said. “That client from yesterday? Total nightmare. Had us redoing the entire campaign visuals. I swear I almost quit.”

Mina groaned. “This is why I stick to the research department.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you poured coffee into your mug. “I think we all deserve raises after this week.”

Jisoo smirked. “Or at least a boyfriend who spoils us.”

Mina nudged you playfully. “Lucky girl over here already has one.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your amusement.

At the same time, Ji-yong was pushing through his own day, spending long hours at the dance studio. His bandmates teased him relentlessly every time they caught him checking his phone.

“Man, Ji-yong’s whipped,” Seung-Hyun joked, throwing a towel at him. “She’s got you acting soft.”

Ji-yong just smirked. “You’re just jealous.”

“Maybe,” Seung-Hyun admitted. “If I had someone blowing up my phone like that, I’d be smiling too.”

His phone buzzed again.

3:37 PM You: "How’s my favorite dancer doing?"

3:45 PM Ji-yong: "Sweaty. Sore. Thinking about you sitting at your desk, all proper and serious. Wish I could mess you up a little."

That message had made your thighs press together, a tiny thrill coursing through you.

By the time you shut down your computer for the day, another message had come in.

6:28 PM Ji-yong: "I’ll be home late. Try not to miss me too much.*"

Attached was a picture of him in the dance studio, sweat-slicked skin glowing under dim lighting, shirt off, toned abs and lean muscles fully on display. His sweatpants hung low, teasingly so, the band of his briefs peeking out. He knew exactly what he was doing. The smirk on his lips was undeniable, cocky, sinful.

The entire drive home, your mind wandered where it shouldn’t. You imagined what it would be like to have him right there, to take him against the studio mirrors, his breath hot in your ear, his hands greedy on your hips. You squeezed your thighs together at the thought, feeling heat coil deep in your stomach.

By the time you made it home, the apartment was quiet, still. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind only he could stir inside you. You discarded your bag, toeing off your shoes before heading straight for the bathroom, desperate to shake off the day and—hopefully—the ache that had settled between your legs.

Steam curled around you as you stepped into the shower, hot water cascading over your skin, easing some of the tension in your shoulders. But it wasn’t enough. Not when the image of Ji-yong, sweat-drenched and breathless, still played in your mind. Your fingers twitched at your sides before you reached for the showerhead, biting your lip as you adjusted the water pressure.

Heat bloomed across your skin as the water pulsed against you, each wave of pleasure making you shudder. Your head fell back against the tiled wall, breath quickening, soft whimpers lost beneath the sound of rushing water. Your free hand trailed down your stomach, teasing your own skin, your body already responding to the fantasy playing out in your head.

You imagined his hands on you instead, strong fingers gripping your hips, his lips tracing fire along your neck. Your thighs trembled as you moved the water in slow, deliberate circles, your breath catching in your throat.

You didn’t hear the door creak open. Didn’t hear the shuffle of footsteps. But you felt the shift in the air, the unmistakable presence of someone watching.

“Enjoying yourself, baby?”

Your eyes shot open, heart leaping to your throat. Ji-yong stood there, leaning against the doorframe, still dressed in his sweats and hoodie, hood pulled back to reveal tousled hair and a knowing smirk. His gaze roamed over your bare, dripping form, dark eyes filled with something dangerous, something that made your stomach clench.

“J-Ji-yong—” You scrambled to turn the showerhead away, to cover yourself, but he was already stepping inside, fully clothed, uncaring of the water soaking into his clothes.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “I like watching you fall apart.”

Your skin burned under his gaze, embarrassment and arousal tangling together. “I-I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t?” He tilted his head, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Didn’t look like that to me.” His fingers traced along your jaw, tilting your face up. “Were you thinking about me?”

Your lips parted, but the words caught in your throat. He chuckled, low and knowing. “You were, weren’t you? Thinking about me while you touched yourself?”

Your breath hitched. His hand slid down, ghosting over your collarbone, your chest, before resting on your waist, pulling you against his soaked clothes.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Are you that needy for me, baby?”

A soft whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it. His grip tightened.

“Tell me.”

You swallowed hard. “Y-Yes.”

His lips crashed against yours, demanding, searing. The taste of him—sweat, mint, something inherently Ji-yong—flooded your senses. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing them apart, deepening the kiss until you were gasping against him.

His hands roamed lower, gripping your hips before sliding around to cup your ass, pulling you flush against him. The hard press of his arousal against your stomach sent a fresh wave of heat through you. His fingers trailed lower, teasing the sensitive skin between your thighs. He exhaled a soft curse, lips brushing over your jaw.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured, fingertips tracing along your inner thigh before pressing against you in a slow, torturous rhythm. Your breath hitched, your hands gripping his shoulders, unsure if you wanted to pull him closer or steady yourself.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, voice thick with hunger. His fingers moved in teasing circles, coaxing pleasure from you in slow, deliberate strokes, his other hand steadying your trembling body against the slick tiles. Every touch sent sparks of heat through you, drawing out gasps and desperate little whimpers that only seemed to fuel him more.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” His voice was a husky rasp against your ear, each word accompanied by a deliberate movement that left you arching into him, chasing the pleasure only he could give.

The shower wasn’t where it ended.

He carried you out, water still dripping from both of you, but neither of you cared. He laid you down on the bed, taking his time, exploring every inch of you with lips and tongue, drawing out every sound, every shuddering breath. His hands were both rough and gentle, teasing and possessive, pushing you to the edge only to pull you back, drawing out your pleasure until you were a trembling mess beneath him.

When he finally pushed into you, the sensation was overwhelming—deep, slow, intense. His fingers laced with yours, pinning them above your head, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he set an agonizing rhythm that sent you spiraling.

Every thrust, every whispered word unraveled you further, pulling you closer to the edge. The way he moved, the way he worshiped your body, left you utterly undone beneath him.

When release finally crashed over you, it was with a shattering force, leaving you breathless, trembling in his arms. He followed moments after, a deep groan spilling from his lips as he buried his face in your neck, holding you close.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, bodies tangled, breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. Then, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his voice hoarse but tender.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, running his fingers through your damp hair. “And I’m never letting you forget that.”

And as you curled into him, exhaustion pulling at your limbs, you knew that no matter how long the day had been, there was nowhere else you would rather be.

The next morning, you woke up to the scent of coffee and the warmth of Ji-yong’s arms still wrapped around you. He nuzzled into your neck, voice husky. “Morning, baby.”

You turned to face him, smiling sleepily. “You made coffee?”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Had to make sure my girl starts her day right.”

You sighed contentedly, curling closer into him. Maybe today wouldn’t be so exhausting after all.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Taglist: @redhoodedtoad @sherrayyyyy @mirahyun

#fanfic #bigbang #gdragon x reader #kwon jiyong #kwon jiyong x reader #kwon jiyong smut #kwon jiyong scenario #gdragon #gdragon smut #gdragon scenario #gdragon bigbang

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annebaby · 10 months ago

Text

hello all! its summer break, so hopefully i will stay motivated to write. one of my friends helped me come up with this idea, so i hope you like!!

warnings: fingering (r receiving), kissing, biting, public sex

divider from here!

coffee shop

college english - absolutely horrific. i’ve gotten a new essay assignment every week, each one being over a topic that was far too complex to make sense of. however, i had aced all of them.

so this week, i was fully prepared to ace another essay. my brain had been working overtime trying to predict the upcoming topic.

i travelled to the college’s local coffee shop, looking forward to my headphones, an iced matcha, and a few hours of pure focus.

i entered the shop, finding a seat tucked in the back corner. i set my stuff down and went up to order, feeling my phone vibrate while i was waiting for my drink.

it was an email from my professor with this weeks essay assignment.

“how do you challenge yourself to let go of things stopping you from being independent?”

what the fuck?

normally, this would be an easy topic. an easy answer to a simple question. but right now - it wasn’t.

i had just gotten over a fresh breakup with my now-ex girlfriend, kate martin. it was hard enough seeing her as the poster athlete all over campus, being reminded of her looming residence in my heart.

however, i recently had begun to work on myself and forgetting all the memories we had once shared. our breakup was civil, but the constant gossip of every recent hookup she had was like a dagger to the heart.

i prayed this assignment wouldn’t bring up all those feelings again. it was hard enough to get to where i was now. countless nights of crying to my roommates, eating junk food, drinking, etc. had gotten me to where i was now. i was happy.

that was until i saw my english assignment.

“iced matcha latte!” the barista called out.

i walked up to the counter, thanking her before sitting back down in my corner and opening my laptop. i put on my headphones, taking a deep breath before locking in and starting to write.

i wrote for what seemed like hours. i wrote about how i had gotten over my recent breakup by working out, giving myself time, and hanging out with friends (minus the excessive drinking). it was hard not to think about her blonde hair sprawled across my pillows when she would stay over. it was hard not to think about the way she would kiss me after she won a game. it was hard not to - wait, no.

i wasn’t doing this again. i couldn’t do this again.

i took my headphones off and paused my music, taking a break from the writing. i looked up and noticed how crowded the coffee shop had actually gotten. people had been piling in, and now it was almost full.

the line was at least 7 people long, each one talking to another person with them. i smiled to myself, feeling happiness radiating throughout the cafe.

until i saw that blonde hair. it wasn’t cascading over my pillows though. it was falling onto the shoulder of the girl she had brought with her. kate martin and the new mystery girl of the week, who would’ve guessed?

i scowled at the sight of them, anger filling my veins to distract me from my jealous, sad feelings. i wanted that to be me. that SHOULD be me.

fuck, why am i like this?

i pop my headphones back on my head, resuming the music with the volume all the way up. i try to ignore her presence, acting like i simply never saw her at all. its easier that way. i don’t want to see her doting on another new girl.

i regain my focus on my essay, but this time the words aren’t coming out as easily. instead, i was re-typing all my sentences. each word was filled with hate and anger, reflecting my feelings in this situation.

frustrated, i look up across the shop, immediately catching kate already staring at me.

god.

i quickly look away, pausing my music and heading to the restroom. i shut the door behind me, looking at my reflection in the mirror. all i see is a women who is defeated. a woman who is tired, angry and upset.

before i let the tears fall, i put my face in my hands. im squeezing my face, gently tugging on my own hair, and sighing out of anger. my leg starts subconsciously bouncing up and down, my anger starting to physically course through me.

the door opens. i turn my head to see the very person causing me to be this way.

kate notices me completely disheveled, locking the door behind her.

“hey, are you okay?” she asks. her hand reaches for my shoulder, but i stand back.

“im fine,” i say, trying to push my way past her back out to my laptop, my sanctuary.

but, she won’t let me pass. instead, she picks me up and sets me onto the bathroom counter, standing between my legs. i look away, not being able to look her in the eyes with tears now generously streaming down my cheeks.

“you’re not fine,” she says, cautiously wiping my tears. i swat her hand away.

“what makes you think you’re still allowed to touch me? talk to me like this?” i bawl.

i hop off the counter, now standing in front of her.

“go back to this week’s fuck and leave me alone,” i head for the door, but i’m stopped as kate grabs my wrist and pulls me back around to face her, unbearably close.

“please, just talk to me,” kate pleads.

i squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain flooding throughout my head.

i look up at her, tears still falling down my face.

“you’re such an assho-

i’m cut off by kate’s hands on either side of my face, pulling me in for a sweet, hungry kiss. my hands hover over her, surprise engulfing me as i struggled to comprehend what was happening.

she pulled back, looking at me between my eyes. she was desperately trying to assess my reaction.

a moment of boldness was all it took for me to lose all control, and there was no need for her to assess when my hands reached her waist and pulled her into me. i smashed my lips to hers, her hands gripping my ass.

i groaned into her and she uses her opportunity to invade my mouth. taken aback, i stumble backwards until my ass is against the sink of the restroom.

“jump,” she whispers.

i suddenly realize how unfortunate this situation is - making out with my ex girlfriend in a coffee shop while she’s out with another girl.

its almost as if kate sees the realization cross my face when she says, ”its fine, its fine," against my neck. her voice gives me chill bumps, flashbacks to our previous encounters flashing through my mind.

her fingers are toying with the waistband of my shorts, dipping in and out teasingly. i feel her lips moving and nipping at my neck, no doubt leaving marks for me to discover later - kate’s signature move.

i whined her name, practically begging for her to slip her fingers in me. she smirked against my skin. i hated being so needy, but kate loved to tease. i could not handle that right now.

“please kate, please,” i whispered.

“what do you want?” she breathed.

her stupid pride. her stupid ego. had i really forgotten the way she’d make me beg for her? i laughed.

“you don’t deserve to hear me beg.”

i grab her wrist and move her fingers to my center, immediately feeling her fingers tense at my wetness.

i grab her shoulder with my free arm, my forehead digging into her neck. her fingers started tracing circles on my most sensitive spot, causing me to bite her shoulder to keep myself from moaning. in response, i feel two of her fingers dive into me, curling and straightening as she fucks me with them. i lift my head up to look at her face, her eyes looking downward between us the whole time.

“fuck,” i whisper. i feel myself coming undone, seeing her that focused on the connection between us was sending me over the edge.

she smiles and meets my eyes quickly.

“c’mon, you can do it,” she breathes. she leans forward and takes my bottom lip in between her lip, tugging on it. i felt the tightness in my stomach loosen.

kate breathed out as if she had been holding a breath this entire time. she helped me finish out my high, before sticking her fingers in her mouth, licking them clean of me.

she stands in front of me, unphased. meanwhile, i’m heaving, my legs shaking and cramping. i look at her, my face puffy from my previous crying.

and we just start laughing. i hop off the counter, standing on my tip toes to give her a quick kiss. this felt like old times, our feelings felt like they had never left.

“tell your whore that i’m back,” i whisper.

her eyes widen in amusement, her hands finding a resting spot on my waist.

“i’ll be at your place later so we can talk about… this.” i motion back and forth between us.

i leave her grasp and walk back out in the coffee shop, returning to my laptop. smiling to myself, i read the essay that i had so effortlessly typed out. i delete the entire thing before closing my laptop.

i couldn’t write about being independent after my ex girlfriend had ruthlessly fucked me in the coffee shop bathroom.

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y0ur-lovrr · 3 months ago

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—Sleep patterns.

Based off of this song-

A/n; hiii, this was my first attempt at writing some type of angst, so if it’s bad i apologize lol, I haven’t really wrote angst before so I thought I’d try it, spoilers of season two of aib ahead!!

…maybe I will do a part 2 to this 🤷‍♀️

Pairing; everyone x reader (but you can pair yourself with whoever)

—kuina, Anne, And Usagi looked at you as you slumped at the wall, your hands holding onto your abdomen where the king of has stabbed you multiple times-blood spilling out of you like a broken faucet.

“Thank you for playing with me…I gave it my all.” You mutter with a sigh and a faint smile, having already accepted your fate that you had lost at this game, that you had lost at beating the borderlands, but you didn’t seem afraid, even as your eyes closed. It was unnerving seeing you accept fate so easily, as if you gave up on fighting even though you gave the king of spades your all.

They were all beat up to, Anne barely able to sit herself up from the floor, Kuina stabbed multiple times in her side, Usagi stabbed in her knees. But in that moment, you looked worse, and they couldn’t comprehend it, all frozen as they stared at you. You had been there since the beginning, even though you refused to accept the alliance at first, they thought of you as family.

Kuina screeches your name as he knees buckle beneath her, her hands immediately latching onto you and shaking you by your shoulders, attempting to wake you back up-as if you were just taking a nap.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t move, getting shaken with no resistance, even as her tears dripped down her cheeks, even as her bloody hands grip your shoulders a bit too tight.

“Why aren’t they moving?! Why won’t they wake up?!” She asked in a frantic yet desperate tone, ignoring her own pain as she try’s to wake you up, knowing it won’t work, but she couldn’t comprehend that you weren’t going to wake up.

Footsteps came back, the recognizable pants of Arisu sounding out as he makes his way over, just got done blowing up the king of spades. But he stops as he sees the scene in front of him.

Usagi was crying as she leaned back against a wall, trying to stop the bleeding on her legs, Anne laying on the floor with ragged breaths, and you. Slumped against the wall, not moving or barely breathing with Kuina frantically shaking your shoulders, trying to not start sobbing.

It made him feel sick, his breath catching in his throat. Guilt forms in his stomach, his head already starting to spin, maybe if he hadn’t taken so long to kill the king of spades with Aguni, maybe-just maybe, he could’ve saved you. But maybe he could-maybe if he beat the final game quick enough! That would work, right? It had to of, if they beat the final game this would all stop, right?—

“Arisu…” Usagi’s voice muttered, her voice shaky and pained, her eyes looking towards him, watching his eyes move over to hers, his eyes softening at her condition. The tears in his eyes makes her heart clench, he had no idea how all of this happened-the plan to bomb the king was supposed to work, not have it end up like this. It’s a blood bath.

Her eyes spoke a thousand words to him, and he reached out and grabbed her arm, putting it over his shoulder, making her use him as a crutch, carrying her weight easily.

“M-Maybe if we finish the last game it would save them-save them and Chishiya, Anne-“ he sputters out, words trembling over another as his mind worked quickly, and Usagi couldn’t bring herself to argue, knowing that it might work..but it was very thin chance. But knowing Arisu, he wouldn’t give up, he already lost so many-losing you and Anne would just break him.

He doesn’t know it, but hours from now, his found family will be torn apart. And he will beat the games with Usagi and wake up in the hospital. Having no memory of what happened, and you won’t talk him or the others again, not even remembering that you existed.

He will forget the time when you both sat down on the hood of an abandoned car as the sun set down, and how he asked you what you wanted in life. And all you said was ‘I don’t know’, he will forget how that stuck with him.

Anne and Kuina won’t remember how you would ride in the car at night to games, blasting the music on full blast and letting them sing to some song you never heard of before.

Usagi would forget how you admitted you afraid that one time you both were hunting for food, how you admitted that you were afraid of not being good enough, and how you afraid of dying without a fight.

Usagi and Arisu begin to make their way to the Queen of Hearts game, trying to go as fast as they could, leaving Kuina and Anne with you.

Kuina had given up on shaking you and trying to wake you up, instead laying down on the ground, staring up the sky as her gaze often moves towards you and to Anne, and the sight makes her want to cry even more. You promised her, promised her that you would escape the games with her, and that you would still be friends in the other world.

But now you can’t finish that promise, and a part of her wants to be mad at you for that. But she can’t. She could never bring herself to be mad at you. She moves one of her hands and shakily grabs onto one of yours, the blood making it slippery, as her other hand reaches towards Anne’s, silently praying that they finish the game fast.

It’s quiet despite her ragged breaths and the light breathing of Anne, it’s quiet without your constant sarcastic comments and little quips, and she finds herself already missing it, missing you.

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rose-pearls · 1 year ago

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Lost without you

I had an idea this morning and I wrote it until I realised that his had become quite long but hopefully you enjoy this!! Reader is Percy, Annabeth's and Grover's age and is Luke's sister. I am working on requests that I received and my requests are still open if you have any!

Summary: As Luke's sister you had only seen the best in him but as the identity of the lightning thief comes to light your whole world breaks down. (Brother!Luke & Sister!reader, Percy Jackson x reader)

Main taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303, @abbersreads (open)

The quest had been hard, harder than you could have ever imagined but in the end you did manage to complete it. The only thing you could hope was that Sally Jackson would be returned and that Percy would be able to see her once again.

There was a weird atmosphere at camp, everyone was ready to celebrate when Percy came back but you couldn’t stop watching Clarisse. You had told your brother that she was the lightning thief and yet she was still here, parading around with her siblings.

“Stop watching her,”, you hear someone say softly and you turn around to find Luke smiling at you softly.

“Sorry, I just can’t help it,” you tell him, and he nods slowly before sitting down next to you.

“What is going through your mind?”, he asks after a few seconds of watching a few campers bringing the fireworks to the lake.

“It just seems too easy,” you whisper and Luke frowns at your words.

“What do you mean?”, he says, looking slightly worried but you just shake your head.

“The fact that Clarisse could be the lightening thief. It seems too easy, like someone is trying to make her the thief when she didn’t do it,” you tell him and as you turn to look at him you find a somber expression on his face, but there is some sort of sadness in his eyes that you just can’t place.

“But I’m probably spiraling, I didn’t get enough sleep,” you tell him, and Luke seems a little bit relieved at your words before throwing his arm around your shoulders and bringing you closer.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of it. But right now, you just need to relax and enjoy the celebration. Just be a kid for one moment,”, he tells you with a soft smile, and you nod in agreement after letting out a sigh.

“I missed you,” you say, and Luke’s smile turns sad for a moment before bringing you closer and dropping a kiss on your forehead, lingering as if this would be the last time in a long time, he would be doing this.

“Missed you too little sis,” he whispers, and you can’t help but smile at the words.

“Not so little anymore,” you tease him, and Luke lets out a laugh at your words.

“You will always be my little sister, you can’t escape it,” he tells you and you laugh softly at the words, a familiar warmth envelops you at the words.

You hadn’t really known your father, after Luke had yelled at him, he had disappeared like thin air. The only family you had was your mother, Luke, Annabeth and once Thalia. But the list had grown over the past week, Percy and Grover becoming close friends, even if you couldn’t help but see Percy in a different light. He was handsome, every person at camp could tell you that but it was his personality that made you slowly fall for him, his unwavering loyalty and that true kindness.

“Percy is back!”, Annabeth yells as she arrives and you quickly jump up at the words, making Luke look at you in surprise and Annabeth with a knowing smile. You blushed at the look the daughter of Athena gave you, the both of you had talked about your little crush once you had gone back to camp. The first night back you couldn’t sleep, and it seemed as if Annabeth couldn’t either because the two of you found yourself at the lake, whispering about everything you could think of.

The clapping and cheering of the campers brought you back from your daydream and Annabeth took you by the hand to see where Percy was, Luke following close behind. There he was, looking surprised at the cheering, but still moving forward and you had an urge to go and hug him but as you felt Luke presence behind you, you felt unsure, until Annabeth pushed you slightly forward.

Percy seemed relieved at the sight of you, but you told yourself it was because he could also see Annabeth behind you. The cheers seemed to get louder as you brought him into a hug, his arms quickly wrapping themselves around you, holding you close. There was that familiar smell of the ocean, that always seemed to cling to him.

“Do you see her?”, you can’t help but ask and you can feel Percy’s confusion until her whispers Clarisse’s name.

“What is she doing here?”, he whispers, and you shake your head.

“Not here, we’ll talk about it in the cabin,” you tell him and Percy nods as you slowly let go of him, not seeing the disappointed look that appears in Percy’s eyes. Annabeth joins the two of you and she quickly brings Percy into a quick hug. You turn to look at your brother, who has a somber expression on his face, his eyes hard but they soften at the sight of you watching him.

“Why is she still here?”, Percy asks as the four of you find yourself in the Hermes cabin, Luke had quickly joined you after you left the celebrations.

“Camp was a mess when you weren’t here, everyone was ready to fight each other. An accusation against Clarisse,”

“Without proof,” Annabeth adds, making Luke nod in agreement.

“Exactly, without proof, it would’ve lit this whole place on fire,” Luke tries to explain, and you nod in agreement, people had seemed tense when you had come back.

“Now you’re back, you saved the world by stopping the war,” a proud smile appears on your lips at Luke’s words and Percy somehow stands straighter, he had always looked up to Luke.

“It’s time to tell Chiron and clean up this whole mess. I told him that we wanted to meet him away from the celebration, so that no one could hear us, especially Clarisse supporters,” Luke explains further, and you can’t help but have a bad feeling, but you brushed it away, thinking that it was just the lack of sleep that made you paranoid.

“I’ll keep an eye on Clarisse while you are gone,” Annabeth says and Luke nods in agreement.

“The both of you can do that,” Luke says while looking at you and you quickly agree.

“Of course,” you tell them, trying to smile reassuringly and it seems to work, only Percy looks at you with a worried gaze, but you ignore it.

“Great, then we will meet back here. Ready?”, Luke asks Percy and the boy nods, looking confident as the two of them leave towards the clearing.

Annabeth and you had been watching the Ares kids, Clarisse at the center of the circle, talking and laughing with her siblings.

“Annie, I have a bad feeling,” you whisper, and she looks at you in surprise, but there is something in her eyes that make you think she understands what you are saying.

“About Clarisse?”, she asks, and you nod slowly, trying to find the words to explain it all.

“Don’t worry, she won’t do anything to us and if she tries, we will be able to defend ourselves,” she says but you shake your head at her words.

“Clarisse being the one to steal the master bold is too easy, it’s like a trap to hide the real person behind it. I can’t stop thinking about it, but it just doesn’t make sense that she would steal it,” you explain and Annabeth seems to think for a moment, her eyes focused before she looks at you with wide eyes.

“Who could be the one that stole it?”, she asks, and you shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know, I just can’t stop thinking that there is something wrong here,” you tell her, and she nods slowly.

“We need to find Luke and Percy, hopefully before they speak to Chiron,” she says and there is an urgency in her tone as she makes you stand up from your hiding place.

The woods are quiet, the only sound resonating through it are the distant sounds of fireworks and cheers from the campers. You see Luke and Percy standing there but before you can go there, Annabeth stops you, a finger on her mouth to tell you to stay quiet.

“The reason Clarisse is still here is because you never said anything to Chiron. Did you?”, Percy says, and you feel breathless for a moment, Annabeth looks at you with equally worried eyes.

“You couldn’t. Because you knew that Clarisse didn’t steal the bolt. You did,” the words linger in the air, and you feel like you are suffocating on the words you just heard. You wait for Luke to say it isn’t true and that Percy got it all wrong.

“You worked with Ares to plant it on me, so when the shoes you gave me would pull me into Tartarus the bolt would be delivered to Kronos,” you feel sick at the words and Annabeth looks as devastated as you. You pray for this to all be just a dream, you even pray to your dad to wake you up from this nightmare.

“I didn’t think you would give them to Grover to wear,” Luke says, in a voice that you had never heard before and you want to throw up at the words. You still remember the deep fear that had gripped you when Grover started being pulled towards the large hole. Annabeth has tears in her eyes as you shake your head, your ears ringing as you hear Luke continue his speech.

You knew that he hated the gods, for what they did to all of you, for what your father did to your mother. But you never thought he would do this, betray camp and follow Kronos.

“You are being manipulated by Kronos,” Percy tells him, and you desperately wait for Luke to realize his mistake.

“No, he opened my eyes,” Luke says, and you don’t recognize the voice of your older brother.

The sound of swords hitting each other make you look up, holding Annabeth’s hand to try and reassure her and you at the same time.

“Our parents aren’t perfect, but they are trying. I met your dad,” Percy says and before you can even think of warning Percy about speaking of Hermes to Luke you hear the sound of swords clashing against each other.

You want to get up and put an end to this, but Annabeth holds your hand tighter and shakes her head as you look at her.

“I need to help him,” you whisper, and she shakes her head, sadness in her eyes.

“Who? Luke or Percy?”, she asks, and you feel like the world has shattered around you.

“Percy,” you whisper, and she nods in agreement, but she looks pained at the words. You don’t realize tears are streaming down your face until a tear falls on your hand, making you look at a teary-eyed Annabeth.

“I’m sorry,” you hear Percy say and you lift your head up just in time to see Luke slice open Percy’s arm, making you feel sick.

Your dagger flies quickly through the air, making both boys look at you. Luke seems pained at the sight of you, like you are piercing your dagger through his chest, like you were the one betraying him.

He whispers your name; sadness covers his words and for a moment you wonder if this is your big brother again. The one who had helped you through the nightmares, who had protected you from every monster you had ever seen.

“This is not what it looks like,” he says, his tone now pleading but you shake your head.

“I heard everything Luke,” you tell him, your voice breaking over the words and Annabeth appears next to you, making Luke look even more pained.

“You made us all turn against an innocent person, when you were the one who had stolen the bolt,” you tell him, and he tries to speak but you shake your head.

“Don’t try to tell me you can explain this, because even if you did it would always come back to the fact that you were the one who did it,” you tell him, and Luke has tears in his eyes at your words.

“I did this for us, to stop the Gods from being able to do whatever they wanted with us,” he tries to say but you scoff at the words.

“You did this for yourself!”, you scream, feeling like someone is killing you from the inside.

“Don’t come here and tell us that you did this for us when you nearly send us all to our deaths with your plan,” Luke closes his eyes at your words, his hand wrapped tightly around his sword.

“Don’t do this, don’t go through with this,” you plead, trying to make him understand that there is still another way.

“I have to, I won’t go back to just doing whatever the Gods want us to do,” he says, in a voice that is so cold that you feel lost.

“But you can join me, we can escape this all and go make a better world. You and me, like old times,” Luke says, and you feel tears falling down your cheeks as Luke gets closer to you, there is a softness in his eyes that always came when talking to you.

You don’t know what to say, you don’t want to lose your big brother, not when you practically lose your mother every time you see her. There is a soft whisper of your name, and you turn to see Percy looking at you with pleading eyes, he is holding his arm, where he had been hit by Luke.

“I can’t, I can’t join you,” you say to Luke, and it is perhaps the hardest thing you ever had to say to your brother. But watching his emotions change before your eyes from a soft look to pure rage made it all worse.

“So, you are choosing him, a guy you haven’t known for more than two weeks over your brother?”, there is sarcasm dripping over his words but the anger radiating from him makes you take a step back.

“I don’t want to Luke, but you give me no choice,” you tell him, hoping that your bother will come back to his senses, but he lets out a cold laugh that makes you shiver.

Percy quickly comes in front of you, putting you behind him to make sure you are safe, and Riptide is in his hand. His other hand is still holding you behind him and you look at Annabeth who takes out her own dagger and points it at Luke.

Your brother looks pained at the sight of his other sister turning against him and for a moment you think that he will be fighting the two of them before he runs and disappears into the portal. You look at it, watching the light from the sign he had carved disappearing, and you feel lost, like you had just lost a part of yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Percy says, and you turn to look at him with wide eyes, he looks sad, and you could understand why, the man he had looked up to turned out to be the bad guy all along.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” you tell him before turning to look at Annabeth who has finally let the tears fall down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry Annie,” you tell her before bringing her into a tight hug, the girl holds you just as tight and the two of you stay like that for a moment, trying to put yourselves together again.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispers, and you just squeeze her in response before letting her go and wiping away the tears that had fallen on your cheeks.

Percy has an awkward smile as you turn back to him, but you just step towards him, taking his arm in your hand and looking at the wound in worry.

“You should have this checked out after we talk to Chiron,” you tell him as you brush the skin just under it, but as the boy doesn’t answer you look up to find him looking at you with wide eyes and rosy cheeks.

“I will,” he says after clearing his throat and you nod slowly, feeling a blush appearing on your cheeks as you realize you had been holding his arms for a moment.

“Right, sorry,” you say, and you take your hand away, but Percy takes your hand in his. He looks away as you look at him in surprise, but you hold his hand tighter.

“Thought you might want some reassurance after what happened and didn’t want you to get lost in the woods,” he says, and you glare at the boy as his eyes light up in mischief.

“You ass, I got lost one time and you weren’t even here!”, you say but your words aren’t heard as Annabeth and Percy start laughing.

“Common seaweed brain, we should get you some water to heal that wound,” Annabeth says and Percy nods in agreement before following her towards the lake, his hand still holding yours as if he was scared you would disappear.

You turn to look at the portal one last time, wondering if Luke would suddenly appear again and tell you that it was all a misunderstanding. But it stays void, making you turn back towards your friends and join the conversation.

“What does she think of it all?”, you hear Percy ask and both Annabeth and you turn to find him standing there with a smile.

“It’s a tree seaweed brain, it doesn’t talk,” she says with an eyeroll but there is a fond smile on her lips.

“But I’m sure she would be thrilled about it,” you tell Annabeth, making the girl smile as you join her and Percy.

“What are you going to do with your dad?”, the boy asks, and you turn to look at Annabeth with a smile.

“He wants to go to New York, so I’ll pretend I haven’t been there. And then he wants to take me to someplace called Disneyworld. It sounds a little like Waterland but less dangerous,” she says, looking slightly unsure and you can’t stop yourself from smiling even wider.

“Or did I understand that wrong? You better tell me what I’m walking in to!”, she says looking scared, but you just laugh in response.

“Just be a kid,” Percy says, and you feel your throat close up at the words. Luke had said the same words to you before everything went downhill, and now you were going home alone.

“Guys!”, you hear Grover yell and you all cheer as he arrives.

“Did you get it?”, you quickly ask, and he carefully removes his jacket to show a beautiful green flower.

“I can officially start to search for Pan!”, he says, and you all congratulate him.

“Everyone always looked on the ground and land, but no one has ever searched the oceans so I think I will start there,” Grover says, and you can’t help but feel excited for your friend.

“If you ever need help, I know some people under there,” Percy says with a cheeky smile, and you roll your eyes at his words.

“Before we go, we need to promise each other that we will all be here together again next year, the four of us,” Percy says and the three of you nod in response.

“We will all be there,” you say and Percy smiles softly at you.

“Come here!”, Grover yells before bringing the four of you into a hug and you close your eyes as you wrap your arms around your friends, holding them as tight as you can before you have to let them go.

“Enjoy New York and Disneyworld Annie and Grover good luck for your quest!”, you tell them and the two of them look excited at the prospect before Annabeth takes you by the hand, a bit further away.

“Good luck with your mother, if you ever need me, you know I’m always available,” she says, and you nod in agreement.

“Don’t worry, enjoy the time you have with your father! I’ll be just fine, I won’t be the only one in New York now,” you tell her, and she has a dangerous smile on her lips as her eyes light up in mischief.

“That’s right, you will be able to spend all seventh grade with Percy,” you hit her in the arm at her wink and you can’t help but blush as she laughs.

“Nothing will happen,” you tell her, and she looks unimpressed before humming, an unimpressed look in her eyes.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” she says before joining the others making you shake your head.

“See you all in a few months?”, you ask and Grover and Annabeth nod before leaving Percy and you next to Thalia’s tree.

“Are you sure you will be alright going alone?”, Percy asks, and you look at him with a fond smile.

“I will be just fine, go and find your mother, I’m sure she is waiting for you,” you tell him and there is a hopeful smile that appears on his lips.

“Tell me when you get there? I’ll keep you updated when we come back,” he says, and a blush appears on your cheeks at the words, but you nod quickly.

“I’ll tell you, better not leave me waiting too long Jackson or I’ll go to Coney Island without you,” you tell him in a teasing tone, but you know that you would wait for him.

“Don’t worry I’ll be there,” he says with a voice that leaves no doubt in your mind and before you can tell him goodbye, he brings you into a hug, holding you close in his arms.

“See you in a week?”, he whispers, and you nod against his shoulder, holding him tight even if you knew you were going to see him soon.

“See you in a week, don’t be stranger,” you tell him before leaving his embrace and taking your luggage.

Your mother is in the kitchen, the smell of cookies surrounds the living room, and you take a moment to take it all in. This would be the first of many times you would be coming back alone to your apartment.

There are countless boxes filled with cookies, as if she had to feed two teenagers and not one. Because she would never know that her son would never come back, too far for her to ever reach again.

“Hi mom,” you whisper, trying not to let the tear fall as memories of Luke and you come back.

“Oh, my darling, you are back!”, she says, her eyes lightening up in excitement as she brings you into a tender hug.

“So sad that your brother couldn’t leave camp, but he always did love to be there,” she says, and you hold her close, letting her believe that the tears that are falling down your cheeks are from seeing her again after such a long time. Not because you had lied to her about your brother staying at camp for the year, and the fact that she wouldn’t be seeing him again.

“Why don’t you go take a shower and then we can eat something and talk! You have already grown so much!”, she says as she pushes you into the bathroom while talking about everything that you will be talking about later on.

The week passes by with her stuffing you with cookies and stories about her friends and family and before you know it a curly haired boy has come back to New York.

“You can give him some cookies!”, your mother says before shoving you a large box of cookies.

“Are these blue?”, you ask her, unable not to feel surprised as you see them, and she has a knowing smile on her lips.

“You told me he liked blue food, and I need to make a good impression on the boy who captured your heart,” she says with a teasing smile, and you groan at the words, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“I am leaving!”, you tell her, and you can hear her laughter ringing thought the hallway, making you smile.

Percy is standing there, leaning against the car in front of the building.

“Please tell me you aren’t driving that car,” you say in teasing tone and Percy rolls his eyes at the words.

“Verry funny, but no we are going with the metro if that is alright with you?”, he says, and you nod in agreement your smile wide as you take in what changed in the last few days. He had gotten even taller if that was possible.

“What are those?”, he asks, and you look at the box in your hands before giving the cookies to him.

“My mother made them for you, apparently you are her new favorite,” you tell him, and a shy smile appears on his lips as he opens the box and sees the cookies.

“They are blue?”, he says, looking surprised at the sight of them and you feel shy as he looks at you.

“Seems like she listened to me when I was talking about you and the rest of the group of course,” you tell him, feeling embarrassed at what he could be thinking right now.

“Of course,” he says with a smirk, and you feel slightly confused before he takes your hand in his, making you look up at him.

“Is this alright?”, he asks, his shy eyes looking into yours.

“Completely alright,” you tell him, making a wide smile appear on his lips.

“Common we need to take the metro to get to our date!”, Percy says, and it takes you a moment to process the words.

“Wait, date?”

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson angst #luke castellan

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eddiemunson-reader-shame · 4 months ago

Text

Be My Wife: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A “friend” freaks out when you split a Coke with Eddie the Freak.

Warnings: references to A Clockwork Orange, bullying, STI/STD mention, backwash drinking

A/N: So… I know this isn’t a Christmas fic. But I wrote this because I had those times in my youth where someone spread horrid rumors about either me or my friends, and I had to make those split second decisions to determine my loyalty. I always try to be loyal as best I can.

Thank you to @writhingg for giving the green light on this fic. And big thanks to @rxqueenotd and @melodymunson as well. And big thanks to viewers like you. Thank you. ❤️

Resources: @strangergraphics-archive for the dividers.

Taglist: @ali-r3n @melodymunson @twihard28

“Hey droogie, can I have a sip of your Coke?”

You looked up from where you were perched on the pony wall by the Seven Eleven bike rack. You had been chatting with a classmate, Chessie Hagar, about purchasing a purse from her mother’s Avon Colorworks catalog. It was a new collection for the year 1977. Said eye catching magazine with its spread of rainbow themed products was currently held between the two of you, and the pages began to rattle as Chessie shook in fear upon hearing the deep voice.

A flutter-smack sounded from the girl dropping the catalog when Eddie The Freak approached. His stride was casual as one could be, whilst battling both midwestern humidity and pit sweat in a white hand-me-down Jimi Hendrix shirt and sleeveless denim vest. As one of the middle schoolers who had been blessed with a growth spurt, his lanky height, shredded second hand clothes, and shaved head often made those in your grade— and some of those above— piss their pants.

You alone did not fear him.

The Fates had elected to weave you both in a tangled web of coincidences: you had been his project partner in every shared class since you started at Hawkins Middle School together, and you just so happened to live in the same neighborhood on occasion. The distance from Al Munson’s janky two bedroom home to yours was but a hop skip and a jump. Eddie used to ding dong ditch your house when he was six, until one day your mother caught him by the ear and brought him in to mend his tattered jeans and offer up a hot meal.

To any other rando, he was an unstable pariah. But to you, he was just Eddie Munson— the cute boy next door who sometimes ate at your place. And you had become his droog after spending winter 1972 sneaking into the Hawk Theater, and making Stanley Kubrick films your new big boy personalities.

Without thinking, you handed the soft drink over. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the Coke out of your grip and went for a swig, with plush pink lips wrapping around the transparent jade glass of the lip and neck. His protruding Adam’s apple was bobbing with the rhythmic gulping, and you couldn’t stop staring.

“Thanks.” He belched out.

“You said a sip, not half the goddamn bottle!” You whined.

Eddie grinned sheepishly and backwashed a good mouthful. Giving a half assed apology and a promise to pay you back mumbled under his breath, he handed the bottle back.

“Still up for doing last minute project prep?” You asked, swirling the leftovers he’d saved for you.

“Nah, let’s take a break from the train wreck brothers. Catch you tomorrow, though?” He said, scratching a blackhead off his nose and snorting a bit, “I had an idea for the oral report that might earn us a little extra credit. Think you can mimic a British accent?”

“Eh. Can’t do an accent without sounding like fucking Alex DeLarge.” You groused.

“We can work on that. Leave your milk-plus at home, though. Don’t want me own droog reenacting some Roman ultra violence on me.”

“Just don’t go popping out from behind your curtains at me again, that’s a good way to get stabbed in the neck with my mom’s kitchen scissors.” You snorted.

“Ahhh, the droog’s no fun. I guess I can tone down the surprise pop ups, though. If you insist. Catch you later?” Eddie said, waving.

“Later. Peace out, man.”

Chessie let out a shaky, sobbing exhale when you made to drink the dregs of your soda, and you turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Whassamatter?” You asked.

“Are you nuts?! You just shared your drink with the freak!” She blurted out.

… since when the hell was sharing with Eddie a crime?

“Yeah, so? It’s hot out. He looked thirsty.” You said.

“Did you seriously forget everything we’ve heard about him?!” She whisper-screamed, “Don’t you care what everyone talks about?!”

You rolled your eyes. Everyone talked about Eddie. If you hadn’t heard at least one rumor from a faceless student whenever he walked by, you were either stupid or living under a rock. They said he was a bad boy— yes, even with a full vocabulary of slurs and insults available, they still called him a bad boy. Like if he was still in diapers drawing with crayon on the wall, and needed a spanking.

Depending on who you asked, Eddie either did or sold drugs, it was never clear which. Some of the other trailer park kids said he was a mean scrapper when he went to his uncle’s on alternate weeks. Women’s restroom lore stated that he carried a switchblade in the back pocket of his Wrangler jeans, and that he used it to torture animals for his Satanic rituals.

A million and one things were said about him on the daily, but you knew none of them were true in the slightest. None of the talk deterred you from spending time with him. Sometimes he came to your house, more often than not you went to his.

Every other day found the two of you parked in front of his mom’s turntable, jamming to Deep Purple and putting together an elaborate poster board with some spray painted fake leaves made into laurel crowns, along with a block of text about your chosen co-emperor of the early Roman Empire.

You had wanted to write about Caligula so you could use the word ‘orgy’ in the report without getting in trouble, but Eddie had insisted he had a better idea when he discovered a two years tumultuous ruling of brothers from 209 AD to 211 AD.

“As much as I love a good sex party on paper, you just know that’s what everyone else is gonna write about. Let’s write about this nut job Caracalla instead! Dude killed his brother in the arms of his mother, and struck his name from the record. That’s like, the most metal shit ever! Also, here’s a better word for you to learn: fratricide. Apparently there’s a whole list of technical terms for when you kill a family member.”

“… what’s the rumor mill gotta do with my Coke?” You deadpanned.

“If you drink after him, you’re gonna get mono like Cindy! You gotta throw it out!”

Cindy Bishop in your science class had told everyone that had functional ears— swearing up and down on her life— that Eddie Munson had kissed her and given her mononucleosis. A dreaded affliction whose nickname to you sounded like one of the variations of sound formats for any sort of audio.

“Mono…?”

“Yes! Or the syph!”

You knew Eddie had to have heard Chessie’s vitriol. Turning around, you could see him staring at the two of you from across the parking lot, one leg over his bike. There was a stinging look of betrayal on his face. Telltale signs of a wet cherry nose and shameful red cheeks gave away his mistrust; as if he was expecting you to do as your friend told, and throw the bottle he drank from in the trash.

His imaginary affliction was just that: imaginary. You knew that to be gospel.

The kiss with Cindy was real, unfortunately. It happened way before Cindy was kept home with mono, and you remembered the incident well. Eddie had come running to your house just to brag that he’d finally gotten his first kiss, and that pretty soon he’d be popping girl’s cherries left and right.

Just learning about the simple kiss had pissed you off, because the closest you’d ever gotten to kissing Eddie was sharing the same fork whenever you both roasted Vienna sausages on the gas burner in his kitchen. Eddie hadn’t been sick when Cindy stayed home, he came faithfully to school to trap you on the playground and speculate about the thousand and one hidden meanings behind the kiss.

With all the excitement, he never noticed the smallest details like you did. One of the guys in your PE class had been sent home with a rash and a high fever, and it was only a month after Cindy was rumored to have also kissed the collapsed boy that she got sick. You had always shared cups, utensils, and other things requiring mouth use with Eddie and had been fine. Yet Cindy and Tommy Hagan swapped spit once, and both were out of commission.

But no one would ever say anything about Tommy Hagan getting mono. They’d always redirect every disease outbreak to the poor loser who split time between Cherry Street and Forest Hills Trailer Park. The same poor loser who had the misfortune of wasting his first kiss with Cindy; a girl who frenched behind the portable classrooms with anything that had a pulse. People could be so blind and stupid, they failed to notice the sickness timelines were not matching up.

No one deserved their first anything to be with Cindy. Not with the way she stabbed people in the back.

You took a long, hard pause as you stared into Eddie’s wet brown eyes. He was asking you a silent question you already knew the answer to: were you a stinking traitorous droog, or a loyal one? Were you, his one friend in the entire world, going to stand against him?

Without saying a word, you looked at Chessie, then looked back again at Eddie.

In a world of traitors— where brothers stabbed brothers in the arms of their mothers, or where violent men disowned each other with drug laced milk bottles to the face, you would always pick instead to be Eddie Munson’s loyal droog.

You lathed at the lip of the bottle and stuck your tongue down the neck, and shotgunned all of Eddie’s backwash.

Chessie’s mouth dropped open as she began to gag, and Eddie opened his mouth in an obnoxious and breathless laugh as you chugged the entirety of his germs. The carbonation caught up to you, so you let a belch rip before turning back around to face him.

“I GOT YOUR MONO NOW, MUNSON!” You screamed out to him, “NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!”

“IS THAT HOW IT WORKS, DROOGIE?” He shouted back, a shit eating grin stretched across his face, “YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME KNOW BEFORE I TOOK A SWIG, I WOULD HAVE MADE SURE I GOT YOU A RING POP FIRST!”

“IT'S GODDAMN ROMAN CONFARREATIO LAWS, EDDIE! YOU GAVE ME MONO INSTEAD OF SPELT BREAD, NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!” You joked.

You noticed from the big, smart ass grin that he was about to do something outrageous, and your heart began to sing. He immediately got to his knee on the asphalt, everyone in the Seven Eleven parking lot watching as he began to scream like an orator in the colosseum. He used your full government name and everything when he called out to the small parking lot audience.

“HEAR ME, CITIZENS OF HAWKINS! I AM BUT A VESSEL FOR THE GODS, A BEARER, A MESSENGER OF THAT MOST HOLY WORD FROM MOUNT OLYMPUS! I HAVE SHARED OF THE COOTIE WITH A WOMAN, AND THUS OUR MARRIAGE BETWEEN EMPEROR AND DROOG IS SOLEMNIZED-…!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, FREAK!” Someone called out, immediately flinching back when Eddie rounded on him.

“THE GODS. HAVE. SPOKEN!” Eddie screeched, a glob of spit flying out of his mouth and onto the hot asphalt.

He was wide eyed. Deranged. Eddie lifted up the hem of his denim vest and held it out and to the side, to look like wings unfurling, screaming to the heavens as you began howling with him.

“YEAH!” You screamed out, raising your bottle and shouting every bit of nonsense you could think of, “GOD SANCTIONED DROOG MARRIAGE CO-RULER ULTRA-VIOLENCE! MAZEL TOV!”

“THE IMPERIAL HUSBAND NOW DEMANDS TO KISS THE DROOG BRIDE!” Eddie screamed, “PLANT ONE ON ME, GODDESS DIVINE OF THE REPUBLIC OF HAWKINS!!”

You looked at Chessie, who looked as if she was going to throw up or scream. It wasn’t immediately clear which. Instead of ending the joke, you grinned. Shrugged. The glossy magazine paper pages of the forgotten Avon Colorworks catalog ripped under the tread of your shoes when— without warning— you took off towards Eddie, and planted a fat wet kiss on his mouth. He froze for a moment, but returned the kiss with fervor, making an obnoxious hum and wet smack when you pulled away.

“Yum.” You gushed, licking your lips and changing your cadence to the unhinged Kubrick Cockney, “Them’s tasty cooties, they are, brother sir!”

“Yeah? Them false cytomegalovirus germs are what taste good to ya, droog?” He laughed, wrapping his arms around you and putting on his own terrible accent.

“That they are, sir, that’s what gives all me food and drink that plus flavor.” You grinned.

The two of you cackled, thoroughly enjoying throwing out random quotes and various insanities that to the normal person would put them off of your insanity and edge-lord humor. Chessie had long since taken off for the gated community of Loch Nora on her bike, but you didn’t care. You could live without a selection of eyeshadows, a rainbow tote purse, and all of your false friends if the choice came down to choosing them, or Eddie.

“Wanna go into the gas station and split another bottle of mono before we blow this joint?” You asked.

His grin could have rivaled that of Malcolm McDowell.

“Now, how can I say no to my new wife?” He grinned, holding out his arm for you to take, “But I am a man of my word, so you’re getting a new Coke, plus that Ring Pop so’s we can make this thing official.”

“Spare no expense, huh?” You grinned, and he pulled you in closer. Both of your hips knocking together.

“Hey… Only the best and finest gems and refreshments for Empress Droog the First of Hawkins, Indiana.” Eddie said with a confident smile.

You smiled at him, nudging one another with your bodies all the way into the gas station, until he pulled you in for another sloppy kiss in the middle of the snack aisle.

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